The Skull That Boiled Over
"Everyone. Ready?"
Benya said this as she stepped toward Manus's skull, which sat waiting on the pedestal. There was something resolute in the way she gathered her hair back into its tie as she walked, and Simon answered with a tense face of his own.
"Yes."
With a sweep of her arm, Benya raised the array of magic circles linked to Manus into the air one after another, then worked something at her fingertips.
And then—
'Huh?'
Nothing happened.
Just as Simon, who had been waiting with his whole body wound tight, opened his mouth to ask if something had gone wrong—
Krrrrrrrr—!
The basement shook and the floor began to tremble. In the twin sockets of Manus's skull, stripped to gleaming white bone, a light flared to life.
Exceedingly complex magic circles whirred into operation inside the skull. Polyhedral components shifted position and locked together, while circuits branching out from the core slotted neatly into place, one by one.
Now, the switch of the former Swordmaster 'Manus' was being turned on.
Kiiiieeeng—!
The burning light in his eye sockets swelled larger and larger, until at last the skull's jaw ripped open—
-!@&!^*$@%&!!!
—and let out a violent, unearthly shriek. Simon hurriedly threw up a Jet-Black Shield. Blade-like streaks of jet-black carved fresh scars into every corner of the basement.
"Ugh! We only switched it on—what is this?!"
[Khehehehe! Now this is interesting!]
Simon's clone of Pier, hanging off his academy uniform—when had it even attached itself?—spoke up.
[So they built all this from what little residual will remained! You humans' dark magic has come quite far, I must say.]
'B-but something about the result seems off, doesn't it?!'
[It couldn't be anything else.]
Pier's voice dropped low.
[That is no longer the Swordmaster we saw in Deathland. It is nothing but—]
Manus's skull, thrashing and heaving, floated up into the air. Black sparks scattered, and a whirlwind raged through the chamber.
[—a rampaging instrument of slaughter.]
KEEEEEENG!
This was dangerous. Simon shouted urgently.
"Benya! The basement can't hold out any longer!"
"Got it!"
In the end, she force-shut down every magic circle in the summoning array. The light blazing in Manus's eye sockets gradually dimmed, and the skull sank back onto the pedestal.
When the rampage finally ended, Simon and Benya collapsed to the floor in unison, neither bothering to go first, both gasping for breath.
"...As you can see, that's the situation."
Benya said.
"We succeeded in forcibly binding a corpse that had lost its ego and will as a natural undead—a corpse on its way back to the soil—and raising it into a summon-type undead. But."
She gazed at Manus's skull with a complicated expression.
"From the instant we infuse it with jet-black and activate it, this undead pours every last resource it has into 'rampage.' By the end, it will burn through even the summoning circle sustaining it, and boil itself away."
"..."
"And if it destroys itself like that, restoration becomes impossible. Ever again."
Simon's expression hardened.
As it stood, it was an uncontrollable, dangerous summon—closer to a will-less slaughtering machine, just as Pier had said.
'But it's undeniably powerful material.'
An Ancient Undead that had stood toe-to-toe with Prince—or perhaps surpassed him. Looking at that staggering output now, Simon couldn't deny that the necromancer in him was intrigued.
"So what exactly do you intend to use it for?"
"Ah, that is..."
Simon answered with a wry smile.
"I'm thinking of making it a Dullahan's head."
"????"
Benya's jaw dropped in a spectacularly dumbfounded expression.
"A Dullahan with a Guardian's body... and Manus's head for the skull?"
"Yes, senpai!"
"...Think it over again, my boy."
Benya spoke as she climbed the stairs, having meticulously checked every seal in the basement.
"There are plenty of ways to secure Dullahan materials. I can't stretch as far as a Guardian, since even its removal from site is banned, but with my connections I could get you an A+ Ogre Lord or Abaddon corpse."
"I appreciate the offer."
Simon climbed the stairs after her, smiling brightly.
"If my research fails, I'll take you up on it then."
"...Haha."
Benya curled the corners of her mouth, as if to say there was no stopping him.
"I knew it from the moment you built an undead out of a Nether Whale calf's bones and made a ghoul that explodes."
She gave Simon's shoulder a light rap.
"You really are the person who best embodies the spirit of the 'Mutant' club."
"I'm honored you think so highly of me."
"Alright! I'll supply whatever materials your freakish Dullahan conquest needs!"
"Ah, in that case, thank you very much!"
Simon bowed to her and pushed open the door leading to the club room.
"Ah, they're out!"
"Student Council President!"
The moment the door opened, a cluster of first-years came into view, huddled together like chicks.
"Student Council President! Benya-senpai!"
"Are you hurt anywhere?"
"Are you okay?"
Simon smiled gently.
"Sorry for scaring you when the floor started shaking. It was nothing serious."
