The Naga Invasion and Malcolm's Return
The Naga swarm's attack had transformed the Parona Peninsula, once alive with festival cheer, into a scene of utter horror.
The blue Moonflowers that had bloomed along the streets were stained crimson with blood.
The bustling market, packed with laughing crowds, was now filled with nothing but screams.
Bone Armour
Simon's arms moved in a blur. At his gestures, eight Skeletons scattered and — chak-chak-chak! — fitted themselves onto the bodies of fleeing tourists one after another.
At a second gesture from Simon, the armored figures lifted into the air and were carried to safety behind a hill.
"Run!"
Simon shouted.
He stripped the Bone Armour from the tourists as they came to their senses and bolted, then fitted it onto the next group of townspeople and sent them fleeing in turn — over and over, without pause.
Evacuating everyone to the Lord's Castle, where Meilin was holding the line, was the top priority. Dick and Camibarez would surely be doing the same from their own positions.
'But seriously, what on earth is going on here?'
Simon channeled Jet-Black into his legs and drove a fierce kick into the abdomen of an oncoming Naga. The creature soared through the air and slammed into a nearby market stall with a resounding crash!
Right behind that stall, several more Nagas came into view. Simon instantly took a defensive stance, but those Nagas didn't so much as glance at their fallen kin — they ran forward as if possessed, eyes fixed only on what lay ahead.
'The Nagas are all moving in the same direction.'
They weren't obsessively hunting down the fleeing people.
They seemed focused not on 'hunting' but on 'movement with a purpose.' It was only because a city full of people lay in their path that the drawn eyes of the scattered Nagas turned everything into chaos.
'Dick said a Naga Queen must have come, but...'
For a swarm of this size, at least twenty Naga Queens should have entered the peninsula. Yet Simon hadn't seen a single one so far.
'Something still doesn't add up.'
Lost in that thought, Simon arrived at his destination: the Parona Deimos Museum.
He had come back here.
He approached the front of the museum and tried the door.
Rattle! Rattle!
It was locked.
To be precise, something like a chain had been wound around the handles and secured with a padlock.
Rattle! Rattle!
Simon shook the door once more to pinpoint the lock's location.
'About there, I'd say.'
He pressed his right fist against the door, closed his eyes, and loaded Jet-Black into it.
Then he slowly drew his fist back and settled into his stance. It had been a while since he'd last used Hong Peng's penetrating strike.
Hong Peng Original — Cheonhyung
WHAM!
The blow landed squarely on the padlock beyond the door. He heard it break with a soft click and drop to the floor.
Simon pushed hard and entered, the chain sliding loose with a long metallic shhhhlick as the door swung open.
"……!"
The museum's guards lay collapsed on the floor.
Simon quickly shut the door, rewrapped the chain around the handles to ward off any Nagas that might wander in, then bent down to check on the fallen guards.
'They're not dead.'
All of them were simply unconscious.
He could see marks of blows to the backs of their heads, their jaws, their abdomens. It was strange for Naga attacks — those claws were made to shred flesh, not knock men out cleanly.
Simon pressed his lips into a flat line and moved forward slowly.
'There's no doubt about it — an intruder. But why break into the museum? And why knock out the guards instead of killing them?'
To snatch something valuable under cover of this chaos.
If that was the case, there was only one item in this museum worth taking.
It's an astonishing paleontological asset — practically impossible to put a price on! The teeth were damaged, so the museum director filled them in with actual gold! It's a masterpiece you can only see here, at the Deimos Museum of the Parona Peninsula!
'Fourth floor!'
Simon raced up the stairs at a brisk pace and pushed open the door to the fourth floor.
Click!
'Thank goodness.'
Simon let out a breath of relief. The most valuable exhibit — the skull of the Deimos — was still sitting there, untouched.
But his relief didn't last long.
'!'
A flash of silver was streaking toward him from the side.
FWIP!
Simon bent backward on pure instinct.
Extreme concentration kicked in — time slowed, and his perception sharpened into crystalline clarity.
What filled his vision was a spearhead. And as his eyes traced down the shaft, what he finally saw was a blond man.
Simon caught the passing spear shaft with his left hand and tilted the point just slightly.
Thwack!
The spearhead struck — dead on — the body of another man closing in from his left.
'At least two of them.'
He followed up with a kick to the knee of the man holding the spear, wrenched the weapon away, and swung it. The two men charging from the front were cut down and fell.
All four men had identical faces.
POOF! POOF!
At Simon's strikes, the men scattered like puffs of coal dust. At the same moment came a sharp snick! — something had just been severed above his head.
SHHHHRRRRREEEECH!
