A Silent War Over Funding

The performance of Squad 8, hailed as the strongest, was nothing short of spectacular.

White's firepower in particular was astonishing.

He had inscribed a magic circle onto his own ghoul using his Ability, and the instant an enemy came into view, he activated it. The ghoul would become wreathed in white light, then launch itself forward as a living shell that laid waste to enemy lines.

Simon wondered if such a usage was even possible — but like Simon's Corpse Explosion, it was a technique grafted directly onto the ghoul itself, so it didn't violate the finer rules of the exam.

Asseraz, ranked 5th overall, lived up to his reputation as well. This was true Top-10 caliber skill.

He had modified his ghoul's claws to swing metal blades longer than its own arms, and when he sent it charging into enemy lines with a War Chant layered on top, it carved through four opponents at once without breaking stride.

The results were overwhelming.

The mightiest squad had simply crushed the allied forces of the other three through raw power. Not only did they seize the red artifact, they stripped every other relic the opposing squads had gathered and walked away with the victory.

Of course, even the seemingly flawless Squad 8 had points worth criticizing.

Where they fell short was communication.

Asseraz had won a crushing victory, yet he was already glaring at his own teammate White with an expression of utter exasperation. The rest of the squad members, too, seemed to think White's technique needed to be streamlined into something simpler.

Of course, to the other students watching, Squad 8's strength was so overwhelming that such flaws were all but invisible.

"...My breath catches just watching them. How is anyone supposed to beat that?"

"The only squad with a prayer of going up against them is probably the President's Squad 10."

"Say the President manages to stop White. Fine. Then who exactly stops Asseraz?"

Squad 8's fearsome one-two punch became the subject of every squad's wariness.

Meanwhile, Serne's Squad 11 was rising as a new powerhouse in its own right.

Serne had planted her feathers on every single ghoul belonging to her squad members, drawing out their latent rage and destructive instincts to utterly dominate the ghouls of opposing squads from start to finish.

To put it with a touch of exaggeration, it looked almost like a War Chant with an extended duration.

And on top of that came Fitzgerald's impeccable tactical strategy in support of Serne.

Squad 11, too, closed out the examination in first place.

"This performance evaluation was, in a word, a victory of strategy."

Fitzgerald adjusted his glasses and delivered his overall assessment.

"Where Simon built his board around the variable of Corpse Explosion, my strategy rigorously pursued the highest-probability route derived from thoroughly analyzed outcome dat—"

Thwack!

"You're noisy."

With a feather buried in the back of his neck, Fitzgerald abruptly declared that he would now perform an act of expressive art depicting an earthworm, and crawled passionately across the floor.

His squad members, glancing nervously at Serne, helped him back to his feet.

"Wh-where are you going, Serne?"

"To go see Simon~"

And so one of the second-years' most important examinations came to a close.

"You all worked hard preparing for this evaluation on such short notice."

Finally, Aaron gathered the entire Summoning Department. Hands tucked into his trouser pockets, he spoke.

"Let's hear some quick impressions. What did you take away from it?"

Hands went up all around the room.

"I learned that pursuing the absolute limit in a short span of time can produce meaningful results!"

"I honestly had no idea I could master a ghoul in just a matter of days!"

"I discovered that the human body is sturdier than I gave it credit for!"

Aaron waved a hand.

"No need to strain yourselves. Points and penalties don't matter here — these are personal impressions, so feel free to share the downsides too."

At that, hands shot up from Asseraz and the rest of the students.

"I'm about to die from stress and insomnia!"

"Having to use nothing but our ghouls for the entire ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠exam was suffocating!"

"Good."

Aaron nodded at each remark as he swept his gaze around the room.

"From here on, our faculty will continue to subject you to stress in all manner of forms. We will impose restrictions, bind your hands and feet, and force your compliance. From where you stand, it may well feel as harsh as being hounded into dropping out. But—"

He lifted his head.

