The Saintess Comes to Visit
Booom! Bam!
The moment Hector's Barrier Gauge shattered, this duel should have been over.
But Hector did not stop. He kept raining down a merciless barrage of attacks on Simon.
"What the—?"
Dick, the referee, shrieked in disbelief.
"You're the one who said let's settle this fair and square in a Duel Evaluation, so what's this?! Hey! Stop!"
Dick rushed in to break up the fight—only for one of Hector's scales to come flying straight at his head. He flailed out of the way just in time.
"Dick! You okay?"
"Whoa... that guy's eyes have completely gone," Dick muttered from the ground, breaking out in a cold sweat. "D-Dad! Get in there and stop this!"
"What do you think you're doing? Dad!"
Camibarez and Meilin urgently called for their fathers, but the men only watched the battle with grim, set faces. Richard was no different.
"If Simon wanted the match called off, he'd have been the first to say so."
"Sir?"
"Simon intends to see this through to the end. We have no right to barge in and interfere."
Crack!
Meanwhile, Simon too was deep in thought as he deflected Hector's furious onslaught.
'So this is the power of Chaos, huh?'
Even Simon was startled. He'd never imagined, not even in training, that it would have an effect like this.
Chaos had temporarily corroded Hector's mind, and it seemed his reason had simply flown out the window—the same state the Chaos Reaper had been in when it turned on its own summoner.
'Normally, subduing an opponent who's lost their reason is easy. But...'
Hector was different.
Every movement, every shift of his feet, was so stripped of waste that it was hard to believe he'd lost his mind at all. His motions and combat instincts were drilled so deep into his body that they functioned without thought.
'Impressive.'
The way he moved now was purely the fruit of relentless effort. For this moment, at least, Simon thought Hector was genuinely worthy of respect.
Ssss—!
Then Hector's fist became wreathed in Jet-Black.
'Chakgeom—Fixed Blade!'
Simon calculated the arc of the swinging fist and dropped low—
"?!"
—and suddenly his body was yanked forward toward Hector, as though caught on a hook.
It wasn't Fixed Blade.
⟨ Hector Original – Manpa (Pulling Grip) ⟩
WHAM!
Hector's follow-up headbutt detonated against Simon, and even his barrier shattered to pieces.
'An original technique, here?!'
Now both barriers were gone, and it was bare fists and nothing else. Because this was a Duel Evaluation, even the protective functions of their uniforms were switched off.
The impact made the back of Simon's skull go numb, and he staggered.
'Ghk! My head...!'
His vision swaying, he watched Hector—pupils stained violet—charge in with a savage grin.
"I WILL win! Simon Polenti—!"
CRUNCH!
Hector's nose caved in, spraying droplets of blood. Simon's lightning-fast kick had landed dead center.
"Whoa!"
"Simon's not giving an inch either!"
the Hayward brothers cheered.
Whoosh!
In the same motion, Simon clambered up onto his shoulders and locked Hector's neck between his legs.
'Now I just choke him out—!'
Grip! Grip!
But Hector's thick arms shot up between Simon's legs and began pushing at the backs of his knees.
Simon was startled. The man actually knew how to escape the hold properly.
'He learned ground fighting too?!'
Back in an earlier BMAT, Hector had been driven up the wall by Simon's grappling. Ever since, he'd reflected and prepared countermeasures.
Simon tumbled off Hector's back.
"GRAAH!"
Hector's boulder of a fist came rushing in instantly.
Crack!
Simon snapped his head aside to dodge, closed the distance, and answered with an upward kick to Hector's jaw.
Thwack!
Almost simultaneously, Hector's low kick cracked against Simon's leg.
Shhk!
Their fists slammed into each other's faces at the same time. Blood sprayed, and both boys staggered at once.
"GRK!"
"HAAH!"
Now it was a war of pure will.
Watching the two of them—Jet-Black fully spent, swinging at each other with nothing but bare knuckles—the crowd fell into a hush. Everyone present was gripping sweaty palms, utterly swallowed by the match.
And then—
"...This fight is genuinely insane."
With a shattered nose and a split lip bleeding in a steady stream, both boys were grinning.
Crack! Whap! Tat! Tat!
Every collision of fists shook the air; every step sent sand kicking up from the floor.
"I-is one of them winning? Dick?"
Dan Hayward, the second of the triplets, asked.
"Hector, obviously. The size difference is just too extreme."
Dick crossed his arms.
WHAAAM!
Right on cue, Simon blocked one of Hector's kicks and was sent flying like a cannonball, crashing to the ground. Blood poured from one nostril, and his joints creaked in protest.
'There has to be something I can use... Ah!'
