Pre-Festival Madness

Three days had passed since the news of the Dark Festival spread through the entire student body.

The Summoning Department, ambitiously gunning for the departmental championship, had thrown itself into a regimen of morning and evening training. Once again, the students filed out of their dormitories to greet the pre-dawn wind.

After changing into training clothes and finishing a round of light stretches and a group jog, they broke off into individual practice.

"Ready when you are?"

Lorraine rose from her leg stretch, speaking as she straightened.

"Anytime."

Simon, standing a short distance away, nodded.

They had gathered a small audience, too. Toto and Eshu sat side by side on a rock, clapping and cheering with a hearty waaah! for each combatant in turn.

"Come on, Simon!"

"You've got to win, Lorraine!"

Lorraine drew in a sharp breath and planted her feet shoulder-width apart.

Summoning her Jet-Black, she thrust both arms forward with force. The bones scattered across the grassfield floated up and shot toward Simon like a swarm of arrows.

This was Bone Needle — the most fundamental of all the Bone Restoration Arts.

Simon answered in kind, his fingers flicking where he stood.

Crack! Snap!

Bones came streaking in so fast it was impossible to tell where they'd launched from, striking Lorraine's projectiles out of the air with pinpoint precision. Then Simon raised the fingers of one hand and brought the other slicing down, and a fresh volley rained down on her from above.

'He's fast!'

Lorraine broke off her attack and threw herself into motion. Bones hammered into the ground one after another wherever she leapt.

Whooom!

Her jet-black hair whipped through the air as she launched skyward and swung her arm. A subspace tore open, and the bones spilling out of it flew like bolts from a crossbow.

Mid-flight, the bones linked themselves together in rapid succession, trading themselves for a single spear form with doubled power and piercing force. Simon, who had been watching coolly, lowered his arm.

The bones hovering in reserve above him assembled themselves into the shape of a cage — and locked it around Simon himself. In nearly the same instant, the incoming Bone Spears slammed against the bars and glanced away.

A flicker of surprise crossed Lorraine's face.

'Using Bone Prison — a binding spell — for defense?'Pop!

Simon kicked off the grass and burst straight through the front of the cage. The moment his body touched the latticework of bone, it came apart with unbelievable smoothness and reforged itself into armor fitted precisely to his frame.

Toto and Eshu let out a chorus of gasps.

"The Bone Prison turned into Bone Armor!"

"Whoa, that's giving me chills! What IS that skeleton control?"

Lorraine lifted her remaining bones again and hurled another volley of Bone Needles. Simon answered by shifting the bones that made up his armor.

Several plates clattered loose from the armor, then rocketed away one by one to knock her projectiles clean out of the sky.

'That's Simon for you.'

Lorraine couldn't help but marvel inwardly.

Tchk!

Simon flung his arm backward. The bones lying limp on the ground found their places among themselves, snapping together into the shape of a Bone Spear.

Fwoom!

At the signal of Simon driving his arm forward again, five spears tore through the air with a shriek of displaced wind.

"Hah—!"

Lorraine cast her dark magic in a scramble. She couldn't intercept them the way Simon had, but she latched her hovering bones onto the incoming spears and exerted a pull —

wrenching their trajectories sideways.

'And now, head-on!'

Simon came charging in wearing his Bone Armor. The instant she moved to take a Battle Arts stance —

'!'

Simon forced his own momentum sideways and pulled up short. But the Bone Armor, fitted to Simon's frame, kept moving forward on its own — and clad itself around Lorraine instead.

'Ah!'Shraaaak—!

Simon skidded back, his shoes gouging the dirt, and made a small gesture with his hand.

Clack!

The Bone Armor cinched itself tight around her frame in a single contraction, twisted both her wrists behind her back, and bound her legs firmly together.

'?!'

Simon raised his arm, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her body rose into the air, trussed in bone.

'Finish it.'

His two hands moved with a conductor's flourish.

Every remaining shard of bone — beyond those binding Lorraine — pivoted its sharpest point toward her.

And then, watching the countless bones come flying at her, Simon turned his back.

In that very moment —

Vuuuuum!

Jet-Black rippled across Lorraine's eyes.

CRRAAAAASH!

She threw her strength into both arms and both legs as though shaking something off. A massive wave of Jet-Black erupted, flinging away the Bone Chain binding her and every single bone hurtling toward her.

BOOM!Bam! Bam! Bam!

