Where It Begins
“If you don't like that, then let's negotiate.”
Simon had dangled the bait.
But even if he was set to become the official Student Council President in a couple of days, Simon had no power to tear everything down and rebuild it on the spot. Above all, he was a half-baked president forbidden from interfering with the third years — he'd needed to draw a hard line between what he could do and what he couldn't.
The greatest virtue of the student council is 'dialogue' and 'coordination.'
Dialogue and coordination. Simon opened his eyes, recalling the words of Professor Jane, the faculty advisor for the student council.
The real battle came later.
“Instead of throwing away this disposable Memorial Crystal Sphere, put an end to the department welcome ceremonies and the hazing rituals. All of them. Right now.”
Will, who had been listening from behind, made a choked, stricken face.
“End it here?”
He had waited three years for this day. They'd barely gotten through twelve of the fifty.
This was absolutely unacceptable. If he let this slide, it would only embolden the second years.
“By whose—!”
“Will you be quiet, Will.”
At Leonard's cold reply, Will's mouth snapped shut.
“Anything else?”
“Promise me that from now on, there will be no more cruelty toward juniors — nothing like what Will did.”
“Fine. I accept.”
“!”
The surrounding students gasped and stared at Leonard.
“In exchange, I have one condition of my own. That disposable Memorial Crystal Sphere gets destroyed right in front of my ey—”
Rumble-rumble—
The crystal sphere was already rolling across the ground. Simon lifted his leg with a cold expression and brought it down.
CRACK!
The sphere shattered to pieces, and Simon turned on his heel and walked away as if to say his work here was done.
“…Impressive.”
Leonard murmured the words as if entranced. He watched Simon's retreating hem flutter in the distance, the student council armband on his arm rippling in the night breeze.
Just then, Will came bounding over with a loud 'Hahaha!'
“Smashing it himself? What an idiot! Leonard! Just void it and keep going—!”
“Now, an announcement.”
Leonard turned and swept his gaze across every Summoning Department student present.
“The freshman student council ends here. Clear away what's left, and let's head back to the dorms.”
“LEONARD!!”
Will roared. Leonard was still smiling, but his voice dropped flat and cold.
“You ruined all of it, Will.”
“…N-no. I was just—”
“Everyone, hurry it up. Wake the ones who've passed out, and pile the trash together for disposal.”
The second-year students sprang up as if they'd been waiting for the order and began cleaning. The third years grumbled with sour looks on their faces.
“……”
And Hector, who had watched the whole spectacle unfold, quietly drained his cup alone.
“I'm exhaaausted.”
Back in his dorm room, Simon flopped into his chair. His slumped arm dangled, swaying weakly back and forth.
Across from him, Toto fidgeted, looking sheepish, before speaking up.
“…Thank you. Really. For helping me today.”
Simon, drained as he was, managed a light smile.
“Don't mention it. Mostly I'm just glad you're okay.”
In truth, Simon had felt a little guilty toward Toto as well.
The third years had been rigging the main game. Which meant that the students caught in the 'hazing ritual' for the first time would have been the second years the seniors had marked down as the ones whose spirits they wanted to break.
Seen that way, Toto was his roommate. He might well have been marked and dragged off because of that very fact — so Simon had resolved that he had to save him.
“…Th-there's something I've been wondering, Simon.”
“Mm?”
Toto was staring at the student council armband on Simon's right arm.
“If the hazing ritual was the problem, wouldn't it have been cleaner to just ban the whole thing with the Student Council President's authority? Why go so far as to negotiate with Leonard?”
Toto was asking out of pure, honest curiosity. Simon, still slumped in his chair, looked up at the ceiling and smiled.
“Did you know, Toto? Kizen already bans freshman hazing.”
“…Ah.”
Not just hazing — every form of cruelty toward juniors was formally prohibited.
“And yet everyone still does it in secret, sneaking around. These are the same seniors who break school rules without blinking. Do you really think they'd obediently comply just because a second-year student council president bans it?”
“S-so the best you could do was stop it at shutting down the ritual?”
“No.”
Simon straightened up, his eyes gleaming.
“This is where it begins.”
“Wh-what?”
At that same moment, in the Forbidden Forest.
“Pfffha! BWAHAHAHAHA!!”
The Spirit Department third years were clutching their stomachs, roaring with laughter.
Standing on the makeshift stage were second-year male students in drag. Wigs on their heads, absurd clownish makeup smeared across their faces, lipstick painted on, skirts around their waists.
The Spirit Department third years whistled.
“Oooh! Looking good, juniors!”
“I'm being serious here — you're prettier than the actual girls in our class.”
Sneers rained down from every direction, and the second-year boys on stage wilted where they stood. Most of them were high nobility, elite among elites, groomed since birth — and never in their lives had they suffered such utter humiliation.
“Focus. We're starting the choreography now.”
A sharp-featured third year stood before the stage.
