The Black Knight Falls
“Stop crawling up!”
Malcolm, clad in the Black Knight's Armor, came charging in trailing black smoke. The armored fist swung down with brutal force.
WHUUUUNG!
Simon twisted his shoulder to slip past it with ease, sliding sideways as he swung his left fist.
CRACK!
Malcolm's head snapped back violently. But he powered through the impact and reached out with his other arm. Simon answered in kind with his right fist.
CRAAACK!
CRACK!
Their fists crossed in midair and slammed into each other's faces. The Black Knight's helm and Simon's skull helmet groaned and buckled as both heads were knocked aside.
“WAAAAAAAH!”
The crowd was at a fever pitch over the sudden slugfest.
Simon backed away and wiped his mouth with a swipe of his hand. Malcolm was perfectly fine — it was only Simon's Barrier Gauge that had taken a small dent.
Malcolm noticed the same thing and let out a sneer.
A pure slugfest won't cut it.
Simon's Bone Armour was still in its early stages. It could raise the defense of the covered areas and, by drawing on an undead's core, even boost his strength like an exoskeleton suit.
At Blue Harbor he'd used that function to its fullest, arming the townsfolk with Bone Armour to drive off the pirates — but for Simon himself, who ran on his own internal core, the strength boost couldn't be nearly that dramatic.
Wearing an ordinary skeleton instead of Pier just made his movements stiff and sluggish. Reinforcing himself through Internal Jet-Black Operation was simply the better option.
So Simon had prepared a rather different way of using Bone Armour.
“GRAAAH!”
He ducked low under Malcolm's swinging fist and burrowed deep into the man's guard. He threaded an arm under the armpit and bent it back, shifting his body behind Malcolm's back, then seized the other arm's joint and twisted it too. As he tilted his weight, Malcolm's balance collapsed.
“Wh-what the—?! You bastard! Let go of me!”
No armor, however strong, could save you once you were caught in a joint lock or submission hold.
Simon immediately activated his dark magic.
Bone Armour!
The bone plating wrapping Simon's body partially detached and swarmed onto Malcolm's Black Knight Armor, clinging to it like ticks.
“You son of a—! What the hell is this?!”
Simon smiled faintly.
“Seemed like one suit wasn't enough to beat me, so I figured I'd lend you mine.”
“YOU BASTAAAARD!”
Malcolm's whole body went rigid. Simon, focused on the Bone Armour, momentarily lost his grip on the right arm and scrambled back to dodge the swinging elbow.
“I'll kill you!”
Freed, Malcolm charged in wildly, fists raised. Simon dodged by bending his spine back until his head nearly touched the floor.
He's flexible!
A chorus of gasps erupted from the stands.
Having evaded the attack, Simon yanked Malcolm's right arm while driving a fierce kick into his leg, the shock forcing him down to one knee.
Chwak!
Thud!
At the same time, the Bone Armour on Simon's arm began migrating onto Malcolm's.
What the hell are you DOING?! What IS this?!
Blind with fury, Malcolm flailed his fists around.
In Simon's eyes, Malcolm's magic combat was the stereotypical strike-only type.
Simon kept closing in tight against him, steadily gluing bone armor onto his body.
“Simon! What are you doing?!”
Meilin was on her feet in the stands.
“He's a Special Admission student too! If you don't fight him seriously, who knows what'll happen!”
Camibarez turned to her neighbor with a worried look.
“Rick! Did Simon ever say anything to you?”
“Not really, but I've got a pretty good idea what he's up to.”
“Huh?”
“You know how there's that one thing Simon's especially good at in Summoning.”
Rick grinned and held up two fingers.
“Restoration. And control.”
Simon panted heavily as he backed away.
At some point, Malcolm's Black Knight Armor had become plastered all over with a noticeable amount of Bone Armour pieces — concentrated especially on the limbs, where fists and legs kept making contact.
“Hey. You think you can win with this clown act?”
Malcolm grabbed one of the bones stuck to his waist. With a bzzt!, he tore it free and hurled it to the ground.
The moment he grabbed the next bone —
Tat!
Simon kicked off the floor and lunged. At the sudden reversal of momentum, Malcolm tensed and drew his fist back.
STOP!
Simon's Absolute Order fell. A powerful attraction seized the skeleton bones clinging to Malcolm's arm, and the arm hitched mid-swing.
“What the— my arm—!”
CRUUUUNCH!
Simon's straight punch landed flush on Malcolm's face.
Staggering backward, Malcolm tried to swing his other arm —
STOP!
The skeleton bones stopped him again. Simon wrenched his hips around and slammed a heavy side kick into Malcolm's head. The instantaneous impact turned the helm into a haze of Jet-Black before it snapped back into a helm again.
