The Blood Golem and the Run
"There it is — the giant hybrid! Special Admission No. 3, Chatel Maer!! He just bulldozed straight through the trap with nothing but his bare body!"
The excited crowd chanted Chatel's name over and over. The announcer, swept up in the fervor, turned to Byeolya.
"Professor! Just like in the last exam, it's a display of sheer dominance! He's practically a living, breathing siege engine! What in the world kind of dark magic is that?"
"You idiot! How would that be dark magic?"
Byeolya rested her chin on her hand and smirked.
"That's just something he was born with. A giant's constitution — weapons can smash into him and not leave so much as a scratch. It honestly disgusts me watching these houses trot out the dark magic they pass down as 'bloodline.' This is what bloodline means."
"Astonishing, truly! Is he even human like the rest of us! And he pushes straight through to press the red buzzer! Chatel takes first place in clearing the third stage!"
Stages one and two had dragged on somewhat as the students painstakingly disassembled the traps, but the real spectacle lay in stage three.
Because this stage evaluated pure defensive power and stamina regardless of trap-disarming skill, every student came out swinging for a head-on confrontation.
"Oh! And speaking of which — Meilyn Villenne!"
The main screen in the stands cut to Meilyn.
She had laid magic circles beneath both feet and was running along the ceiling, pouring out massive volumes of ice beneath her — a战术 of her own devising.
The weapons descending from the ceiling snagged on the ice she laid down, and in those stolen moments Meilyn was blasting through stage three at a breathtaking pace.
"Ooooh! Her command of Jet-Black elemental ice magic is nothing short of miraculous! It's like watching the return of the Age of Archmages!! That is the Ivory Tower for you!"
"She's pushing her pace too hard."
Byeolya said it flatly, like spitting out a seed.
"She won't hold that for even two minutes. She's dumping out every drop of ice she has, betting there's no next round. She's going to collapse at stage four."
"Is that so! Well, let's keep watching to see if the Professor's right! Ah — and another one goes! This time from a great dragon house to rival the Ivory Tower itself — Hector Moore!!"
Hector, his body now completely covered in scales in the shape of a dragon, was sprinting low against the floor.
The breath blasting from his mouth bombed the ceiling again and again, shattering the weapons before they could even drop. He sent skeletons out to lure the next wave of weapons into position, then alternated between breath attacks and curses.
"That's good work."
Byeolya flashed a satisfied smile.
"He's using skeletons to map out where the traps are, then rotating between breath and corrosion curses. More efficient than Meilyn a moment ago, honestly."
"But Professor! Isn't the whole point of this exam defense and stamina?"
"That boy's the type who crushes his opponent with raw, extreme firepower. His efficiency's lower, sure, but a type like that can still put up a solid result in this exam."
One after another, the students were clearing stage three, each in their own signature style.
"And yet — the student who blazed through stages one and two faster than anyone hasn't taken a single step in stage three!"
The moment the announcer cried out, Simon's face filled the main screen.
"He appears to be preparing some kind of dark magic — and it's been thirty minutes already! Other students are overtaking his progress and heading into the stage-four exam!"
The spectators who had bet money on Special Admission No. 1 groaned and jeered. The flustered announcer looked to Byeolya.
"Professor! What's your read on this move?"
Byeolya, who had been watching Simon's preparations with a vaguely grumpy expression, pursed her lips.
"He'll figure it out. He always does."
"Sorry?"
"Next contestant!"
"Whew."
Simon panted hard. He knew perfectly well that thirty minutes had already passed.
Professor Aaron was right.
When Aaron had taught him the new Blood Golem, he had advised Simon to keep it sealed away until his second year.
The reasons he gave were simple: it took far too long to complete, and it drained the caster's stamina to a dangerous degree.
Aaron had even warned that, as things stood, the caster might collapse the very moment the golem finished forming.
But still.
Of all the dark magic I have, there's nothing better suited to this situation than the Blood Golem.
Simon had made the bold call to deploy the Blood Golem he'd learned through private lessons in a real, graded exam.
