Not Your Average Duel
“Ahaha! It's not like that at all.”
Only then understanding what was going on, Simon explained the whole situation to everyone. He told them that his trip to Rochest with Benya had been to pick up materials for crafting his Lich, and that the reason he hadn't returned to the dorm last night was that he'd been so absorbed in working on the Lich that he'd stayed up straight through till dawn.
It happened to be the truth, and it was such an utterly Simon-like excuse that Meilin and Camibarez found themselves nodding along. Honestly, when he thought about it coolly, Simon was the last person on earth who'd seduce a senior classmate and run off into the night with her.
“Honestly, that boy is unmanageable.”
The taut, airless tension in the lecture hall dissolved in an instant. Meilin swept back her disheveled hair with a pretty smile.
“That's so Simon of you.”
Camibarez giggled too. Feeling the atmosphere abruptly shift into a pink flower field bathed in sparkles, Rick scowled.
“Then why did *I* get hit?”
A small lump had swollen up on his head.
“Shut it.”
“Please be quiet.”
Meilin growled, her face flushed red, and Camibarez chimed in with a pouty little huff. Rick shamelessly shrugged his shoulders.
“Come on~ I took a direct hit so you two wouldn't have to keep wondering! You should be thanking me for cutting straight to the point!”
“Oh, shut UP! 'Did you and Benya have a good time?'—who says that?! Disgusting!”
“My, my! Are you calling the sacred miracle of new life being born *disgusting*? The miracle of two people going into a room and three coming out... !”
“I SAID STOP!!”
Meilin, the tips of her ears burning scarlet, pounded Rick's back without mercy. Simon and Camibarez exchanged a quiet, shared laugh.
“Simon! So did you finish the Lich last night?”
“Mm.”
Simon gave an ambiguous smile.
“I finished it, but things have gotten a little... complicated.”
Explaining it piece by piece seemed pointless. Better to just show them. He opened his subspace and called forth Herseba. At the sight of the wand swooping up into the air, Meilin hastily clutched her skirt down and gritted her teeth.
“That pervert wand Areldelu... !”
“It's not Areldelu anymore.”
Simon spread his palm with a knowing smile.
“Allow me to introduce my new summon—the Lich, Herseba.”
[What's with these little whelps?]
The group members all jolted at the sound of Herseba's voice.
“Th-the wand is talking?!”
“It's a woman's voice!”
[What's with the fuss, as if you've never seen a talking wand before?]
Herseba remarked, twisting off an effortless aerial somersault. Meilin looked at Simon.
“But you said you made a Lich? Where's the Lich, and what's with this wand?”
“This wand *is* the Lich.”
“????”
Simon laid it all out in a leisurely explanation. The Lich had been completed without a hitch, but during the process of syncing it with the wand, the Lich's mind had transferred over into the wand itself. Its body—the Lich proper—was now like a vegetable, unable to move under its own power, though its Life Vessel was still beating away normally.
And one more thing: so long as the wand and the body stayed close together, the wand alone could cast dark magic without the slightest hindrance.
“That's insane!”
Having heard the whole story, Rick hammered the desk in excitement.
“Dark magic has always had a ridiculous number of variables, but I've never heard of a case like this! So couldn't you just build a dedicated subspace like Overlord's and stash the Lich's body in there for safekeeping?”
“I've already spoken with the subspace craftsman about it.”
At some point, Herseba had settled herself across Camibarez's lap. When the girl beamed and stroked the wand with gentle hands, Herseba let out a pleased hum.
[Mmm, yes, right there. Below the handle! Keep kneading that spot a little longer, little one.]
“Ahaha! It's like raising a cat!”
Meilin rested her chin on her hand, deep in thought.
“It's a power that creates mummies without consuming the caster's Jet-Black... so I suppose it *is* a summoner-flavored ability, at that.”
“And honestly, who's going to stop Simon now?”
Rick said with a snicker.
“He was already terrifying with just Overlord and the Royal Guard—and now he's slapped on a whole new weapon on top of it!”
“Alright, alright! Chitchat's over! Mouths shut, books open.”
Meilin clapped her hands with brisk composure.
“We're here to study for exams. Don't forget the point.”
“Yes, ma'am, Meilin!”
