The Mutant Club Interview
Benya Vanilla, a third-year, walked into the clubroom.
Who's that?
The first-years squinted, trying to place the newcomer. Then they noticed the second-years bowing their heads all at once, and realized something unusual was afoot. Only then did they catch the gleaming golden badge pinned to the collar of her uniform — a symbol with exactly one meaning.
A third-year!
First-years, consumed by competition with their own classmates, caught occasional glimpses of the second-years, but third-years were almost never seen. They were like creatures out of legend — and objects of admiration besides. I've barely survived a few months of this life, so how has anyone endured here for over two years?
"Good day, senior!"
Having read the room, the first-years bowed in unison. Even Princess Molly and Sasha did the same. Benya clapped her hands, her face glowing with delight.
"Hello, first-years~ Oh my, look at you all, such babies! You're all just too adorable."
It was her first time seeing them, too. As Benya and the first-years traded stories back and forth, the clubroom filled with a warm, cheerful bustle.
"I had a spare moment, so I dropped by. You're in the middle of club entrance exams, right?"
Benya said this as she turned to the second-years. Fitzgerald pushed up his glasses.
"Yes, senior. We're honored you came. Please observe with us."
"Thank you."
Simon fetched a chair from the back, and once she sat down, he thoughtfully draped a blanket over her knees. Benya thanked him with a kind, eye-crinkling smile.
"Toto."
At Fitzgerald's word, Toto — who had been off in a daze for a moment — snapped back with a sharp hmph! and pressed his black hat down firmly.
"Th-then! W-we, we, we will now! Begin the interviews!"
With Benya watching, he was visibly shaking from the very start.
Toto had clearly been smitten with Benya since his own first year.
Fitzgerald signaled him to steady himself, and Toto nodded with a jerk of his head.
"As, as you all saw on the flyer! Our Mutant Club doesn't deal in ordinary, dime-a-dozen summons! We handle special summons that are uniquely your own!"
Covering his right eye with his hat, he whipped his body around in a dramatic flourish.
"That's the most basic condition for entry! We will confirm what kind of special summons each of you possesses through this interview!"
He thrust his arm out toward the first-years.
"What distinctive summons do you, my candidates, commune with? Show me!"
"Kyaaaaaa—!"
The cheer, however, came not from the first-years. Benya was clapping behind them like a delighted seal.
"Little one! You still remember the line I used when interviewing? That makes me so happy!"
Toto's face flushed bright red. As he stammered uh... ah... and failed to string a sentence together, Simon quickly stepped forward and spoke in his place.
"We'll evaluate each summon one at a time, starting from the right. Everyone except the person standing farthest right, please step back and take a seat."
"Yes, senior!"
As they filed back, the first-years couldn't resist whispering excitedly.
"Third-years really are on another level! He called that scary senior 'Little One.'"
"Wait, doesn't that senior with the hat look kind of familiar?"
"What do you mean?"
"Like the cute girl who was handing out flyers, remember?"
"Oh, come on. No way."
Toto was facing the greatest crisis of his life. Cold sweat trickled down the back of his neck.
If, if they find out who I am right now, my school life is over!
Toto pulled in rough, heavy breaths — hoo, hoo — and clamped his black hat down over his head.
I am Senior Will Douglas. I am Senior Will Douglas. I am...!
"You've got this, Little One!"
Benya waved innocently and shouted her encouragement. Naturally, from Toto's perspective, it had precisely the opposite effect.
And so the interview preparations were complete, and the first-years came forward one at a time.
"The summon I've prepared is...!"
"I brought this one!"
What the first-years dredged up from subspace were, one after another, modified variants of zombies or skeletons. They reeked of a last-minute scramble to prepare for the interview.
"And how exactly is it different from an ordinary skeleton?"
"Well... it's pink!"
"Denied!"
As if there was nothing more to see, Toto bellowed the verdict.
"Did you honestly think something like this would pass? Don't underestimate mutants!"
The first two candidates were rejected outright and sent out of the clubroom. The remaining first-years trembled at the sudden chill in the air, while Toto — hiding the corners of his eyes behind his black hat — scuttled over to Simon.
Simon whispered.
What's wrong, Toto? You're doing well...
I can't do thiiiis!
Tears were welling up in the boy's eyes.
I'm, I'm the one rejecting them! I feel so awful! The last one I failed, she looked right at me and her eyes were brimming with tears! I'm sorry beyond belief!
He was playing the strict drill-sergeant role, but the softness of his heart was, in the end, beyond his control.
Simon patted Toto on the back and told him he would be the one signing the rejections. Toto nodded, gathered his resolve, and stepped forward again.
"Next!"
The voice ringing out "next" was a little stuffy, as if through a blocked nose.
