Void — The Power Beyond This World
KRA-KA-BOOOM!
CLAAAANG!
Silaje and Simon clashed blade against blade in a relentless storm of strikes. Sparks sprayed across the World of Sand, and the only thing scarred by their battle was the ground beneath their feet.
After ten full exchanges, the two separated at the same instant — and the sand floor erupted upward like a fountain.
"Go!"
At Simon's shout, the mummy unit hurled itself at Silaje like a pack of wild beasts.
"The power of a Legion Commander is hard to believe even with my own eyes."
Silaje dismissed the Blood Sword in his grip and drew a new magic circle, which sank into the ground and transformed into two mirrors.
"Let me show you the true way to use Blood Zombies."
As the Blood Zombies passed through those mirrors, their cloudy eyes flared with a savage gleam, and the blood throughout their bodies began to boil.
-UOOOOOOO!
Charging at a speed impossible for anything calling itself a zombie, they tore through the mummies in a single stroke and plunged deep into the formation.
The Blood Zombies' bodies flushed crimson brighter with every fight — and then, before long—
BOOOOOM!
Corpse Explosion — no, a blood explosion. Every mummy caught in the blast was reduced to less than a scrap of bandage.
As the Blood Zombies, racing straight through the mirrors one after another, detonated in succession, even the mummy unit with its overwhelming numbers and bulk collapsed without a chance to respond.
Simon's expression hardened.
'A powerhouse on the level of a Kizen professor, just as I thought. But—'
Seeing Silaje clutching his heart told Simon the man was straining himself too. The very fact that he wasn't stepping in personally and was relying on Blood Zombies made that plain enough.
'Of course, I'm short on time as well.'
Linked to Herseba through their mental connection, Simon could tell she was reaching her limit.
Her dungeon would be dismantled before Silaje's heart gave out.
Which meant he had to burn this body down to the wick if that was what it took to create an opening.
At the frontline where Blood Zombies and mummies collided, Simon quietly circled wide, hiding himself behind a dune as he maneuvered toward Silaje's flank.
"Useless."
Silaje's voice rolled across the battlefield.
"Hundreds of years. I have seen more, and built more, than you ever will."
In a voice chill and frigid, he said:
"Even if you stumbled into the power of a Legion Commander by sheer luck, a first-year like you has no chance of beating me."
CRACK!
Simon drove his foot hard into the ground and shot forward.
"That's not your call to make!"
He swung the greatsword with everything he had from midair. The jet-black blade of force sheared through everything along its line — but Silaje sidestepped and slipped away from it.
Thud!
Landing in that same instant, Simon closed the distance right up to Silaje's nose. The face of a young Walter — the mask of an old fox — was right there before his eyes.
'If only I could cut him down directly with the Sword of Ruin!'
Simon had been about to bring the greatsword down — then his eyes hardened with regret, and in a heartbeat he erased his hesitation and kicked off his heels to retreat. From the empty air behind him, blood explosions detonated one after another.
"Sharp instincts, as always."
Silaje smiled thinly. Around him, droplets of blood — broken down into particles even finer than before — hung suspended in the air like mines, lying in wait.
"Die here."
Silaje stirred up a wind and sent the droplets flying.
Simon ground his right foot into the sand, biting down hard.
SHAAAAAAA!
Against the sword strike he raised head-on, every single droplet detonated in a blood explosion. Silaje skillfully gathered the surviving droplets up into the air, drawing them together.
The droplets converged into a ten-meter sphere of dense, massive blood — and it came crashing down on Simon.
Simon gripped the greatsword's hilt until it felt like it would shatter.
'One more time!'
SWOOOOOSH!
The incoming sphere of blood split clean in half. Simon twisted his waist.
'Again!'
Three consecutive dimensional slashes.
The sphere of blood was carved into a cross, then burst apart and shattered in a blood explosion.
"Learning even in the middle of battle. Your posture as a student is admirable."
"Professor this, student that — cut the crap!"