Benya broke into a wide, beaming grin as well.
"My little chicks! You were worried about us?"
A warm, cheerful mood filled the room for a moment. Fitzgerald, already crowded out of the first-years' attention, was scribbling away at his book in the far corner, swallowing back tears.
"Simon oppa. So what's down there, anyway?"
Sasha asked. Come to think of it, there was no reason to hide it, so Simon answered plainly.
"Dullahan material for this year's midterm."
Whooooa—!
Exclamations burst out from every direction.
"A Dullahan! The headless knight, right? I know that one!"
"Do we get to make Dullahans in second year too?"
"I wanna make one!"
"You should fix your dancing-skeleton-crab-legs first."
"Gyah! Don't bring that up!"
Simon chuckled under his breath.
Perhaps it was because he'd gotten to see Manus's power firsthand, but today, his mood was good.
"Shall we go over the problems you're stuck on, then?"
"Yes, sir!"
At Kizen, classes held during exam season were famous for being brutal across the board.
Combat Magic—Marshal Arts—was no exception, even though it was primarily a physical discipline. Partway up one of Roke Island's mountains, Simon, dressed in his training uniform, ran gasping for breath.
"Almost there! Almost!"
"Push a little harder, students!"
This session of Professor Hong Peng's Combat Magic class was an 'integrated obstacle course.' Simon glanced back over his shoulder.
"Come on, Kami!"
"Hah! Hah! Yes, Simon!"
Camibarez, likewise in her training uniform, was running with all her might, eyes squeezed shut. Simon patted her along encouragingly and faced forward again.
The next course lay just ahead.
Weapons were racked in rows on shelves—maces, spears, shields, bows, whips, an assortment of every kind.
"Where'd weapons come from all of a sudden?"
"Look here! It says each person can only pick one!"
The students, quiet for a moment, quickly broke into a sprint, each racing to grab a weapon.
'The greatsword!'
Simon spotted his weapon of choice immediately. He reached out for the greatsword looming with outsized presence on the shelf—
Tak!
—and a huge hand beat him to it, closing around the hilt a hair's breadth sooner.
"Too obvious."
Hector flashed a crooked smile.
He, too, was enrolled in Hong Peng's Combat Magic class.
"Did you think I'd just stand by and watch you wield your signature weapon?"
'Ugh!'
Robbed of the greatsword by the narrowest of margins, Simon had no choice but to survey the remaining weapons. The latecomers were mostly snatching up familiar blades.
Camibarez chose a shield.
'Then I'll take...'
Not much was left. In the end, Simon selected the least popular weapon of all—the whip, neglected and passed over by every student. He gave it a few flicking pulls; the spring in it was decent.
Clunk!
Clunk!
Then the ground around them split open, and contraptions mounted with crossbows rose up, aiming at the students.
The students startled and staggered backward, but mercifully, what was loaded was not real arrows. The tips were rounded and blunt.
"So this time we dodge the arrows?"
"We're saved."
The students visibly relaxed. Honestly, arrows were easy enough to sidestep barehanded, let alone with a weapon in hand.
- Team C, here comes your next task!
Hong Peng's voice rang out.
- Only the 10 who 'shoot down' the most arrows pass!
"?!"
Dodge them? No—
Before the question could even form, arrows came pouring in from every direction.
"Ugh!"
The students swung swords and spears with clumsy motions, but narrow-bladed weapons made hitting arrows out of the air terribly difficult.
They couldn't even block the shots flying at themselves, took hit after hit, and dropped out of the running one after another.
Camibarez hid her entire body behind her shield with a thoroughly frightened look on her face. She was so petite that the shield concealed her completely.
And yet, simply holding her shield still and blocking arrows was putting her in the top ranks.
"Ah, dammit! I should've picked a shield instead of a weapon!"
"Even now, Kami is adorable!"
Fwang! Fwang!
Hector, meanwhile, was swinging his greatsword in visible irritation. It was broader than the other bladed weapons, but so heavy that landing hits on arrows was a struggle.
"Damn it all!"
Hector hadn't chosen the greatsword purely to obstruct Simon, of course. He had genuine confidence in greatsword technique—the rule about shooting down arrows was simply outside his expectations.
And then—
"Whooooaaa!"
"What the—what is he doing?!"
Simon was flying, in the most literal sense of the word.
He wrapped his whip in strands of jet-black wire, granting it freely bending control, then whipped it in every direction.
Thwack!
Thwack!
He was snatching not only the arrows flying at him, but even ones arcing high into the air, striking them down at will.
Every time Simon's whip lashed out, three or four arrows fell.
"Son of a—!"
Beads of black dripped one after another from Hector's body as he watched. Internal Dark Energy Eruption—the technique that reinforced the body for a short burst of time.
Watching Hector whirl the heavy greatsword around like a pair of iron chopsticks with his empowered strength, Simon smiled brightly.