"—you will grow exactly that much stronger. More than the growth you achieved going from first year to second. Do not forget that the second year is the period of greatest growth in all of your three years at Kizen. Go back early today and devote yourselves to recovery."

The students answered with vigor.

"Yes, Professor!"

"Thank you for your hard work!"

Once the exam ended, the entire Summoning Department returned to Roke Island via teleportation circle.

Most of them, Simon included, had pulled all-nighters preparing for the exam, and their condition was beyond describing.

Simon, too, asked for a one-day reprieve from his Student Council schedule upon returning to the dormitory and did nothing but sleep. He remembered crawling into bed after reaching his room — and the next thing he knew, it was the following morning.

Whoa. I completely blacked out.

His accumulated exhaustion had apparently erupted all at once.

Still, after sleeping deeply, his head felt clear and refreshed. His roommate Toto, meanwhile, remained dead to the world.

Rubbing his eyes, Simon climbed out of bed and walked toward the bathroom.

Come to think of it, I woke up unusually early for once.

He checked his schedule for the week. Today was filled with general and liberal arts classes; there was still time to spare before his first lecture in Dark Dynamics.

Might as well hit the bathhouse.

He wanted to soak in a steaming tub and melt the fatigue away. He gathered a towel and a few toiletries and opened the door of his dorm room —

Hm?

Something snagged behind the door. Stepping out to look, he found several boxes sitting in front of the dorm room.

Wondering if they'd been delivered to the wrong place, he checked the recipient.

They had all been delivered correctly.

And not just anything, either — expensive wines, lavish desserts, even high-grade necromancer equipment.

What on earth is this?

There were far too many items to unpack on the spot, so for now he shoved them inside his room and set off toward the bathhouse.

"President."

On the way, students kept stopping him.

"Someone told me to give you this."

"Here, take this."

"Why on earth am *I* running these errands?"

"A third-year senior... I don't know who, exactly..."

By the time he returned from the bathhouse, Simon's arms were full to overflowing with gifts.

"???"

He had absolutely no idea what was going on.

Was this someone's prank? A new school holiday? His birthday wasn't for months yet.

Back in his room, Simon set the gifts down on his desk with a troubled expression.

...Something about this feels off.

He was, after all, the Student Council President. Carelessly opening gifts from people whose identities he couldn't even confirm could land him in serious trouble. Mayrin had certainly warned him in exactly those terms once before.

Simon tidied his desk, changed into his uniform, and headed out to the dormitory lobby.

"Oh, President!"

"Morning! Did you eat breakfast?"

Greetings came at him from every direction, far more than usual. Even students he'd never once spoken to were smiling and waving at him.

And then—

"Oh, if it isn't the Student Council President! Another hard day's work ahead, hmm?"

"Thank you for all you do for the school!"

Even the third-year seniors who had flatly refused to acknowledge Simon as Student Council President were greeting him with smiles. Some even clapped him on the shoulder in encouragement before walking off.

...What is going on?

By this point it felt less flattering than burdensome.

And the people offering greetings all shared one thing in common.

They were watching. Not Simon — the other students around him.

As though the moment one person made the opening move, something enormous would begin.

Sensing an uneasy undercurrent, Simon hurried toward the study room to grab his textbooks.

"Simon Polentia."

Someone was waiting there too.

Leaning against the study room door with his arms crossed was Hector. Whether it was the aftermath of yesterday's defeat or not, his expression was far from pleasant.

Simon forced a smile and greeted him.

"Ah, hey. Hector."

"Senior Leonard returned yesterday."

Hector let out a long sigh, as if to say he had no idea why he was even relaying this.

"You ought to go pay your respects, no?"

...Out of nowhere?

Leonard was ranked 4th among all third-years and the chief representative of the Summoning Department.

He was certainly the highest-ranking person here, but Simon couldn't see why he'd need to go out of his way to pay a courtesy call.

Just as Simon moved to decline—

"No, no, there's no need for that."

Both of them flinched and whirled around.

Leonard himself had appeared in the flesh.