Madness rippled across Simon's eyes as he charged.
"What's standing in front of you right now is a Legion Commander!"
Clunk.
Instantly, all the strength drained from his legs. Simon's pupils shook like a madman's.
"You were burning yourself dry — did you really think any jet-black would be left over?"
Silaje stepped back and snapped his fingers. The droplets hidden in the sand rose into the air all at once, dyeing Simon's surroundings blood-red.
"That is the difference between us — experience."
Every last droplet exploded.
A thunderous roar.
And the shockwave that came rushing after.
KUGUGUGUGUGU—!
Watching the feast of explosions dye the night desert red, Silaje closed his eyes.
Survival probability: zero percent.
He had confirmed with precision that Simon's jet-black was exhausted. Reaching a certain conclusion, the man finally turned his back.
"Preserve all remaining forces."
He sent word to his cultists through blood magic.
"The priestess has fallen, so the barrier will collapse soon. Begin the Apostle resurrection plan at once—"
THWOK!
"……!"
His steps lurched to a halt.
The shock spreading through his skull wrenched his mouth open of its own accord. Surprise and disbelief tangled across his face.
A snow-white spear was buried in Silaje's back.
"This…… is……!"
Shhhk!
Fresh blood poured from his lips. When he coughed, clots of pale blood splattered out in gobs.
'Impossible……!'
Even with his back turned, his defensive magic — the Veil of Blood and the Mythril Armor he kept layered over his body at all times — had been pierced in a single stroke.
He turned his head.
As the red explosions were swept away on the wind, he saw the figure of a boy concealed behind a white barrier.
"Age, experience — people like you always stumble over the same two problems."
Blood streaming down his forehead, Simon was baring his teeth in a grin.
"First, you judge too quickly."
"You bastard—!"
"Second, you lack imagination."
⟨ Lethe's Original — La Escrime & Divine Barrier ⟩
Silaje's eyes wavered with bewilderment.
"A necromancer with a core…… using holy power? What manner of trickery is this!"
"I know it's hard to believe."
Simon swept away the Divine Barrier and tore open a holy subspace with his artifact.
"But it's happening, right before your eyes!"
What burst out of it was a Divine Beast in the shape of a bear — Akalion.
"Let's go, Akalion!"
-UWOOOONG!
As Simon poured holy power into him, Akalion's frame swelled at a startling rate, transforming into a monstrous bear. Simon climbed onto his back, leveled the Sword of Ruin ahead of them, and gave the charge order.
Silaje immediately tried to cast dark magic—
HACK!
—but blood kept pouring from his mouth with every cough. The holy power from that earlier strike had flooded through his entire body, throwing his core into shock.
"Block them!!"
Silaje roared. The frenzied Blood Zombies that had been fighting the mummies converged in front of him.
"Akalion! Keep going!"
Simon seized the Sword of Ruin, poured holy power into it, and began to swing.
SWOOSH!
CLANG!
SWOOOOOSH!
Every time the greatsword, laden with brilliant white radiance, flashed, undead were cleaved apart by the dozen.
He cut Blood Zombies down whole before they could detonate, while Akalion calculated their movements and nimbly weaved between the blasts — striking with forelegs imbued with holy power of his own, or biting and tearing into their torsos to suppress the explosions outright.
'He says I lack imagination?'
Silaje, who had barely stopped the bleeding, let out a hollow laugh.
A snot-nosed Kizen first-year claiming to be a Legion Commander.
And that Legion Commander was wielding holy power right now.
And above all — that Ancient Undead fused into the Bone Armour Simon was wearing.
'How in the world is an Ancient Undead using holy power?!'
[KHEHEHEHEHE!]
Ever since Simon had begun channeling holy power, Pier's entire frame had been glowing pure white. He was taking the divinity into his own body and using it as fuel to bolster Simon.
No one alive could have imagined such a thing.
"There are limits to how much of an irregular one person can be!!"
