Becoming Gods of This World
Simon and Bahil sat facing each other, deep in conversation.
"I thought you'd gone along with the students for their promotion exam."
"My role was finished, so I came back. The Hector student took first place, you see."
After exchanging only a few brief pleasantries, Bahil cut straight to the point.
"So? How was it?"
"I'm... sorry?"
"During this incident. You used Compellonia, didn't you? Am I wrong?"
Expectation dripped from his voice. Simon hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
"Yes. I used it."
The instant the answer left his mouth—
Bahil's face twisted into something grotesque.
A smile. Pleasure. Rapture.
Simon flinched despite himself. The man who was always so gentle and courteous was baring an expression that was raw and unguarded.
"It's complete! Hahahahahaha!"
And then he burst into loud, unrestrained laughter.
His body writhing, spit flying, he poured out a cackling howl like a chorus of wailing ghosts—and all Simon could do was stare, his pupils trembling at this unrecognizable side of the man.
"Then you saw it, too! The collective sum of all knowledge beyond the door!"
Utterly beside himself with excitement, Bahil began speaking in a rapid-fire torrent, punctuated by grand, theatrical gestures.
He was talking so fast that Simon couldn't catch everything, but certain words kept surfacing, again and again.
Bookshelves.
The library.
The Librarian.
W-wait, something's wrong here. I used Compellonia and I never saw any of that.
Bahil, who had been rambling on at his own pace, abruptly shot to his feet.
"My ambition is much the same."
He went on, his eyes glistening with madness.
"I will place a curse upon this world."
"!"
A curse on the world?
What on earth did that mean?
Simon instinctively held his tongue and waited for the rest.
"Of course, it won't be easy. But if you and I join forces, it becomes possible. A power that could rewrite the very laws and rules of the world! That is, in short—"
He spread his palms wide.
"The power to rule the world."
It was all moving far too fast for Simon to gather his thoughts.
"Do you want to rule the world, Professor?" he asked.
"Good heavens, no. I'm a necromancer down to my bones. Politics and governance hold no interest for me. I simply want to know how far I can reach in the time I've been given. And—"
Bahil's eyes burned as he spoke.
"If we curse the world, we could build a far more ideal society."
"...An ideal society?"
"For instance, we could lay a curse upon the world like this: 'Let murderers meet death.' With that, countless tragedies—wars, massacres—could be prevented."
His face rapt, Bahil pressed on.
"We could eliminate hypocrisy and falsehood. We could abolish hunger and poverty as well. A utopia would be born. And then, in the truest sense—"
His voice rang out, sweet as honey.
"You and I would become the gods of this world."
"......."
Simon closed his eyes.
He understood Bahil's ambition well enough.
But the man's story was hollow at its middle. The circumstances that had led him to confess values and ambitions this condemnable—Simon could see none of it. Bahil was simply, absolutely certain that Simon would understand him.
Why?
"Professor."
Simon lifted his head.
"Now I understand for certain. You and I are heading in different directions."
At those words, shock bloomed across Bahil's face.
"Different from you? Why! Why on earth! Don't tell me it was a lie—that you used Compellonia?"
"I definitely used it."
"Then the Librarian of the shelves—!"
"Yes, that's exactly it."
Simon cut him off and continued.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
And then, at last—
The madness etched across Bahil's face warped in strange ways, and the corners of his mouth began to twitch and quiver.
"You... never went to the Librarian's study? Then what in the world did you see?"
"What I beheld after casting Compellonia was darkness. And a being that dwelled within it—capable of doing everything, yet doing nothing at all."
Simon continued in a voice stripped of all inflection.
"A being that could only be described as a 'god.'"
THUD!
Bahil staggered backward until his spine hit the wall of the infirmary room, then slid down it in a slow, boneless collapse, crumpling to the floor.
"Beyond the study...? There was something even beyond that?"
Simon straightened his back and sat up tall.
"It's also true that Compellonia—the technique you taught me—saved my life. You are my benefactor, and I'm truly grateful. But."
Simon bowed his head briefly, then met the man's eyes once more.
"It seems the reason you taught me this technique wasn't entirely out of goodwill."
"......."
"From now on, I intend to seal Compellonia away. And as for this ambition of yours—I'll pretend I never heard it."
And with that, Simon said,
"I'm truly sorry."
—and refused Bahil's offer to become his direct disciple and pursue Curse Magic as his major.
Step. Step.
Having fled Simon's sickroom, Bahil staggered through the corridors toward his research office.
His gait was abnormal—like a drunkard who had gorged himself on liquor.
...I had more conviction about Simon Polentia than anyone alive.