“You all know the rules. Anyone who messes up a move is out immediately. Especially the hip-swaying — do it properly. Slack off or look embarrassed, and your head gets stomped and you're out. Understood?”
One student who had already been eliminated was rolling around in the mud. Every cross-dressed boy yanked his neck rigid.
“Then, one, two—”
FWEEEEEEE—!
FWEEEE—!
In that instant, whistle blasts erupted from every corner of the Forbidden Forest. Everyone shot upright in terror.
“What's that sound?!”
“Th-the Watchmen!”
Kizen's Watchmen, the wardens who managed the mountains and forests of Roc Island, came pouring out from all sides, whistles shrieking.
“What the hell are they doing out at this hour!”
“You're under arrest for violating school regulations! Grab them!”
The Watchmen drew their bows and began hurling nets. Students scattered in blind panic.
“No, seriously — how did the Watchmen even know to come here?!”
“Just run for the dorms!”
The hazing ritual collapsed into chaos in an instant.
The Spirit Department students fled, resorting even to Spirit Transformation, while the Watchmen chased after them shouting and blowing their whistles.
“Damn cockroaches.”
As one Spirit Department student stepped forward, conjuring Spirits in both hands, a female classmate grabbed the back of his collar and ran.
“H-hey! Aren't you letting go of that?!”
“Scared of a few Watchmen? If they catch you casting, it won't end with mere disciplinary action!”
And this catastrophe wasn't confined to the Spirit Department.
Hemomancy. Toxicology. Magic Combat.
Watchmen were storming the hazing sites of nearly every department in existence — Curse Studies excepted — in simultaneous, coordinated raids.
“What the— out of nowhere?!”
“Run! Just give up and go!”
Getting caught meant discipline starting from the very first week of the semester — missing their first classes of the term. Nothing could be worse.
While everyone fled, or scrambled in the confusion to rescue the students who'd been snared, one scene stood apart.
In the Jet-Black Mechanics Department's camp, a third-year boy with a murderous expression was rising to his feet.
Vmmmmmm!
He was utterly reckless. Dark magic bristling from both hands, he glared at the Watchmen.
“What do you think you're doing?”
“Wipe out every one of them first, then lay a memory-scattering curse over the area. Simple.”
“That thing doesn't even erase memories cleanly, you know!”
“What do you care.”
The moment he raised both arms to fire the dark magic—
“!!”
His body froze solid, like a statue.
Behind the Watchmen sweeping the site, between the trees of the darkness-drenched forest, sharp pupils were glinting.
The back of his neck went slick with sweat. His vision was hazy, the figure hard to make out — but that woman was unmistakably—
'Vice Principal Jane!'
The other students spotted her too, and the camp erupted into murmurs.
“…Looks like Professor Olivia's come for blood this time.”
“Get caught on-site and it's expulsion, no questions asked! RUN!”
“No wonder! I kept wondering how the Watchmen knew our location.”
And so the hazing rituals of every department in the academy came to a swift end, cut down by an outside variable no one had anticipated.
“The Watchmen are storming the sites?”
In his room, Toto's eyes went round as saucers as he listened to Simon's explanation.
“Yep. All of it, thanks to Dick.”
Dick, with his vast network of information, had already mapped out every department's hazing location. So Simon had used his authority as student council president to change the Watchmen's patrol routes, steering them straight into the sites.
Each department had set up camp just barely off the Watchmen's usual patrol routes, confident in their caution — which meant they'd let their guard down completely.
And one thing more.
If any student had fought back against the Watchmen and someone got hurt, that would have been a disaster.
So Simon had sent the one person every student in the academy feared most to the scene.
Vice Principal — Professor Jane Olivia.
Of course, it wasn't the real Jane. He'd sent a corpse spider to the ruins to fetch Erzsébet. She had strolled through the Forbidden Forest wearing Jane's face, and the students who glimpsed her would spread the rumor on their own.
It was insurance against any department attempting to hold its hazing even later that same night.
“Toto. I said earlier that the best I could do was shut down the ritual, remember?”
This wasn't a problem unique to Kizen. Bad customs and entrenched injustices exist in every organization where human beings gather.
Teachers cannot fully stamp out bullying between students. Commanders cannot root out the cruelties soldiers inflict on one another.
You cannot kill a bad custom by simply banning it.
“Stopping it once. That's the crucial first step.”
Simon unfastened the student council armband from his right arm and set it down on the desk.
“Our cohort is going to be just about the only one in Kizen's history that never truly went through the hazing.”
“…Ah!”
“And when we become third years, I'll persuade them to abolish every hazing ritual for good. Our cohort never went through it, so the justification for forcing it on the second years weakens — starting with us not performing it on next year's juniors ourselves.”
Simon smiled.
“Only then can we finally cut off this wretched custom at the root, don't you think?”
“…Simon!”
Gratitude welled up in Toto's eyes.
“That's incredible! You'd thought it through that far! You really do love this school!”
