Sleeping Deimos

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠spectator stands of the stadium.

There, a man in a spotless white suit — Bahil — was watching the match, the third-years of the Curse Department gathered at his side.

"Everything is going according to plan, Professor! Merida and the Student Council President are engaged!"

"And she's in the Dreamer's Trance state, no less!"

"I see."

Bahil rested his chin on his hand and nodded along, utterly at ease.

"Good work. You've earned your rest."

"Thank you, Professor!"

Behind him, the third-years exchanged a high-five among themselves, and Bahil allowed himself a meaningful smile.

It pains me, but this defeat will be a fine opportunity for you to look back on yourself. Simon Polentia.

Clatter! Clatter! Clatter!

A train was racing along its track. Simon rode atop that train, while high above, Merida lay sprawled across her floating blanket.

Tension bled into Simon's expression.

It's begun!

The Dreamer's Trance that Merida wielded worked rather differently from her brother Phantasus's version. Instead of sinking into deep, defenseless slumber, she transformed into a devastating curse artillery platform — unleashing hundreds of different curses without end, fueled by an absurd reserve of Jet-Black control and curse-computation speed.

Before anyone noticed, the sky had turned the black of an apocalyptic wasteland, and curses of every shape and color curved through the air like ribbons, raining down on the train Simon was riding.

Ugh!

Simon threw himself forward. The curses began bombing the train indiscriminately.

BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!

They fell so thick and fast that it felt like standing in the heart of a jungle under torrential rain.

Even a single stack would be lethal!

Ducking and weaving through the barrage, Simon thrust his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠arm behind him.

If I can just—!

A few bones he had planted on the train beforehand drifted up into the air, assembled into the shape of a Bone Spear, and launched.

But Merida's altitude was far higher than he'd anticipated. The Bone Spear never made it halfway before slamming into the curse barrage and getting shot down.

KRAKA-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!

Curses of every description smashed into the train and the rails. Simon, evading them with uncanny movements, belatedly noticed his feet growing sluggish — and looked down.

—!

There were stretches of the train that turned pitch-black wherever a curse touched. Merely stepping on them subjected him to a curse effect that warped his vision and churned his stomach.

A space-domination curse!

Curses laid upon space and locations themselves were high-level techniques that even majors only learned in the latter half of second year or in their third.

Simon remembered it — the curse Bahil had cast over the entire classroom during the midterm exams, trying to catch cheaters.

There's nowhere left to run!

The whole train was drowning in curse effects.

While Simon's escape slowed by the second, Merida perched atop her blanket showed no slackening in her offensive, pouring down the bombardment without pause.

Ghh!

Without even realizing it, he'd already taken several direct hits. Heat flooded his body, his forehead burned like a brand, and his breathing turned ragged.

And through it all, a vast, suffocating drowsiness was claiming Simon's entire body. Every one of those differently-empowered curses was ultimately tormenting him in the same form — fatigue — all of them herding him toward Sleep.

That's Merida for you.

This was what the Department Representative of Curses could truly do.

As Merida pushed the Student Council President back single-handedly, the crowd's cheers swelled louder and louder. Especially with so many people having bet on a Curse Department victory, her supporters were numerous.

"That's it! Take him down just like that!"

"I heard she's Phantasus Hugh Ikel's little sister?"

"Oh, really? That explains a lot!"

The announcer was shouting in excitement too.

Once Merida entered the Dreamer's Trance, no opponent — whoever they might be — could avoid being driven onto the defensive.

But this was not a duel evaluation. In a fight between necromancers, facing your enemy at the height of their strength was nothing short of foolish.

Besides, Simon was taking curse damage just by standing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on the train. Sensibly, he could concede one train to the Curse Department, cede it quickly, and go hunting for another — that would be the wiser call. Simon did none of it.

"Kyahaha! That boy hasn't changed one bit!"

Byulya, the Poison Studies professor serving as guest commentator for this match, snickered with her arms folded behind her head.

The announcer hurried to pick up her thread.

"Why won't he run away?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

She bared her teeth.

"We stand in awe of your insight, Professor!"

"How could you possibly have predicted that the President wouldn't leave the train?"

The third-year students were rubbing their palms together and asking Bahil just that.

And then.

Bahil and Byulya answered at almost the same instant.

"Because he refuses to lose."

"'Cause he hates losing."

Byulya grinned, showing off her jagged shark teeth.

"Just watch. He's about to counterattack. That one."

FWOOOOOSH!

Battered half to death by every curse in the book, Simon finally unfurled the magic circle he had prepared in his right hand.

From the flat, two-dimensional circle, three-dimensional stalks erupted, tangling and intertwining as they sketched new figures and new formulae.

Having raised a veritable tower of magic circles into three dimensions, Simon absorbed the rain of curses with his own body as he aimed his curse at Merida, high in the sky above.

The cry of a whale shook the stadium to its foundations.

A stream of deep indigo water surged and lanced outward, punching straight through Merida's curse bombardment on raw output and striking her, blanket and all.

"Whoaaa!"

At Simon's clean, sweeping counterattack after being pummeled one-sidedly, the crowd leapt from their seats in excitement.

Thud.

Having loosed the curse, Simon staggered and dropped to one knee against the train's hull. One eye was screwed shut as though he could barely see out of it — but the corner of his mouth was turned upward.

A long-range Sleep powerful enough to put even a fully grown adult Deimos to rest. But—

Any ordinary student would have simply keeled over right there. But for Merida, being "put to sleep" meant something else entirely.

