The Group Draw
A quiet footpath near the dormitory.
Simon and Byeolya were strolling together.
"Wanna bring out your ghoul?"
He hadn't said a word yet, but Byeolya proposed it out of the blue. Simon nodded obediently and summoned the ghoul from his subspace.
Grrk!
The moment it appeared, the ghoul swept its fierce, battle-hungry eyes across the surroundings, practically itching for a fight.
"Close your eyes and focus on the ghoul's death aura."
When Simon did as he was told and concentrated, the undead's instincts and its rage toward all living things flowed into him in full.
Next came the sensation of stepping through grass, of the undead's body standing upright—and behind that, the summoning circle and the flow of Jet-Black came into sharp focus.
"Good. Now have it take one slow step."
The ghoul took a step.
"You move forward one step too."
Simon took a step as well.
"Next—the ghoul and you, one step at the same time."
With the ghoul's hind foot following, they walked one step. Simon stepped again in rhythm.
"Match your steps. Nice and slow, one at a time."
Simon and the ghoul moved in unison.
"Focus on the sensation in your soles. Slooowly."
He wasn't entirely sure what this was supposed to accomplish, but the feeling of his soles pressing into the grass was strangely pleasant.
Whether that sensation came from his own feet or the ghoul's, he couldn't quite tell—but it didn't really matter either way.
The rhythm of their matched steps was smooth.
A biped and a quadruped, walking in step with each other.
It felt surprisingly good.
"Your ghoul's walking funny."
Its left leg and left arm were moving at the same time. Simon quickly corrected the posture.
"Now it's your right arm and right leg moving together."
Simon fixed himself too.
He'd been concentrating so hard that before he knew it, sweat had beaded up on his forehead. He couldn't understand how something like this could be so exhausting.
"You're not losing the feeling in your soles because you're focused on the steps, are you?"
It was as if she were reading his mind. Simon walked with grave earnestness, relying on the sensation of grass under his soles to guide both himself and the ghoul.
Crunch.
The feeling of the grass being trampled came through clearly from the ghoul. His own feet were in shoes, so he had to lean on the ghoul for that.
Step. Step. Step.
When he focused on his soles, the rhythm and gait took care of themselves. As they slowly synced their breathing, the connection of the death aura felt tighter, more refined.
They walked for thirty more minutes like that.
"Whewww."
Simon panted, sweating pleasantly. Byeolya came over and smiled.
"Nicely done!"
"What was that, exactly?"
"Training to improve your ghoul control and smooth out the connection to your death aura."
Simon screamed inwardly with regret.
If only he'd known about something this good, he would have kept it up all week!
"There's also a training where you and your ghoul walk on all fours together, you know."
Byeolya chuckled.
"But that'd be a bit much, wouldn't it? Rumors might start going around that a third-year professor's making the Student Council President fetch like a dog."
However—
Simon was already down on the ground, hands and knees planted.
"DON'T!"
She shrieked in alarm.
For the first time since they'd met, Byeolya's face was flushed red.
With the walk finished, they got down to business. Simon showed Byeolya the ghoul blueprint he'd completed with her the night before.
"Hmm—"
She studied it intently, then gave an awkward laugh.
"You seriously think this is going to work?"
"Yes. I've already finished practicing."
So he's into strange conquests, huh, Byeolya muttered under her breath.
"The issue is the poison leaking."
"For that, fitting the ghoul with rubber organs should be more than enough."
"Rubber organs?"
She pulled a book from her subspace and flipped it open. Detailed diagrams of the ghoul's internal structure covered the page.
"Right here—we build a fake organ and attach it."
She pointed with her finger.
"It's undead anyway, so the material doesn't matter, right? All it needs is a place to store the poison. Something modeled on the body of a similar type—like the Bubble Toad or the Black Viper—should do the trick."
"That makes sense!"
"The only downside is the added weight will cost you a bit of mobility. That okay?"
There was no such thing as a free lunch in this world. Sacrificing one thing to gain another was simply the way of things.
Simon nodded.
"That's fine. Thank you for the advice!"
"Great! This conquest looks fun, so I'll pitch in too. The dormitory lab will be crowded—shall we use the club room?"
Simon nodded quickly again.
"Thank you, Professor!"
The morning's free period ended, and at last the afternoon arrived.
The Summoning Department students gathered in the auditorium with tense faces.
Aaron and the teaching assistants were there as well, though the assistants were fewer than usual—presumably off preparing the test site.
"Everyone's here."
Once the Head Assistant finished the head count and stepped back, Aaron began to speak.
"I'd love to ask if you all slept well, but judging by the state of you, I'll skip it."
Every student's eyes were bleary from pulling all-nighters preparing for the practical evaluation. Aaron held up a single sheet of paper.
"Before we reveal the contents of the practical evaluation, there's one more thing you need to do."
The students' expressions froze. Don't tell me there was another curriculum item to pass?
Aaron continued in his trademark languid voice.
"Team assignments."
Murmurmurmurmur!
The sudden word 'team' threw the students into total chaos.
"What?! This was a group project?"
"I just assumed it was individual!"
"We haven't even had time to practice our coordination!"
"Quiet."
Aaron hushed the students with practiced ease and went on.
