Faction Proposal
"All right, that's enough."
Bahil clapped his hands.
"Those of you who still haven't succeeded by the end of class should go back to the dormitory and keep practicing."
Disappointed murmurs rose from every corner of the room. Bahil returned to the podium and picked up the attendance ledger.
"Now then! For the remainder of our time, we'll put the magic you learned today into practice. When I call your name, come forward."
A taut tension swept through the classroom at once. Students ducked Bahil's gaze or busied themselves looking elsewhere.
Bahil paid them no mind. He smiled pleasantly as he studied the attendance book.
"Oh? Special Admission Number One is in this class?"
Every head turned toward the back—
"Simon Polentia, come forward."
"…Yes."
Wearing the expression of livestock being led to slaughter, Simon made his way to the podium.
"So, who would make a good opponent for our outstanding Special Admission Number One?"
Students flinched and avoided Bahil's eyes. Amused by the sight, he grinned as he flipped through the ledger.
"There are two students whose entrance scores were particularly impressive. Hector Moore, come forward."
"Yes."
The student Bahil had earlier said he would remember—a young man of imposing build—stepped out.
The two of them faced each other on the platform. Simon swallowed dryly.
"I'll explain the rules."
Teaching assistants brought stand desks and set them in front of Simon and Hector. Atop each sat the Exhaust correction tools they had used during the lesson.
"The only thing either of you is permitted to use is Exhaust. Complete the Exhaust and cast it on your opponent. The first whose knees or rear touch the floor loses."
"Professor."
Hector raised his hand.
"Yes? What is it?"
"I will compete without using the correction tool."
Whistles rose from around the room. With the tension broken, the students were ready to properly enjoy the match.
"An excellent attitude."
Bahil had, early in the class, made no secret of his distaste for relying on correction implements. Hector, having noted that carefully, was both showcasing his skill and confidence and scoring points with a proposal Bahil would like.
"And you, Simon?"
Every eye fixed on him with expectation. In a situation like this, admitting you needed the correction tool would not be easy.
"I'll use the correction tool."
Simon had to face reality. A student who had been learning dark magic for less than a week could not afford to get cocky.
Bahil gave a wry smile and looked at Hector, who answered as if he had been waiting for the moment.
"I have no intention of retracting my statement."
"Very well."
The atmosphere in the room had swung firmly in Hector's favor.
"You begin on my signal. I hope both of you put on a fine match for your classmates."
Hector lowered his stance. Simon gripped the handle of the correction tool.
"Begin!"
At the same instant, Simon raised jet-black and poured it into the correction tool while Hector began drawing a magic circle.
And Hector—without any correction tool at all—completed his Exhaust far faster than Simon and launched the first strike.
Simon's startled face as he lifted his head stood in sharp contrast to Hector's triumphant smile.
"Ooooh!"
"Nice one, Hector!"
"He's really fast."
Riding the momentum, Hector prepared a second spell while Simon gritted his teeth and continued drawing the magic circle through the correction tool.
Ainz's help had not been wasted. Simon finished the circle in the tool before Hector could complete his second spell.
Simon floated the finished circle into the air. The moment his Exhaust completed, so did Hector's.
They activated Exhaust simultaneously. Exposed to a second Exhaust, Simon's body swayed for an instant and his face twisted.
"…!"
Hector, however, reeled visibly—his knees buckling for a moment. They had not yet touched the floor, so he had not lost, but he was barely holding himself up with a hand braced against the ground.
Shock flickered across Hector's face. Simon's Exhaust was not quite on the level of Ainz's, but its power was formidable all the same.
Simon sent jet-black flowing into the correction tool once more. Hector drew another magic circle.
Hector finished his third curse first and cast it on Simon, who weathered it well.
Then Simon completed his own curse.
"Kh—?!"
"Stop. We have a winner."
Hector finally dropped to his knees, unable to endure the crushing weight of the curse.
"The winner is Simon Polentia."
Bewildered applause spilled from the students.
Even so, whispers still circulated among them.
"…But did he really win?"
"…I mean, he used the correction tool."
"And Hector stacked more curses on him, if anything…"
"Though Hector dropping to his knees after only two stacks is…"
There was plenty of talk, but Bahil saw no need to address any of it.
"Well done, Hector as well. Both of you, take your seats."
Simon sat down. Hector sat as well, his face tight with frustration.
"That concludes today's class."
Bahil declared the end of the lesson immediately afterward.
Students filed out of the lecture hall like a receding tide. Bahil sank into his chair, leaned back, and closed his eyes, sitting still as if in meditation.
"Pro…fessor."
A girl who had been watching for her moment approached him.
"I have a question about the class…"
"One moment."
Bahil held up an open palm without opening his eyes.
"Once all of today's classes are finished, come to my research office. I'll answer every one of your questions then."
"R…really? Th-th-thank you!"
The girl let out a small squeal at the invitation to Bahil's office and bolted from the lecture hall.
Bahil cracked one eye open and watched her retreating back with a half-lidded stare.