The chandelier overhead came plummeting down toward him. Simon lightly raised his left fist above his head.
Hong Peng Original — Chwita
CLAAANG!!!
His fist connected precisely with the center of the falling chandelier.
It shattered with an explosion of sound, its glittering jewel fragments scattering and rolling across the floor like grains of sand.
"What is the meaning of this?"
Simon asked, lowering his fist with a face of cold indifference.
"Malcolm Randolph."
A suppressed chuckle drifted out from the shadows of the unlit exhibition hall.
Moments later, a boy with the exact same face as the ones who had ambushed him stepped out of the darkness and revealed himself.
"Long time no see, Simon Polentia."
Simon scowled — his suspicion had been right on the mark.
A contrived Naga swarm attack.
The museum break-in.
And Malcolm Randolph.
Which meant, in the end—
"This Naga attack — the Randolph Gang orchestrated the whole thing, didn't they?"
Malcolm simply laughed and gave no answer.
"Snap out of it, Malcolm. You're a Kizen student."
"No."
Malcolm's expression froze over, hard as stone.
"Not anymore."
At those words, Simon's mind raced.
"Are you saying you're leaving Kizen?"
"I'm a man of the organization. When the results fall short, you answer for it."
Answer for it. Reeling off words like that, Malcolm swept his bangs back.
"My rank dropped from 10th to 128th, and the Liquid Bomb scandal cost the organization dearly. So I'll take responsibility. And every snowball in this whole mess—"
His murky eyes turned toward Simon.
"—started with that Duel Evaluation against you."
"……"
"Cruel, isn't it?"
At Malcolm's question, Simon's gaze dropped slightly.
"……Yeah, damn it all."
That attitude of his set Malcolm off.
"What was that just now — you pitying me?"
It was decidedly not what anyone says when they want pity.
Or so it seemed, from Malcolm's point of view.
Human behavior follows set patterns.
You offer a morning greeting, and the other returns one. A lady extends the back of her hand, and a gentleman kisses it.
Even without coordinating, sometimes the next words are already decided.
This was one of those moments.
Simon should have said:
Is that really something to blame on others? You fell behind at Kizen because of your own ability. That's on you.
If he had sneered, if he had laughed in his face, Malcolm might have at least been healed by the clarity of it.
"I—"
Simon's mouth opened.
"Don't pity you."
A blood vessel bulged and twisted on Malcolm's forehead.
"You've truly mastered the art of getting under people's skin, haven't you? Huh?"
Blood flushed up Malcolm's neck.
"I know! I KNOW, all right?! My skill was lacking! My effort was lacking! If I hadn't pulled that stupid gamble during our Duel Evaluation, I wouldn't be in this mess! But the human heart is a treacherous, filthy thing, you know."
His eyes turned dark and sinister.
"Why do I keep wanting to blame it all on you?"
SsssSSSSsss—!
Afterimages rippled across Malcolm's body and split apart in every direction. Simon's eyes hardened.
"Malcolm, calm down!"
"I heard your little friends chattering earlier. They were calling you 'President.' Don't tell me you actually became Student Council President?"
Simon said nothing.
"Oh, wow. That expression — so it's true? Hahaha! You're doing insanely well for yourself, you little bastard."
Malcolm's shoulders shook with laughter.
"Back at the start of the semester, I don't remember the gap being anywhere near this big. One of us gets treated like a useless stray and ends up back to thieving for a living. The other rides a wave of glory all the way to Student Council President of Kizen. Wow~ so even in your teens, life can split people apart this easily."
As the self-mocking words poured out of him, he staggered and pressed a hand to his forehead.
"……Well, whatever. This is the only road I have left now. If I fail, the organization kills me."
TA-DAT!
TA-DA-DA-DAT!
Twenty doppelgängers surged at Simon.
"You'll trample right over me again for your own ambitions, won't you? After all, it'd be a real problem if the Student Council President himself got caught up in this and the damage spread. Right?"
THUD!
The lead doppelgänger swung a fist wreathed in rippling Jet-Black.
"Malcolm. Don't do something you'll regret."
"Don't you DARE lecture me, Mr. Student Council President!"
WHOOM!
Simon evaded from where he stood, moving nothing but his shoulders.
WHOOM! WHOOOOM!
Fists came in one after another, but he bent his knees and tilted his head just so, dodging everything with the barest minimum of movement.
"You son of a—! Stop toying with—!"
CRACK!
Simon's leg shot up and kicked the doppelgänger's jaw mid-shout.
BAM! WHAM!
His fists traced afterimages, slamming into the doppelgängers' philtrums and shoulders. Two more scattered like dust.
GRAB! GRAB!
