The Ring's Secret and the Duel Evaluation
Simon blinked.
"The most important function?"
"Yes. Concentrate on the ring on your finger, and stomp your left foot firmly against the ground."
Just as Gellen instructed, Simon pressed his left foot into the dirt. It felt something like stepping on a button, and a transparent magic circle took shape around his planted foot.
"Now the virtual circle should be visible to your caster's eye. Feed jet-black into it to activate the circle."
Activate it? How am I supposed to do that?
Confused, Simon let a small trickle of jet-black flow into the circle anyway.
Fwoosh!
Black flames kindled in one corner of the circle, and the whole design came alive.
So that's how it works.
There was no complicated process at all. The moment the jet-black flowed in, the virtual circle assembled itself on its own.
"This state is called Set Mode. The moment your left foot leaves the ground, Set Mode disengages."
Simon lifted his foot, and sure enough, the circle melted away into empty air. He stepped down again and raised his jet-black, and the circle re-formed, returning to Set Mode.
Incredible!
A childlike smile spread across Simon's face.
"Now, what you can do in Set Mode is simple. The caster can open up to six subspaces at the same time."
Simon's face went pale with shock.
"Six at once?"
"Yes. Take a look around you."
Six transparent magic circles were floating in the air, circling lazily, without him even noticing.
"Unless configured otherwise, subspaces will open at the positions of these virtual circles—but only your caster's eye can see them. Activation is simple: speak the trigger command 'Open Gate' in your mind. Aloud works too, if you prefer."
Simon nodded and focused his concentration.
Once again, he would create a virtual target in the air and order Overlord to concentrate its assault there.
"Open Gate!"
Swoosh!
Swooosh—!
Swoosh!
Six circles opened, and six tentacles poured out of them as if they'd been waiting for the chance, skewering the empty air.
A gasp of admiration escaped Simon before he could stop himself.
"Whoa!"
Benya, standing beside him, clapped her hands with her eyes gone wide. Simon whirled around toward Gellen and shouted.
"Gellen! You're a genius! How did you even build a subspace like—"
"Ahaha! This was originally a 'reserve piece,' built with the idea of opening multiple subspaces. Then fate brought it my way, and I modified it into Overlord's dedicated magic circle. A deeply satisfying project, I must say."
Gellen raised his index finger.
"But I did tell you, didn't I? This subspace has to output power far beyond its normal purpose—"
"You said there could be risks."
"Heheh! Yes, exactly. Can you feel it?"
Simon looked down at the ring on his left hand.
"It's gotten hot."
"Yes. The more subspaces you open at once, and the more frequently, the more the subspace overloads."
Simon's expression turned puzzled.
This subspace could open six gates simultaneously—surely a ring getting a little warm couldn't count as a real risk, could it?
"In actual combat, there will be times when you have no choice but to keep opening subspaces over and over. If the ring grows hot enough to burn, and you keep spamming the gates anyway, then, finally—"
BOOM.
Gellen made the sound effect with his own mouth.
"In the worst case, it explodes. Your finger might just fly right off."
"...Oh."
His finger started to ache from the thought alone.
"Of course, as long as you don't overuse it, there's no problem whatsoever. All a caster needs is a little common sense and self-restraint. First: stop operating the moment the ring grows hotter than its limit. Second: have the patience to wait until it cools down. I am confident that as long as you observe those two rules, you will have no trouble at all."
So the message was: don't spam it. Simon nodded.
"Also, to prevent frequent overloading of the subspace, I recommend running an average of about four gates rather than opening all six at maximum. Save all six for a true emergency—as your trump card."
With his explanation finished, Gellen bowed his head.
"That will be all. Do you have any questions?"
"Tons of them! First of all—"
Simon unleashed a torrent of questions he'd been holding back, all the while churning through ideas in his head for how to run Overlord at peak efficiency.
With this...
Simon felt confidence swelling inside him.
With this, I can win on my own strength alone.
That night, in the 1st Year Boys' Dormitory.
"The weekend's finally here!"
Dick flopped onto his bed and shouted.
"Simon! Ask Meilin what she's doing this weekend—wanna go somewhere?"
"Sorry. I've already scheduled special training."
The Duel Evaluation against Malcolm was waiting the moment the weekend ended. He needed to get control of Overlord's new subspace on track before then, no matter what it took.
