Bad Matchup
Dressed in their duel suits, Simon and Chatel stepped out to the center of the arena.
Simon studied his opponent.
He's genuinely intimidating.
A giant.
Was there any word that described Chatel better? He stood well over three meters tall—had he grown even since the entrance ceremony? He seemed to be pushing four now.
On top of that came the pale gray skin, the heavy brows, the deep-set glaring eyes. It was as if an enormous statue had planted itself right in front of Simon, its shadow stretching past him as if it could swallow the entire arena.
A different species entirely. It was hard to believe he was fighting a fellow first-year.
"Both students, shake hands."
At the referee's instruction, Simon had to raise his arm above his head while Chatel had to lower his, and the two clasped hands.
"Good match, Chatel."
"……"
"First time since the BMAT, right?"
"……"
"Oh, by the way—why did you pick me as your duel opponent?"
"……"
Simon let out an awkward smile.
Wait… can this guy not talk?
At the referee's next instruction, the two backed away to their starting positions.
"Go, Chatel!"
"Give us another explosive match!"
"Simon~! You've got this!"
The crowd's cheers split almost exactly down the middle, fifty-fifty.
Chatel was popular not just with the hot-blooded male students but with the seniors too, thanks to his signature heavyweight style of combat—and the old-school Colosseum brutality of turning his opponents into a bloody pulp.
And those rooting for Simon were largely cheering the meteoric growth he'd shown all this time, along with the genius and star quality he carried. The girls' voices were especially loud.
"Simon! You can do it!"
Camibarez and Rick were waving their pennants enthusiastically. Venya was clapping along beside them when someone came bounding and hopping over from the back rows.
"Yes! There's a free seat!"
Rick turned his head at the girl who plopped down beside him—twin-tailed hair, a white uniform blouse draped over her shoulders like a cape. The one and only Special Admission No. 7.
"Elisa Celine!"
"Hm?"
She looked at Rick and wrinkled her brow in displeasure.
"And you are? Why is some nobody acting like we know each other?"
Rick leaned away, his face a portrait of shock at the cutting remark. Elisa covered her mouth and giggled.
"Kidding. Rick Hayward. You think I wouldn't know the son of the White Cow Merchant Guild?"
"Oh."
Only then did Rick recover his dignity, putting on a smug expression.
Elisa's gaze slid sideways.
"And that's Camibarez of the Ursula family, and next to her… oh!"
Elisa rose from her seat, placed a hand over her chest, and bowed her head.
"Senior Venya Vanilla, it's an honor. I'm Elisa Celine."
"Hello there~"
Venya waved cheerfully.
Camibarez, seated in the middle, was watching Elisa with a rather surprised look on her face.
She's way politer and more courteous than the rumors made her out to be.
"A born politician, alright."
But Rick was snickering with an oh I see right through you expression.
"And hello to you too, Mr. Merchant."
Elisa fired back without missing a beat. Then she sat with her knees together, took a quick look around, and asked,
"Wait, aren't you four the inseparable squad? Where's that insufferable sky-blue head of hair?"
Camibarez answered.
"Meilin's at Arena 3, preparing for her match."
"Ah, a scheduling clash. Shame. I wanted to watch that witch get torn apart by Serne."
— And now, the Duel Evaluation between Simon Polentia of Class A and Chatel Maer of Class I will begin! —
WAAAAAAAH!
The big match was finally here. The moment both young men took their combat stances, cheers erupted from every direction.
"Yeah! Go Simon! Take down Chatel nice and clean, and let's move up to second year together!!"
"Simon~ just die already!"
Rick turned toward Elisa at that last shout.
"Die already"? Not "kill him"—"just die already"?
"Slip and crack your skull open and get carried off to the infirmary! Hang in there, Chatel! Don't go easy on him just because he's Special Admission No. 1!"
"…Why not just cast a curse on him instead?"
Rick laughed hollowly. Even Camibarez couldn't hold her tongue.