[Ah! Hey! Why did you stop petting me! Keep going!]
With the finals and the promotion exam looming, the days at Kizen flowed faster than ever.
First came the final match of the After-School BMAT.
Simon only needed to collect green cards to complete the supreme combination, but what troubled him was that this round's theme was Spirit Magic. So he'd devised a countermeasure: a partnership with his classmate Cindy Vivace. She, in turn, needed yellow cards from the Summoning theme, so their interests aligned perfectly, and the two entered the final BMAT together.
In the Spirit Magic round, Cindy dominated; in the Summoning round, Simon did.
And the result—
The full rainbow seven-card combination—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet—plus a golden card on top. Simon had completed the supreme combination. On top of the 24 points it earned, he was named the siege match's top defender and gained one more point, for a total of 25. First place, as a matter of course.
The other co-champion, the half-giant Chatel Maer, had likewise stacked 24 points from his supreme combination and added a single point from a successful targeted player-kill, rounding out 25.
It was a pair of performances that more than lived up to their names. Beyond them, the upper rankings were filled almost entirely by students who simply excelled at every subject without exception.
And so the great mountain of the 4th After-School BMAT passed as well.
Three things now remained before the students.
The second-year promotion exam.
The final exams.
And the gate that stood before those two big events—the course-by-course performance assessments that had been grinding today's students' brains into pulp.
The students were staying up nights, worn thin by exhaustion, but Simon's situation was comparatively bearable.
The final Summoning assessment, Creating an Original Magic-Type Undead and Research Paper.
The final Hemomancy assessment, A Demonstration of Heart-Related Dark Magic.
Both of those last assessments could now be covered, in their entirety, by the Lich.
He had something to lean on in his other subjects too. For the Magic Combat assessment, A One-on-One Bout with a TA, he was steadily developing his own original magic combat techniques, Chokpa included. And in Toxicology, he had shown unmistakable distinction in the 'Immune System' unit, so that base was covered.
Jet-Black Mechanics was at a broadly passable level overall, but thanks to the preparation for the upcoming Pentamonium Academic Conference, his theory had hardened considerably—his final exam grade in that subject looked promising.
For the time being, Simon decided to pour his focus into his curse studies. Even if only to score well on the final Curse Magic assessment, A Synergy Curse Using Three or More Curses, he needed to master all four of Bahil's Great Curses and claim the curse known as Compelonia.
Of the Four Great Curses, Simon had so far mastered two.
The Curse of Painlessness, Indolence—a curse that shelved pain and agony for a time, then delivered it all at once, split with a target of the caster's choosing.
The Curse of Hostility, Hostile—a curse that set two targets against each other in violent antagonism.
For now, it was hard to find any common thread between the two. It seemed he would have to acquire all four curses before any hint toward Compelonia would present itself.
Next up: the Curse of Delusion, Delusion.
Unlike the other two curses, which he'd managed to learn on his own, this one was proving considerably difficult. He was still debating whether he ought to go see Bahil when—
“Simon~”
He turned his head, and a soft, freshly-shampooed fragrance drifted over. Camibarez, who had been curled up in her seat, peeked her head up over the desk and beamed at him.
“Time for our next class!”
“Oh.”
He'd buried himself in studying so completely that the hours had slipped away without his noticing. Simon gathered his things and asked, “What was the afternoon class again?”
Camibarez answered with a radiant smile.
“Professor Walter's Hemomancy!”
“...Ah. Right.”
His triumph at Pentamonium. The creation of a Lich wielding mummies and innate abilities.
For Simon, who'd had everything going his way lately, there was exactly one thing that had stalled—and one thing that left an uneasy itch he couldn't scratch.
His investigation into Walter.
With Rick's and Kajan's help, Simon had run investigation after investigation, and none of them had produced the results he wanted.
First, the composition analysis of the hematopoiesis injections he'd commissioned from Rick came back with the Pentamonium scholars' experimental findings: no trace whatsoever of any element posing a threat to the human body, and while potency may gradually diminish, there are no concerns for safety.
He'd requested it because the 'hematopoiesis injections' Walter had lately been administering to students struck him as suspicious—and the net effect of his own investigation had been to certify the injections' safety.
