The Big Match
"Oooooh!"
Darell the MC raised his voice, his face flush with excitement.
"A monster matchup right out of the gate! This is huge, folks! Special Admission No. 1 versus No. 3!"
"……"
Simon stared up at Chatel with a slightly bewildered expression. A giant nearly twice his own height was pointing one massive, thick finger straight at him. The black shadow that spilled from Chatel's body seemed to press down heavily on his shoulders.
Chatel picked me?
The bloodline of an ancient giant's descendant, and the strongest defense in all of Kizen. Even to Simon, Chatel had always been a threatening presence. During the duel evaluations, he'd made a point of thinking that Serne, Chatel, and Lorraine were the three people he absolutely had to avoid — they had simply been that far out of reach.
A low murmur rippled through the students — and then, from far across the hall, a crash rang out.
Hector, his face scarlet with fury, had brought his fist down on the table. The veins stood out angrily along his neck, bulging all over.
"CHATEL!!!"
Several students shrieked and clapped their hands over their ears.
Dragon Fear.
"H-Hector!"
"Whoa, whoa, calm down!"
His panicked faction members grabbed at his arms and legs, trying to talk him down, but Hector simply dragged them along with him as he lumbered forward.
"He's lost it again!"
"Hey, girls, do something! Hit him with Exhaust or something!"
One of the faction students, still clinging to Hector's leg and being hauled along behind him, screamed it out like a dying breath. The hesitant students behind them were just beginning to prepare their curses—
"Whoa there, whoa."
Hector's body clanked to a halt.
"I get that you're upset someone poached your pick, but it's a nice day, so let's stop right there. Yeah, junior?"
Clack.
Clack, clack.
Somewhere along the way, a ring of puppet marionettes had surrounded Hector, blades leveled at him from every side. And the one manipulating them was none other than Darell, the MC — who had appeared in front of Hector as if he'd teleported.
Wh-when did he get down from the podium?
The faction students shuffled backward nervously. Darell spoke.
"Heh heh heh. A wide-area curse at an official school event? Buddy, I think you've got me all wrong. Am I right?"
Darell was checking Jane's reaction. The woman seated in the podium chair was already half-risen from her seat.
"Yay, yes! All good, Professor! I've got it all handled! Hahaha!"
Darell waved his hand with an exaggeratedly bright smile, then gave Hector's shoulder a friendly thump-thump.
"Let's call it there, hm?"
Clunk. Clack.
Just then, the line of marionettes holding Hector back began to draw taut. Hector was trying to move again.
"Ah — seriously. I said let's stop. Hey. Hey. Ah, dammit."
Darell's smiling face twisted for a moment into something like a demon.
"People tell me I don't act like a third-year, huh?"
The marionettes' jaws gaped wide, on the verge of transforming into something monstrous—
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Feathers buried themselves one after another into Hector's back. The boiling rage finally drained out of him, and his movements quieted to stillness.
"Oh my~"
In the silence that followed, every head turned. A girl in a dress sat with her legs crossed haughtily, a wineglass dangling from her fingers.
The successor of the Ivory Tower.
Serne Aindark.
"Defying a third-year senior like that — I'd say someone flew into a little temper tantrum, hm?"
She tilted her wineglass and shot Darell a sly, foxlike wink.
"You're not angry, senior, are you?"
At that sweet, coquettish voice, the muscles of Darell's face went slack, melting into a dopey grin. Then he cleared his throat with a hmph!
"Well then! Well then! I'm a forgiving man."
"Hee hee, so you'll just let it slide?"
"If the Ivory Tower's successor vouches for you, what can I do? Just this once, all right?"
Clearly pleased at being treated like a senior by Serne, Darell returned to the podium. When she set her wineglass down with a giggle, the student seated at her table leaned in with a whisper.
"……Wh-what was that whim about?"
"I just thought it wouldn't hurt to have someone owe me a favor."
She smiled as she caught sight of her own lips reflected in the wineglass.
"He's the kind of man who burns with competitive spirit, that Simon. I'm sure a day will come when I can put that to use."
Just then, Jane's voice rang out through the amplification crystal.
"Hector Moore. Leave the Great Auditorium."
Her voice was ice-cold.
"The use of curses outside of class is prohibited. Student Hector Moore's duel will be moved to the very last slot among all first-years."
