The Full Moon on the Rooftop
"Whoop."
Simon exhaled sharply and lofted the ball into the air. The bones clinging to it clattered loose, then began attaching themselves to his right foot like magnets.
Bone Armor — Boots Mode
Unlike ordinary Bone Armor, where bones fastened on at intervals, this form wrapped his entire right foot in a seamless, airtight shell. It wasn't as heavy as one would expect from bone, and the way it locked his leg and foot firmly in place felt excellent.
The moment Boots Mode was complete, Simon threw the ball high with nothing but a snap of the wrist.
His glittering eyes read the ball's arc and its falling time, he counted two seconds in his head, then twisted his body through the wind.
He finished two full rotations in a single breath, and the instant that rotational force was maximized, his leg at the end of the diagonal swept down in a dazzling trajectory, arriving just before the falling ball.
Rotational force, leg strength, Internal Jet-Black Eruption, and even the pull of the Bone Armor.
Simon clenched his teeth and kicked. With a crack like a cannonball being fired from its barrel, the ball shot out in a dead straight line.
Lexio's pupils wavered helplessly as he strained to hold up the glass wall that was already on the verge of collapse.
'Oh crap — I can't stop this—!'
CRRAAAASH!
The fragile glass wall shattered in a single blow, and the ball struck Lexio square in the face.
With a strangled krgh!, blood burst from his nose as he flew back several meters and rolled across the ground.
Thud.
The ball dropped, bounced a few times with a hollow knocking sound, skipped across the ground, and finally came to rest. The students outside the court stood frozen, as if time itself had stopped.
And then—
"We—"
"We won!"
"NIIIIICE!"
Cheers erupted like fireworks going off.
Brad, who had been craning his neck for any excuse to call a foul, blew his whistle with a deeply dissatisfied look on his face.
"…Final round complete. The ultimate winner is Class A."
"WAAAAH!"
With Meilin and Camibarez leading the charge, the Class A students swarmed out and threw their arms around Simon, sharing the joy together.
And a little way off, the Class C students watched the scene with something like envy, trembling with the sting of defeat. Some had their lips pushed out in a sulk.
"What a show. Really, what a show. It doesn't even count toward our grades."
"All that fuss over winning a friendly match."
"Anyone would think they'd taken first place in the finals."
Hearing a few Class C students grumbling, Meilin turned her head with a flourish. Then she stuck out her tongue in a big, theatrical bleeeh and high-fived the other Class A students. The faces of the Class C students flushed bright red.
Grades didn't matter. To a Kizen student, nothing was more humiliating than losing a competition.
"Looks like the match is over, judging by all that ruckus?"
"Professor Hong Peng!"
From a teleportation magic circle, Hong Peng appeared along with her teaching assistants, carrying an enormous pot.
The assistants moved briskly, laying down wood, lighting a fire, and setting up the pot. Then Hong Peng, still wearing her gloves, lifted the lid—
"WAAAAH!"
White steam gushed skyward, revealing a broth bubbling away merrily. The agonizingly delicious aroma made even the noble students forget their dignity, mouths flooding with saliva.
"It's a stew made from Nusselack meat — an environment-destroying species!"
At Hong Peng's words, Simon gave a wry smile.
'She cooked Nusselack again this time.'
At the mention of monster meat, a few students' faces stiffened slightly, but no one reacted badly. The smell rising from that pot was simply too intoxicating.
There was only one thought in anyone's mind: they wanted a taste.
"Don't worry! I tried a bowl myself, and it's a genuine work of art!"
Dick's voice rang out. When one student asked how he could possibly know that, he said he'd been invited to Hong Peng's cabin before.
Envious glares rained down on him from every direction.
"Ugh! That attention-seeking punk, at it again."
Meilin pressed a hand to her forehead and shook her head. Simon and Camibarez exchanged a look and quietly smiled.
"It a bad monzter that damagez the environment, zo you ztudentz keep eating it a lot, a lot!"
"Yes, Professor!"
"Now! Clazs A, ztep right up!"
The students lined up, and the assistants handed out rustic earthenware bowls.
Standing before the pot herself, Hong Peng stirred the contents with a huge ladle and ladled out each and every bowl by hand. When she piled the meat on high, the students' eyes went round as saucers.
"Careful now — the bowlz are hot!"
Receiving their food, the students found spots in the shade of the trees. Then, savoring the beautiful scenery, they took their first bites.
"……!"