Silaje tore open a subspace himself and vomited forth his own Blood Zombies. Crimson figures came swarming in droves.
"Move!"
Simon raised his left hand — the one not holding the greatsword.
Above it gleamed a single sleek, snow-white lance. Layer upon layer of ribbons of holy power came spiraling around it, weaving themselves into the shape of a drill.
⟨ Lethe's Original — La Escrime ⟩
KEEEEEEEING!
The holy lance shot forth like a pillar of white light, blasting the Blood Zombies away on sheer pressure alone. Silaje raised his blood magic to meet it head-on and hold it at bay.
"Jump!"
WHOOSH!
In that instant, Akalion leapt into the air. Simon released the greatsword from his hand and swept both palms down in a savage stroke.
⟨ Exorcism ⟩
KWARURURUNG!
White lightning came crashing down on Silaje's head — but he hastily threw up a shield of blood magic and blocked it.
He was a veteran of a hundred battles, after all. The first strike had caught him because it was beyond prediction, but if he framed his opponent as a priest, then anti-priest tactics would answer the call just fine.
SHRAAAK!
And then Akalion came down from above, raking his claws across Silaje's chest as he descended.
'So close!'
Simon's face tightened.
Blood sprayed from Silaje's chest, but the wound was shallow — and Silaje immediately hammered a fist into Akalion's belly, sending him flying.
KUGUGUGUNG!
Akalion crashed to the ground. Simon activated his pendant to recall Akalion, then drew the Sword of Ruin back into his hand as well.
"Kgh!"
Simon's hand trembled violently.
His holy power was running dry, too.
Especially those two casts of La Escrime — Lethe's technique devoured far more divinity than it looked.
'Did you really just throw these around like nothing back then, Lethe — before you ever became a Saintess?'
[K-Kid!]
Just then, Herseba's voice rang out — speaking directly through Simon's mental link, where no one else could hear.
[Ten minutes at the outside! That's all the longer I can hold the dungeon!]
'……Okay.'
He had lured Silaje into letting his guard down and landed a serious wound — but this was the end of the road.
He was short on jet-black. He was short on holy power.
To bring the man down, he needed something decisive.
'There's only one card left to play!'
-In your most despairing moment — when your life is in danger and every path is closed, when you are so utterly desperate that all you can do is pray to the heavens — trust me, and use Compelonia.
Now.
Only now.
Timing it for the very end — the moment meant for the last of the last.
Simon released the holy power from his body, restarted his core, and switched back into necromancer mode.
"Mummy unit!"
His forces had been stretched thin sending Blood Zombies after Silaje — and in that gap, the mummy unit surged forward again to attack.
Silaje had no choice but to burn through wide-area dark magic, spell after spell.
While the mummies bought him time, Simon steadily prepared his trump card.
'No jet-black left. This has to work — no matter what!'
First, he sketched out the Four Great Curses in rapid succession.
Then, with his fingertips, he lifted only the core formulas at each curse's heart and assembled them at the center.
It was like excising part of one ecosystem and grafting it onto another — and watching the four pieces lock together flawlessly, perfectly, on their own, Simon understood just how brilliant their creator, Professor Bahil, truly was.
With all four formulas aligned, the curse was complete.
⟨ Compelonia ⟩
Holding the magic circle, Simon took a long, deep breath.
There was no room left to hesitate.
Boldly, he triggered the Compelonia circle — upon himself.
FWAAAAAAAASH!
"……!"
It was—
a feeling beyond all words.
He had left the realm of ordinary thought far, far behind.
A tidal wave of immense information came flooding into his skull. His head filled to bursting with countless numbers and languages.
'Ah.'
Within seconds, Simon had surpassed everything he had learned at Kizen.
Within minutes, he had surpassed every piece of knowledge he had gathered in his entire life.
And yet he could not hold any of it.
He could only stand gaping at the oceanic torrent of information rushing past.
'!'
In an instant, Simon's soul passed beyond its shell.