Then there was the handwriting analysis—what Simon had considered his single most decisive piece of evidence.
'Walter's signature,' discovered in Walter's laboratory.
And the signature of 'Judah, Bishop of the Blood Heaven Sect,' discovered on the Holy Federation train.
If those two signatures could simply be proven to come from the same hand, Simon could have contacted Nephthys on the spot and had Walter thrown in a cell.
But instead—
[I hereby certify that these two signatures belong to entirely different hands.]
A guarantee from the most reputable handwriting examiner in Langestin. Once again, all his digging had produced was yet more proof that Walter and Judah were different people.
And finally, the last thing he'd asked of Kajan: an investigation into Count Caron, who'd had connections to Walter. It fizzled out inconclusively when, as it happened, Count Caron went missing in a shipwreck.
Kajan and the Thieves' Guild had pursued the case with the possibility of foul play firmly in mind, but the storm that day had been fierce and the seas high—sabotage simply didn't hold up as plausible.
Ugh.
No evidence.
The injections were safe.
And on top of it all, proof that 'Professor Walter of Hemomancy' and 'Bishop Judah of the Blood Heaven Sect' were not the same person.
By this point even Simon was starting to waver. It occurred to him that maybe—just maybe—his suspicion of Professor Walter had been nothing but his own imagination all along. In truth, Simon had no smoking gun; the vast majority of his doubt rested on pure 'gut feeling.'
And yet the conviction that Walter is a dangerous man refused to leave him, which was why he kept refusing the injections.
“If that's what you believe, then there's nothing to be done. I can't force you.”
Faced with Simon's refusal, Walter had only smiled and respected his choice. He even went out of his way now and then with small gestures of consideration for the one student who hadn't taken the shot.
With no evidence forthcoming, there was nothing else to be done. Simon resolved to throw himself into study and training for the time being. Continuing like this meant nothing more than suspecting an innocent man.
“Due to Professor Walter's health, today's class is canceled.”
That was what the Head TA announced when they filed into the lecture hall for Hemomancy.
Firecracker cheers erupted from the boys scattered around the room—only to be met with several sharp, pointed glares from the girls.
“Being childish is its own problem. A problem, I say.”
Meilin said it too, lightly smacking her textbook down on the crown of Rick's head mid-whistle. Rick yelped and clutched the back of his skull.
“You *wanted* the class off—why hit me for celebrating?!”
“Manners first, you gremlin!”
Camibarez clasped her hands together, her expression clouded with worry.
“Professor Walter's been coughing so much lately... I'm a little concerned.”
“He'll bounce back in no time.”
Meilin said. Simon nodded along and was packing up his things when—
“Oh! Right. You guys hear about this?”
Rick burst out suddenly, slinging an arm around Simon's neck.
“The Shamaim Festival is tomorrow.”
“We know.”
Simon nodded. “Is there anyone who doesn't?” Meilin chided.
Shamaim was the greatest festival of the Dark Alliance and one of its official holidays—a day set aside to honor the lingering souls of the dead.
“We got the dress code last week, remember!”
Camibarez said, eyes sparkling with excitement.
“Yeah, the dress code's kind of a bother, honestly. It's exam season—who has the energy? I'll just throw on whatever's lying around and head over.”
So said Meilin, who was in fact bouncing internally at the thought of wearing the expensive dress she'd ordered a full three weeks before the Shamaim Festival.
“But here's the thing.”
Rick grinned slyly.
“They're announcing the Duel Evaluation at the Shamaim event.”
“Ah, the Duel Evaluation? It is about that time.”
Meilin sounded utterly uninterested.
“Just pick up an easy win and move on. Not a bad little event, actually—good chance to test our mettle before the promotion exam.”
Finally!
Simon, by contrast, felt the corners of his mouth soaring into the sky.
Herseba's debut! If it was a Duel Evaluation among the High Squads, no stage could be better.
“No, no—you're not getting it. This isn't an ordinary Duel Evaluation! Word is, this time it might be by nomination.”
“That word. Just now.”
All four of them flinched and whipped around.
A great hill of a man had risen up behind them at some point, his two eyes blazing.
“You'd better not be lying about that.”
Hector was glaring down at Simon, his gaze smoldering like coals.