The Opening Ceremony and the Balloon Seizure
Simon raised the loudspeaker crystal.
“I am Simon Polentia.”
The mere mention of his name drew a tremendous roar from the crowd. The reaction from the first-years on the left side was especially electric.
“It's the Student Council President—!”
“He's here! He's really here!”
They had even unfurled a banner with some sappy line about milky-white skies, waving it back and forth with all their might.
With the crowd cheering that passionately, he couldn't just walk past. Simon gave a small wave, and a bombshell of applause several times louder than before erupted in answer.
Watching the spectacle, even the surrounding spectators broke into smiles.
“The sky is clear.”
At last, the boy's voice rang out across the grounds.
“To our wonderful professors, to the classmates who are always there for me, to the seniors I respect, to my outstanding juniors—and to the citizens of the Dark Alliance gathered here today, it is an honor to speak before you all.”
Simon smiled brightly.
“Above all, I am truly glad that this year's Dark Festival has opened without incident.”
As the speech began, the crowd was drawn in at once.
Captivating phrasing, a pleasant voice that pulled listeners along like a current.
From any angle, he looked like a student council president painted straight out of a portrait.
The student council members standing behind him like a guard of honor felt their shoulders straighten with pride. Mayrin and Camibarez exchanged a glance and shared a small smile, and even Dick's lips curled upward the moment Simon read aloud the line he had helped add to the speech.
A clear blue sky.
It was the perfect start to the festival—and yet.
“God, it makes me sick. It makes me so damn sick.”
There were people for whom the sight never sat right.
Will Douglas, ranked 12th among all third-years, screwed up his face.
“First the entrance ceremony, now the Dark Festival—those brats hog every spotlight we've got. And the spectators are all going on about how a second-year shouldn't be Student Council President. Say something, damn it! Leonard!”
Leonard, standing at the very front of the third-year Summoning Department students, gave a faint smile.
“Don't scowl on a good day, Will. At this festival, Simon Polentia is on our side.”
“I don't care whose side he's on! The point is that a second-year is standing in that spot! What are people going to think of our class?”
“Once Eisel comes back, the mood will change.”
“Ugh, seriously! That damn Eisel! Eisel, Eisel, Eisel!”
Will raked his head savagely with his claws, then spoke again, his face stiffening a little.
“There's a rumor going around that he's dead.”
“......”
The man who should have been Student Council President.
Eisel's return kept being delayed.
Kizen Headquarters was maintaining absolute silence—not only about the details of his mission but even about whether he was alive or dead—so only rumors ran rampant among the students.
That Eisel had died mid-mission. That he'd gone missing. That he'd been captured by the Holy Federation and was now being held for ransom negotiations with Kizen. Every wild speculation imaginable was circulating.
“Honestly, trying to copy Phantasus in the first place was overreach!”
Eisel was a gifted student.
Undisputedly the strongest in the current Kizen, someone who would shine no matter where you put him.
But obsessed with Phantasus—counted among the most formidable Student Council Presidents in Kizen's history—he had tumbled into misfortune. With Phantasus as his immediate predecessor, comparison was inevitable. To resolve the questions hanging over him, Eisel had volunteered for a long-term mission of the same difficulty as the one Phantasus had attempted a year before.
He had wanted to break straight through the doubting eyes that rained down on him.
[A sparrow chased after the crane and split its crotch wide open, that's what happened.]
Leonard's and Will's heads turned.
A man whose eye sockets were pitch black—not from dark circles, but like a panda's—stood there, cloak fluttering.
It was Sota Psyche, representative of the Spirit Studies Department and ranked 6th overall.
[Even active-duty Crows barely survive a mission like that, right? What were you thinking, doing that?]
“Sota.”
Leonard turned to face him.
“What do you think you're doing, in the middle of an event with outsiders all around? Get back to your department.”
Sota pointed behind them.
[I'm already back there.]
Sure enough, they could see Sota's body standing blankly in the Spirit Studies Department's line. Come to think of it, the figure speaking to them now was faint and blurred, shaped like a soul that had oozed out of Sota's body.
'......Incredible as always.'
Watching, Will broke into a cold sweat.
They said the record for Spiritualization was an hour. The third-year department representatives really were on another level entirely.
[If you want my honest opinion.]
Sota grabbed the corners of his eyes and stretched them long.
[Eisel is dead.]
“......”
[So it's time we acted. The professors, the first-years—even the outsiders now are satisfied with Simon Polentia. We have to stop that second-year from taking the Student Council Presidency next semester too.]
He slowly clenched his fist.
[If we keep waiting on a dead Eisel, we get nothing.]
“Sorry to interrupt while the representatives are talking, but look over there.”
Will pointed a finger off to the side.
A short distance away from them,
a man wearing an iron mask stood with an expression carved from stone.
Balak, representative of the Poisoning Department and second-ranked of the third years, was known to regard his rival Eisel with particular intensity.
Leonard and Sota each stepped closer.
“The plan?”
Leonard asked in a hushed voice.
[We wreck the Dark Festival.]
Sota answered.
[The student council manages the Dark Festival. If major and minor problems keep erupting between students during the events, more and more people will start questioning Simon Polentia's leadership. That's where we begin.]
“Hm.”
Leonard smiled pleasantly.
“Wreck the festival, cause accidents—do whatever you like. In exchange, this year's department championship goes to our Summoning Department. That much I won't yield.”
[That's exactly your problem, Leonard.]
Sota sighed.
[You cherish your people far too much. But now is the time to draw a bigger picture.]
“......”
[Keep in mind that when this year ends, we leave Kizen too.]
His Spiritualization slowly unraveled, his form growing fainter and fainter.
[Come find me when your mind changes.]
The Dark Festival's Boyleston Stadium.
“WAAAAAAAH!”
