A Favor from the Witch of Death
In the five days Simon had been asleep, a great deal had happened.
The Blood Sky Cult had meddled in Kizen's promotion exam. The fact that they had targeted the students alone was staggering, but what truly sent shockwaves through everyone was the discovery that the mastermind — an Apostle of the cult — had spent nearly twenty years living among them as a Kizen professor, all for the sake of this one plan.
And at almost the same moment, a mysterious disturbance had erupted in the far eastern reaches of the Shahed Kingdom.
The necromancer agents dispatched to investigate found the cult's hidden headquarters for the Dark Alliance at the very site where the disturbance had originated.
The barrier had been torn apart by traces no one could identify, and the entire massive headquarters building had been split clean in two, blown apart by an explosion that left nothing but a sea of flames.
Worse still, a corpse presumed to be Silaje's was found among the ruins.
The agents scrambled to extract vital documents before the fire consumed everything — the locations of Blood Sky Cult branches and cooperating organizations rooted across the entire continent — and launched simultaneous strikes on all of them at once.
A sweeping campaign to purge the Blood Sky Cult had begun.
"...Ah."
Simon listened to the story, dumbfounded.
"But forget all that — what matters most is your story, Simon."
Nephthys, perched lightly on the edge of his bed, smiled brightly.
"So? What happened in the dungeon?"
"Ah, well... um..."
At some point, staff from Kizen headquarters had gathered at Nephthys's side as well. With so many listening ears in the room, Simon calmly organized his memories and began.
The Blood Ring had unfurled, rendering the students immobile. Simon had run all the way to the Dungeon Lord's chamber, where he clashed with Silaje. Using Herseba's Third Authority, he had dragged the man into the World of Sand and raised an army of mummies to fight him.
Silaje had summoned the cult's faithful into the dungeon to respond, but there had been a fatal flaw in his heart.
The Blood Ring, the hunt for the Dungeon Lord, the construction of the Blood Stone Castle, a large-scale portal spell, and a full-scale battle against a mummy army. In the end, the abuse of hemomancy had caused Silaje to cough up blood and destroy himself — though not before tearing open a portal and escaping.
Shortly after, Herseba's dungeon had collapsed entirely, and the surviving cultists outside had been subdued by Lorraine and Serne, who had been waiting beyond the barrier.
That should be about enough, right?
Anything concerning the Legion, and the story of fusing Jet-Black with Divinity, went without saying — he left all of it out.
A staff member from headquarters nodded along as they recorded Simon's statement.
"So I take it Student Simon was unaware of Silaje's death as well?"
"Ah, yes. That's correct."
As Simon answered, sweat trickling down his face, only Nephthys kept her eyes fixed steadily on him — and then she smiled, ever so slightly.
"Thank you for your cooperation, student."
Soon every staff member and physician filed out of the room, leaving Nephthys and Simon alone together.
"Uuuugh! Stretch!"
She stretched her arms high overhead, let out a long, luxurious yawn into her chubby cheeks, and settled into a languid smile.
Simon spoke up carefully.
"Y-you're not going to ask?"
"Hm? Ask what?"
"Whether something actually happened inside the barrier."
Nephthys giggled.
"It's fine. What matters most is the result."
The way she said it made it clear she already knew everything.
"Anyway, Simon — don't you have questions of your own? You must be confused, waking up out of nowhere like this."
He had a mountain of things he'd been dying to ask anyway.
"Is everyone else really okay?"
"Mm-hm. Perfectly fine. Not a single injury."
Simon let out a breath of relief and pressed on.
"Then what's happening with the promotion exam we were taking?"
"The promotion exam~?"
According to Nephthys, the exam had, of course, been suspended.
Fortunately, the students' health showed no lasting effects.
The last thing any of them remembered was a crimson ring hanging in the sky — and the next thing they knew, they were waking up outside the dungeon.
The awakened students had been told that the exam was interrupted by an intrusion from Blood Sky Cult operatives, and an official notice declared that the promotion exam would be replaced with a far simpler one. Compensation and incentives would be provided as well, naturally.
Far from upset, the students actually seemed delighted by the whole turn of events.
Life in the dungeon had been excruciating, after all, and the exam period could have stretched on for another month or two. Instead, they'd blacked out for a moment, opened their eyes, and now the promotion exam was being swapped for something easier — with rewards on top.
The replacement test was a dungeon evaluation built on the abilities of the Card Necromancer Endolas Vaudeville and the virtual combat simulation system Avalon.
Rather than making students endure dungeon life in real time, the system would distill each dungeon into only its most critical core events and thrust them at the students one after another, grading them on their responses and reactions to each.
So after two days of rest, the students had already departed to take their new exam.
That was why there were no first-years to be seen anywhere in Kizen right now — they had all crossed over for the test.
"Wait, hold on!"
Simon bolted upright and shouted.
"Doesn't that mean I have to go take the exam too?!"
"Oh, don't worry."
Nephthys smiled sweetly.
"You're already confirmed as first place in the promotion exam."
"Wh-what?"
"While all the other students were paralyzed, you went to the Dungeon Lord's chamber and bravely fought off the Blood Sky Cult operatives, holding them back. Thanks to your heroics, everyone else made it out unharmed. The students all accepted that you earned first place."
It wasn't a complete replacement after all. The exam had been restructured to leave Simon locked in at first place and determine only the remaining rankings from second down.
Only then did Simon finally breathe easy.
"And another thing!"
Nephthys planted both hands on her hips and drew her brows together.
"Your body is in that state and you're worried about an exam? You need rest!"
"Haha, understood. Then..."
Simon scratched the side of his head.
The students with their lives on the line in the promotion exam could be smoothed over with compensation and a replacement test, sure. The real problem lay outside.