When blood began draining steadily from his body and dizziness crept in, he pulled out a Blood Potion — the lifeblood of every hemomancy major — and clamped it between his teeth. That made five bottles already.
Pier watched Simon in silence.
This one has a habit of pushing himself past all reason.
And yet, for all his reckless gambles, he had never failed even once. Everything had succeeded — at times, he'd pulled off outright miracles. But this time, with his own physical stamina on the line, he had finally slammed into a wall called reality.
Would Simon learn failure for the first time? Or would he overcome even this? It all rested on his shoulders alone.
Hoo. Hoo.
Simon's vision spun in circles. Even the Blood Potions had reached their limit; his body simply couldn't take any more.
...I can't go on like this.
Simon staggered and pressed a hand to his forehead.
Not like this.
Crash!
Simon shattered Walter's magic circle he'd been maintaining in his right hand — and unfolded a new one.
I know exactly how dangerous it is to tamper with a magic circle on your own. But if you're afraid of the risk, you can't change anything.
Just like the misdirected Exhaust he'd improvised in Curse class. This time, too, he would rework the circle.
The theory wasn't hard. Walter's Cloud magic circle ran on a four-to-six ratio of Jet-Black to blood.
So change the ratio. Six to four, Jet-Black over blood. If you had confidence in your Cloud control, there was no law saying you had to obey Walter's prescribed proportions.
The core and the frame are already formed! All that's left is the outer layer...!
Simon's ecosystem unfolded in a whole new way.
Lighter!
The Cloud that emerged was pale in color, stickier and damper to the touch. The golem's feet and legs took shape, but they drooped and wobbled so badly that even walking looked doubtful.
But this much was enough.
Because I'm not breaking through with the Blood Golem.
At last, a sufficient volume of Cloud enveloped the golem's core, and the dark magic came alive. A magnificent three-meter golem rose to its full height.
It was a monster shimmering with emerald-green liquid, its surface crawling with the spiral patterns of a snail's shell. Slightly different from the crimson Blood Golem people imagined — a golem the color of emeralds.
Now for the finishing touch. Simon drew onto his own chest a magic circle identical to the one inscribed on the golem's core.
Kiiiiiiiiiing!
The two circles began to resonate. Simon exhaled a long, slow breath and turned his gaze toward the ordeal of stage three.
[So you chose to twist it away from the original design!]
Pier's apparition grinned wide.
[The plan was to have the Blood Golem tank the attacks while you ran the latter half yourself, no? What's your play now?]
'Start to finish.'
Simon popped the cap off his last Blood Potion, downed it in one gulp, and stared dead ahead.
I'm going to run it on my own two feet.
KHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Pier's colossal laughter exploded inside Simon's skull.
[You really are the maddest human I have ever met!]
"Incredible! Special Admission No. 10, Malcolm Randolph! That control — scattering the weapons with his Doppelgängers — was genuinely impressive!"
The announcer shouted with burning enthusiasm. Beside him, Byeolya rested her chin on her hand with a satisfied look.
"That's supposed to be a fixed-position magic circle, right? Eh, that's right. But the kid modified it himself so he could carry it around while running. There's real genius in him, quietly."
The announcer nodded and steered the conversation toward Malcolm's recent history.
"Of course, he recently caused controversy by using 'Liquid Bomb' in his Duel Evaluation against Special Admission No. 1! Word is that every unsolved explosion case the Randolph Gang has been denying is now being re-investigated from scratch! Professor, what are your thoughts?"
Byeolya burst out laughing. Pffhah!
"Seriously? If that's true, he really hung his own old man out to dry! He went through all this just to fail to graduate from Kizen — he's going to get beaten to a pulp!"
"Ah — and at this very moment! The very same Special Admission No. 1 student who stood frozen for thirty minutes has started to move!"
The main screen cut back to Simon. Having finally succeeded in creating the emerald golem, he abruptly began running on his own two feet.
"No way! After spending thirty full minutes building that golem, Simon Polentia just abandons it and heads for stage three alone!"
The announcer leapt to his feet, face flushed with excitement. The crowd began to murmur.