I need to restrain myself.
A curse had nearly slipped past his throat.
He had no desire to have his afterglow interrupted by cheap goods like that.
Bahil closed his eyes again and, as if savoring it, began replaying the contents of the class.
…Simon Polentia.
He was thinking of Simon.
At first he had been disappointed by a student who seemed nothing particularly special—but the Exhaust Simon had fed Hector was dozens of times more valuable than Hector's own.
And… Ainz Bilene.
Ainz had not been put through a practical match during class, but the Exhaust he cast on a cactus during practice had withered the plant down to its roots until it crumbled into a handful of dust.
In Bahil's mind, both of their Exhausts replayed again and again.
They're the best!
Bahil's mouth stretched into a wide grin.
Geniuses like that—I have to get them into the Curse Studies major by any means necessary!
Bahil's desire began to itch.
In the classes that followed, Simon tasted one hardship after another.
Second period was Holy Defense Studies; third was Necromancy. Without exception, the professors called Special Admission Number One—Simon—up to the podium and put him to the test.
It was an annual tradition. At Kizen, competition was fierce not only among students but among the professors as well.
Professors with poor results were dismissed even mid-semester; their salaries fluctuated with performance, and so did their influence and clout within Kizen.
That was why professors scrambled to secure as many major students as possible—and especially to pull outstanding ones in as direct disciples.
As part of that effort, they tested the strongest students in the very first class. Having Special Admission Number One step up was only natural.
In both classes, Simon had to face Meyrin. She was first in A-class, and even among the entire first-year body she held one of the highest entrance scores.
There was no way a Simon who had only just begun dark magic could beat someone like her. Against Hector he had at least been able to complete formulas without much trouble thanks to the correction tool, but in those two classes even assembling a formula was a struggle.
The professors cocked their heads at the situation, and the other A-class students finally began to catch on that Simon was a complete beginner.
Class had ended a little early, so he had a bit of free time. Simon sat alone at an empty cafeteria table, slumped over it, sucking on a drink straw.
That was when it happened.
"Hey."
He had just been trying to catch his breath when someone spoke to him. Simon turned. A short-haired blond boy with sunglasses pushed up on his forehead was grinning at him.
"I'm in A-class with you guys too. Name's Dick Hayward."
"…Simon Polentia."
They exchanged a light handshake.
"By the way, Simon? You're already a celebrity. Your name's making the rounds in other classes too, you know?"
Simon answered without energy.
"Probably about Special Admission Number One's bubble popping."
"Hahaha!"
Dick laughed out loud and dropped into the seat across from him.
"It's not entirely that, though? Some people still think beating Hector was pretty solid. Me included."
"So what do you want?"
"Eh, nothing major. You know that Hector you faced in Curse Studies? He's building his own faction."
"…Faction?"
"He lost to you in the first class, sure—but separate from that, just looking at his curse-casting speed, he was outstanding. He's also the eldest son of a major family, so of course kids are flocking to him."
"I'm not really interested in politics."
Simon propped his chin on his hand with a sullen look. Dick made a show of flailing.
"Hey, hey, listen. At Kizen, politics matter! What happens if A-class just gets swallowed whole by Hector? Anyone he marks is done for. You'll have a hard time even finding group-project partners."
Simon straightened in his seat.
"You seem pretty quick at reading that kind of situation. So why aren't you over with Hector instead of sitting here?"
Simon had hit the core of it. Dick looked briefly flustered, then scratched at the side of his hair with an embarrassed laugh.
"Truth is, I'm a commoner. Merchant family."
Then he stood and bowed with formal courtesy.
"If this commoner has been rude, I offer my apologies, my lord."
"Don't do that. I heard that at Kizen we're all just first-years."
Simon said it with open distaste. Dick sat back down, smiling in satisfaction.
"True enough—though there are still kids who make a point of flaunting that they're nobles."
"At least I'm not one of them."
"Good to hear. Actually, this is the real reason I came. I've got a proposal for you."
Dick held out his hand.
"Join my faction, Simon."
"……?"
"Whether your skills are lagging or people call you a bubble, the fact remains that you are Special Admission Number One. Stuff like prior study progress looks big right now, but it all levels out later. Lady Nephthys must have had a reason for bringing you in as a special admission, right? You've got value."
Simon smiled faintly.
"Forget factions and all that. How about just being friends?"
Dick let out a short, incredulous laugh.
"…Wow. That has a seriously awkward ring to it."
He said it as if it were awkward—but his mouth was smiling.
"Well, every now and then that kind of sentimentality isn't so bad."
Saying so, Dick firmly clasped the hand Simon offered.
"More importantly—don't we have to get to the next class? What was it again?"
Simon spoke as if it had just come back to him. Dick pulled a notebook from his pocket and flipped it open.
"Ah, Summoning Studies."
At those words, a spark lit in Simon's eyes. Summoning Studies was the subject he had set his sights on.
And Ainz, who had been quietly watching Simon, slipped into the crowd and headed for the lecture hall.