"Th-that's right! You're supposed to cheer for someone you like! Putting people down is mean!"
"Don't wanna~ It's my call! Crash and burn, Simon!"
Elisa was less a Chatel fan than a dedicated Simon hater.
After all, being constantly tangled up with him and getting pushed around hadn't exactly been a painless experience.
* * *
Meanwhile, in the arena.
Focus.
Simon was locked in a struggle against an enormous, crushing pressure.
Just standing across from Chatel made the hair on his whole body stand on end, cold sweat tracing down his spine.
"Are both students ready?"
At the referee's question, Simon and Chatel both nodded. Once he'd confirmed their condition, the referee finally lowered his arm and declared:
"Begin!"
SCREEEEEEEEEECH!
A shriek split the air the instant the match started, and the crowd clapped their hands over their ears.
Ugh.
Simon grimaced and forced his eyes forward. A colossal magic circle had unfurled right in front of Chatel.
Jet-black threads spun round and round, weaving the circle toward completion. Simon recognized the spell at once.
Domain Inversion.
Chatel's signature dark magic.
Simon had crossed paths with it briefly during the ocean-themed third BMAT.
A devastating Jet-Black Earth art that turned the soil and bedrock of an entire island into his own ammunition, to be hurled at will. It was a technique that had already left first-year level far behind.
I want to stop that, no matter what.
Simon, confident in his Magic Combat, bent his knees and moved to charge in.
But.
And once I'm in close, then what?
A simulation played out in Simon's head.
His new form split into five variations, each attacking Chatel by a different route—and all five playthroughs ended the same way: blasted clean off his feet by that massive fist.
I don't even know where to start untangling this.
Chatel stood in the ideal boxer's stance, eyes glinting, both fists raised before his chest. One clean hit from those enormous hands would drive even a full Barrier Gauge to zero in a single blow.
The way he so brazenly unfurled that giant magic circle was pure confidence.
Rushing in with Magic Combat to shut down a Domain Inversion head-on was less rational than preparing follow-up spells of his own and turning this into a firepower exchange. That was the call Simon made.
Stay calm.
Simon traced a circle at his right flank, laying the Blood Golem circle that served as the buildup for his Royal Guard.
And with his other hand, he opened his subspace.
[Behold!]
Today's secret weapon, his hidden card—he drew out Herseba.
"Oh! He brought a staff?"
"Surprising. I heard he's good at Magic Combat, but isn't a staff a downgrade?"
Letting the spectators' chatter slide past one ear, Simon sharpened his focus.
[Hey! Did you hear that?! Apparently I'm a downgrade!]
Don't worry about it, Herseba.
Any moment now, everyone here would be trembling at the sight of her power.
But first—
I have to stop the Domain Inversion from completing!
Simon called eight Skeleton Mages out of his subspace and into the arena.
"Dark Blaze!"
Simon thrust his staff forward like a field commander, and every skeleton mimicked him, staffs extended, magic circles unfolding.
FWOOROOSH!
Fwoosh!
Eight fireballs formed in an instant and shot forward, trailing pitch-black smoke. In response, Chatel advanced personally, shielding his Domain Inversion circle with his own body.
KA-BOOOOM—!
The surging heat and the blast wave rolled all the way to where Simon stood.
Simon's brow furrowed.
He blocked that with his bare body?
Chatel's blessed flesh could not be wounded by blades, arrows, or any edged weapon.
Still, this was a Duel Evaluation, and he was wearing a barrier suit. The rule that a match was lost when the Barrier Gauge hit zero was, in truth, Chatel's one and only handicap.
But the moment the explosion smoke cleared—
"WAAAAH!"
"That's our Chatel!"
The giant stood revealed, utterly unharmed.
Simon hurriedly checked the screen, but the Barrier Gauge still read 100%. Looking closer, he could see a film of Jet-Black wrapped around Chatel's entire body.
That's the technique from the midterm. Jet-Black Film.