The bones that had been flying at her were knocked back with several times the force of their own momentum, embedding themselves across the field or vanishing deep into the forest.

"……"

"……"

A brief silence settled over the training ground.

Lorraine touched down and sheepishly smoothed back her hair.

"Sorry, Simon. We agreed to fight with skeleton techniques only, and I lost control… That one's my loss."

Simon smiled.

"Your Restoration Arts have really come a long way."

It was the third day of training. On the very first day she'd asked Simon to teach her the Restoration Arts, it had taken her considerable time just to assemble a single Bone Spear.

Now she'd come this far. She might look somewhat ordinary when it came to theory and bookwork, but there was no question that her absurd, impossible talent and skill marked her unmistakably as Nephthys's daughter.

'…And yet.'

It was like watching someone wear clothes that didn't fit. Like a giant picking up a human-sized needle and laboring, wincing, over a knitting lesson.

To say Lorraine had a lot of Jet-Black would be an understatement. Her reserves were as vast as the ocean.

She was certainly the student with the greatest quantity of Jet-Black in their year. Perhaps in all of Kizen.

'Does someone like Lorraine actually need to learn techniques like Bone Spear or Bone Armor?'

The Restoration Arts were a perfect fit for Simon, who loved stylish, ever-shifting combat — but on Lorraine they hung like an ill-fitting suit. For her, simply converting that brute, almost mindless ocean of Jet-Black into raw power and hammering it through her fists would be far more devastating.

'…Still. There has to be a reason Lady Nephthys sealed Lorraine's power herself.'

Simon's gaze drifted for a moment to the choker around Lorraine's neck.

The shackle that always held her in check.

Now she had returned like any ordinary student, learning general necromantic knowledge from the ground up, piece by piece. Someday, Simon hoped, all this study would bear fruit.

"You two alright?"

Toto and Eshu came scampering over from their rock. Lorraine smiled.

"I'm fine. Thanks, Toto."

"Y-yeah!"

Toto was still a little afraid of her.

Eshu, on the other hand, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had no such reservations. She ambled over grinning and thumped Simon on the arm.

"Wow~ though, Mr. President, you're absolutely brutal. You didn't cut her a single shred of slack! You do realize if Lorraine so much as got a scratch, the whole Dark Alliance would come boiling over here, right?"

"…We were both wearing barriers over our training clothes anyway."

"No, the barrier is not the point here? You seriously cannot read a conversation to save your life."

That was when it happened.

Heeey~ heeey~ — a boy came bounding toward them from far off, waving both hands. That trademark skipping, loping run was instantly familiar.

"Simon!"

Simon's eyes went wide at the totally unexpected arrival.

"Dick?"

"Hahahaha!"

Dick strolled up laughing and slung an arm around Simon's neck. Simon spoke.

"What brings you all the way out here?"

"What's distance between best buds, huh?"

Simon snorted a laugh.

"It's Student Council business, isn't it?"

"Heh heh, well, we got an official memo earlier today. This afternoon—"

Dick was rambling on, rolling his eyes around suspiciously, when his gaze happened to lock with Eshu's — who had been watching him with deep displeasure.

"Uh-oh? Aaahm! Right there, stop!"

Eshu stomped right up to him.

"I don't know your face. What department are you from?"

Dick squared his shoulders.

"Deadly Poison Hall, ma'am."

"A spy from the Poison Department? Come to scope out our situation, have you?"

Dick waved his hands in denial.

"I'm the Student Council's General Secretary! You don't know that? Honestly, you'd never recognize me without the armband. I've got business with the President here."

"If you've got business with the President, you send one of those minions you people keep and talk it through that way!"

Eshu suddenly clapped a hand over her mouth and bellowed at the top of her lungs.

"POISON DEPARTMENT SPY ON THE FIELD!"

A what?

The faces of the Summoning Department students practicing nearby went ice-cold. Training stopped in pockets all across the field as students began converging on the spot.

"Ahh, yeah, I figured it might come to this~"

Dick chuckled and raised his hands toward Simon.

"Let's talk about it in the Student Council Room in a bit, Simon."

"Grab him!"

Dick pulled a potion bottle out of his subspace and smashed it against the ground.

FWOOOSH!

A hazy smoke billowed up and swallowed everything in moments. Simon staggered back coughing, and the Summoning students summoned their beasts outright, trying to hunt Dick down.