"Won't using 'Eruption' wear you out already?"
"Shut it!"
The other students groaned at the two boys' ferocious rivalry.
"You lunatics! Aim before you swing, at least!"
This obstacle course, too, was a private stage for first-place Simon and second-place Hector.
The next class was Sacred Defense Studies, taught by Professor Parahan, a former priest.
Stroking his long, venerable beard like some immortal sage, Parahan began posing questions to the students one by one.
"The meaning of the holy sign drawn top to bottom, as shown in the textbook—"
At once, a hand shot up faster than anyone else's.
"Simon Polentia. 'Submission to one's superior.'"
"The meaning of the signum digitorum?"
"Simon Polentia. 'The rite of communion.'"
"The purpose of the Audio rune in the given formula—"
"Simon Polentia. An auditory-enhancement white magic of the Blessing school."
Just as it had in his first year, Sacred Defense Studies was Simon's one-man stage in his second as well.
The students from Class A were used to it, but everyone else collapsed into open astonishment.
"Seriously. How does he know all of that?"
"...At this point, isn't he secretly a priest himself?"
Watching Simon steadily stack up shop points and performance evaluations, Parahan let out a wry smile.
"Student, come see me after class."
"Yes, sir!"
After finishing the final Sacred Defense Studies class of the midterm period, Simon and Parahan walked together toward Parahan's house, which lay far off across the campus grounds.
His cottage required a good long climb up the mountain. The distance was considerable, but it made for a rather pleasant walking course.
"Why do you work so hard at it?"
Parahan asked with a smile.
"Sacred Defense is going to be first place for you regardless, no?"
Simon had visited the Holy Federation itself and could wield divinity directly. There was simply no way students who had only studied the theory could beat him.
Simon laughed along and answered.
"Because I can't afford to be careless."
- Meow! Meooow!
- Nya! Nya! Nya!
As the cottage drew near, a clamor of cries rang out from far down the path. Hayangi and Kkamangi, now Simon's divine beasts, had come out to greet him.
"Hello! Have you two been good?"
Simon ran over and swept up the two kittens in his arms. They wriggled constantly, pawing at his head and mussing up his hair.
- Why don't you come visit more often?
- You were bad!
That's certainly what they seemed to be saying. Simon grinned and soothed the kittens.
"Sorry, I've been insanely busy lately. I'll come more often."
Before he knew it, Akalion—the bear-like divine beast—had padded over as well and nuzzled its cheek against his leg.
Simon led all three divine beasts into Parahan's cottage.
Over a simple cup of tea and some conversation, Simon told Parahan everything that had happened in the Tower of Time—especially the account of Chaos, and of the Void.
"So the you of the future wielded that power freely, I see."
"Yes."
Simon raised white and black energies in either hand.
"But I still can't fully blend the two elements."
"Don't rush yourself."
Parahan said, slowly fanning the folding fan in his hand.
"You haven't fully mastered either jet-black or divinity yet, have you? As your capacity builds, the path toward the Void will open naturally of its own accord."
Simon agreed with the words, so he nodded.
Blending jet-black with divinity.
The method looked simple on its face, yet it was impossible even to fathom how many insights and how rarefied a plane of mastery it demanded.
"Speaking of which, the divinity side is the more pressing matter."
Parahan said.
"Thanks to the divine beasts, your Divine Beast studies have grown quite advanced, but I have yet to teach you a single offensive holy spell."
"Ah, I know one!"
Simon immediately unfurled a white magic.
⟨ Lethe Original – La Escrime ⟩
A line of divinity unfolded, and ribbons of blessing wound themselves around the shaft, taking the shape of a drill.
"Ohhh! What technique is this!"
Parahan shot up from his seat.
"Such beauty and such efficiency in a single art! A fusion of Divine Mechanics and Blessing studies! I see—so the crude performance of the Holy Sphere lineage, refined through five layered blessings..."
Working at Kizen, it was rare to glimpse white magic of this caliber, so Parahan had evidently grown quite excited.
He bustled back and forth, too busy observing La Escrime to sit still. Simon rested his chin on his hand, watching him for a while, before his gaze drifted away.
'Come to think of it...'
White clouds drifted beyond the window.
'I wonder how Lethe's been doing lately.'
The Holy Grounds of the Holy Federation—the heartland of Efnel itself.
Sky Island.
"Gratula Mi Kibilis."
"We are blessed to behold the Goddess's closest daughter."
"Please, a blessing for our son who marched off to battle..."
Every resident here bowed their heads deeply or prostrated themselves where they stood in worship.
And—
"I shall pray that your son returns home safe and sound. The Goddess will watch over him."
Down a road swept so clean that not a speck of dust remained,
there walked a white-haired girl, a swirl of starlight rising in her wake.