Then doppelgängers slipped in from behind and seized Simon's legs, and—
"KHAAAAAH!"
The last four doppelgängers charged in, brandishing concealed spears.
"Open Gate."
At Simon's quiet utterance, six subspace portals unfolded around him.
SHRRRRRIEK!
SHRRRIEK!
The legs of the Overlord — wrought of metal and bone — burst forth. The blades cut down the surrounding doppelgängers and rose in a blossoming bud, wrapping Simon protectively within.
Every doppelgänger was erased, and only the masterless spears floating in the air clattered down to the floor.
"So THAT'S when you'd pull those out."
Malcolm's true body, watching from behind, went rigid.
Sssss—
Through the six serpentine blades swaying and coiling like a living nest, Simon stood unharmed and untouched.
"Malcolm. Give up now and get your people out."
"I already told you! This is the only road I have left!"
Malcolm created more doppelgängers and sent them in.
"If you want something, you trample everything and TAKE it! That's the Kizen way!"
Malcolm showed no intention whatsoever of ending the fight.
It couldn't be helped. Simon recalled the Overlord into subspace and drew a magic circle on his palm. Pressing it against his side to keep the formation running, he simultaneously summoned new undead.
"Come forth."
Six ordinary Skeletons appeared, along with one Skeleton Archer and one Skeleton Mage.
CHIP!
At Simon's downward sweep of his palm, the connections between all the Skeletons dissolved and they collapsed; at his next upward sweep, hundreds of bone fragments surged into the air.
Bone Nail
The fragments scattered in all directions and riddled themselves into the bodies of the oncoming doppelgängers.
Each and every piece was under Simon's command, and the doppelgängers were all impaled through and destroyed.
'A doppelgänger's weakness is its durability.'
No need to commit much force — a handful of clean hits was enough to destroy them.
While he prepared the higher-order dark magic, Bone Nail was more than sufficient for defense.
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
All twenty doppelgängers vanished even faster than they had against the Overlord.
Malcolm gritted his teeth and sent in twenty more.
'And the second weakness.'
Simon reached back over his shoulder.
Snap!
As if it had been waiting, the bow the Skeleton Archer had been using landed in Simon's hand. An arrow was already nocked in the other.
Loading at lightning speed—
Viiiiing!
He loosed the enchanted arrow. Malcolm, absorbed in controlling his doppelgängers, ducked his head desperately to evade it.
THUNG!
The arrow buried itself in the wall, trembling violently before going still.
'The moment he drops his footing, he can't control the doppelgängers. His dodging gets sloppy.'
"Why you little—!"
Leaving the defense to Bone Nail, Simon simply flicked arrow after arrow in a light, harassing rhythm.
Simon's archery was considerable in its own right. Every single arrow flew aimed at Malcolm's head.
"Kuh!"
Eventually, even Malcolm was forced to change tactics. He pulled potions from subspace and hurled them, and the doppelgängers caught them and charged.
'Liquid Bombs?'
Even as they were pierced through by the Bone Nail, the doppelgängers flung their held potions into the air.
SHATTER! SHATTER!
The potions broke on their own, and the spreading liquid splashed across the Skeleton bone fragments.
The bone fragments floating in the air shuddered mournfully and dropped to the floor.
'That's—!'
"Cavara's Poison!"
Malcolm shouted as he cast his dark magic again.
"It neutralizes the residual Jet-Black inside the bones and renders them unrestorable for a time! Did you think I wouldn't come prepared for a Summoning major?!"
With Bone Nail neutralized, Malcolm pressed his two palms together and made a shoving motion forward.
His own trump card — originally meant for use in the second-year Duel Evaluations.
Malcolm Original — Decouple Doppelgänger
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!
Ten doppelgängers burst out in a hideous, tangled mass. It scuttled forward on a forest of legs like a centipede, charging at Simon with unbelievable speed.
'I win!'
The corners of Malcolm's mouth trembled with exhilaration.
'Even if the Overlord's blades try to cut it down — the moment it scatters into small bodies—'
KA-BOOOOOOOOOM!
But it wasn't the blades.
Spheres of black flame hammered into the doppelgänger chimera one after another, erupting in explosions that burned the entire mass to nothing.
Shhhk.
Simon calmly raised his index finger.
Four Skeleton Mage skulls soared into the sky. Emerald smoke coiled around them, forming the image of a row of tiny suns.
Simon Original — Skull Drone
The higher-order dark magic Simon had been preparing was neither Chaos nor the Royal Guard.
Against a doppelgänger — so fatally vulnerable to wide-area magic — there was no better option than Skull Drone, blanketing the field in a relentless barrage of Jet-Black flame.
"Let's end this, Malcolm."