His arm trembled violently, as if from some drug's side effects.
Every time I heard them—Simon is a genius, Simon is brilliant—I sneered. And I drowned in my own superiority. Simon is merely that much? The word "genius" is too small a cage for him. Simon is a being who will shift the paradigm! I am the only person in this world who truly understands and believes in Simon's worth! —That is what I thought.
Lurching unsteadily along, he suddenly slammed his fist into the wall with a BANG!
And yet!
His pupils wavered.
A being that could only be described as a "god."
Bahil clawed madly at his scalp with bloodshot eyes. Even when his sharp nails tore the skin and blood began to flow, he didn't stop.
Even I—Bahil himself—was underestimating that boy?!
There was only one flaw in his design.
He had been certain that when Simon opened the door to Compellonia, he would arrive at the study.
If Simon had entered the "study"—that cradle of rationality—he would have understood perfectly that cursing was the most efficient means of changing the world, and he would have rallied to Bahil's ambition.
I alone would understand you, and you alone would be capable of understanding me.
They were meant to arrive at that kind of bond.
But Simon had surpassed even the study. He had most likely pushed through every stage beyond it—gone all the way to the very end, and stood face to face with that being.
Which raised a question.
Who in the world is Simon Polentia?
Is he even human?
"Ha, hahahahahahahaha!!!"
Now, even Bahil could no longer understand him.
Two days remained before the first-years returned.
The first-place winner of the term exam had already been decided, but apparently it would take a little longer to measure the detailed scores and rankings of every student in the middle and lower brackets.
Simon, too, was slowly recovering in the infirmary. His goal was to be discharged around the day everyone returned, so he could attend the promotion ceremony.
And then there was this.
He said Hector took first place.
One final event of the first year still awaited Simon.
Hector would never back down, whether Simon had recovered or not. And truthfully, Simon was just as eager to settle things with Hector before the first year ended.
But to beat Hector at the peak of his abilities without Herseba by his side—
Mastery of Chaos is non-negotiable.
Simon raised both hands, palms open.
He had learned a new technique from Farahan: Holy Blood—a method of mixing divinity into blood for a hemorrhage patient in need of a transfusion, sending it swiftly coursing through the entire body.
He spread his left hand, drew blood out with a magic circle, and mingled divinity into it. The crimson began to shift, tinting into a soft, luminous pink.
Then, keeping Cloud swirling in his right hand—
He slowly drew both hands together toward the center.
Ssssssssssss!
Jet-Black and divinity were natural enemies—but both Cloud and Holy Blood were built on Simon's SM-1 blood. The two energies mingled and transformed, twisting like a raging storm.
The two forces, locked in ceaseless push and pull, finally coalesced into a single sphere. The pink of the Holy Blood deepened, darkening into violet.
A smile crept across Simon's lips.
There it is.
Chaos.
He thought he'd named it rather well.
Even now, having unified into a single form of magic, it kept mixing and dissolving again without any trace of pattern—like a miniature violet typhoon cupped in his palm.
Since Farahan had taught him Holy Blood the night before, everything up to this point had gone smoothly. Now he was adjusting the ratios over and over, hunting for the golden proportion.
The look on Farahan's face when Simon showed him Chaos had been quite the sight.
"Tomorrow morning I shall send you someone trustworthy. Show this Chaos of yours to him. He'll gladly help you work out how to use it."
The time for that someone's visit was drawing near. Simon kept refining Chaos while straining his ears for footsteps in the corridor.
But who would be helping me figure out how to use Chaos...?
Knock, knock.
A knock at the door. He hadn't heard any footsteps at all, and the suddenness of it made Simon jolt clean off the bed.
He hastily scattered Chaos into the empty air, dissolving it, then called out,
"C-come in!"
Click!
The person who opened the door and walked in was the last person Simon could have imagined.
"Hahahahaha! First time I've laid eyes on you since last semester! Simon Polentia!"
The man's entire body was faintly translucent, his lower half dissolved into a ghostly wisp that hovered above the floor.
Kizen's irrepressibly energetic professor of Spirit Studies—whom Simon hadn't seen once all second semester.
"P-Professor Umbra!!"
Simon had failed to sense Spirit during the first semester, so when the second semester began, he had dropped Spirit Studies from his schedule.
Which made this visit all the more astonishing.
"Yes, I remember you from my class! You couldn't feel Spirit, but you could certainly dance the Dance of Consciousness with the best of them!"
Simon's face went red with embarrassment.
"Th-that, um...!"
"Hahaha! If you dropped my class, no hard feelings!"
Umbra was a strange contradiction: his lower half an eerie, drifting specter, while the rest of him was pure cheerful, boisterous energy.