Especially when she was already asleep — already in the Dreamer's Trance.

Fwoosh!

Her body lifted clean off the blanket, floating higher and higher into the air. Her reclining form swayed precariously.

"Nn—"

A pained sound slipped through her teeth.

"AAAAAAAAAAAH!"

WHUMP!

WHUUUUMP!

Hundreds — no, thousands — of curses erupted skyward from her entire body. They swept past Simon's train and began bombing the entire stadium in simultaneous waves.

"Wh-what the—?!"

"Stop it! Merida! You're hitting us too!"

Even her fellow Curse Department students were caught in the curse barrage without exception. Everything that moved within her domain was a target.

Merida had gone completely berserk.

No one could rein her in. On the mana screens ringing the stadium, her kill count did nothing but climb.

Students across the entire stadium — trains be damned — ran for their lives dodging curses, and in the chaos, Simon, suddenly free, snatched up a train for himself.

"Wh-what kind of trash-fire match IS this?!"

The spectators were all dumbstruck.

Only after dumping nearly a thousand curses in one sustained salvo did Merida finally drop to the ground.

"...Ah."

The girl who had been lying there bolted upright.

Her sleepy eyes had gone round and bright, her skin was smooth and radiant, and her hair gleamed with health. She had slept so well that vitality was overflowing from every inch of her.

"No. No, no."

She grabbed her own face as though something had gone terribly wrong.

"I'm not sleepy. I'm wide awake! This isn't like me. This isn't me. This is—"

"Hi there, Merida."

Simon approached with a broad smile. Merida flinched and whipped her head around.

"Sleep well?"

"Simon...!"

Strength flooded into her eyes.

"You made me feel REFRESHED! I'll never forgive you!"

She thrust both arms skyward and began preparing a curse.

But good results could never come from unfamiliar conditions. Errors in her formulae sprang up again and again as she tried to ready a single curse — until, with a backwards-calculation mistake, her spell went POP! and detonated mid-cast.

"......"

Her own failed curse settled over her, and her body began to petrify, locking solid.

Simon laughed at his leisure and raised one fingertip.

"You're always welcome to try again later."

A Bone Spear flying in from behind drove her barrier gauge to zero.

Under the rules of this train-seizure match, a competitor whose barrier gauge hit zero and was eliminated could return to the field after ten minutes.

But even after her return, the freshly-refreshed Merida was utterly useless. The most threatening, most powerful presence of the entire match had been neutralized.

And so—

The cheers that erupted had been waiting for exactly that moment.

Toto and Eshu, who had fought alongside him in the train seizure, and the rest of the students came charging at Simon, shouting their hearts out.

Simon made no effort to hide his joy either, wrapping them up in a group hug and trading high-fives.

"......"

They lost.

Watching from the stands, the Curse Department third-years trembled in fear and stole glances at Bahil.

Bahil merely fidgeted with the brim of the hat pulled low over his face.

We're done for. It's all over now.

I'm going to lose my mind, seriously.

Then.

Bahil rose from his seat.

The third-years jerked upright after him in a panic.

"W-we're sorry, Professor!"

"Please, just give us one more chance! Next time, we swear—!"

"......"

Bahil's eyes turned toward them.

Just as they braced for a curse to strike them on the spot and squeezed their eyes shut—

"It's a shame, but there are matches that simply don't go your way."

"???"

The third-years opened their eyes. Bahil had already turned his back.

"Let's head back."

He walked off, shoes clicking against the floor. The third-years exchanged looks.

Did Professor Bahil just—

Was he smiling?

Utterly, hopelessly incomprehensible — that was the conclusion the students reached about their professor.

Even after the Train Seizure match had ended, the Summoning Department students were still drunk on victory.

"Unbelievable! UNBELIEVABLE! I never dreamed the Curse Department would crumble this easily!"

Eshu chattered, grinning from ear to ear.

This Train Seizure event had been rated the most favorable one for the Curse Department.

Even if you drove an opponent's barrier gauge to zero and knocked them out, they were only sidelined for exactly ten minutes. It was a match where the risk of an elimination was comparatively low.

But the Curse Department could simply lay a curse on their opponents and neutralize them — not for ten minutes, but for the entire match.

In fact, that's exactly what they'd done, hexing several students and leaving them stranded or hanging them from trees. Students from other departments were too busy rescuing their captured teammates and dispelling the curses to properly focus on the train seizure itself.

But Merida's indiscriminate rampage had flipped the entire situation on its head — and even after the Trance, she'd been powerless to contribute.

In the end, the Curse Department — the presumptive favorites — had been shoved down into the lower ranks.

"Oh! Here it is."

Toto was flipping through his notebook, checking the next schedule.

"It starts in five minutes. We'd better hurry if we want to catch our department's next match!"

"What's the next event?"

At Simon's question, Toto beamed.

"Remember? That 'two people, one team' event you proposed to Fritz!"

The instant those words landed, Simon was already strides ahead of everyone.

"Hurry up, guys!"

He didn't care about anything else — this was one match he absolutely could not miss.

Serute Stadium.

Students from seven departments stood waiting, one leg bound to a partner's. And every single competitor here was nervously eyeing one particular pair.

"......"

"......"

In the very center of the arena, an enormous killing intent was smoldering.

Like mirror images of each other's temperament — a girl with jet-black hair and a girl with platinum hair stood bound together at one leg, facing each other down.