Poison Fog

The next day. Indoor Arena No. 3.

While the BMAT was held as a public spectacle, this semester's Duel Evaluations were all being conducted behind closed doors. That made the arena's atmosphere quiet and subdued. The sparse scattering of spectators in the stands were mostly students waiting for their afternoon matches, students scouting the competition and, well—

“Haaam.”

—upperclassmen who had wandered in out of sheer boredom. The bob-haired second-year girl sitting in the very last row with her legs crossed was one of them.

“Hello, sunbaenim!”

A boy suddenly struck up a conversation with her out of nowhere.

“……A first-year?”

“Yes, ma'am! The name's Rick Hayward!”

Rick bowed with a bright, businesslike smile. “Watching the duel evaluations is all well and good, but isn't it about that time you're getting peckish, sunbaenim?”

Beside him stood Camibarez, her arms laden with drinks and snacks. The second-year frowned.

“What's this? I'm not buying anything like this.”

“Hehe! And how could I possibly take money from a sunbae who's like the sky itself? Consider this a small token of encouragement from your junior, cheering you on through that famously brutal Kizen second-year curriculum!”

“Really, now.”

At the word free, she snatched a drink away as if catching it midair. “Well, at least you juniors have some manners left. I'll pass on the snacks, though. I'm on a diet.”

“Yessum! Rest easy!”

Just as Rick and Camibarez were turning to leave, she called out—“Hey.”

“This isn't spiked with anything weird, is it?”

“Hahaha! Do you really think I'd dare pull something on a sunbae who's like the sky itself and still show my face ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at this school? Straight from the campus cafe, sealed and brand-new!”

“Fine. Get lost.”

The second-year jabbed in a straw and waved them off. Rick and Camibarez moved on, doling out drinks and snacks to a few more seniors.

“Okay, that's a wrap!”

Rick sank into his seat with a look of deep satisfaction. “Thanks a ton for the help, Cami! Lunch and dinner are on me today and tomorrow!”

Clearly awkward with this sort of thing, Camibarez flushed pink as she took the seat beside him. “More importantly, Rick—why are you handing out drinks and snacks to all the upperclassmen?”

“Connections, my friend~ networking.” Rick crossed his arms with an air of worldly wisdom. “You talk to a hundred sunbaes like this, and even if only one or two of them warm up to you, that's pure profit. Sunbaes who come to watch the duels tend to be generous with their juniors! And also—”

He pointed at the drink in Camibarez's hand. Stuck onto the can like a sticker was a logo.

“Oh!”

It was an advertisement.

Rick's proxy shopping service—place an order and the goods would arrive in Rochest the very next day, delivered right to your dormitory door. The sticker logo depicted a pair of winged sandals, with the brand name Talaria written small beneath them.

“Second-years barely know my business exists yet, so I'm squeezing in ads whenever I can.”

Camibarez let out a tiny gasp of admiration. “You know, Rick, I think you work way harder than people give you credit for!”

“Hm? Hold on! What exactly is my reputation with everyone else, then?”

“Lazy and always cutting corners!”

When Rick clutched at his chest with an exaggeratedly wounded expression, Camibarez burst out laughing.

“I wish Meilin had come with us, though. Too bad.”

“She's got a morning match. Oh—here we go, it's starting!”

“I can see Simon over there!”

The students were slowly limbering up, and Simon was among them. The referee stepped forward to explain the rules.

“Beginning with this Duel Evaluation, we will be adopting the new protective suit.”

Simon and the other competitors were already wearing it—a crisp two-piece in deep navy that shimmered faintly, as though powerful dark magic had been woven into the fabric.

“The previous protective suit prioritized strike detection: a barrier deployed upon impact, and the 'Barrier Gauge' on screen decreased according to the force absorbed by that barrier.”

The referee raised a dagger, then dragged it across his own thigh. The students gasped in shock.

But the instant the blade cut through, what spilled from the wound wasn't blood—it was a purple stream of magic power, flowing like blood from the gash. His thigh itself was untouched.

“This suit receives your opponent's attacks directly. Pain, curse effects, poisoning—all of it will feel entirely real. Not only that.”

The referee took a few steps to the side. His leg dragged in a limp.

“When struck, the suit replicates the effects of bleeding, fractures, even dismemberment, granting the wearer a vividness of combat indistinguishable from the real thing.”

Yeah, nobody asked for that kind of realism!

In that moment, every single student was screaming that in their heads.

“Rest assured, your actual body remains perfectly fine so long as the suit itself isn't torn. This suit has been available to second-years and above until now, but starting this year, first-years in the Integrated Second Semester will wear it as well.”

The stands buzzed at this new information. Rick clicked his tongue and propped his head up on one arm. “Man, Kizen people are vicious. Vicious. Everything's 'quasi-wartime curriculum' this and 'Integrated Second Semester' that, and the difficulty just keeps climbing.”

“It's—it's going to hurt, isn't it?”

Camibarez's face went pale with fright, but Rick waved it off breezily. “It's fake pain either way. They say it's weaker than actually getting cut or stabbed. Riiight?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Look—Professor Bahil's here too!”

Camibarez's head turned as well. Sure enough, at the far end of the stands, Bahil and his head TA Chehekl sat side by side.

When the arrival of a celebrity drew everyone's eyes, Bahil raised a finger to his lips, then gave a little wave. Muffled screams erupted in scattered pockets around the stands.

“Who do you think he's here to see?”

“Me, obviously!” Rick shouted, beside himself with excitement. “I got invited to Professor ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Bahil's lab once, you know! To clean it, but still!”