There—a Chaos Spear lay rolling across the sandy floor. Whatever its duration was, it hadn't dispelled yet.
'Create a variable! This is exactly why Chaos is the best!'
Simon scrambled toward the spear, and the moment Hector saw it, his eyes bulged and he gave chase.
Even with his reason clouded, some part of him knew on pure instinct that Chaos was dangerous.
Fwap!
Simon bent down and snatched the fallen spear off the ground.
"Ghk!"
He'd moved too fast. His foot slipped on the sand and he lurched wildly—and in that gap, Hector came crashing in.
Gritting his teeth, Simon whipped his hips around.
"HAAP!"
VWOOOOONG!
A full-force throw. But perhaps in his haste, Hector simply tilted his head and slipped aside.
Crack!
Simon's body collapsed under the follow-up kick and rolled across the ground, plastered head to toe in blood and sand.
Hector roared and pounced, climbing on top of him.
"Break out of it, Simon!"
"Finish it, Hector!"
The shouts of Group 7 and the faction students crossed in the air. Hector raised his fist.
Shove!
Simon flexed his legs in a sudden burst and pushed his body upright—Hector's upper-body balance collapsed, and his elbow slammed into the sand.
Grip!
Grip!
In an instant Simon's hands clamped onto Hector's waist, his legs coiled around his body like a serpent—and rolled him clean over sideways.
"NOT THIS MOVE AGAIN!!"
Hector's eyes went bloodshot. Simon, having seized the dominant position, moved to counter immediately—
"!"
—but Hector seized both of Simon's fists and, still caught in the hold, was hauling himself upright on sheer brute strength. The muscles in his legs quivered as though they would tear apart.
'This guy is disgustingly tough!'
Out of options, Simon kicked Hector square in the face and slipped out sideways. Blood burst from Hector's mouth and he swayed—but he did not go down.
Simon, on the other hand, had spent everything on that last kick. He crumpled to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.
"It's OVER!!"
Certain of victory, Hector raised his arm.
"...You forgot, didn't you?"
Simon managed a feeble smile.
"A Chaos Spear can have its final point of impact set in advance."
'!'
Only at the very last moment did Hector's reason return.
'The spear from earlier—no way—!'
CRACK!
A violet spear slammed into his back, and Hector's charging body bent violently sideways.
KA-BOOOOOOM!
The Chaos spear erupted in a savage violet explosion. Hector was hurled a full distance away, tumbling across the dirt.
"Whoa!"
"It landed clean!"
Cheers and dead silence crossed back and forth across the arena.
Simon picked himself up and looked behind him. Hector was not moving.
Only then did an enormous wave of relief wash over him.
"WINNER!!"
Dick shrieked with joy at the top of his lungs.
"Right to the very end, it's Simon Polentia!"
"WAAAAAH!"
Simon thrust his clenched fist into the air. His Group 7 teammates and the Hayward brothers came sprinting over as if they'd been waiting for exactly this, while the faction students rushed to Hector's side.
Thud.
And the very instant Simon finished raising his fist, he lost consciousness and toppled over.
"Simon!!"
"Ugh, you absolute glutton for punishment! You got out of the hospital YESTERDAY, why do you keep overdoing it?!"
Camibarez's frantic voice was followed by Meilin's scolding.
"It really came down to a hair's difference."
Dick looked back and forth between Simon and the fallen Hector with a hollow laugh.
"......"
Then Richard walked over in slow, heavy steps and stood before his son.
'Felt good, didn't it? Simon.'
Tap.
That was when, with a quiet presence, the enormous figure of Darkos Moore had approached.
Just as Richard reacted to intercept, Darkos extended not a strike, but his hand.
"Hm?"
An offer of a handshake.
"...You have raised a talented son. You must be proud."
The faint smile that crossed his face as he said it was strikingly like Hector's own.
Richard, who had been tensed for a fight, laughed helplessly and took the hand.
"Your boy's talent was every bit as impressive."
Then he added one more thing.
"And he is not my son, but my nephew."
"I shall count it as the same."
Darkos turned toward the fallen Hector. Richard let out a small sigh and looked down at Simon.
Just as Darkos had said.
Richard felt so proud of his son he could hardly stand it.
'I want to brag about him to the whole neighborhood.'
He tilted his head back.
'This boy is MY son.'
The Vampire Lord Dietrich restored Simon's and Hector's wounds with hemomancy.
And as Meilin gazed worriedly at the unconscious Simon, Daniela came to her side.
"Meilin."
"Dad?"
Daniela's eyes refused to leave the fallen Simon. Only then did he turn to Meilin with a smile.
