The First Skeleton Archer
Simon gave an awkward smile.
"Let's just say it happened to be similar to a technique I already knew."
Riding the momentum, Simon immediately began his second Circling. The work went far more smoothly than the first time.
As Simon started rolling the Jet-Black in his palm, it almost seemed to ask him a question.
'Are we doing that thing from before again?'
Simon answered by keeping the rotation of the Jet-Black strong and steady.
In the end, he completed the Circling in nearly half the time it had taken at first, and slotted it into the magic circle.
Vmmmmmmm!
Even the second corner lit up, and a few more Rune Script characters came alive.
"Only two left now! Keep going, Simon!"
"Yeah."
Simon sharpened his focus and resumed Circling. The second attempt had been easier than the first, and the third easier still.
Vmmm!
At last, when all four corners were ignited, brilliant light flooded the entire magic circle.
Clack. Clack-clack.
The skull began to move. It clicked its jaw against its palate to make noise, and thanks to the difference in material, the sound was far more refined than that of an Island Ratman skeleton.
Then, all at once, the skull leapt up with a thump.
"Ow—!"
And clamped down hard on Simon's arm. It had no teeth, but its jaw strength was such that tears prickled at the corners of his eyes.
"Ah— there's a warning in the manual."
Rick said, reading from the assembly guide.
"Saphirros have a strong instinct to bite and chew on everything. After activating the summoning circle, step back and throw it a dog chew toy or a cushion."
"You could've mentioned that a little sooner!"
Simon grunted, struggling to pry the skull off.
"I only just found out myself. Apparently, if you connect to its lingering thoughts after a day or two and slowly tame it, this aggressive streak mellows out quite a bit."
"There's no time for that."
Simon glared at the skull with narrowed eyes.
"Get. Off."
The skull, which had been happily gnawing away at Simon's arm, flinched. When Simon fixed it with a long, hard stare, it finally released his arm and backed away.
"You are never to bite anyone ever again. That's an order."
The skull drooped and went quiet, looking for all the world like it was sulking. Watching this, Rick let out an awkward laugh.
"It's not like there are no bad skeletons in the world, but yours all behave perfectly around you."
With the summoning magic activated, it was now time to assemble the bones by hand. Simon laid the bones out in a row from the box and gently stroked the skull.
"Just wait a little longer. I'll build your body soon."
Had it understood the words?
The skull seemed to perk right up, hopping and prancing around the tabletop — until it bumped into Pier's avatar resting on the table and knocked it to the floor.
[WHAT IS THIS CREATURE!]
Pier's voice thundered through Simon's mind.
[THIS NEW RECRUIT HAS NO MANNERS! WHEN IT DESCENDS TO THE LEGION LATER, I'LL BEAT IT BACK TO DEATH!]
'...Haha.'
Simon set Pier's avatar back on the table and began the work in earnest, following the assembly guide step by careful step.
'This really is the best part.'
Once the bones gained pulling force, each connection snapped into place like a magnet the moment he joined them, and the sensation was deeply satisfying.
That said, the difficulty was considerably higher than assembling an Island Ratman skeleton.
'Banding? How does this work?'
Some steps required the user to apply Jet-Black techniques directly during assembly, while others called for chemical reagents packaged in the box.
The arms were by far the hardest. Since skeletons are undead with weak muscular strength, a variety of procedures were needed to form the power required to draw a bowstring.
Simon threaded Jet-Black thread through the holes between the arm bones, then wrapped the arm in Jet-Black as if winding it in bandages — the Banding process.
He applied adhesive chemicals to the joints, waited for them to dry to a tacky softness, and finished by applying heat.
It was his first time doing any of this, so he stumbled often. Rick, who had been nodding off in his chair, eventually gave up and went back to Room 409, and even the other students who occasionally dropped by the snack room stopped coming altogether.
Alone, Simon spread out his Summoning textbook and his Jet-Black Mechanics textbook side by side and stubbornly buried himself in the assembly.
"Ah..."
He'd lost all track of time, absorbed in the assembly like a man possessed — and when Simon finally looked out the window, dawn was already breaking.
'This is the first time in my life I've resented every single minute as it slipped away.'
Still, he had to see it through to the end. Simon connected the final two leg bones he'd finished.
"Done...!"
A skeleton, milk-white and smooth, with proud horns rising from its skull, was flexing its new limbs experimentally.
Clack! Clack-clack!
Clearly pleased with its new body, it went hopping all over the snack room, bouncing from corner to corner.
"Alright. Let's head outside!"
Clack!
Simon and the Skeleton Archer walked out of the dormitory together.
Beneath a cloudless, deep-indigo dawn sky, the Kizen Academy campus spread out like a painting.
Simon took a deep breath of the crisp morning air and called out.
"Catch!"
He opened a subspace and tossed over a bow made specifically for skeletons.
He'd originally planned to give it the 1-gold bow he used himself, but on reflection that might be far too stiff for a skeleton, so he decided to start with something easier.
Snatch.
The instant the Skeleton Archer caught the bow, its whole body trembled faintly, as if sensing what was to come. Then it immediately dropped into a disciplined archery stance.
Its left hand gripped the bow; its right hand swept back behind it. There was nothing there, yet the hand churned the empty air like a broken machine.