A simple dark spell in principle—coating the body in Jet-Black—but it burned through enormous amounts of Jet-Black and demanded constant attention with every movement, making it one of the hardest techniques to wield.
Either way, Chatel had layered his Jet-Black Film over the surface of his suit, recreating his overwhelming natural defenses. Ordinary attacks weren't getting through anymore.
Then—next!
The Mages withdrew, and this time Skeleton Archers sprang from the subspace.
"Loose everything!"
Pweeng! Ping!
Against a Jet-Black Film covering the whole body, Simon judged that enchanted arrows would work better than raw firepower.
But Chatel predicted where the arrows would land and instantaneously thickened sections of his film to block them.
His command of the Jet-Black Film had already reached a remarkable level.
And then Chatel pressed his palms together.
SCREEEEEECH!
With the same shriek that had opened the match, the magic circle completed. Chatel lowered the circle to the ground and stomped down on it hard.
The Jet-Black Earth art of Chatel Maer awakens — the entire arena becomes his weapon.
FWAAAAAAAAAAAH!
It had begun.
The circle's influence spread outward, and the arena began to stain ink-black. Looking around, Simon felt as though he had stepped inside an ink-wash painting.
"!"
Shadow fell around him. He looked up—beautifully cut square fragments of the arena floor were raining down from the sky.
KUUUUNG!
Simon scrambled backward and dodged. His eyes darted around—the ground beside Chatel had been hollowed out completely.
"The Domain Inversion is complete!"
"Kill him!"
the frenzied Chatel fans screamed.
When Chatel raised both arms, the floor tiles of the arena—transformed into a black ink-wash landscape—rose into the air.
And came crashing down.
Ngh!
Venting Jet-Black from his legs, Simon broke into a desperate sprint.
This wasn't a simple matter of flying debris. The projectiles carried Chatel's Jet-Black, giving them different power and density, and their trajectories curved. Deflecting or smashing them mid-flight was impossible.
KA-BOOM! KA-BOOM! KA-BOOM!
It was awe-inspiring how Simon, anchored by rock-solid fundamentals, somehow evaded the barrage no matter which direction it came from—but the Domain Inversion kept widening its range, and the number and size of the projectiles kept growing.
[Kid! Behind you!]
Got it!
Catching sight of the mass of debris hurtling in from behind, Simon moved to retreat and dodge—
Ssshhp!
Suddenly the ground beneath his feet caved in, and he lost his balance. Under the Domain Inversion's effect, even planting a foot safely was no longer permitted.
Damn it!
This was the nature of Jet-Black Earth magic. All the ground was the enemy.
FWOOOOONG!
And now, toward Simon as he stumbled to the ground, a colossal slab of bedrock more than ten meters wide came flying. The spectators leapt to their feet, straining to witness the moment the match would be decided.
Go, Herseba.
[Okay!]
Whoosh!
Simon re-gripped the staff in his hand and roared at the incoming mega-slab of bedrock.
'Goldenization!'
[Goldenization!]
TUNG!
Then something astonishing happened.
The bedrock touched by the staff transformed into solid gold in its entirety—then promptly shattered, whirling apart into powder.
A glittering cloud of golden dust swirled past Simon's hair.
"Whoa!"
"What was THAT?!"
Not just the crowd—for the first time, a flicker of shock crossed Chatel's face.
The greatest strengths of Chatel's Domain Inversion were its range and its density.
Yet the moment anything touched the staff, it turned to gold and broke apart.
Spinning, spinning—
The staff that had been dancing freely in Simon's right hand came to a sharp halt before his chest with a snap!
"I really am sorry about this."
Simon's eyes flashed.
"Chatel, your matchup against me is just plain bad."
At some point, bandages of gold and black had wrapped themselves over his suit like a second garment across both his arms.
Simon relaxed the hand gripping the staff, and it plunged butt-first into the ground.
The ink-black that had consumed the arena began, in turn, to transform into a rich, deep gold.
Come forth, my Mummies.