"This is insane!"
There were no over-the-top reactions. Every student who tasted it was already scooping their next spoonful.
The Class C students swallowed their saliva with envious eyes, gulp after gulp. It occurred to them that they'd rarely in their lives wanted something so desperately.
"…I mean, that's what we said, but in the spirit of magnanimity, they'll share some with us too, right?"
"Oh, obviously! That's the heartwarming way to wrap things up, isn't it?"
Just then, a Class C student who'd gone off to scout came sprinting back.
"There's still some left! Looks like each of us could get half a bowl!"
"Good, good!"
Everyone ran their happy circuits — but Kizen had no such thing.
The leftover stew belonged entirely to Hong Peng and her assistants.
The assistants ladled the stew into something like a huge basin, while Hong Peng planted herself right in front of the pot and scraped it clean. The Class C students' faces crumpled into tragic masks.
"Hey! Class C's not allowed!"
"TA! Kids keep coming over here begging!"
"Step back, students. Rules are rules."
From Class C's point of view, it was the cruelest moment in the world.
Whoosh.
Meanwhile, Serne was using a feather to quietly spirit a Class A student away — and tasting the stew for herself.
"So that's all it is. What's all the fuss about? It's nothing special."
She used the feather's power again to order the student back.
Sitting alone on a rock with a sullen expression, she caught sight of Simon, Camibarez, Dick, and Meilin laughing and chatting boisterously together.
"I'm telling you, it's because Simon beat the Nusselack with his golem — that's why the meat got so tender!"
"Haha! No way!"
"Admit it, the one we had at the cabin tasted better."
"Ugh, textbook nostalgia-glorifying."
Meilin turned her head mid-sentence — and her eyes met Serne's, dead on.
Serne put on the most triumphant smile she could muster, then abruptly turned her head away.
'Ahh. So this is what it feels like?'
With a bitter little smile, Serne scooped up a spoonful of stew and ate it.
And as she kept eating… it turned out to be pretty good after all.
That night.
Having finished all his classes and his personal training as well, Simon was heading for the dormitory rooftop. A sign reading STUDENTS PROHIBITED! stood beside a barrier tape, but Simon offered a silent apology to the staff and slipped over it anyway.
The door to the rooftop was firmly locked. As he scanned his surroundings, Simon spotted a window and approached it. Outside, a single rope dangled loosely.
'This is it.'
Simon flung the window open without hesitation, planted his foot on the sill, gripped the rope tightly with both hands, and leapt. Pulling himself up arm over arm, he successfully climbed over the rooftop railing.
'Ah.'
On the rooftop under the moonlight sat a man with faded grey hair.
Sitting with the soles of his feet pressed together, head tilted all the way back to gaze at the full moon, he exuded a curious atmosphere — like watching a lone wolf.
Whoooosh.
The wind stirred his blade-like hair, revealing ears and cheeks that had been hidden — and old scars, large and small, scattered across them.
"You came."
The man's voice carried over.
Simon smiled and walked over, sitting down beside him.
"How long have you been up here, Kajan?"
"Two hours."
"You could go inside, you know."
"I like watching the moon. And once I fall asleep, I can't get back up."
Kajan quietly opened his subspace pocket. What he drew out was a bottle of wine and two glasses.
'Wine, out of nowhere?'
He popped the cork barehanded with practiced ease and poured.
Glug-glug.
The red liquid slid down into the glass. The two raised their cups, clinked them together, and brought them to their lips.
"…Not bad."
"Isn't it, though."
"I like drinking wine while watching the moon."
More refined than he looks. Simon thought, and savored his own glass.
The flavor dancing across his tongue snapped him wide awake. This was no cheap bottle hastily picked up in Rochest. It was top-shelf stuff.
As Simon swirled the wine slowly, savoring its bouquet, Kajan's face settled into a look of satisfaction.
"Thank you for lending me Erzebet."
"Oh no, don't mention it."
There was a reason he hadn't brought Erzebet to Deathland: the ongoing search of the Forbidden Forest, and the joint investigation with Kajan.
Erzebet was a spy-type Ancient Undead, specialized not for combat but for searching, scouting, and gathering intelligence. He'd had her work with Kajan, moving through suspicious locations at night.
"She doesn't seem to trust me all that much."
At Kajan's remark, Simon chuckled.
"I don't think it's a matter of trust."
"Hm?"
He had once asked Erzebet why she was so snippy with Kajan, of all people.