"It's the Malcolm match, so I guess there's no helping it."
Dick propped his chin on his pillow, looking disappointed, but the air of him said he understood.
And the next day, the weekend, the hellish training truly began.
"What did I tell you? You can start however you like, but ending it is my call."
Aaron even came into Kizen on the weekend to supervise Simon's Overlord training. This time it was an exercise in stowing Overlord in a subspace and blocking the bone projectiles Aaron hurled at him.
Anyone watching would have called it child abuse—the intensity of the weekend training was that brutal.
Simon ground through it willingly, running himself into the ground until he was a limp rag. The training gave him a rough sense of just how much use it took before the ring began to heat up.
[Hah! That Kizen professor thinks of nothing but necromancers! Training without a complete understanding of the undead is meaningless!]
[Even if the attack passes through subspace, the essence does not change! Read Overlord's killing intent and strike with the most effective blow!]
Pier, burning with a strange rivalry toward Aaron, lured Simon off to practice as well. Simon was already drained from Aaron's training, but he was hardly the type to refuse free practice.
"Yes, sir!"
After training with Pier, Simon returned to Kizen and stopped by the Mutant clubroom.
Overlord had been run just as ragged as its master by all that sprinting around.
"Simon!"
"There he is."
"Hey, you two."
Even though it was the weekend, Toto and Fitzgerald were in the clubroom assembling a skeleton together. Simon grinned.
"You two are getting along pretty well, huh."
Toto scratched his head.
"Huh? Are we? Haha."
"Quiet. Come help with the assembly."
"Fine. When we're done, you help with my work too."
Once the skeleton assembly was finished, Simon pulled Overlord out of subspace, and the two of them helped spread salves over the dry parts of its body.
"Hold on."
Fitzgerald rose and ran a hand along one of Overlord's legs. Simon yelped.
"Careful! If you touch it carelessly, it's danger—"
"This leg is a bit off."
Fitzgerald was staring holes into Overlord's leg. Simon shrugged.
"Really? They all look the same to me."
"This undead—the creator is dead, right?"
"Yeah."
"Hmm."
After a moment's thought, Fitzgerald looked up at Simon.
"In my assessment, the creator put extra work into this leg. Connect to Overlord's killing intent and try extending the leg even further."
"Even further?"
"Yeah. Think of it as unfolding."
Fitzgerald was an oddball, but Simon figured he was speaking from some solid basis again this time too.
Simon closed his eyes and stretched the leg to its maximum length. Then, in exactly that state—
'Unfold!'
He sent the command through his killing intent. And Overlord showed an unusual reaction.
The leg trembled for a moment, then went completely slack.
Considering Overlord's habit of flat-out ignoring impossible commands, that was strange.
What had just happened wasn't that it couldn't do it—it felt more like it had simply failed.
'Once more...!'
Simon issued the command again. Overlord's leg shuddered, and soon a grinding creak rang out.
'Keep going! Don't give up!'
As the commands kept coming, the bones he'd assumed were packed tightly together lengthened like a compressed spring finally being released.
The fully extended leg was at least 1.5 times longer than any of Overlord's ordinary legs.
"I was right, wasn't I?"
Fitzgerald wore a triumphant smile.
"He probably meant to add this function to the other legs too, but failed and just fused them all shut. Only this one leg can extend."
Simon leapt to his feet and grabbed his hands.
"Thank you! Fitz!"
"Uh? Whoa."
"This is a seriously important hint!"
Simon's eyes gleamed.
This could be the variable he needed. It might even be possible to build a powerful formula for victory.
The weekend ended, and the morning of the Duel Evaluation arrived.
Kizen had dramatically expanded the scale of outside observation for this Duel Evaluation.
Officials from the kingdom and its various institutions, and even scouts. Countless people had come to Roc Island to watch the public Duel Evaluation.
"The arena is this way!"
"Please follow the control procedures!"
And the ones dying out there were the henchmen dispatched to keep the nobles in check.
Lena, a four-year veteran dormitory caretaker, had been roped into managing the event too, and it was killing her.
"Oh come now! Do you know who I am?"
"Can't I even have a brief word with the students?"
"Absolutely not! Absolutely, positively not!"
Lena plastered on a desperate smile while silently screaming inside.
'Ugh! Grown men old enough to know better, and they will NOT listen. Seriously!'
