The Old Master on the Road
The Test Execution Headquarters.
The two Crows, who had seemed ready to tear each other's throats out moments ago, had suspended their hostilities entirely. They were now seated across from one another at the same table, enjoying a leisurely cup of tea.
"Ahh, you should have mentioned it if the boy was your direct disciple."
Evangelos drained his scalding tea in one long gulp and glanced sidelong at Bahil before adding, "Then I'd have gone a little easier on him, wouldn't I?"
"He is not my direct disciple."
Evangelos wore a look of genuine surprise at the reply. "Now that's a first. I thought your kind could only rest once you'd sunk your claws into everything you wanted."
"You flatter me. And besides, this school is not so soft a playing field as all that."
Evangelos clicked his tongue. "Hah! Look at you — the old viper Bahil, dead and buried. If the other professors' interference bothers you so much, why not just slip some untraceable curse onto that Simon fellow?"
Bahil took a sip of his own tea. Then, finding it too hot, he removed the bowler hat from his head and set it on the table.
"Special Admission No. 1 is a child whom Lady Nephthys watches personally. Winning a student's heart through curses is far too dangerous a game. And more than anything else—"
Bahil tilted his head back. "I don't want to."
"Oh ho?"
"A genius is a composite creature, you see. Intelligence, experience, values, temperament, the discipline of one's parents — when all of these fuse together into a particular, delicate balance, that is when a genius is born. Why on earth would I mar such a masterpiece by carving a flaw into it with my own hands? I have no interest in teaching puppets. I want to teach a person."
Bahil recited all of this in one breath, then suddenly twisted his face into something monstrous and flicked his tongue out like a snake.
"I simply hope that he comes to trust and follow me with his whole heart. I want a disciple who respects me sincerely, who understands my philosophy and my will from the deepest chamber of his chest, and who can sit across from me and discuss the very essence of this world without a shred of fear."
What an absolute freak of a bastard.
Evangelos thought this, but kept it behind his teeth.
"Watching you obsess like that brings back memories. Remember when you were a new professor, trailing after that girl from the Toxicology program because you simply had to teach her?"
"Ah, you mean Chehekl? She works as my Head TA these days. A remarkably capable young woman."
"You really are a piece of work, you know that?"
Evangelos turned his attention to the screen, changing the subject. "More to the point — even I, as Chief Supervisor, can't interfere in the final stage. What's your plan now?"
Before the entrance leading to the Kizen campus, one final gate stood waiting for Simon.
"I've done what I could. The rest belongs to Simon and Simon alone."
Bahil answered flatly.
"If he is truly the talent destined to become my beloved disciple, then I have faith he will overcome this trial as well."
Riding his Golem Board, Simon was climbing a hillside path he knew all too well.
The very road that linked the Kizen campus to Rochest. Slip off to the side here, and you'd find the Forbidden Forest — and within it, Pier's ruins.
He'd promised to meet Pier and Erzsébet at the ruins once the semester break ended. He found himself looking forward to that reunion too.
Are the two of them already on Roc Island?
It seemed unlikely — but if Efnel really had attacked Kizen, Simon planned to confirm the situation on campus and then immediately change course for Pier's ruins.
A long-awaited return of 'Pion'. And with Erzsébet and Prince both at his side, he intended to face the priests head-on with the full might of a Legion Commander.
Just as Simon, growing impatient, pushed the Golem Board to greater speed—
Fwoooong!
A priest's holy spear came hurtling down at him from the sky.
One holy spear was nothing. Simon accelerated to dodge it. But the spear, falling at what seemed an almost leisurely pace, drifted smoothly downward and then — far too easily — thunk! It punched straight into the Golem Board.
……?!
Without warning, Simon's view of the world launched skyward.
At some point the holy spear had bored clean through the Golem Board's body and buried itself in the earth below, and Simon's own body had been flung upward on its momentum.
What the — the spear's trajectory bent?
CRASH!