“……Rick, your match is this afternoon.”

Just then, the referee's voice rang out.

“We will now begin preparing the first match. From Class A—Simon Polentia.”

At the call of his name, Simon walked to the center of the arena.

“And from Class A—Claudia Menzies.”

From the opposite side, Claudia walked out. Simon made a troubled face.

Of all people, it had to be Claudia.

Thanks to their recent run-in, things were a little strained between them. Soon the two stood facing each other.

“Hi. Funny meeting you here.”

Simon greeted her first. There was a measure of ease on his face, while Claudia's eyes burned with naked hostility.

“For two days straight. All day, every day.”

“?”

“I thought ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠about how to take you down. I replayed the footage of your duel evaluations on my Memorial Crystal Sphere over and over, pulling all-nighters to study the counter-strategies.”

Pure curiosity stirred in Simon. “So did you figure out how to beat me?”

“Obviously.”

If things went according to plan, Claudia was confident her odds of victory stood at one ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hundred percent.

Then the referee leaned forward slightly. “Both students. Shake hands.”

Simon and Claudia stepped toward each other and clasped hands.

“Looking forward to it. Let's have a good match.”

“My faith in Professor Byeolya hasn't changed, you know.” Claudia's voice was flat. “Has yours?”

Simon released her hand with a nod. She ground her teeth and turned away.

Once the two had put distance between themselves and faced off, the referee shouted.

“We will now begin the Duel Evaluation between Simon Polentia of Class A and Claudia Menzies of Class A!”

A clamor of cheers burst from the stands.

“Simon! Make it quick and clean!”

“Fighting! You've got this, Simon!!”

Rick and Camibarez's voices carried over the crowd. Finding them, Simon allowed himself a small smile.

The referee, glancing back and forth between the two competitors, dropped his raised hand.

“Match—begin!”

Crash! Splash!

The moment the match began, Claudia pulled two potion bottles from her belt and hurled them down at her own feet.

Hiiiiissss!

Brown smoke billowed out of the shattered glass, wrapping her body in a shroud of concealment.

Poison gas, right out of the gate.

With the base of his Blood Golem magic circle already inscribed behind him, Simon stared straight ahead. The poison didn't spread—it coiled and sank around her, and judging by the acrid sting in the air, the toxicity looked potent.

You'll never get in here.

Claudia's eyes gleamed inside the poison fog. I've analyzed exactly how you fight. Every dark spell you use, down to the letter.

She had divided Simon's combat style into three broad phases by time.

Early—Matou.

Middle—Overlord.

Late—his original skeleton techniques, capped by the Blood Golem.

Simon's Matou is at its absolute peak. If this turns into a close-quarters fight, I don't stand a chance.

So she had laid poison at her own feet to seal off close combat entirely. It was a reckless move, and one that had cost even her, antivenom and all, a measure of damage—but if it shut down Simon's Matou, she considered it a bargain.

He has serious stamina reserves, too. If the match drags into the late game and he summons the Blood Golem, it's over. By the end he's commanding twenty-odd skeletons at once—how am I supposed to beat that?

Close range meant certain defeat, but letting the match run long meant certain defeat too. Turning those facts over in her mind, she unfurled a new magic circle.

Simon's most vulnerable point is mid-match. That's when I only need to watch for the Overlord—and take him down before he can summon the Blood Golem. That's the ideal script.

She set a bottle of highly concentrated poison atop the completed circle and activated it.

The circle drank in the potion and a sphere of green mist rose from it, scattering toxic fog in all directions.

Unlike the brown gas circling her feet, the Poison Fog spread wide and far, and in the blink of an eye it swallowed the entire arena. Naturally, a magic-sealing barrier kept the smoke out of the stands; the murk churned and thickened only inside the ring.

Good. Phase one complete.

Poison Fog was a core dark spell wielded by every aspiring toxicologist worth the name. The fundamentals were simple: lay down the fog, gnaw away at the opponent's vitality, and let the poison mage fight a match of defense and counters.

Time was always on the poison mage's side—and the pressure worked on the enemy's mind as well as their body.

Meanwhile, Simon was glancing around with apparent interest as he prepared a new spell of his own.

So Claudia opens with Poison Fog after all.

Simon knew this well—he'd dueled a toxicology student back in first semester too. He turned his head toward the mana screen.

The Barrier Gauges were already ticking down. Stepping into the toxic haze left his throat raw and his whole body prickling.

In the meantime, Claudia raised one Poison Fog after another. This time, yellow and orange toxic fumes joined the mix.

One paralyzed the nervous system; the other blurred and swayed the enemy's vision. Every preparation had been aimed squarely at neutralizing Simon's Matou and delaying his Blood Golem. It was a meticulous, thoroughly researched setup.

Simon was honestly impressed.

No wonder she's the top toxicology student in Class A.

Stacking three Poison Fogs didn't simply triple their potency. Poisons had affinities and conflicts of their own—slip up, and one toxin would smother another, or they'd interfere with each other inside the target's body. Such failures were legion.

But Claudia's gift for combining toxins seemed genuinely exceptional.

Just finished it, actually. Curses still don't come naturally to me, so it took a while to prep.

Simon finally completed his curse, cast it over his own body, and stared straight ahead.

At some point, the gauges had flipped. The poison's effects were still gnawing away—the suit's color pulsed purple, faded, and pulsed purple again.

You said you've got me down to the letter, didn't you?

With a faint smile, Simon began walking toward Claudia.

Then I'll put that analysis to very active use.