Hector ground his teeth once, gave a curt bow in Jane's direction, and trudged off toward the exit.
"Knew that guy would cause a scene eventually."
Dick, still seated, laughed with unconcealed satisfaction.
"That temper of his seriously needs to die down."
"Hey, commoner."
Meilin immediately shot him a warning look, her hand raised over her lips.
"Read the room, will you? Quiet."
"Yes, ma'am. Lips sealed shut, ma'am."
Just then Simon made his way back to where his Group 7 teammates sat. Camibarez and Meilin craned their necks toward him at once.
"Si-Simon! Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. What about Hector?"
"Kicked out," Dick replied, furrowing his brow.
"But seriously~ what's going on? Why'd Chatel pick you? I figured a guy who cares that much about his record would just grab some bottom-rung kid from the lowest squads and coast to a hundred percent win rate."
Simon shook his head with an equally troubled expression.
"I don't know either."
"Simon."
Meilin stepped closer and spoke with a grave face.
"Forfeit."
Simon blinked.
"F-Forfeit?"
"There is something seriously wrong with that Chatel Maer. They say every student who's faced him in duel evaluation got beaten until they were a bloody pulp — even inside the protective suits, they were just gushing blood. One kid sat out a week or two on injury leave. Another's still dealing with aftereffects."
"Oh……"
Camibarez covered her mouth with both hands as she listened. Meilin pressed on.
"You know the second-year promotion exams are almost here, right? If you get hurt in something like a duel evaluation, the damage is just too steep. Injury is absolutely, absolutely, absolutely off the table!"
"……"
She had a point.
There was barely any of the first-year schedule left. At most one or two duel evaluations remained.
Even if he lost twice in a row, he'd only fall to a low squad. As long as he stayed out of the lowest squad, there was no expulsion. Rationally speaking, avoiding Chatel and going all-in on the promotion exams was the sensible choice.
Of course—
"I can win."
—that was only if he had no way of beating Chatel.
There was a time when he'd have called it an impossible gap. But now, with Herseba in his hands, Simon's mind held no room for the thought of defeat.
"I'll fight first. If it really feels like I can't win, then I'll forfeit."
"Unbelievable."
Meilin crossed her arms and shook her head with a helpless smile.
The event resumed.
Besides Simon and Chatel, plenty of entertaining matchups had popped up. Especially—
"Serne Aindark! Fight me!"
Meilin, standing on the podium, pointed straight at Serne.
Simon, Dick, and Camibarez all fell open-mouthed, and even Serne — who'd been goofing off through the entire event — seemed caught off guard, curling her lips into a deep smile.
"Hmhm, our Meilin does something adorable once in a while, doesn't she?"
Darell, the MC, laughed with satisfaction.
"What's this, Ivory Tower versus Ivory Tower? Another big match! These first-years really know how to put on a show!"
And so Meilin, having so boldly challenged Serne, walked back to her table. Simon smiled wryly.
"You practically begged me to forfeit my Chatel match. And then you go and pick Serne yourself."
Meilin smoothed out her dress as she sat down and brushed her tousled side-lock back behind her ear.
"That's that, and this is this. There are fights I can't back down from either."
"……Meilin."
Camibarez's face clouded with worry. Dick, looking similarly uneasy, scratched his head.
"Two of the three 'run for your life' names — Serne, Chatel, Lorraine — are going up against our own group members. This is a powder keg waiting to blow."
Dick, for his part, had been picked by the werewolf girl he'd fought during the siege battle. He just chuckled breezily — guess she had a grudge to settle — and took it in stride.
Camibarez, too, was challenged by a blood-flow aspirant from another class and drawn into a match of her own.
And with that, the event drew to a close. The students filed out of the Great Auditorium and headed back toward the dormitories.
"Dick, I'll be back late tonight."
Simon said it as he pulled Herseba out of his subspace.
"If the dorm supervisor asks, cover for me."
"Yes, yes. Just don't overdo it, all right?"
Dick had long since learned that talking Simon out of it was pointless, so he let him go without a fuss.
Simon spoke to the wand in his hand as he ran.
"We're pulling an all-nighter tonight. That all right with you?"
[Somebody's fired up tonight, kiddo. What's the occasion?]
Simon smiled faintly.
"Tomorrow, I think I'll be fighting someone stronger than me."