"That hair of yours."
"Hm?"
"It's lovely. You were right to keep growing it out."
"??"
Meilin stared at him like he'd lost his mind.
Meanwhile, having finished his healing work, Dietrich stepped back and casually rested a hand on Camibarez's shoulder.
"My daughter, Camibarez."
"Ah—yes?"
"As a daughter of House Ursula, I had fully intended to bind you to a vampire no matter what. But I have changed my mind."
Glancing sideways at Daniela in a pointed sort of way, he thrust his thumb skyward.
"In skill, and in love—never lose to a mere human!"
Camibarez's face flared scarlet.
"Wh-what are you saying?! Out of nowhere?!"
By the time Simon opened his eyes, it was evening.
'Ugh!'
That same infirmary he'd been indebted to for so long.
He bolted upright—and there beside him sat Richard, glasses on, legs crossed, reading a book.
"Awake, are you? Simon."
Simon snapped to attention and asked at once.
"F-Father! What about the others?"
"Already gone home."
Richard shut his book with a snap and went on.
"They were all quite sorry they couldn't give you a proper goodbye."
Saying so, he pointed to the edge of the bed. On a sheet of paper were the farewell messages left by the members of Group 7 and the Hayward brothers.
One glance at the handwriting told Simon exactly who had written what. Dick's scrawl, barely legible. Meilin's neat, upright, positively aristocratic script. Camibarez's handwriting dotted with adorable little emoticons. The Hayward brothers had each left a line of their own as well.
Simon read them all with a happy smile spreading across his face.
"Was Kizen enjoyable?"
"Yes!"
Simon answered without a moment's hesitation.
"It's the best. Ever since I came to the academy, my whole life has changed like a dream!"
"I'm glad to hear it."
Richard smiled in satisfaction and rose from his chair.
"The infirmary doctor says you can be discharged. Rest one more hour, and then we return to Leshill."
"Yes, sir!"
Simon had laid out a few plans for the break.
And there was one thing he needed to do first of all.
'That exclusive dungeon-clearing right I won a while back.'
The right to conquer a dungeon, earned when he defeated the Third Prince Andre in a duel during the Langoustine Kingdom's royal banquet on his mission evaluation—it was still unused.
That dungeon was the White Tomb Dungeon, where an Ancient Undead was suspected to be hiding. Pier, the only one who knew the way in, had volunteered to take the field himself.
[Kukuku! Return bearing good news!]
Simon had also assigned Prince, Erzsébet, and even Akemus to accompany him—Herseba alone was all Simon needed.
Simon had planned to rest at Leshill for a time and go along too, but his injuries were injuries, and above all, Pier had warned him that the dungeon was so saturated with poison that a living human would only get in the way.
The Ancient Undead he sought this time was a being tied to poison.
And so the Ancient Undead set off to conquer the dungeon over the break, while Simon decided to take Herseba and cross over to Leshill with Richard.
There was just one problem: the possibility that Magnus, the Legion Commander hostile to Simon, might attack during the holiday.
Granted, with Richard around, Leshill would be safe enough—but Simon hated the idea of his own affairs bringing harm to the territory and its people.
His plan was to rest at home for a few days, then cook up a plausible excuse and slip out beyond Leshill's borders.
And so, riding a teleportation circle, Simon was the very last of Kizen's second-years to leave Roc Island.
"I'm home!"
Leshill—the place where he'd been born and raised.
A backwater among backwaters, where the biggest news in memory was the calf born at the neighbor's farm.
Even the air tasted delicious. Simon drank in a deep breath.
"Good to be back after so long?"
"Of course it is!"
Walking the familiar trail they'd worn smooth with comings and goings before he left for Kizen, Simon and Richard chatted away.
The house was not far.
Giddy at the thought of seeing his mother for the first time in ages, Simon ran up and knocked on the door.
"Mom! It's me!"
Click!
The moment he stepped inside, a mouthwatering smell washed over him, along with the busy clatter of someone bustling about in preparation.
"Simon! You're home!"
Anna's voice drifted out from the kitchen.
But sitting at the dining table—besides Anna—was someone else entirely.
A woman with hair the color of the sea, sitting calmly with her eyes closed.
She set down her teacup and spoke.
"It's been a while."
It was the last person Simon could ever have imagined seeing here.
"My nephew, Simon."
The true power behind the Moderate Faction of the Holy Federation—she who bore the title of Saintess of the Divine Sea.
The benefactor who had not only aided Simon within the Holy Federation, but had even procured the materials needed for Anna's surgery.
"Lady Israfil!!"
The Saintess Israfil had come to the Dark Alliance.