The 1,001st Candidate
Chaos had broken out at the pier.
"Contact headquarters and check again! There's no way a single spot hasn't opened up!"
"I'm sorry, but I already confirmed it this morning. Not one admitted student has given up their seat."
"And you think it couldn't have changed since then? I told you to contact headquarters!"
The protester was a boy who appeared to have failed the Kizen entrance exam. Facing him down was a henchman verifying the admission certificates of the incoming freshmen, while the students who had already passed watched the sudden brawl unfold with great interest.
"They say it's an annual tradition."
"Candidate No. 1 means you're ranked 1,001st, right? Kind of sad, honestly."
"Well, what can you do?"
Kikikit!
Hearing that laughter, the candidate turned toward the freshmen with a face gone ice-cold.
The eyes of a madman, ready to tear someone apart at any moment.
The freshmen's laughter died in their throats.
"You let these damn commoners in, and reject me, the heir of House Ampherse? As number 1,001? Are you trying to humiliate me right now?"
"I must ask you not to do this here. Please step back."
"A mere commoner dares—!"
And there it was, the classic first-year flaunting of family lineage. The henchman, who had handled this duty for years, knew that giving the student any room here would only tangle the situation further and feed him nothing but false hope. So he answered with even greater coldness.
"Next."
The henchman said, looking past him.
"Step forward, please."
In an instant, the candidate's eyes rolled back in fury.
WHAM!
Before anyone could intervene, the candidate delivered a vicious kick to the henchman's legs. The henchman, who never imagined the boy would resort to actual violence, bit down hard on his lip and crumpled to the ground. Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"Think you can do whatever you want just because you're riding on Kizen's authority?"
The candidate raised his arm.
"Insulting the nobility has its limits—!"
Gotcha!
"That's enough."
The candidate's wrist was seized in a powerful grip. He whirled around to find a boy with blazing red hair standing there, his expression hard as stone.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Arthur Bleman."
Arthur's eyes flashed.
"The Mercenary King."
Crunch, creak, creak!
Arthur's monstrous grip clamped down on the candidate's wrist. With a scream of agony, the candidate dropped to his knees on the ground, his body wrenching sideways.
The students who had come out to watch began to murmur among themselves.
"The Mercenary King?"
"Seriously?"
"Why would someone that big come to a school?"
Arthur spoke with grave solemnity.
"Apologize to that person. Now."
Creak, creak!
The pressure increased. The candidate let out a cry of pain.
"What the hell is this strength—?!"
Then, suddenly, the eyes of the candidate—who had been writhing on the ground—turned pitch black.
[Knew this would happen, didn't I?]
Snap!
His captured wrist reversed the hold, seizing Arthur's wrist in turn and beginning to crush it. This time, it was Arthur's expression that hardened.
'Ugh, what the—!'
Arthur, who had always trusted that no one alive could outmuscle him in raw strength and stamina, was being overpowered head-on.
Creak! Creak, creak!
Cold sweat beaded on Arthur's forehead. The candidate's suddenly blackened eyes, the unstable Jet-Black magic seeping from his body, and that terrifying, inhuman strength.
'This guy! Something's wrong with him!'
THWACK!
The candidate released his wrist and kicked Arthur square in the chest. Arthur barely blocked it with his elbow, but his body slid backward across the ground.
"Kgh—!"
[You call yourself the Mercenary King? Why are you so fragile?]
The candidate smirked and looked down at the henchman slumped on the ground.
[You all saw that, right? Every one of you saw it? Someone with this much power, ranked 1,001st? Doesn't that strike you as a little strange?]
Two henchmen rushed over, helped the fallen woman up, and retreated.
[Anyone confident in their strength, step forward!]
His mouth split open like a monster's maw.
[I am stronger than anyone standing on this pier!]
FWOOOOOOSH!
An eerie Jet-Black erupted from his body, staining the sky around them black. The henchmen recoiled in horror, stretching out their arms.
"All students, board the ship immediately!"
"Fall back!"
Students scattered, and the henchmen readied themselves for a fight.
The candidate rolled his shoulders with a satisfied crackle and spoke in a sinister voice.