The nobles were so high-handed that they treated obeying henchmen's instructions as beneath them. And they kept flaunting their rank and wealth, whining in your ear until it bled the moment they decided they weren't being treated with proper respect.
At this point, managing a bunch of bratty students sounded far preferable.
'Hm?'
Just then, a middle-aged man toying with his mustache made a subtle move to slip out of the line.
Lena spread her arms and blocked him.
"You cannot enter! It is strictly forbidden for civilians to visit any area outside the arena!"
"Oh come, my dear, do you not know me? Count Sorio. I only wish to see my son's face—"
"Count, absolutely not! Please use the official visitation procedure!"
"My, my, such rigidity?"
Count Sorio slipped a pouch of gold coins from his coat and pressed it toward her chest.
"I cannot accept this! Eek! S-stop that, Count!"
"Oh, just keep it, keep it."
As the two of them tussled back and forth, Count Sorio flashed a subtle signal with his eyes.
Whoosh!
Two men attending from behind him suddenly broke into a sprint toward the 1st-year campus.
"Two heading in!"
"Stop them!"
Henchmen and TAs scrambled after them in alarm.
But the men were no ordinary attendants either—in an instant, they fired up their cores and shifted into Spirit Transformation. The grasping arms of the pursuing TAs cut through empty air.
'Necromancers?!'
If they got through, all hell would break loose. The TAs chased after them, shouting, but the two transformed men didn't slow down.
And at the very moment they reached the entrance of the 1st-year campus—
CLANG!
CLANG!
Chains came flying out of nowhere and bound the two men's bodies.
'B-but they're in Spirit Transformation! How—?'
There was no time even to wonder. The two chained men arced through the air in a great circle and crashed to the ground directly behind Count Sorio.
KU-BOOM!
A cloud of dust billowed up. A moment later, the two men could be seen with their heads planted in the dirt, legs twitching before going limp.
Murmur, murmur, murmur.
The other nobles smirked at the sight or hid their laughter behind their fans.
Count Sorio's face flushed crimson.
"How dare you lay hands on my retainers! Wh-who did this?!"
"That would be me."
Step. Step.
Every TA and henchman present snapped to rigid attention and withdrew, faces taut with tension. Like a miracle of Moses parting the sea, a woman walked through the henchmen splitting left and right.
An extremely restrained bob haircut and icy violet eyes radiated a solemn, forbidding presence.
'K-Kizen's Vice Principal, Jane Olivia...!'
She strode forward and planted herself in front of Sorio.
"There is no need for concern—your son is in our care. This manner of contact, however, is unacceptable."
It was the first time Sorio had ever stood face to face with a necromancer of such magnitude.
Trembling with fear, he spoke anyway.
"Is it s-so wrong for a father to see his own son?!"
"Once enrolled, he is a necromancer belonging to Kizen before he is the Count's son. And furthermore—"
She spread her palm, and the two potions tucked in the retainers' coats floated up into the air. Count Sorio's face turned ashen.
"Even if you were to deliver these to your son now, it would not change the outcome of the match."
"...!"
"Since you've graced us with your visit, do enjoy your time here."
She strode away, and Count Sorio bowed his head in resigned defeat.
Just then, a young woman in a dress among the nobles waved her hand airily.
"Jane! Jane!"
"Ah, Princess."
Jane approached her with a warm smile.
"So you've come."
"Of course! Watching Kizen's events is one of life's great joys! Ah—"
She dropped her voice to a whisper and leaned close to Jane.
"They say this Special Admission No. 1 is one of the greatest in history. What do you think?"
Jane gave a wry smile.
"Shouldn't you be asking after your brother first, out of courtesy?"
"Oh, don't be such a bore! A man who's practically a prince going off and forming some strange faction, calling it the Noble of all things! Haaah, he hasn't changed a bit since his palace days?"
Grumbling, she turned back to Jane.
"So, do you think that Special Admission No. 1 will do well? There's the only duel between Special Admissions today, you know! I'm absolutely on the edge of my seat."
"Yes, you may look forward to it."
Jane wore a faint smile.
"After all, he is a student who has passed through my hands."
"Hm?"
"Now then, I must return to my duties."
Jane bowed her head and walked away. The princess covered her mouth, chuckling.
"Jane, saying something like that? How unlike her."
What kind of power could this student wield? Carrying her fluttering anticipation with her, she made her way toward the arena.