“Ghhk!”
Armor or barrier, a blow still carries the shock through. Malcolm reeled, feeling as if his brain had been shaken loose inside his skull. This time even his Barrier Gauge took damage.
“This stuff! Just tear it off and—!”
Of course, Simon wasn't about to give him the chance. He drilled three punches in a row into Malcolm's head, slipped past the counterattack, and landed a roundhouse kick at a precise angle.
THUD!
Malcolm crashed face-down onto the floor, and Simon was on him in a flash, grabbing the helm and slamming his knee into it.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
Malcolm's helm kept blurring, cycling between Jet-Black and helm, over and over. His Barrier Gauge dropped below half in an instant.
“GRAAAAAH!”
Malcolm roared and dove in, locking his arms hard around Simon's waist in a tackle. Simon went down, and Malcolm managed to secure the mount position, grinning as he raised his fist.
Back.
Simon's Absolute Order came down in the next heartbeat. Every piece of Bone Armour attached to Malcolm pulled his upper body backward.
Malcolm couldn't land his punch — instead he took Simon's fists one after another until the mount was broken entirely.
Whirl.
Simon rose, rotating his body, and drove a full-force kick into Malcolm's abdomen. The man's body went flying several meters.
“Khulk! Kkh! GRAAAK!”
Malcolm writhed in pain, half-choked and beside himself with humiliation. Propping his upper body up, he gritted his teeth and opened his subspace.
No more covering my tracks — let's end this!
Out of the subspace burst liquid bombs yet again — a full five bottles this time. Screaming, Malcolm sprinted toward Simon, igniting the potions in his arms with Jet-Black.
At this range, there's no way in hell he can dodge!
He had the Black Knight Armor. Simon was bare and defenseless. The explosion would hurt them both, but the one who walked away alive would be the man in the armor.
Putting your Bone Armour on ME was your mistake, Simon!
However —
Simon was standing in place, wearing a wry smile.
“How do you keep being this predictable?”
There was no easier enemy than one swallowed whole by rage.
Simon raised his index finger.
SHRRRRRRRRAK!
SHRAK!
SHRRRRRAK!
Blades surged up out of the subspace beneath the floor, skewering Malcolm's body from floor to ceiling.
“Kkh!”
With Simon right in front of him, Malcolm's vision lurched. His body shot dozens of meters upward, and the explosive potions in his arms erupted with a blinding flash.
“SIMOOOOOOON!”
Malcolm's howling face was swallowed by the blast.
KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-KWAAANG!
Gray smoke billowed outward with a thunderous roar. The audience quickly covered their heads and ducked. The blast blew the roof of the arena clean open, exposing the sky as the wind howled through.
And moments later, out of the explosion cloud, Malcolm came falling — the Black Knight Armor stripped from his body entirely. Simon raised his right arm.
SHRRRRRAK!
Four blades snatched the falling Malcolm out of the air and slammed him into the wall. Only after making sure of the finish did Simon finally let out a breath of relief.
[Malcolm Randolph : 0%]
[Simon Polentia : 79%]
The referee raised his arm.
“The winner! Simon Polentia, of Class A!”
“WAAAAAAAHHH!”
Cheers exploded from every direction.
“A total domination. This year's Special Admission No. 1 is the real deal!”
“Is Kizen some kind of never-drying spring? It's uncanny how they spit out monsters like this every single year.”
“That kid is seventeen? Yeah, I'm having a crisis.”
The adults spat and chewed over the fight with laughter, while the scouts scribbled frantically with their quills or activated communication crystals to call their headquarters.
“You need to change your recruitment priority list. Right now.”
“Are you people even doing your jobs?! He's supposedly a student with no prior training — and he's using Bone Armour, you lunatics!”
A once-in-a-generation prodigy — no, a brand-new star had been born.
“Haah, that damn Malcolm, hnngh…!”
“No. 1 just took one big hit to the wallet.”
“Betting's all luck anyway. KAHAAHAHA!”
The second-years laughed through gritted teeth as they accepted their betting losses.
“Simon, drinks are on me when the money comes in!”
“Simon! That was amazing!”
Group 7 was cheering and waving frantically in Simon's direction. Simon smiled and waved back.
“Preparing the next match.”
The henchmen began clearing the arena floor, and Simon returned to the waiting room. There, the waiting medical team gave him a quick check-up, and he turned in his barrier equipment.
Then he stepped out of the waiting room — and barely a few paces down the corridor —
“Ah.”
He ran straight into someone in a Kizen uniform. Simon bowed his head.
“Good day, Senior.”
