The Night of Erebos

Lang Strauss.

Professor of Toxicology.

Dead at the age of eighty-seven after a long illness.

The news sent shockwaves through all of Kizen.

It was no secret that his condition had been worsening for a long time.

He had vomited blood mid-lecture, and more and more often his Head TA Francesca had to take the class in his stead. In recent weeks, his health had declined to the point where he stopped appearing at all.

—Lang, isn't it time? Give up the field work.

—You're more than qualified to join the Council of Elders, so why do you insist on pushing yourself like this!

Not only Kizen's professors but even his closest friends urged him to retire, yet he refused to abandon his mission and dragged himself to the lectern day after day. The overwork only deepened his illness.

Perhaps this ending had always been inevitable.

It seemed Lang, too, had sensed his own end drawing near. A will, written in his own hand, was discovered.

After Lang's death, the Night of Erebos descended upon Kizen.

When a necromancer of great renown passed away, this ancient tradition was observed to mourn the departed. If necromancers — a people ever chasing change, progress, and profit — held to a single tradition without exception, it was anything and everything concerning death.

Throughout the mourning period, professors and TAs wore black. Students came to class in their usual uniforms, but with every button fastened and a black tie at the collar. The boys had to wear black socks; the girls, black stockings.

And for all three days of the Night of Erebos, no lights or fires of any kind could be lit — a gesture meant to let the departed close their eyes peacefully in a warm, gentle darkness.

Still, out of respect for Lang's will, the first and second days proceeded with normal classes. The professors drew on the chalkboard by hand or used printed materials instead of mana projectors, and they refrained from any dark magic involving fire or bright light.

Once classes ended and the students returned to their dormitories, they were expected to go straight to bed when night fell.

The generators in the dormitories had been shut down entirely, every lamp extinguished, and when darkness came, all of Kizen sank into it at once.

Unless there was an emergency, even candles were forbidden. During this period, light itself was an insult to the dead.

And so, day by day, the third morning of Erebos finally dawned.

The final day was reserved for the departed's funeral.

Kizen's most celebrated necromancers pass, in death, into a sacred place called the Mausoleum. Once the rites were performed there and Lang was sent on his way, the Night of Erebos would finally come to an end.

Every professor at Kizen attended Lang's funeral.

A handful of students with personal ties to him were also selected to ascend to the Mausoleum.

Among those Simon knew, Lorraine — Nephthys's daughter — and Claudia Menzies, the Toxicology aspirant of Class A, had gone up.

The third-years were in an uproar; so towering was Lang's reputation that the majority of Toxicology majors abandoned their missions outright and returned to Roc Island.

But Lang's dying wish — that classes continue — could not be ignored, and so the third day of the Night of Erebos took the form of self-directed study, overseen by TAs in place of the professors.

"Of all things, Toxicology first thing in the morning."

Dick, black tie at his collar, muttered as he took his seat and unpacked his bag.

"...Ugh, I overslept and now I'm even more tired. Have I been asleep since eight?"

Simon, who had pulled a chair up beside him, smiled gently.

"Think positive. Catching up on lost sleep now isn't the worst idea."

The Toxicology class was not being held in its usual practice hall with the magic cauldrons, but in an ordinary lecture room with nothing but desks and chairs. While the Night of Erebos was in progress, even the fire needed to boil a cauldron was forbidden.

"Hi, everyone~"

"Well, look who's early. What's gotten into you worms?"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Camibarez and Meilin arrived in the lecture room.

Both of them wore black ties as well. Camibarez, who usually went around bare-legged, had put on black stockings, and Meilin had pinned her long hair back neatly with black hairpins.

"Hey, did you two hear?"

Dick spoke up, as he always did.

"This Toxicology class isn't going to be self-study. It's going ahead as normal."

"What? How's a normal class supposed to happen with no professor here?"

At Meilin's question, Dick lowered his voice conspiratorially.

"Here's the thing. TA Francesca — the one who just got promoted to professor — apparently didn't go to the Mausoleum."

All three pairs of eyes went wide at once.

"Really? Why?"

Francesca Belmond, the Head TA who had followed Lang more devotedly than anyone.

A new story had already spread about her.

In principle, Lang's TA corps should have been disbanded, with a new Toxicology professor and staff brought in from outside — but Nephthys could not bring herself to refuse the last request of her old comrade.

Though such a thing was nearly without precedent, Francesca was promoted directly from TA to a full professorship at Kizen.

In truth, only the procedure was unusual; where her abilities were concerned, no one raised a single objection. Everyone in the field was already more than satisfied with her skill.

"And there's more."

Dick dropped his voice even lower.

"Lady Nephthys was going to entrust the final memorial rites to Professor Francesca — the departed's most beloved disciple."

"Professor Francesca," Meilin corrected in a clipped voice.

"Ah, yep, that. Anyway — Professor Francesca turned her down."

The three of them stared at each other in astonishment. Simon asked the question on everyone's mind.

"Why would she refuse?"

"Th-that's right! I don't understand at all! I heard scattering the departed's ashes at the end is a deeply honorable rite!"

"What I heard was that it had something to do with the classes—"

Click, click.

All four of them shut their mouths at once.

Barely a breath after they'd stopped talking, Francesca — now a professor — came sweeping into the lecture room, her red hair flowing behind her. The faces of the Class A students gathered for the morning lecture went rigid.

She — she really didn't go to the funeral?

Perhaps it was the halo of being Kizen's Toxicology professor, but she was a completely different figure from the woman who had once tended to Lang's every need.

Black from head to toe. A black suit, black shoes, a black scarf wound around her neck. With every step she took, the crimson hair and the scarf swirled in her wake like something out of an idealized portrait.