This was a colossal arena capable of seating a full thirty thousand spectators.
The heat from the packed crowd was scorching. Every one of them watched the match with their hearts in their throats.
—This is your commentator, Conrad Hayabone! We're bringing you the second-years' afternoon match live from Boyleston Stadium!
There was no 'ground' in this stadium.
Chains crisscrossing high in the air were the only footholds, and students could be seen scrambling across them in a frenzy.
And beneath the chains, scarlet lava bubbled and seethed. Fall in, and elimination was a foregone conclusion.
-Kyeeeeeh!
There were even monsters. The colossal Salamander Snake, soaking its body in the lava.
It whipped its tail in indiscriminate attacks against the students, who ran without a moment's rest, dodging the monster's strikes and the lava spitting up around them.
—This event is Balloon Seizure! Collect the balloons floating throughout the arena and drop them into the basket at the summit—the department that deposits the most wins! Which department will claim final victory?
Cheering fever burned on all sides.
“Come on! Cursing Department!”
“Gleck Crow! Show them what you've got!”
“There! Grab that one! Yes, that one!”
The most eye-catching performers, for now, were the Battle Arts students, who adapted to the battlefield fastest.
While some students struggled just to keep their balance on the chains, those with exceptional physical abilities darted about like fish in water.
“Hu-chaaa!”
A Battle Arts student leapt hard off a chain, reaching for a balloon suspended in midair.
“That makes three balloons—!”
FWOOOOOOSH!
But scarlet flames swallowed the student whole. His barrier gauge dropped to 0% in an instant, and he was force-teleported out of the arena.
—It appears again!
KROOOOOOAR!
A black dragon perched atop the chains and roared.
The wide-area curse Dragon Fear crackled through the arena, and the students' movements froze in a flinch. In that gap, the serpent monster's tail swept in and sent them flying.
—The Summoning Department has dispatched none other than a 'Department Representative' for this match! Hector Moore, 3rd in the second year! As expected, absolutely devastating!
Every time the fire dragon spewed flames from its maw, students fell from the chains like autumn leaves. Meanwhile, Aseraz, assigned to collection, moved her skeleton arms to snatch up balloon after balloon.
—And there's Aseraz Mikel, 5th overall! The Summoning Department has fielded a full two Top 10 students in a single match! That's a statement that they intend to take this event, no questions asked! Personally, I think it's a sound strategy. Selection and focus matter!
But Kizen students were hardly the type to stand by and watch one faction run away with the race. Students from other departments began moving to check them.
“Stop the Moore brat first!”
Cursing Department students came sliding down the opposite chains, hurling curse after curse at Hector.
Hector writhed as allergic reactions erupted between his scales—but then a massive shadow appeared behind the Cursing students.
—That summon is—!
Shring!
Shring!
Sword strikes landed in quick succession, and the Cursing students' barrier gauges plummeted to zero. As the casters were forced off the field, the curses on Hector dissolved with them.
CLANG!
The chains groaned and tilted heavily around the enormous figure that had swung the blade.
This being, boasting a colossal weight, held a greatsword in one hand—and its own severed head in the other.
—A Dullahan! It's a Dullahan!
The commentator shot to his feet. Before anyone noticed, six Duelahans were already racing across the chains, cutting down students from every other department.
—They said the Summoning Department students were holding back early in the match—turns out they were preparing Duelahans! How many are there exactly? Incredible! Can every single Summoning Department student summon a Dullahan?
The Summoning Department's advance, forged through the Dullahan Special Lecture.
And on top of it, a stellar performance from two Top 10 students.
1st place, Summoning Department: 35 points.
2nd place, Battle Arts Department: 20 points.
3rd place, Cursing Department: 18 points.
In the opening Balloon Seizure match, the gap with second-place Battle Arts was already stretching to double.
“Looks like we've got this one in the bag.”
Sitting in the spectator stands, Simon murmured with a smile.
“Yeah. Everyone's doing great.”
Beside him, Loraine clapped along, cheering for their classmates.
Just watching was thrilling enough. But Simon felt his body itching to move, sitting idle in the stands. He wanted to get out there and fight in a match of his own, and soon.
“Let's goooo! Summoning Department!”
Leading the department's cheering section was, naturally, the ever-energetic Eshu. Waving her cheer gear overhead, she whipped the crowd into a frenzy.
“Go Class Rep!”
“Aseraz! Stay calm out there!”
Perhaps because the Summoning students' voices were simply that loud, the Hemomancy students seated across the stands fired back in kind.
“BOOOO!”
“What are beggars doing here? Go strip wild berries in the park!”
“We wouldn't take you even as a transfer!”
HAHAHAHA!
The Hemomancy students burst into jeering laughter. At those words, a vein bulged on Eshu's forehead with a crackle.
“GRAAAAAH! How dare you! Don't even DREAM about blood donations, you leeches!”
“Did you take your iron supplements? Heart failure! Arrhythmia! Baldness!”
“Your future career is the Blood Heaven Sect!”
The atmosphere was boiling over.
Students choked with rage leapt up one after another.
“Baldness and the Blood Heaven Sect? That's crossing the line, you maniacs!”
“You started it with the transfer crap!”
The mood grew so heated that, in the end, the assistants and summoned minions had to restrain the students.
Then again, this too was a sight you could only see at the Dark Festival.
“Simon.”
Fitzgerald, who was involved in scheduling the second-years' events, came over.
“Your match is next.”
“Oh, already? Time really flies.”
Simon sprang up from his seat and readied himself.
“I don't mean to pressure you, but—”
Fitzgerald adjusted his glasses.
“It would be no exaggeration to say that our department's fate hinges on the next match. What would you put our odds at?”
At Fitzgerald's question, Simon flashed a grin.
“A hundred percent. I'll bring back the win.”