'...Don't tell me it's looking for arrows in a quiver it thinks is on its back?'
Skeletons are a type of undead that retain the instincts and habits of their lives in full.
That's exactly why the bones of monsters that had used bows in life became the raw material for Skeleton Archers. Saphirros, too, were half-human, half-beast monsters of the forest whose primary weapon was the bow.
"Here are your arrows."
Simon drew arrows from his subspace and held them out. The Skeleton Archer approached backward, retreating step by step while keeping its back to him, its right hand still sweeping the empty air behind it.
Simon burst out laughing, then hung the arrows from that outstretched hand.
Snap.
The arrow was nocked with lightning speed.
Thwack!
With practiced form, it drew the string and took aim. Simon connected to the lingering thoughts and designated the target.
'Shoot that tree.'
His heart pounded. The moment had finally come to see the fruit of his sleepless night.
Simon gave the command with racing blood.
'Now!'
Fweeeeng!
The arrow cut through the dawn breeze and buried itself in the tree with a hollow thunk. Simon thrust both fists into the air and let out a roar of triumph.
It was the first Skeleton Archer Simon had ever made.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Meanwhile, in Rochest.
In a dilapidated building some distance from the city center, beneath its staircase, lay an underground operating room of unknown origin.
In that space, littered haphazardly with bloodstained instruments, a man who had been lying on the operating table slowly raised himself up. He wore nothing on his lower half but underwear, and his entire bare torso was covered in jet-black tattoos drawn in Jet-Black.
"Ugh."
The splitting headache that struck him the instant he woke made the man grimace, pressing a hand to his forehead.
"Awake already, are we? Haren Coke."
His gaze shifted. The operating room door opened, and a tired-faced man walked toward him.
"Ah, Professor Bahil!"
Bahil leaned back against the wall and folded his arms.
"The procedure was completed successfully. How are you feeling?"
"..."
Haren ran his eyes over his body, brimming with black tattoos, then squeezed his right fist tight.
Jet-Black poured out of it like spring water, dripping down to the floor in heavy drops.
"...I'm overflowing with power! I feel like I could do absolutely anything!"
"How fortunate."
Bahil smiled pleasantly and continued.
"Return to Kizen and carry on with your classes as usual. You must never, under any circumstances, show anyone your body. And refrain from showering until the Duel Evaluation. Washing your hair or your face should be fine."
With that, Bahil tossed Haren the academy uniform hanging on the coat rack.
"Two days from now, when the Duel Evaluation begins, those tattoos will vanish from your body on their own. They won't be caught by Kizen's doping inspection either. And yet your curse-strengthened power will hold for a good two months or so."
Haren looked up at Bahil with glistening, grateful eyes.
"Professor. Why on earth would you go this far for me..."
"What does the reason matter? All you need to do is handle the task I've asked of you."
At those words, Haren's expression turned grave.
"Defeating Special Admission No. 1 of Class A, Simon Polentia, in the Duel Evaluation."
"Precisely. Even if he is Special Admission No. 1, there's no need to be afraid. The man you are now stands far, far above his level."
Haren clenched and unclenched his fists, checking the state of his body. Then he drew his signature technique, the Black Hand, from his back.
SHAAAAAAK!
The black hand extracted itself from between his shoulder blades, and Haren couldn't help but marvel.
Its size, its power — it was on an entirely different level from before. When he spread the Black Hand and extended it forward, it grew large enough to shadow his whole body. He stretched it long and whipped it about like a lash, and it let out a ferocious whistle — whoom! whoom! — as it cleaved the air.
With this, he was confident he could beat anyone.
"Thank you, Professor Bahil! I will never, ever forget this debt!"
This intoxicating, maddening rush of power!
To Haren, Bahil — who had granted him such strength — seemed like a god. So he added a suggestion.
"If Simon Polentia is a thorn in your side, Professor, should I disguise his death as an accident during the Duel Evaluation?"
In that instant.
The smile on Bahil's face froze into something glacial.
KIIIIIIIIIIIIG!
From behind Bahil came a wailing shriek, like a phantom crying out in anguish. Pure, primal terror sent shudders down every inch of Haren's body.
"Do not do anything rash. You will handle exactly as much of the task as I have assigned you — no more."
Haren felt the air slowly being crushed out of his lungs. Before he knew it, his own hands were clutching at his throat.
"If things go wrong and he dies—"
A horrifying light blazed up in Bahil's eyes.
"—then you and your family will never know a clean death. I will see to it that you suffer eternally, even after you're gone."
"Kh—hack! Cough! I—I'll bear it in mind!"
When Bahil withdrew his power, Haren gasped and heaved for breath.
'...A mere bastard who isn't even worth a backup plan, daring to act so bold.'
Bahil turned his back and walked out of the operating room. He draped on his overcoat and put on his hat.
'Simon Polentia. I'm sorry it has to come to this, but there's no other way.'
It felt like carving the flesh from his own bones, but what Simon needed right now was defeat.
Once he sank into the bitterness of a crushing loss, he would turn and examine himself, and begin to wonder what had gone wrong. And in time, he would come to realize that the cause lay in Summoning itself.
'I will apologize for this someday. But you, too, will understand—'
The corners of Bahil's mouth, curled up to his ears, twisted into something entirely unholy.
'—how much you owe my decision, one day. Without fail!'