"Besides, I heard it from Professor Farahan! Says you have something to show me?"
"Ah. Yes, sir."
Come to think of it—why Professor Umbra, of all people?
What did Spirit Studies have to do with Chaos?
Slightly puzzled, Simon decided to go ahead and demonstrate the magic.
I have to make sure the divinity part isn't noticed.
He conjured Cloud in his right hand to draw Umbra's gaze, while sending his left hand behind his back to raise Holy Blood there.
Then he merged the two forces.
A moment later, they became a single sphere wreathed in a violet storm.
"It's a new technique based on my Cloud. I'm calling it Chaos."
"Hmm...!"
Umbra had been studying Simon's Chaos intently—and then his eyes went wide, all at once.
"I see! I see! So THAT is what Professor Farahan was talking about! May I take a closer look?"
"Of course."
Umbra unfolded several magic circles around it and ran check after check, measuring its every reaction.
"Utterly fascinating!"
Umbra flashed a grin.
"Yes, I'm certain now! It's temporary, granted, but this unquestionably carries the properties of Spirit!"
Simon's head snapped up.
"S-Spirit, sir?"
"That's right! Remarkable!"
Umbra was quick to clarify that it didn't grant the actual ghostly effects of true Spirit. The fundamentals were different—but the two were, remarkably, compatible.
"You got the explanation of what Spirit is back in first semester, yes?"
"N-no, sir."
All Simon remembered was a man insisting he had to feel Spirit first, performing one bizarre dance after another and spinning a ouija board in circles for an entire semester.
"Then allow me to explain properly! I'm quite excited, you see."
He huffed out a breath.
"Since you're a Summoning-track student, this angle will serve you best! You do know what the ghost-type undead are, I trust?"
"Of course! You mean things like Banshees, Wraiths, and Phantoms?"
"Precisely! In ruins and long-abandoned houses, you'll find plenty of common ghost-type undead like Wraiths. Now—think of Spirit as the very substance that composes those ghost-type undead!"
He swept his hand wide, and a magic circle sketched itself into the air.
"Spirit Studies mages can convert Jet-Black into this 'Spirit'—a substance capable of holding a soul! Using that technique to wield the power of ghost-type monsters—that, my boy, is—"
FWOOSH!
A transparent spear shot from the magic circle.
A dark spell—indoors?
Simon yelped in alarm, but the transparent spear simply passed straight through the wall and flew on, striking a tree far in the distance.
"That is the foundation of Spirit Studies!"
"Ah...!"
It had pierced clean through the wall. That was Spirit Studies—the power to ignore the laws of physics entirely.
"Your Chaos, it seems, manifests more than just that physics-defying quality—it carries other properties as well! And now we've discovered its compatibility with Spirit magic!"
He spread both arms, and ten magic circles woven from Spirit unfolded in a smooth, gliding row.
"These are the representative spells of Spirit Studies! Once we know which ones resonate with your Chaos and which don't, we can chart your path forward."
"Ah...!"
Umbra was in a state of tremendous excitement.
Feeling a touch sheepish, Simon ventured,
"I-is it really all right, Professor? You must be terribly busy, and here you are helping me..."
"......."
Umbra slowly lowered his arms.
"To tell you the truth, to us first-year professors, Special Admission No. 1 is a very special existence."
Every time Umbra had watched Simon excel in the BMATs using dark magic learned from the other professors—Summoning, Magic Combat, Curse Studies—he'd felt a quiet pang of regret.
When Aaron and Walter completed the Blood Golem and lent their strength to Simon's exploits, how envious Umbra had been.
Sending Special Admission No. 1 away without teaching him a single Spirit Studies technique—that was the one regret of his teaching career. If only Simon had talent for Spirit Studies, too. How many times had he thought exactly that?
"But that's life for you! You never know what's around the next corner—and that's what makes it fun!!"
Umbra laughed, showing his teeth.
"And now here you are—Special Admission No. 1 himself—manifesting a compatibility with Spirit Studies!"
"...Haha."
Umbra clenched his fist.
"There isn't much of first year left, mind you. But tell me—don't you carry a little lingering attachment to the class you skipped?"
Simon nodded with everything he had.
"I'd be lying if I said no."
The seven great subjects: Summoning, Curse Studies, Magic Combat, Anatomy, Hemomancy, Divine Defense, Spirit Studies.
He'd come all the way to Kizen hoping to learn all seven of them—so it had stung to leave Spirit Studies behind simply because he lacked the talent for it.
Both men's eyes began to shine.
"Well then—show me what you can do."
Umbra spread his arms wide.
"Let's see just how far you can go!"