But when the smoke cleared, Dick had vanished without a trace.

"We lost him!"

"The Poison bastards knew we'd be training out here already!"

While the students fumed, Simon smirked behind them.

'Join the Poison Department and you just pick up all sorts of weird tricks.'

It turned out Eshu wasn't being eccentric at all.

At Kizen, there was a special tradition that ran from the moment the Dark Festival was announced until it ended.

And that tradition was—

"What are you staring at, Spirit Studies freaks?"

"You're the ones staring. Do Battle Arts meatheads keep their brains in their eyes along with their muscle?"

"What was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that, punk? I'll put you in permanent Spiritualization!"

…that interdepartmental nerves got razor-thin and frayed.

This, too, was a kind of campus culture. For this stretch of time alone, an unwritten rule held that students were to associate only with members of their own department and treat every other department's students as 'enemies.'

It was a sort of game played in the name of building departmental unity ahead of the real Dark Festival and amplifying Kizen's core value — competitive spirit.

The problem was—

"Hey, hey, HEY! Let go of that!"

"Come in here, huh? Scared?"

…that some people inevitably took the game far, far too seriously.

A ruckus erupted in the campus cafeteria.

"Battle Arts and Spirit Studies are going at it!"

"Ohhh!"

Simon, seated and in the middle of his meal, let out a long sigh. All he'd wanted was to eat quietly and go, but Jet-Black was surging up everywhere he looked, chaos in every direction.

Even the Summoning Department — Simon's own — had already picked a fight.

"You beggars of the Summoning Department! Can you even afford cafeteria food?"

"Forget Summoning — you're a pre-reparations department, that's what you are!"

"PUHAHAHAHA!"

'….'

Though he could maybe, sort of, understand why people got carried away.

"You half-assed pseudo-mages!"

At that, the Summoning students shot to their feet in fury.

This time it was the Summoning Department against the Dark Dynamics Department, and the standoff escalated to the brink of open violence. The Summoning students pulled undead from their subspaces; the Dark Dynamics students ignited elemental dark magic in their palms.

Just as a full brawl was about to break loose—

"Please disperse the crowd."

Simon drew a communication crystal from his coat and spoke into it.

Screeee!Beep!

Whistle blasts rang out across every corner of the cafeteria, and Mojo leading the Student Council's direct minions came flooding in.

"Enough! That's enough, everyone!"

"Step back, students! STEP BACK!"

"Ugh, let GO! That bastard started it—"

"Just wait until the Dark Festival. Got it? We've got our eyes on you."

Once the minions had pulled everyone apart, the students grudgingly backed down, pretending they'd only ever been half-serious.

Quiet returned to the cafeteria, and Simon finally managed to focus on his meal. Eshu, setting her tray down beside him, snickered.

"Mr. President, that was kinda cool just now?"

"What was?"

Eshu mimed lifting a spoon to her mouth.

"'Please disperse the crowd.' One little sentence and the minions come FLOODING in! Man~ so THIS is what power feels like!"

Simon was just about to answer when—

"Simon!"

This time it was Mayrin, her long sky-blue hair streaming behind her as she sprinted over. Simon's face lit up.

"Ah, Mayrin!"

"Hey! We've got the Student Council Room this afternoon—"

Yank!Tug!

Other Dark Dynamics students grabbed Mayrin by both arms.

"Vice President! You're chatting with the Summoning crowd right now?"

"Let's go!"

And with that, they began dragging her away.

"Hey, you lunatics! We were just talking Student Council business— let go of me!"

Mayrin kicked and struggled, but it was useless. Out of options, she shouted back at Simon as she was hauled off.

"See you at the Student Council Room later!"

"Got it!"

Simon waved with a wry grin. Eshu, thoroughly entertained, hopped up onto her chair to taunt them.

"Gyahaha! Run away, why don't you, you pseudo-mages! First place this year belongs to the Summoning Department!"

Simon let out an awkward laugh.

'So this is what collective madness looks like.'

The truth was, this Dark ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Festival wasn't only the students making an all-out effort.

Jane had been pressing her students hard, demanding 'appropriate' results from the festival, and Hong Peng had silently tripled everyone's physical conditioning hours.

And then—

"Welcome, one and all."

Bahil's laboratory.

The Curse Department students were filing in one by one.

"I trust you all—"

Bahil's eyes curved into something dark.

"—already know what I'm about to say."