"Did the summoning fail, and he's just going in with his bare body? He even used hemomancy — the stamina cost must have been enormous! If he leaves it all behind, how much time, stamina, and Jet-Black is he throwing away?! Professor! What's your read on this?"
Byeolya shook her head.
"I'm no expert on Summoning. Going by what's visible, he failed to build the golem he wanted and has given up on it, breaking through on foot. That's what it looks like."
"You said 'going by what's visible'! Does that mean Simon has something else up his sleeve?"
"Eh, that kid's sharp. I'd bet he's got a plan."
Tadadat!
Sprinting with total abandon, Simon weaved through the hundreds of weapons raining from the ceiling.
The moment droplets of Jet-Black began falling from Simon's body, the announcer roared.
"Ah! That's Internal Jet-Black Eruption!! With an advanced Magic Combat technique like that at his disposal, you can't help wishing he'd simply opened with it from the start!"
"You don't know what the hell you're talking about."
At Byeolya's cutting rebuke, the announcer's face stiffened.
"Did you not see what happened to the Magic Combat kids earlier? The ones who tried to overpower everything with speed got run down and caught by the weapons. The ones who hardened their bodies, or even faked a Black Robe — they passed. Speed alone will never clear stage three. That's how these traps were designed."
THWACK!
Barely a heartbeat after Byeolya finished speaking, a dull impact rang out from the screen. Every eye in the crowd snapped to the main display.
"...!"
A spear had flown in and planted itself in Simon's shoulder. Gasps of dismay erupted from all sides.
"It's over."
"I had a bad feeling from the moment he randomly started building that golem."
"Pretty underwhelming for a Special Admission No. 1, honestly."
Even with the spear jutting from his shoulder, Simon gritted his teeth and kept running. A few strides later, two arrows flew in and buried themselves in his legs.
"Aaagh, that's gotta hurt."
"It's really over now."
"Just call it! Disqualify him! Are you trying to get a kid killed during an exam?!"
Amid the roar of chaotic shouting from the crowd, Simon kept running.
A sword slashed him. Arrows pierced him. A mace cracked against his skull. Blood streamed down his forehead, and still his feet did not stop.
It's over.
It's over now.
I really can't get up from this.
Through the downpour of mockery, pity, and scorn, Simon stood tall and ran on — defying, again and again, the crowd's certainty that he was finished.
Before anyone noticed, the area had gone quiet, and even the ever-chattering announcer stood frozen, unable to find his next line.
"...Why."
In the stillness, someone's voice sank softly into the silence.
"Why is it that only he won't fall?"
Little by little, the way the crowd looked at Simon began to change.
"Yes. That's it. That's exactly it."
Byeolya, too, was leaning forward now, her face full of unmistakable satisfaction.
"What kind of necromancer ever takes the field without a single insurance policy?"
THWACK!
Shhk!
CRUNCH!
Traps where getting hit by at least a few strikes was inevitable no matter how fast you moved. By now, Simon was visibly exhausted — allowing attacks to land was only natural.
But he didn't fall.
He absolutely refused to give up.
Absorbing every blow with his whole body, Simon charged on.
"Oh! Oooooh!"
"Go! Keep going!"
Simon was proving it with his actions. The mockery and scorn vanished, and in their place, excitement boiled up.
"He's still moving!"
"WAAAAAAAAH!"
"He's insane! He absolutely will not go down!"
Before they knew it, the spectators had projected themselves onto Simon, cheering as if it were their own fight. Everyone held their breath and raised their voices higher and higher.
And then, at long last—
BEEEEEEEEEP!
Bloodied from head to toe, Simon finally slammed his hand on the red buzzer leading to stage four.
Still standing there, perfectly upright, covered in countless embedded weapons.
As the crowd gaped at the unbelievable sight, the screen zoomed in on Simon's face.
Simon was smiling.
And when he clenched his fist and thrust it powerfully above his head—
"WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"
Explosive cheers erupted from every direction, as if they'd been waiting for exactly that moment.
It was a clear that carved itself, deep and permanent, into everyone's memory.