The queen, who'd been lounging around the ruins, had pouted her lips and fired off a barrage of complaints — how he'd smacked her in the face and so on. Apparently there'd been some minor incident during a fight.
"As long as a collaborator has the skills, the rest doesn't matter. More importantly—"
Kajan rummaged inside his coat.
"—the investigation hasn't been without results."
He held out a single photograph clipped between his fingers. A picture taken with a magic recorder — and the moment Simon saw it, his eyes went wide.
It was an altar.
Sickening blood had stained everything around it crimson, and the entrails of beasts hung in glistening clusters. And at the center stood an enormous cross.
"N-no way—!"
"Yes. The Priest has appeared."
Kajan brushed back his disheveled bangs and continued.
"By the time we reached the scene, he'd already finished the ritual and left. And when we approached the altar, there was a faint click of something catching — and then a bomb went off."
Kajan abruptly undid a few shirt buttons and pulled the fabric up.
Beneath revealed abdominal muscles as well-developed as brickwork — and the right side of his abdomen was stained a dull grey.
It was the trace of a wound healed with potion.
"The whole thing was his trap."
"Ah…!"
"I should have realized when there was no goddess statue on the cross."
Kajan let his shirt fall.
"I don't know the reason, but it seems he's compelled to perform rituals at regular intervals. And lately, the frequency has been increasing."
Kajan gazed thoughtfully at the full moon hanging in the night sky, raised his wine glass, took a sip, and went on.
"Something may soon happen at Kizen. Stay sharp."
"…Yes, sir!"
Simon nodded, his face grave. The two clinked their glasses once more.
Was it the alcohol, or the fact that they were comrades chasing the same goal — or perhaps the shared kinship of both hiding their true identities at Kizen? Whatever it was, the conversation flowed easily tonight.
The two talked late into the night.
"By the way, Kajan."
Simon stole a careful glance at him, then asked.
"What was the reason you got held back a year?"
"…"
He drained his glass in silence.
"It was because of a mission."
It had happened just last year.
While searching Roc Island at night as always, Kajan discovered the Priest performing a ritual in the Forbidden Forest.
After a ferocious chase, he lost the Priest — but he succeeded in seeing the face beneath the hood.
"W-wait, then!"
Simon nearly leapt out of his seat.
"You know what the Priest looks like?"
"The story isn't finished."
The next day, Kajan skipped all his classes and combed the entire school, hunting for the face he'd seen the night before.
Then, during a break, he spotted a first-year male student chatting with friends in a lecture hall.
It was exact.
However many times he checked, the face matched the one in his memory perfectly.
Kajan entered the lecture hall, and the moment the student saw him, he panicked, stumbled backward — then turned and bolted.
Certain now, Kajan brought him crashing to the floor and beat him senseless with his fists. The student's face streaming with blood, he passed out.
But.
"He wasn't the Priest."
Kajan said, pouring more wine into his glass.
"To give you the conclusion first — it was all the Priest's trap. Wearing a Bio-Face made to look exactly like that student, he deliberately exposed his face to me."
"…Ah!"
A Bio-Face was a kind of disguise tool necromancers created to conceal their own faces.
"Later I went to that student and asked why he'd run from me. He told me a man who looked exactly like me had been stalking him. He testified that every night, the man sat at the window of his fourth-floor dorm room, just staring at him."
A chill crept over Simon, and he ran a hand slowly up his arm.
"I received a heavy disciplinary penalty, and thanks to Lady Nephthys I avoided expulsion. But my activities have been under numerous restrictions ever since."
Kajan clenched his fist.
"He's extraordinarily meticulous and thorough. The type who plans everything flawlessly before he moves."
"That sounds about right."
Simon nodded. It had been the same during the performance assessment. He'd never imagined the Priest would sabotage the Cyclops to bring him down.
"We ran precision surveys on the faculty, staff, and henchmen — even deployed mind-affecting dark magic — but turned up no clues whatsoever. Still, one thing is certain: that Priest genuinely exists here on Roc Island. All we can do is raid him in the act."
"True."
Thinking that it wouldn't be easy, Simon raised his wine glass.
"Now it's your turn. You've only crossed paths with him once, I know — but is there anything you can tell me about the Priest?"
"Hmm. Mine's a bit ambiguous, but…"
Simon looked down at a small pebble lying nearby and continued.
"I planted a marker on the Priest — one only I can recognize."