[Still! Still won't admit it? Fine, then, have it your way! Until you all acknowledge my power, I'll crush you one by one, personally. And after that, it's the turn of those bastards who laughed at me.]
Watching the freshmen scramble toward the ship, he grinned wickedly.
[If I get rid of just a few of them here, they'll have no choice but to admit me as a candidate student, won't they? Right?]
"You—!"
Arthur sprang to his feet.
"You think I'm going to stand by and watch that happen?"
[Try me, Mercenary King.]
Arthur kicked off the ground and lunged. His fist was wreathed in Jet-Black, while the candidate just smirked, standing his ground as if to say, hit me if you can.
THUD!
But Arthur's fist stopped dead an inch from the candidate's face.
"That's enough, Arthur."
An overwhelming presence pressed down on everyone present.
Trrrrrmble—
Arthur's wrist was held fast in an iron grip; he couldn't move a muscle.
Twice in a single day, he'd been overpowered. His gaze followed the arm holding him.
Blue hair fluttered in the sea breeze.
"S-Senior Simon!"
"Student Council President!!"
Hearing Arthur's and the henchmen's cries, the corners of the candidate's mouth curled upward.
[Finally shows up!]
The henchmen pulled back, and the freshmen who had boarded the ship came pouring out, crowding against the rail to watch.
"Excuse me, coming through—!"
Princess Molly, dignity utterly forgotten, squeezed through the narrow gap and stuck her head out the window. There was Simon, gripping Arthur's wrist.
Arthur shouted.
"Let go of me, Senior Simon! That bastard is genuinely evil—!"
"Stand down, Arthur."
Simon said coldly, shaking off Arthur's arm.
Unnerved by a side of Simon he'd never seen before, Arthur stumbled backward.
"You're not an official Kizen student yet. If you assault a noble's son, your admission itself could be revoked."
"HAHAHAHAHA!"
The candidate burst into loud laughter.
[Ah— ah— now that's what I call someone who understands hierarchy! See, you get it!]
"Which is exactly why—"
CRUNCH!
Every mouth on the pier fell open. Simon's fist had buried itself mercilessly in the candidate's face.
"Leave the rest to me."
CRASH, CLATTER!
Blood spraying from his nose, the candidate toppled over and rolled across the ground in a graceless heap.
"WAAAAAAAAAH!"
Cheers erupted from every direction. Even the Kizen staff member who had been preparing a curse couldn't hide a smirk as he quietly lowered his casting finger.
Simon looked down at the candidate, his face expressionless.
[You son of a—!]
His nose was broken, blood streaming steadily down. A few teeth clattered out of his mouth onto the ground.
"I am the Student Council President of Kizen."
Simon said, his voice frigid.
"I have a duty to protect the lives and property of this school. And right now, you—"
Simon's gaze swept from Arthur, still clutching his wrist, to the henchman slumped on the ground. His next words carried a heavy weight of fury.
"—seem to fall squarely within the bounds of what I'm legally allowed to beat to a pulp."
[...A low-tier noble at best, and he dares strut around like he's somebody!]
The candidate shot to his feet.
[I told you already! I am stronger than anyone standing on this pier!]
FWOOOOOOSH!
An enormous volume of Jet-Black, incomparable to before, gushed out like a fountain. His body made a sickening crackling sound. Cracks began to spider across his skin like fault lines.
"Black magic that trades your body's integrity for overwhelming power in a short burst, is it?"
Simon sighed.
"I suppose it might get you into Kizen, but I promise you, you wouldn't last a few months. Life at Kizen is three years long."
[SHUT YOUR MOUTHHHHH!]
He raised his right arm, swollen grotesquely larger on one side. With a wet grinding noise, fleshy matter like a monster's sinew bulged out from the limb.
[I'll smash the Student Council President and prove my strength! I'll make the Witch of Death have no choice but to admit me!]
BOOM!
He stomped the ground and charged, then swung his grotesquely enlarged, Jet-Black-wreathed right arm with everything he had.
Simon didn't dodge. He drew a single hand from his pocket and flicked it forward with effortless ease.
⟨ Simon Original — Chokpa ⟩
BOOOOOM!
The two men's fists collided dead center.