The scene of undead and Blood Heaven cultists locked in a bloody frenzy grew distant.
So did the scene of his precious friends — the entire first year — marked as sacrifices.
Outside the dungeon, the professors and TAs working to undo the Blood Ring, grew distant.
Kizen.
His hometown of Leshill.
The Dark Alliance and the Holy Federation.
The continent.
Passing beyond all of it, Simon stepped through the door.
"……"
It was a vision of unbroken black.
Even now, it was receding further and further away. The planet to which the "continent" belonged had shrunk to no more than a speck of dust.
From the suffocating darkness, a voice wormed its way into Simon's ear.
[Everything you have struggled for, fought for, writhed for until this very moment — all of it, born inside a tiny little dot like that.]
And beside Simon stood a pitch-black existence within a pitch-black void.
[Your answer?]
"……"
[Oh, forgive me. So much information is pouring in — it must be overwhelming, no?]
The existence adjusted something.
Only then was Simon granted the ability to turn away from the information driving itself into his mind — a brief license to look "elsewhere."
First, he looked at the existence with his own eyes.
It had the silhouette of a person — head, arms, legs — but it took no effort at all to tell it was no true human.
It had merely reshaped itself into something resembling Simon for the sake of familiarity.
"Who are you?"
Simon asked.
[You people always insist on pinning phenomena down with language. Very well. Then, condescending to descend to your eye level—]
the existence replied with a grin.
[I am everything in this world, and at the same time, not everything. Pleasure to meet you!]
"……"
That answered absolutely nothing.
[Thank you for crossing the door to come meet me. It gets boring in here, all by myself.]
Simon nodded along to the words, his eyes drifting across the surroundings.
Endless darkness on every side.
And within that darkness without any visible end, countless innumerable points glimmered faintly, embedded here and there like embers.
"Excuse me."
Simon turned his head.
"I want to go back to where I came from. Could you help me with that?"
[If you insist?]
The existence shrugged, then draped an arm over Simon's shoulder.
[Look closely.]
Then it gripped one of Simon's eyes between its fingers and pried it wide open.
[What you have been, all this time.]
It was—
an infinitesimally small point, stamped into the vast dark like a grain of dust.
The point zoomed further, further, further, further in—
and even within that cluster of tiny points, it dove into the very corner of corners, and there found one more tiny point sitting alone.
And there lay the continent.
[Funny, isn't it? Everything you believed was everything — in truth, it doesn't amount to even a mote of dust.]
"……"
Undeniably so.
Faced with this scale, anyone would be forced to think exactly that.
[Your histories are worthless. A single grain within dust too small to even tell apart. All the blood and tears you've spilled, fighting over that speck of a land — what meaning could it possibly hold?]
"But I—!"
[Same thing. What meaning is there in everything you do, struggling to save a grain within a grain within a grain? It's meaningless. There is nothing there. And that is precisely why I am capable of doing everything — yet do nothing.]
Simon felt his every thought and feeling being swiftly worn away, eroded. The existence spread both arms wide.
[Let us contemplate.]
An existence capable of everything, yet doing nothing.
[Stay here with me, and contemplate, as I do.]
Simon drew in a long breath.
Cooling his overheated mind, he reclaimed his composure.
"Sorry. I refuse."
[Why?]
For the first time, the existence sounded genuinely startled.
[Why? Why? Why? Everything is right here!]
"And at the same time, everything is absent, isn't it."
[……]
The existence fell silent.
"What I want—"
Simon pointed with the tip of his finger.
"—is that speck of dust."
The existence flailed its hands, as though it couldn't comprehend.
[Why? You know everything now! Whatever you could want — you've seen that it's infinitely trivial!]
"You're right. Humans are trivial. And simple."
Simon said.
"And being simple, thinking simply is a blessing. A pebble lying by the roadside — to one person it's a stone that stubs their toe, to another it's a keepsake that brings back a precious memory, and to yet another it's an object of research with archaeological value. Big or small doesn't matter. Trivial or not trivial — none of that decides it."