And now, at last, it was the turn of the one everyone had been waiting for — Sasha.
"Special Admission No. 1, Sasha Andrasil."
She boldly announced her special-admission number, gave a confident hmph! and a smile, then glanced back. Princess Molly was biting her lip.
"Here's my demonstration."
Sasha drew her summon out of subspace — a creature wrapped in brown vines, two round eyes peering out from within the tangle.
"A Vinefoos!"
Benya stamped her feet in excitement and let out a shriek of joy.
"A vine monster turned undead, right? There are hardly any necromancers who can handle one of these properly!"
"That's true. But I can use my ability to—"
Sasha raised her finger.
Shrrrrrrrrrr!
Shrrrr!
Vines burst violently outward in every direction.
"I can forcibly amplify the Vinefoos's vine abilities."
The problem was that Sasha's power was simply too strong. The vines shot out like something gone berserk, and in an instant they blanketed the cramped clubroom.
Simon tilted his upper body lightly aside to dodge a vine, and knocked away the ones making a beeline for Benya. Fitzgerald and Toto dove under the desk. The first-years ducked low to evade as well — but of all people, Molly got snagged. A vine coiled around her legs and hoisted her upside-down into the air.
"Kyaaaaaak!"
Molly shrieked and clamped both hands down on her uniform skirt. The first-year boys and Toto averted their heads in horror.
"Ah, sorry."
Sasha waved her hand, and Molly floated down, landing squarely on her bottom with a thump!
"Uuu, hey!"
Molly shouted, her face scarlet.
"You did that on purpose, didn't you!"
"My undead control is still clumsy — that's my weakness, and I want to enter the Mutant Club to hone it further. That's all. Thank you."
"Don't ignore me!!"
...Haha.
Simon let slip an awkward smile.
Even granting that Kizen was supposed to be a classless, equal society, treating the royalty of an entire kingdom like that — was she tactless, or just made of iron?
"So? What's the result?"
Sasha asked bluntly.
Benya was practically bouncing in her seat, itching to get her hands on the Vinefoos that very moment, and even Toto was struggling to hide his astonishment.
Simon answered for them.
"You pass. Nice work, Sasha."
"Thank you!"
Beaming at Simon, Sasha whirled around and marched back among the first-years wearing the unmistakable expression of a victor.
"Ooh, not bad! Sasha!"
Arthur spread his palm for a high-five, but Sasha breezed right past him without a glance. Left hanging, Arthur scratched his head sheepishly.
"Next."
"That's me!"
This time it was Arthur's turn.
"My name is Arthur Blemann! I still have a long way to go, but I've inherited the name of the Mercenary King!"
"The Mercenary King!"
Benya clapped her hands together.
"I love stories about the Mercenary King's grandfather."
Fitzgerald raised his glasses as well.
"There are quite a few books written about him. A great man with a warm heart who helped the continent's downtrodden."
"Thank you for your kindness!"
But a grandson of the Mercenary King was still exactly that — and now was the time to prove his worth for entry into the Mutant Club.
Arthur drew a sword out of subspace.
"A sword?"
Toto furrowed his brow.
"Are you making fun of our club? Bringing a weapon to a summon interview!"
"It's no ordinary weapon."
Gripping the hilt in both hands, Arthur declared:
"It is, in every sense, a summon!"
Kiiiiiiiing—!
As Arthur's jet-black flowed into it, the sword rattled to life.
Ah, that thing.
Simon had seen it once before, back when he'd fought alongside Arthur on Parona Peninsula.
A Snake Belly Sword — a blade assembled from the bones of a massive monster. Large bone segments, each made of many pieces, were linked together by wires, able to stretch out like a whip or contract back down. Its shape was strikingly similar to Simon's Overlord, and like an undead, it was controlled through summoning magic circles rather than the wielder's hand alone.
The room was too cramped for a proper swing, so Arthur simply channeled a measure of jet-black into the blade, demonstrating it extending and retracting. Gasps of admiration rippled through the room.
"My grandfather passed this sword down to me."
Arthur said.
"Since he died, the sword's magic circles have been running on my jet-black instead of his, but it doesn't fully obey my commands. Probably because I'm still too weak."
A bitter smile touched his face as he slowly lowered the sword.
"But someday, I want to master this Snake Belly Sword — and the two other swords my grandfather left me — perfectly! Here at Kizen, and here in this Mutant Club!"
"W-well, it's certainly impressive, but!"
Toto said, tugging his black hat down low.
"It still doesn't quite qualify as an ordinary summon—!"
"It's wonderful!"
Benya cried bravo! with tears of emotion in her eyes, clapping her hands again and again.
"Little Mercenary King! Your sword is exactly the bizarre, one-of-a-kind summon that suits our Mutant Club! And it comes with a story on top of that!"