"Isn't it a commotion out there right now? The Blood Sky Cult incident happened inside Kizen, and..."
"Ah~ that?"
Nephthys beamed.
"We buried it?"
A chill ran down Simon's spine, and he leaned back.
"...B-buried it how?"
"Ah! Not buried the truth — buried the topic. Everyone's attention is locked on the war right now."
Nephthys walked him through how it had played out.
The provocations from the Holy Federation along the border had been swelling for months, the drums of war growing ever louder. All the stories she had kept buried for the sake of preserving the peace, she had detonated them all at once, seizing the opportunity.
Saintesses crossing the border. The Holy Federation's military expansion, followed by a string of skirmishes.
The press ran the stories into the ground, exaggeration piled upon exaggeration. The citizens of the Dark Alliance had come to believe that all-out war could break out at any moment and no one would blink.
And above all —
"By the way, have you ever heard of a man called Late, the Chief Inquisitor — boss of all the Heresy Inquisitors?"
"Ah, yes. I've heard of him."
Truth be told, "heard of" didn't cover it. He'd laid eyes on the man himself, back in the Holy Federation.
Late was an extreme war hawk. He stood in direct opposition to Israfil, the moderate Saintess — and Simon's aunt.
When the Blood Sky Cult had tried to set the Holy Federation and Dark Alliance against each other and ignite a world war, he was the man who had seized on it and pushed hardest of anyone to make that war real. A priest rumored to have killed more necromancers than anyone alive.
"We obtained a recording of that Chief Inquisitor Late's own voice — the man every soul in the Dark Alliance grinds their teeth at the sound of."
Nephthys gave a little recording artifact a wave.
"And we tied him to the Blood Sky Cult. The whole angle being: this man has secretly been behind the cult all along~"
"Ah..."
"The war we're waging against the cult right now stems from that. As we speak, every single Blood Sky Cult base is being carpet-bombed — in the Dark Alliance and the Holy Federation alike."
As Nephthys swung her legs back and forth, her eyes had settled into a calm, bottomless stillness.
"The whole continent is one hair's breadth from a world war. Do you really think a little incident at a school is going to register? This whole affair will go down as just one atrocity among the countless the cult has committed. If anything, it might even turn out like this: 'As expected of Kizen! They repelled the Blood Sky Cult's attack on their students without a single casualty!'"
"B-but what if war actually does break out with the Holy Federation over this?"
Nephthys shook her head.
"Hmm, don't worry. I've got the Efnel Pope's tendencies read like a book. And it's not as though Late has actually joined hands with the cult. He'll keep the rope taut right up to the line — and then haul it back."
"..."
A faint shiver crept up Simon's spine.
There were moments when the anti-Kizen faction — and the forces clamoring that Kizen had grown obsolete — couldn't so much as open their mouths and had to curl up in a corner.
Whenever the specter of war with the Holy Federation reared its head.
Only Kizen had the power to stand against Efnel and its seven Saintesses and legions of priests. That was a fact even a five-year-old on the street knew.
Strike bloody vengeance on the Blood Sky Cult on the day of the incident, all while using the atmosphere of war to muzzle the anti-Kizen camp. But never actually cross the line into open war with the Holy Federation.
It was swift-footed, razor-sharp statesmanship.
Did the ruler of the Dark Alliance — the woman who swayed half the continent — truly need not just overwhelming force, but an eye that could read the currents of the entire world?
"...Hehe, disappointed?"
Nephthys drew her knees up onto the bed and rested her chin on them.
"Me being every bit as petty and underhanded as the other grown-ups."
"N-no, not at all."
Simon shook his head lightly.
"...As the head of an organization? I think you made the best choice available."
The truth hadn't been hidden from the victims, the students were unharmed, and not one of them held a grudge.
But he did find himself looking at Nephthys a little differently now. It felt as though he had glimpsed another face beneath that bright, guileless smile.
"Well, either way, the one who suffered most through all of this is you, Simon."
Nephthys smiled brightly.
"You've earned a reward, haven't you? Ask for anything. If it's within my power, I'll grant it."
"Ah...!"
A chance to ask for something from the ruler of the Dark Alliance herself.
It wasn't an opportunity that came around often.
No — it might well be a once-in-a-lifetime one.
"How about something like this?"
Nephthys's eyes sparkled like a child's.
"Free ice cream for life, everywhere in the Dark Alliance! An ice cream bomb!"
That just sounds like a wish you'd want granted for yourself, Lady Nephthys.
Simon gave an awkward smile and took a sip of the water sitting beside him.
"If not that, then..."
Nephthys suddenly wore a sly, mischievous grin.
"Give me your daughter's hand in marriage! Something like that?"
Pfffht!
Simon sprayed the water right out of his cup. His face flaming scarlet, he doubled over coughing.
"L-Lady Nephthys!"
"Our Lorraine's a good catch, isn't she? Hmm? Hmhm? She takes after me, so she's adorable! Capable, too! And she fights well!"
Buzzing with excitement, she wiggled her hips on top of the bed.
"She's a precious child I struggled long and hard for in my twilight years, but if you want her that badly, Simon, I suppose I have no choice~ Hehe!"
That roguish smile was, unmistakably, the smile of an adult tormenting the young. Cold sweat poured down Simon in streams.
"W-would, um, some other request be out of the question?"
"Oh? There's something you want more than our Lorraine? Out with it!"
"Ahem."
Please, he begged internally, stop mentioning Lorraine. His face was burning.
"The reason we're called the Legion of Betrayal. The sin of the Seventh Legion — the comrades they killed."
Having recovered his composure, Simon looked Nephthys dead in the eye.
"A pardon for that sin. Is there any chance that might be possible?"