A moment later, Simon came back down and slammed hard into the ground. Like a ball, he bounced several times, tumbling across the grass. The taste of dirt and blood filled his mouth, and his head spun maddeningly.
Only after rolling several more times did his body finally stop. From within a thick cloud of dust, Simon coughed and pushed himself up.
His once-pristine black uniform was caked head to toe in dirt, and every bone in his body ached as though it had shattered.
Ugh.
Worse still, his left arm wouldn't move properly — the botched landing, apparently. In the worst possible condition, Simon raised his head.
At the very center of the road to the Kizen campus stood an old man.
He looked like an immortal sage presiding over some towering mountain peak.
He wore white robes of training garb, one hand clasped behind his back, the other slowly working a folding fan.
White beard, thinning hair, deep wrinkles carved across his face. And from him, Simon felt an immense, flowing current of holy power.
A priest. And not just any priest — a powerhouse beyond anything I've faced so far.
The old man, radiating final-boss energy from every pore, opened his mouth.
"Young necromancer. You may go no further than this."
It was a grave, benevolent voice — yet threaded through it ran something ominous, something slick and unpleasant.
"If you wish to hold onto that precious life of yours, turn back now."
Gritting his teeth, Simon lowered his stance.
"I can't do that."
A subspace tore open, and from within it skeletons and zombies came pouring out in a flood. Several of the skeletons fitted Bone Armour onto Simon's legs — and onto his motionless left arm as well. A vast fighting aura rolled off Simon's body.
"Please step aside."
Oh ho.
A flicker of interest crossed the old man's eyes as he studied Simon.
That impact had to have been substantial, and the boy was gasping for breath, exhausted — yet his gaze alone burned utterly alive.
Well now. There's a core of steel planted square in those eyes.
Children with such eyes at that age were a rare breed. The old man's mood lifted, and he spoke in a voice of open delight.
"Fleeing is its own kind of courage, you know. You're no fool — you can feel the gulf between us."
Simon said nothing. He flexed his armoured arm and both armored legs, settling into a fighting stance. The ready posture of Matou.
The old man accepted the challenge in kind. Folding his fan and tucking it into the belt at the small of his back, he reached out into the empty air.
Holy power gathered in his palm and transformed into a longsword well over a meter in length.
Shing! Shing!
The sweep of the holy sword carried a razor-edged menace, as though it were slicing the very air in two. After a couple of casual practice swings, the old man leveled the blade and spoke.
"Come, then."
WHAM!
Simon kicked off the ground and charged. His Bone Armour-clad right fist hurtled forward — and the old man, without shifting his feet, simply flicked his sword.
KRA-KOOM!
Holy sword met Bone Armour in a spray of sparks.
Simon's eyes went wide. That single exchange had cracked the armour and snuffed out the jet-black coursing through it.
But—!
The punch was a feint. Planting his swinging left arm as a pivot, Simon twisted his whole body through the turn — flowing seamlessly into the spin kick of his right leg. It was his signature chain technique.
KA-ANG!
But this time too, the old man's casually swung blade shattered the Bone Boot outright. When the old man drove a kick into Simon's side, his body sailed lightly away and skidded across the ground.
"Your movements are far too large."
The old man raised holy power in his palm.
Vmm!
A pane of glass, constructed of pure divinity, unfolded in the air before him. The old man swept his sword through it, and the pane burst apart, holy shards raining out in every direction.
A ranged attack!
Simon threw himself flat and bolted. Watching the holy shards slam into the earth where he'd stood, his heart lurched.
"Still not close enough."
The old man hung several more panes of glass in the air, then — one hand behind his back — strolled past them, flicking his sword in smooth, lazy arcs. Holy shards came cascading toward Simon like a breaking tide.
KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA!
Where the shards touched it, the Bone Armour tore apart or simply went dead. When a handful of fragments drove themselves into Simon's flesh, he smashed his forehead against the ground, his face twisted in exquisite agony.
Hm. I did ease off the core, but was that too much?