In arm thickness and raw power, the candidate had an overwhelming edge—everyone watching assumed Simon's arm would simply buckle.
BZZZZZT!
But the Jet-Black erupting from Simon's fist rippled outward like a shockwave, racing up the candidate's right arm. With the raw sound of muscle twisting out of place, the candidate let out a horrific scream.
[Ghh—! GGAAAAAHHH!]
Clutching his ruined arm, he staggered backward.
[You little—DAMN IT!!]
His right arm shrank back to size, and this time his left arm swelled grotesquely. Claws glittered into being at its tips, and he swung them at Simon, who still stood calmly in place.
FWOOOOOOSH!
But it never even touched him.
'Since when—!'
An emerald-colored rope was coiled around the candidate's right leg. Simon yanked back his left hand—the one he had quietly withdrawn earlier—and the candidate toppled flat onto his back.
"You lack experience, candidate. Combat isn't decided by strength alone."
[GRRAAAH!]
The instant the candidate, played for a fool, scrambled to push his upper body up, the sole of Simon's shoe filled his vision.
WHAM!
His head snapped back. Simon's fist arrived like lightning, leaving afterimages in its wake.
Crack!
THUD!
Blows hammered into his abdomen and chest, each one sending shock shivering up his spine and rattling his brain.
The candidate tried to swing his arms, but Simon yanked the Cloud taut again, and by the simple principle of a pulley, the man crashed flat onto the ground.
'He's toying with me! ME!'
Just as he pushed himself upright, Simon was already retreating.
At some point, a vast subspace had opened in the sky above, and within it, seething orbs of black flame were assembling.
"Fire, mages."
⟨ Dark Blaze ⟩
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!
His legs bound in place, the candidate was hammered by orb after orb of black flame, swallowed whole by the explosions. Simon calmly released the Cloud and gazed out at the billowing smoke.
FWOOOOSH!
The candidate blasted the smoke away with a shockwave of Jet-Black, gritting his teeth. The Jet-Black surged skyward, then reshaped itself into arrows.
[My turn now!]
Dozens of Jet-Black arrows rained down. And once again, Simon stood perfectly still.
'Open Gate.'
Sssssssshk!
Sssssshk!
Serpentine blades shot out from six directions, winding around Simon's body and rising upward like a flower folding into a bud, leaving not a single gap. The Jet-Black arrows struck the spinning blades and vanished, every last one.
"Whoa...!"
"He's overwhelming him! He's winning even against forbidden black magic!"
"Go, President!! Go!!"
"WAAAAAAH—!"
The freshmen who had stumbled into spectating Simon's battle were beside themselves with excitement, every single one of them.
[You bastard—!]
Sssssshk!
And the moment Overlord was retracted, Simon—who had been inside its protective dome—vanished from his position as if he'd teleported.
[!]
Before the candidate even registered the hole punched in the deck, Simon burst up through the floor behind him, appearing at his back.
⟨ Sleep ⟩
Tap.
Simon's palm, inscribed with a magic circle, glided across the candidate's body as he passed. The candidate swung his arm wildly, driving Simon back.
"What the—huh?"
The frenzied flesh writhing across the candidate's body began to slacken, its strength draining away.
Both the overwhelming power and the explosive Jet-Black dwindled sharply.
"Wh-what did you do to me?!"
"Simple."
Simon brushed off his palm.
"I put the monster controlling your body to sleep."
"There's no way you could—!"
CRUNCH!
Simon's fist drove deep into his stomach. With a strangled gulp, the candidate dropped to his knees.
THWACK!
A follow-up kick sent him sprawling to the ground.
Crunch.
Simon ground his heel brutally into the man's face.
There was nothing the candidate could do. The monster inside his body no longer answered his call.
Utterly, absolutely overwhelming.
In all his life, he had never seen a necromancer this strong.
'...Isn't he only one year above me?'
Sheer, primal terror seized his whole body, tearing it free from his brain's control until he was shaking uncontrollably.
The candidate's eyes lifted.
The blue-haired demon, killing intent blazing from his gaze, spoke with glacial calm.
"Eyes on the ground."
There was no resisting that power. Not even a little.