Dressed in light training clothes as though he'd gone for a dawn run, with a crimson jacket draped over his shoulders, he radiated an aura all his own.

Good grief. Every single time I see him.

Strong.

He was simply that kind of man.

"You've come, sir."

Hector bowed deeply, and Simon inclined his head in a brief nod.

Somehow.

He had a feeling it wouldn't be easy to slip away from here.

"Haha! No need to be so tense — I just wanted to have a little chat about school, that's all."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Leonard wore his trademark good-natured smile and scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

"The truth is, I received a request from a junior I happen to know personally. Ahh, where do I even begin with thi—"

"Leonard."

Leonard's eyes narrowed, and he looked back over his shoulder.

A third-year with the same golden badge pinned to her uniform — Benya Vanilla — was approaching, the click-click of her shoes ringing out crisply.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?"

Her voice was icy cold. Leonard laughed it off with a haha as he turned to her.

"Good morning, Benya."

"I asked what you think you're doing."

"Am I to understand that a department representative asking after a junior's morning counts as such a grave offense it deserves to be called 'something you're doing'?"

Benya's gaze sharpened.

"If you're done asking after his morning, then this is over. Come along, everyone."

She wrapped an arm around Simon's shoulders and steered him away. Leonard clicked his tongue, but said nothing more.

Then Hector spoke up.

"There was no need for you to lower yourself to that bastard, Senior."

Leonard barked out a great hahaha!

"Ah, whatever. Eisel should have been back by this season, but there's nothing to be done about it."

Simon retrieved his textbooks without incident and came back down the stairs.

"Thank you, Senior Benya. Was something the matter, though?"

"Hmm~"

She gave a meaningful smile.

"The fact that you and I are attached at the hip is suspicious enough as it is. I'll be off here."

"Sorry, what?"

"Bye! See you around!"

With that, Benya disappeared ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at a brisk pace.

???

Being attached at the hip is suspicious — what is that supposed to mean?

The longer this went on, the more each question begat another.

Simon drifted over to a window and stole a glance outside.

Oh!

Murmur murmur murmur!

Students were clustered in front of the dormitory entrance, buzzing. Snippets of "Simon" and "Student Council President" drifted up from the crowd — they were all looking for him.

"Morning, Simon."

Just then—

A black-haired girl was walking toward him, utterly indifferent to the changed atmosphere around her. She, alone, was exactly as she always was.

"Oh, hey. Lorraine! Do you happen to know if today's some kind of special day?"

"A special day...? Was it? I couldn't say."

So Lorraine didn't know either.

Simon thought for a moment, then spoke up.

"What do you have this morning?"

"Deadly Poisons class."

"I've got Dark Dynamics. The lecture halls are close by — ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠want to head over together?"

Simon made the offer with a desperate heart, and she gave a light nod.

"Sure, let's."

Yes!

And so Simon led Lorraine outside. The murmuring students turned to look at him.

"..."

"..."

Just as planned.

Walking out alongside Lorraine had been an inspired choice.

Who would dare insert themselves between him and Nephthys's daughter while the two of them chatted away? Even those formidable third-years were watching the Headmaster's daughter for cues.

"Let's go."

Simon quickly shaped a golem core into a board form.

"Hold on tight. Departing now."

Lorraine climbed on behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

Vrrrroooom—!

The students watched Simon's retreating figure with mouths watering in regret.

"Hey, Simon!"

It was only when he ran into Dick in the Dark Dynamics lecture hall that every question was finally answered.

Grinning slyly, Dick slung an arm around Simon's neck.

"Nice escape, huh? Mayrin was raising all kinds of hell about how she had to come collect you personally."

"...Will you *please* explain what all this commotion is about."

"Oh right, you weren't at the Student Council room yesterday, so you wouldn't know. Starting today, it's—"

Dick beamed and thrust a thumb into the air.

"Club Season! Kizen's silent war over activity funding!"

A hollow laugh escaped Simon.

...Since when did Club Season become a war over funding?