The old man kept his expression solemn, though deep inside he felt a twinge of guilt.
And then.
……No, seriously.
Simon lay with his head pressed to the dirt, his body trembling.
……It doesn't hurt. Not even a little. Am I really allowed to do this?
Desperate acting.
He'd pulled it once against Flema, so he had real experience performing the part of someone taking holy damage.
If this was a Kizen exam, the Observers would be watching. And if these truly were Efnel's priests — the fact that their holy power had no effect on him was his trump card. He absolutely could not let it slip.
Gritting his teeth, Simon forced the words out through a strained voice.
"It's my turn now!"
In the time Simon had bought, the skeletons that had slipped from the forest and surrounded the old man on both flanks swung their weapons down in unison.
Once again, the old man simply swept his sword a few times where he stood. Silver blades streaked through the air one after another, and every skeleton went flying off in all directions.
Still not over!
Simon wrenched his concentration to its peak.
It's not done yet!
The skeletons that had been knocked flying froze mid-air and scattered into dozens upon dozens of separate bones. Every bone — except for the sections cleaved away by the holy sword — finished aligning itself for a headlong charge.
'Bone Nail' — one of Simon's core techniques.
Right here!
SHRA-KAKAKAKAKAKA!
Six Overlord blades burst out of subspace.
Bone Nail combined with Overlord. An offensive that pressed in from all sides, one that no two-armed, two-legged human could possibly evade.
"Corraling me into a position where escape is impossible — clever. But against a priest, hardly a sound strategy."
The old man thrust the holy sword forward and traced a holy sigil. A barrier of divinity bloomed out from around his body, and every attack rebounded off it.
Panting, Simon recalled the Overlord.
"And the reason you've been putting on such an elaborate show of drawing my gaze—"
The old man's head turned.
"—would be the zombies you quietly sent around the side earlier, yes? When exactly did you plan to use those?"
Simon's back went slick with cold sweat.
He saw through everything.
That unshakable composure, born of decades of experience, was terrifying beyond measure. Facing him, there wasn't a single crack through which a variable could slip.
But there's exactly one advantage I have over that man.
Simon slowly raised his right arm and pointed it toward where the zombies waited.
"This is your first time on Roc Island, isn't it?"
The boy was smiling. The old man regarded him with interest.
"Hm, that is true enough. But does it matter?"
"Understanding of the terrain."
The magic circle of Corpse Explosion spread itself across Simon's palm.
This was mountain terrain. He'd traveled this road countless times on his way down to Rochest, and the ground here was unstable — on rainy days, sediment would wash down and turn the whole path into a muddy mess.
The henchmen had reinforced it with wooden barricades set against the bedrock boundary.
And if I bring that barricade down with a strong enough shock—!
Simon clenched his fist as though pressing the detonator of a bomb.
KURURURURURUNG!
Thunder rolled, one detonation after another. The earth around them shuddered like an earthquake, and an enormous torrent of earth and rock came crashing down from the right.
"!!"
KUGUGUGUGUGUGU!
The torrent struck the old man first. He threw up a holy barrier where he stood, and the onrushing earth clouded the air before him in a thick haze.
Heh heh heh! That one, I've well and truly got him!
While the old man held his barrier, Simon had already reconstructed his Golem Board and was riding at full speed over the top of the flood.
"Right through—"
Simon's eyes blazed with focus.
"—to the entrance!"
KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA!
In truth, the landslide wasn't all that large. But because the old man had no way of knowing the true scale of the natural disaster, he'd played it safe and thrown up a full barrier on the spot — and Simon had turned that crisis into his opening.
That difference alone had torn a wide gulf between the old man and Simon.
I did it!
From here, the Kizen campus was a straight shot. The familiar entrance came into view — and the gate was open.
The instant Simon passed through the entrance—
WAAAAAAAH!
A colossal roar of cheers, splitting the air like a thunderbolt, snapped Simon's mind awake.
?!
Halting his board and spinning to look around, Simon's eyes went wide.