Andre — president of the Noble club and third prince of the Dresden Kingdom. He stood trembling, his face flushed red to the very tips of his ears.
“…Tell me. Do you have any idea what you just did?”
“Yes, sir. I just came back from my Duel Evaluation.”
BANG!
Andre slammed his fist into the wall. The pristine surface split and cracked like shattered glass.
“The Black Knight — the symbol of the Dresden royal house — and you beat him down like a common thug?”
“…”
“I don't care whether you're stronger than Malcolm or not! But the moment Malcolm put on the Black Knight's Armor, you should have read the room! Didn't you see that I — that the Dresden royal house — stands behind him?! You should have thrown the match or abstained, and you WIN? You insane bastard! Is bowing your pride just once really that hard?! Do you not know how to survive?! Are you even a real noble, you—!”
Andre's bellowing eyes were bloodshot.
“You have desecrated the royal house!”
“…Er. Um. I'm sorry?”
Simon scratched his head once, then shrugged.
“By my common sense, that doesn't quite add up.”
“What?”
“That's the most illogical thing anyone has ever said to me in my entire life.”
Simon rested a hand on his own uniform and spoke quietly.
“This is Kizen. And at Kizen, you are expected to act like it.”
Andre's face went blank. What is this brat saying right now? Is he seriously talking to ME?
“Giving Malcolm the Black Knight's Armor was your prerogative, Senior. But defeating him is the duty of a Kizen student who gives his all in a match. Holding the 'desecration of the royal house' over my head for that — isn't that going a bit too far?”
“You insolent little—!!”
Andre raised his palm. Simon stood perfectly still where he was.
Snatch!
“That's enough.”
A hand shot out from behind and seized Andre's wrist. It was a small, delicate hand — yet Andre's pupils trembled as if he were under crushing pressure.
“How much uglier do you intend to become, dear brother?”
It was Princess Molly of the Dresden Kingdom.
Andre recoiled in horror, then quickly forced out a laugh.
“M-Molly! When did you arrive at Kizen? Hahaha! You should have told your brother you were coming—!”
“I hoped I was wrong.”
She placed a hand on her hip and glared at him.
“Sneaking out the Black Knight's Armor — the symbol of the royal knightly order — and handing it to a criminal syndicate's son, then parading it around as if it were your own power… I'd say you're the one who desecrated the royal house, brother?”
Simon blinked at the unexpected sight. The third prince couldn't manage a single squeak in the face of his youngest sister.
“Do you even know what punishment the Black Knight suffered when his armor went missing because of you? And to put on this pathetic display in front of elders from other nations, no less… I am reporting this incident to the Queen Mother!”
Andre lunged in panic and grabbed at Molly's clothes.
“Molly! Have you forgotten who I am? I'm Andre! Your brother Andre!! You know perfectly well what will happen to me if you report this to the Queen Mother! Please—!”
“Then you shouldn't have conducted yourself like this in the first place.”
She gave a signal behind her, and someone began walking quietly toward them.
“Ah…!”
Andre's face convulsed at the sight of the newcomer.
“Well done, brother.”
The one who stepped into view was none other than the girl in the maid uniform — the very maid Andre had treated like a servant.
“Threatening a Kizen student, of all things — because his father works in the royal gardens, I hear? Do you have no fear at all?”
“N-no, no! That's—!”
“I will bow my head and apologize to Lady Nephthys personally for this incident. And I will tell her the whole truth, down to the last detail.”
Her gaze turned ice-cold.
“You know how dearly she treasures her students. I would sooner die than watch our kingdom end up like that Talhern Empire.”
“Yes, yes! Exactly that!”
Andre burst out, frantic.
“Why do you insist on stirring things up?! If Lady Nephthys finds out about this, and the Queen Mother finds out — what good comes of it for anyone?! It's not too late even now! Just sweep it all under the rug and—!”
SLAP!
Andre's head whipped to the side. Simon, who had been watching in silence, and the girl in the maid uniform both froze in shock.
“Still haven't come to your senses, and you keep squirming.”
She lowered her hand, her expression one of pure disgust.
“It's far too late to cover anything up. The stench of the mess my dear brother made is shaking all of Kizen to its core.”
“…”
“Which leaves the cleanup to me, unfortunately. A carriage is waiting outside, so get out of my sight. Now.”
Andre was himself one of Kizen's vaunted second-years, yet he couldn't make a sound against Molly, an ordinary woman without even a core.
Watching Andre slink away in defeat, Simon felt something deep in his chest wash clean.
“Simon Polentia of Kizen's first year — that's you, correct?”
Princess Molly's gaze turned, at last, to Simon.