[Oh my! That IS a problem.]
A golden wind swirled up from the wand, and a moment later a long-haired woman materialized above it, perching atop its body like a witch on her broom.
[So how do you plan to win?]
"There's only one way."
Simon's voice was dead serious.
"Tonight, before this day is out — I'm going to complete that third power."
The next morning.
No. 1 Indoor Arena.
Duel evaluations ran simultaneously across three arenas, but today No. 1 Indoor Arena was packed with more spectators than any of the others. Word of the big match — Special Admission No. 1 versus No. 3 — had drawn not only the first-years but second- and third-year seniors, who'd skipped class entirely to come watch.
"Yeahhh! Go Simon! Kick his ass!"
And in the very front row of the stands, Dick was shouting at the top of his lungs, waving a picket sign.
On the sign, the words TALARIA — his own business name — were written in big, bold letters, with a smaller line underneath reading GO SIMON! To anyone with eyes, it was an advertisement first and a cheer second.
Beside him, Camibarez held a slightly smaller sign of her own, hopping in place as she shouted.
"You can do it, Si-Simon!"
"Attaboy! Er, attagirl! Simon can't even hear you from the waiting room! Louder!"
Her face burning red with embarrassment, she squeezed her eyes shut and bellowed.
"G-Good luck, Simon!! You can win!!"
Dick gave her a thumbs-up of approval. The students around them clutched their shoulders and squirmed — the general reaction being something along the lines of too cute, I'm dying.
"Hello. Mind if I sit here?"
Just then, a girl with cream-colored hair approached. Dick's eyes sharpened instantly.
"Senior Venya Vanilla!"
Dick and Camibarez shot to their feet and bowed.
"Ahaha! No need to be so formal."
She said it as she settled into the empty seat beside Camibarez. Dick hurriedly produced a business card.
"Dick Hayward, senior! A pleasure!"
"A student with business cards? Impressive."
"Nothing compared to yours, senior, but I run a few small ventures of my own!"
"Oh, is that so?"
She turned the card over, examining it front and back.
"Talaria? A delivery business, huh. Nice concept."
"Thank you!"
While Dick pitched his business with all his might, Camibarez sat with her hands folded primly on her lap, sneaking little glances at Venya. Venya noticed and smiled.
"Did you have something to say to me?"
"……Ah! Um, that is!"
Camibarez trembled as she looked up at her.
"It's…… about Simon……"
"Hm? Ah, our soldier?"
Our... soldier?!
Camibarez's eyes went wide. She already had a pet name for him?!
……Simon.
Camibarez thought she'd never seen anyone so utterly perfect. Beautiful, brilliant, on the student council — and slated to inherit Vanilla, a massive corporate empire on top of it all.
She shared Simon's love of summoning, matched his major, and had the perfect foundation to support him completely.
Camibarez envied her for it.
"?"
Venya blinked with a smiling face. Her junior seemed to have something on her mind, so she waited patiently.
"F-For helping with Simon's Herseba project this time……!"
Camibarez suddenly sprang to her feet.
"Thank you so much!"
And she bowed deeply at the waist.
"……"
Venya stared at the crown of Camibarez's head with a slightly startled expression. Dick, who'd been racking his brain for a way to steer the conversation back to business, cocked his head — what on earth was happening here?
"Ahem~"
At last, a deep smile bloomed across Venya's face.
"Lift your head, dear."
Camibarez's head popped up. Her face was flushed scarlet, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her two neatly folded hands fidgeting restlessly atop her skirt.
Then Venya rose as well, bending her knees until she was at eye level with Camibarez. She gently drew the girl into her arms, and with a voice pitched so low that only she could hear it, she murmured:
"Are you conquering Simon too?"
Camibarez's face turned redder than red — she looked fit to combust on the spot.
"C-Co-co-co-conquering?! What on earth—!"
Venya curled her fists lightly and smiled with her eyes.
"I'll cheer for you, hm? My little vampire soldier."
"……Ah."
Camibarez was still standing there in a daze when the referee's shout rang out across the arena.
"Student Simon Polentia of Class A! Student Chatel Maer of Class I! Please make your way to the arena floor at once!"
At the call, Simon and Chatel — who had already emerged from their respective waiting rooms — stepped out toward the center of the arena.
Dick clapped his hands together with a sharp crack.
"Now it begins!"