For the first time, she stood before Class A as their professor. Some things never changed, though — as always, she drew her swaying long hair back into a tight band before steeling herself.

"Class President."

Those were Francesca's first words.

As the rest of the room sat frozen, Jamie Victoria sprang to her feet. She moved fast on her feet when it counted.

"Attention! Bow to the Professor!"

"Good morning!"

Every student bowed their heads in unison, and she answered with a soft smile.

Welcome, everyone.

Jamie and the other students felt their chests tighten.

Lang had been the only professor at Kizen who made his students bow to him — old-fashioned, perhaps, but his. And now his young disciple had chosen to carry on that very routine.

She drew a slow breath.

"Professor Lang,"

the students' mouths fell open,

"valued the present above all else."

She was speaking of Lang first — unprompted, before anyone could say a word of condolence.

It felt as if she were carving into her own wounds, and that made it all the harder to hear.

"That is why he dragged his ailing body to the lectern however he could. Professor Lang used to say, like a refrain: do not look back on the past, do not live for the future — devote yourself wholly to the moment."

Her voice carried softly through the room.

"He told us the past binds the present, and the future wearies it. But a faithful present, layered one upon another, becomes a rich past — and a shining future. Professor Lang was faithful to the present until the very moment he left us."

Her voice was more moving than anything she had ever taught them.

"Professor Lang is gone, but I will live in the present. I promise you that I will pour every ounce of my strength and passion into each day I spend teaching you. And I believe that, watching me, Professor Lang will smile."

It was a short speech, but Francesca moved the students deeply.

Meilin, who had admired her long before this, found her eyes brimming over, and Camibarez pressed a hand over her mouth. Sniffles echoed from every corner of the lecture room.

"Now then — let us begin."

Francesca's lectures had always been dynamic, but today they felt upgraded to another level entirely.

She strode across ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the lecture room with sweat beading on her brow, sketching out detailed chalk diagrams to help the students grasp the composition of toxic compounds.

Not a single student or TA dared look down on her for having risen from the TA ranks.

Perhaps because that speech had struck them so deeply, everyone followed her wholeheartedly, as Kizen's professor in fact as well as name.

Three hours slipped past before anyone noticed.

"Attention! Bow to the Professor!"

"Thank you for the lecture!"

"Thank you all. See you again next week."

The lingering emotion must have been heavy, because the students filed out of the lecture room slowly. A few of the Toxicology aspirants who were close to Francesca went up to her directly to offer a word of comfort, and she received each of them with a kind smile.

Sshh.

Then, quietly, Simon drew Kajan's glasses from inside his coat.

Ever since he'd received the thing, he'd been checking every professor and TA — looking for a living-skin mask, or a scar on the cheek.

Simon put on the glasses and looked at Francesca.

...

Nothing again. No difference at all. No scar on her cheek either. Simon reached for the frames to take them off—

"...Cami?"

Camibarez, who had been staring at him with a dazed expression, jolted in shock and flushed crimson. Then she flapped both arms frantically.

"Ah — nothing! It's nothing at all!"

"Hm?"

Meilin, having tucked her bag into her subspace pocket, came over.

"Hey, what's with those outdated glasses anyway? You look like some old-timey nerd."

"They're past their prime, sure, but they've still got a certain charm."

Dick sidled in from the side, plucked the glasses off Simon's face with a nimble flick, and put them on himself. Then he struck a pose, turning to face the three of them.

"Well? How do I look?"

"I'm gonna throw up."

Meilin made a gagging motion, and Camibarez gave him a slow, deadpan round of applause.

"Oh."

Then Dick froze. And began sweeping his gaze up and down Meilin's body.

Meilin, who had been standing there innocently, went scarlet in an instant.

"Hey, you creep! Where the hell are you looking?!"

"Hm? What?"

"Give me those glasses! Now!"

Meilin lunged at him. Dick spun aside to dodge in the nick of time and dropped the glasses into Simon's hand, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Hoo-ah! Simon, so you really are a man after all!"

"...?"

"I said, what IS with those glasses?!"

Simon put the glasses back on.

Being a pair made to see through living-skin masks, they had some faint translucence about them. Not the dramatic effect Dick was imagining, of course — just enough to make out something pale and blurry beyond the fabric of a uniform.

"HEY!!"

Meilin shot forward, snatched the glasses away, and jammed them onto her own face with the fury of someone ready to bite and tear at whatever she caught in the act—

...and found nothing remotely worth the trouble.

She clicked her tongue in disdain and handed the glasses back to Simon.

"So where'd you even get these?"

At Dick's question, Simon shrugged.

"Kajan gave them to me."

"Whoa, no fair! Why are you two the only ones so chummy? I swear I'm being frozen out in the dorm these days. Help me get close to him too, come on!"

Simon smiled easily.

"First, how about being quiet when people are ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠trying to sleep?"

"Ugh."

"Hmph. I don't know who it is, but I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠guarantee it's Dick's fault."

"H-hang in there, Dick! I'm sure you'll be close with everyone soon!"

The four of them chatted amicably as they filed out of the lecture room. Class A had a good two hours of free time before their next class, Hemomancy.

Dick headed for the dormitory warehouse. A large shipment for his little business had come in today, and he was apparently short on hands.

Meilin said she was stopping by the Magic Technology Hall with some friends from her club. It was the building right next to the Poisonous Magic Hall where Simon had just taken class.

And then—

"Just the two of us at last~"

Camibarez said it with a beaming smile, her cheeks flushed pink. Simon smiled back and nodded.

"Let's go get something to eat, Cami."

"Yes!"