Simon jabbed a thumb into his own chest.
"The heart decides."
[Ha. Haha……!]
The existence burst out laughing.
[What you call a "heart" is nothing more than autonomic excitation — electrical signals firing in the brain! The very symbol of triviality!]
"I'm human, too."
[You are not! You could now claim a standing equal to mine — the realm of that "god" you people speak of……!]
"If I truly were that god, right here and now—"
Simon said evenly.
"—I would gladly snap my own wings and fall to that trivial ground below. Because everything precious to me is down there."
[……]
"You'll help me, won't you?"
Heh heh.
Hehehehehehe.
The existence chuckled.
[Can't win against you. What a shame — and after so long since a friend last climbed up here.]
"……"
[This moment, right after you've passed through the door — this is your last chance. So I'll ask one final time. Are you truly certain?]
"Yes."
Simon smiled.
"I'm certain."
[Very well.]
The existence rubbed its palms together.
[Apologies, but all of this information will be erased when you return. If you tried to hold onto it, your brain would burn out on the spot.]
"I figured."
[Still — you've come all this way, and I can't send you off empty-handed. What do you want?]
"Power."
Simon's eyes hardened.
"The power to break through the impasse I'm facing right now."
[Done.]
And the existence spread both arms wide.
[It was a genuine pleasure to meet you, my friend!]
"……HAAH!"
Simon's eyes flew open.
Sweat poured down his entire body, and he was panting like a madman. Both eyes shook, as though unable to believe everything they had just witnessed.
[BOY!!]
A deluge of thunder, of voices, of the acrid smell of sand.
Simon realized he was back on the battlefield.
[What do you think you're doing! Pull yourself together!]
Pier had shed the Bone Armour and was personally holding back the Blood Heaven cultists' assault.
"Pier, how much time has passed?"
[A few minutes! About five left before the dungeon comes down!]
Thank goodness for small mercies. He had to settle this right now.
"Fall back, Pier."
[Right — I'll restore the Bone Armour—]
"No. Get far away, please."
The memories and sensations still remained — in his body, in his brain.
Simon walked forward, step by deliberate step.
"You seem to be putting quite a lot of effort into casting something."
Silaje, too, looked at the approaching Simon.
"Judging by you, I take it it didn't work—"
He cut himself off mid-sentence, his mouth closing of its own accord.
Something was wrong with Simon's eyes.
They were deep and murky, like eyes sunk to the floor of the ocean — dark and heavy with stillness. Without a word, Simon slowly raised both arms.
'Jet-black in the right hand.'
The black power surged up violently above his palm.
'Holy power in the left.'
Brilliant divinity blazed to life in his left hand.
Two forces churned and swirled, each flaunting its presence. Wariness crept across Silaje's face.
"……And what trick are you planning this time?"
"Well."
Simon brought the jet-black and the holy power face to face.
"This."
"?!"
And he slammed the two forces into each other.
QUAKE-QUAKE-QUAKE-QUAKE-QUAKE-KRAKOOM!
The two powers began to entangle with one another. Silaje's face went white with alarm.
"Are you out of your mind!"
[Boy! Forcing two powers to collide like that will— hm?]
The two opposing forces did not repel each other. They did not fight. They did not explode.
They were fusing.
The black power and the white power flowed together toward the center, forming a circle.
"Thank you, my friend."
Simon murmured, gazing up at the sky.
FWAAAAAAAASH!
And then, in a burst of dazzling radiance, something new was born — jet-black and holy power, made one.
"This is—"
It was—
a light of black and blue, interwoven.
It looked exactly like Simon's own jet-black color.
A single orb, writhing as though it would swallow everything, warping the very space around it, came to rest in Simon's hand.
"Void."
As Simon closed his fist around the orb, even the dimensions around him twisted and bent.
"The authority of the hollow — beyond this world."