“It's not quite like that.”
Simon turned his head with an awkward smile.
Not that I know it'll work out perfectly.
Even this year, he'd heard, the Curse Department third years had all but skipped their hazing entirely.
Simon chose to believe there was still hope.
Anyway — the biggest mountain is behind us now.
The unofficial meddling in student council affairs and the whole mess with the third years had come to a close.
The long day was finally drawing to a close.
Deep in the night, with everyone asleep.
While Toto snored softly in the same room, Simon's eyes snapped open.
I'm dead tired.
But the work still had to be done. Simon crept forward in cat-silent steps, then waved a hand in front of Toto's face.
Snoree— snoree—
Not a twitch. Satisfied, Simon made his way slowly to the window.
Click.
He drew back the curtain and opened the window. Slipping outside with practiced ease, he closed it behind him, drew out a line of Cloud like a rappel rope, and anchored it to the windowsill. Gripping the Cloud, he lowered himself down in smooth pulls and landed safely in the grass.
Alright. Let's go.
He set off at a run toward the Forbidden Forest. At least the distance was shorter than it had been in his first year.
Before long he reached Pier's ruins. After one more sweep to confirm no one was around, he slipped inside.
Step, step.
Every footfall on the ancient stone floor sent a chill creeping up through his shoes. The endless darkness, the faint murmurs of undead voices echoing in the gloom — any ordinary person who stumbled upon these ruins wouldn't have the nerve to set a single foot inside.
At last, at the bottom of the stone stairs, familiar faces awaited him.
[Young Master! You've come.]
The undead being, wrapped in wings even larger than his own body, lowered himself in a bow. Simon brightened and raised a hand.
“Long time no see, Akemu— hup!”
[Legion Commander~!]
Erzsébet came barreling in and flattened Simon onto the ground. Simon let out a wheeze and cracked his eyes open.
“You startled me, Erze.”
[I missed you so, so much! And then the moment I set foot on Roc Island, you send me on an errand! How cruel!]
-Kririk!
-Kriri!
The corpse spiders around them chirped in agreement. Simon smiled and gave the spiders a light pat.
[You're looking well, boy!]
And one more arrival.
Bathed in the moonlight streaming down from above, a tall skeleton draped in a cloak sat atop the altar, grinning wide.
Simon grinned back.
“It really has been too long, Pier! How have you been?”
[KHEHEHEH! Two or three months and you call that 'too long'? For the undead, that much time passes in the blink of an eye.]
“Fair enough.”
Simon rose to his feet and opened his subspace.
“You can come out now.”
At once, a wand came shooting out of the subspace with a zip!
At a glance it was simply a strangely shaped wand with a face carved into it — but this was Herseba, officially recognized as the 'Commander of the Mummy Unit' of the 7th Legion.
[Ughhh! So BORED!]
She went zipping wildly around the ruins, and the dust around her turned to gold, gathering atop the wand. The gold soon took the shape of a woman perched on it like a witch riding a broom.
[You— you little brat! It's boring in there! Why are you so late?!]
“Sorry, sorry.”
[That act of hers.]
Erzsébet wrinkled her face in disgust.
[The only one who got to stay by the Legion Commander's side, she did!]
[I didn't get to play nearly enough either, you know!]
Ever since completing her Legionification, Herseba had been radiating the Legion's jet-black power from every inch of herself. It made her a burden to take outside — whether into the Holy Federation or the Dark Alliance alike.
Simon glanced around.
“Come to think of it, where's Prince?”
[KHEHEH! Prince was destroyed in battle. You'll have to summon him again yourself!]
“Right, of course.”
Simon pulled a zombie out of his subspace and spoke to the grey ring on his finger: 'Prince, come over.' Then he pressed the ring against the zombie's body.
Vrrrrmm!
Black lightning crashed down at once, and the zombie's form was swallowed in black radiance. In moments it had transformed into a zombie shaped like a small boy wearing a faded crown.
[Ah! What took you so long!]
Prince shouted as he came running over, palm outstretched. Simon indulged him with another round of their hand-slapping game for a while.
“Well then — is everyone here now?”
Pier, the Manager of the Legion.
Erzsébet, Commander of the Spider Unit.
Prince, Commander of the Zombie Unit.
Akemus, Commander of the Skullwing Unit.
Herseba, Commander of the Mummy Unit.
A lineup that reassured him at a single glance. Simon nodded to the five commanders.
“Then I'd like to hear the report.”
[Excellent!]
The White Tomb Dungeon.
Over this vacation, every commander except Herseba had entered the dungeon in search of Richard's new Ancient Undead.
“Hmm, but I don't see any new face, so I take it it wasn't there.”
[No.]
Pier shook his head.
[We met it in that dungeon. Just as I predicted — the Demon Beast of Pestilence, 'Karl', was in that dungeon.]
“…Ah!”
[And.]
Pier's expression shifted strangely.
[It is here. In this very room.]