"From now on, teams of four. Fifty-two students means thirteen teams in total."
At those words, Serne materialized at his side and latched onto Simon's right arm.
"Finally! The day I've been waiting for—being on the same team as Simon and getting our coordination down!"
Lorraine narrowed her eyes and approached from the left.
"What do you think you're doing in the middle of class? Let go, Serne."
"Okay-okay~ there you go with the nagging again."
The surrounding students began moving like mad, too. In particular, a huge crowd could be seen flocking toward Hector and Asseraz.
Students drifted toward Simon as well, but with Lorraine and Serne openly at odds, no one was bold enough to strike up a conversation. A few just swallowed nervously, gulping in silence.
THUD!
Then Aaron stomped the floor for attention. The students' eyes turned back to him.
"You seem to be under a misconception. You will not be picking your own teammates like you did in first year."
The students' frenzy stopped cold.
"First year, everything was an unknown. But second years have a clear ranking based on practicals and combat ability combined, and your skills have more or less stabilized. If you simply grouped up freely—Simon, Hector, and Asseraz on one team, say—you'd form a squad no one could touch. Which is exactly why it won't be allowed."
It was a fair point, and every student nodded.
Strong students would flock together with other strong students, and the balance between teams would fall apart. For a year in which every student had to be evaluated clearly, a new standard was needed.
One student raised a hand.
"Then how are the teams decided?"
"Look behind you."
A teaching assistant stood in front of four boxes. Each was labeled with lettering: 1–100, 100–200, 200–300, and 300–400.
Another assistant stood behind them at the blackboard, chalk in hand.
"Your rankings become your groups. Rank 1 through 100 is Group A, 100 through 200 is Group B, 200 through 300 is Group C, and 300 through 400 is Group D. From each group, we draw one ball with a student's name on it, and those four make a team."
Simon's mouth fell open.
So that's how it works!
Simon, ranked first overall, belonged to Group A. That meant a team with powerhouses like Hector and Asseraz, who were also in Group A, was impossible.
Every team would mix skilled students with weaker ones, evening the playing field to a degree.
Serne grinned slyly.
"Fufu, there's still a chance I end up on the same team as you, isn't there?"
Lorraine quietly nodded as well.
Serne, ranked 280th, and Lorraine, ranked 287th.
Both were in Group C. Either they'd both end up elsewhere, or only one of them could land on Simon's team.
Then a hand shot up.
"Benz McBeef here! White and I are transfer students, so we don't have a Kizen ranking—how does that work?"
Aaron answered, looking at him.
"For transfer students, you'd be top-tier at the Three Great Necromancer Schools, but your abilities haven't been proven at Kizen yet. So by convention, your names go into Group C, the mid-tier group."
"Yep, got it!"
"Then let the team selection begin."
Step. Step. Step. Step.
The assistant drew balls from each group's box and passed them forward.
A crucial moment.
The students gulped and watched.
"Team 1 has been finalized."
—Hector Moore, Pierre Buckler, Matt Comer, Laubel Brenmus.
The star of Team 1 was Hector.
Hector and Pierre Buckler, both from Class A, were seen high-fiving, and the two new students came over to exchange greetings.
The nearby students started whispering.
"A strong contender already."
"The Buckler family in Group B? He must be around 100th or 101st."
"I heard he botched a few BMATs pretty badly. Take those out and he's basically Group A level."
Simon watched anxiously, arms crossed.
In no time, several teams had been completed.
After a few genuinely threatening Group A squads, most of the teams that emerged were well-balanced and solid. Students whose teams were set shook hands, laughed, and busied themselves bonding with their new teammates.
Even with seven teams completed, Simon's name still hadn't come up.
A short while later—
"Team 8 is complete."
WHOOOAA—!
Another all-time great team was born.
"So that's how it shakes out."
"That lineup is straight-up broken."
—Asseraz Mikel, Eldarin Ruoh, White, Viend Krak.
In effect, it was the ultimate squad—the aces of each group drawn together.
A team of Asseraz and White, huh.
White was easily skilled enough for Group A, but the transfer-student rule had put him in Group C—and of all people, Asseraz had drawn him.
The most powerful team of all had just been completed.
"Looking forward to working with you, transfer student! I'll make you the best in the department."
Asseraz clearly knew it too, extending her hand with a bright smile.
White stared blankly at the outstretched hand—then abruptly whirled around and bounded off toward the window.
As it turned out, a bird was flitting around outside.
Asseraz sheepishly retracted her hand.
"In terms of raw power, I'd call them the strongest of anyone. But if we're talking teamwork and communication... well."
Fitzgerald had appeared at some point, adjusting his glasses as he spoke. Simon looked at him.
"Fitzgerald, you're in Group A?"
He nodded.
"Shame we can't be on the same team."
"Can't be helped. Them's the rules."
Neither Simon's nor Fitzgerald's name had been written yet. Then the assistant spoke.
"We'll begin with Team 10."
She took out a ball and passed it back. The Head Assistant caught it and began writing down the names.
And then—
Scramble. Scramble.
Students leapt up from their seats all across the hall. Not only those still undrafted—even students whose teams were already set stopped what they were doing and looked ahead.
At last.
The name everyone had been waiting for rang out.
—Team 10: Simon Polentia.