"Hahaha! Thank you!"
"May I touch it?"
"Of course! Be my guest!"
Benya had fallen for it completely.
Fitzgerald was the club president and Toto the official interviewer, but in truth, Benya of the Vanilla family was the absolute power in this club.
Even by Simon's judgment, Arthur's summon-weapon was more than worthy of the Mutant Club.
Toto cleared his throat.
"P-pass."
"Thank you!"
And so the interviews continued with the remaining first-years.
From the next candidate onward, Simon no longer needed to step in and sign the verdicts — Benya's reactions told the whole story.
If the seated heiress squirmed in her chair with excitement, practically rising out of her seat to run to the summon — a pass. If her reaction was flat, or if all she offered was a pitying little smile — a fail.
Toto, too, now simply watched Benya and judged accordingly. Then again, no one in the room knew more about undead than the heiress of the Vanilla family.
And now it was the turn of Special Admission No. 10 — Princess Molly. She had been fidgeting and stealing anxious glances at the seniors, and drew a skeleton out of her subspace.
At a glance, it looked like an ordinary skeleton.
"A special skeleton forged from blue-gold — rarer than pure gold!"
Benya shot out of her seat, ran her nimble hands all over the skeleton, then whipped her head around.
"Where in the world did you get this, Princess?"
Molly lowered her head, cheeks blazing.
"M-my mother gave it to me as a gift for entering Kizen... she had every undead that appears in our textbooks remade, one by one, out of blue-gold."
"Incredible!"
Leave it to the royalty of Dresden, the richest kingdom around.
She passed on the strength of capital that soared far, far beyond any reasonable standard.
So far, nine out of seventeen candidates had passed.
And then, at last —
Step.
White came forward.
Toto had been fighting desperately to hold the room's attention in front of the juniors, but the moment he faced White — his fellow second-year of the Summoning Department — he shrank sharply in on himself.
"...P-please, begin."
White gave a nod, then looked toward Simon.
Simon made a baffled face.
Why me again?
White was beckoning to him. He wanted Simon to come out.
"Ability usage."
Ah.
White's power seemed to absorb an opponent's jet-black and transmute it into that uncanny White Jet-Black. To demonstrate a technique, he needed someone else's jet-black to draw from.
"Simon, there's no need for you to—"
Fitzgerald began to rise from his seat, but Simon raised a hand to stop him.
"No, it's fine. I'll go."
White's target was him.
Simon walked forward calmly and stood in front of White. For a moment, the two simply faced each other in silence.
"What do I do?"
In answer to Simon's question, White silently raised an open palm.
So I just touch it.
Simon opened his own palm and brought it against White's.
!
The jet-black within his body began to drain steadily into White. Fitzgerald and Toto readied their curses on the spot, prepared for the worst-case scenario.
But nothing went wrong.
Though Simon had braced himself to have his jet-black ripped away entirely, White absorbed only as much as he could reasonably use, then stepped back.
Vwoooom!
An uncanny white jet-black spread from his hand. With his ability, White drew a summoning magic circle on the floor, then pulled something out of subspace.
An empty suit of armor.
When he dropped the hollow armor onto the magic circle, the circle's white jet-black began pouring into it.
This is...
The white jet-black took on the shape of a human figure, becoming a warrior clad in armor. It seemed able to move only within the circle's bounds, but it was unmistakably a summon born of a summoning magic circle.
"Little White! It's amazing, aaaaah!"
Benya couldn't contain herself and darted forward, running her hands over every inch of the armor while showering it in praise.
"The ability is impressive, but this summoning circle's construction is so original! I've never even seen this kind of modifier arrangement before — wow! How did you even think of this?"
...Even I couldn't fail something like this.
It was the most powerful summon Simon had laid eyes on to date.
Then the great white mass White had created turned its gaze on Simon.
Crackle!
Sparks danced across the white mass's body, and it raised its arm toward him.
"?"
Simon blinked.
—$@&!#^&
He could feel a voice.
Like the lingering will of an undead.
Don't tell me — it's trying to take my hand?
As if in a trance, Simon laid his hand over the outstretched white palm.
FWOOOOSH!
The white summon's body collapsed, and the jet-black that composed it flowed straight into Simon's body.
Clatter—
Clang!
The summon released, and the pieces of armor dropped to the floor.
"?"
Simon stared at his own hand, utterly lost. The jet-black that White had drained from him moments ago had come back to him, whole.
Thud!
And White's face contorted as he dropped to one knee.
"What's wrong?"
"Are you all right?"
The students around them hurried over, alarmed.
White looked up at Simon, sweat streaming down his forehead.
"......"
It was the look of someone staring at a monster.
Simon couldn't tell what had happened — but from White's perspective, it was clearly something he had never anticipated.