The Head of the Harvest Saintess
Simon, Kazhan, and the inner circle of necromancers who served Nephthys returned once more to Professor Grelion's cave.
Simon stared ahead with a somewhat hollow look in his eyes.
The Harvest Saintess sat in a chair. She had been cleanly severed, her jaw and lower teeth left behind, while the rest of her—from the remaining upper teeth upward—now rested atop a preservation magic circle.
So this is the person Aunt Israfil sent……
The fist resting on his knee tightened.
We should have been the ones left behind.
Of course, the Harvest Saintess herself had been the one to send Simon and Kazhan out, but Simon couldn't shake the weight of responsibility. They should have entrusted the pursuit to others and made protecting the Saintess their first priority.
"Rest easy."
Aleister, the Crow agent and one of Nephthys's closest operatives, stepped forward.
"The examination shows no threat to her life."
It was a strange thing indeed. A person's head had clearly been cut off—and yet her heart was still beating, her vital functions still running. She hadn't died; she had simply been transformed into something like a living, breathing vegetable.
"This must be Ever Kire's doing," Kazhan said, leaning against the cave wall.
"If it's her ability, a phenomenon like this is entirely possible. Which means we can conclude that the Priest we captured this time is not Ever Kire herself."
"Substitution," Simon said, glancing between Kazhan and Aleister. "What exactly is this ability of hers?"
"Her power has yet to be formally defined," Aleister replied, his voice heavy with unease. It was much the same answer Kazhan had given. "In all of human history, no ability like it has ever appeared. We only call it an 'ability' out of convenience—there are scholars who consider it a fourth power entirely."
"To put it simply," Kazhan said, scratching the scar under his eye, "it's an ability that grants her wishes."
Matter reshaped at her whim. People bent to her control. Stone turned to gold, paper turned to weapons. Whatever Ever Kire desired simply—became.
It was nothing short of the power of a 'god.'
Hearing Kazhan's explanation, Simon let out a dazed breath. "That's…… possible?"
Kazhan jerked his chin toward the front of the cave. "You've seen what happened to the Harvest Saintess, haven't you?"
"……Ah."
"It may well be an ability capable of tearing this world apart. The one mercy is that its use carries restrictions."
Simon nodded. If such a lie of an ability had no limits at all, the Dark Alliance would have already been annihilated by Ever Kire's hand long ago.
"But, Kazhan," Aleister said this time, "aren't those restrictions themselves constantly shifting as she grows and time passes?"
"Yes." Kazhan pressed a hand to his forehead and sighed deeply. "In the early days after her discovery, she could only alter things she had touched with her own hands. Now she can change places her hands have never reached. At first her power barely extended to modifying the strength of materials—these days, she can turn fabric into steel."
The more Simon listened, the more convinced he became: this was a power that simply refused to fit in any single definition.
Kazhan looked at him again. "Her ability is still growing. But there is one thing—one rule—that has never changed, from the day she was found until now."
"What is it?"
Kazhan's narrowed eyes twisted. "Her alterations have a duration. Every object and living thing she 'manipulates' through her wishes—sooner or later, after a fixed span of time, reverts to what it originally was."
Simon shot to his feet. "Then the Saintess—!"
"Right. Once Ever Kire, the ability's wielder, is defeated—or if we simply leave things alone—she'll return to normal eventually."
Simon remembered what he had read in Ever Kire's report.
— Age 17. Served food to the Ability Class students at the Harvest Festival. Apologized to them, saying she had been "too sensitive lately." The students accepted the apology and ate.
— Age 17. The next day, the Ability Class students came to their senses and realized they had been carving up and eating raw the rabbit they kept in the vivarium as if it were steak. They fainted on the spot. Ever Kire insisted it was a traditional Harvest Festival custom.
She must have transformed the rabbit from the vivarium into food and served it—and when time passed and her ability wore off, the rabbit's true form had revealed itself mid-meal.
Simon couldn't begin to fathom the shock those students must have felt.
"Of course, even that rule is now ancient history," Aleister said, drawing a first-class classified black envelope from subspace and holding it out. "The rule that never changed—it has changed as of now."
"……!"
Simon and Kazhan hurriedly pulled the classified documents from the envelope and read.
REPORTER:Aili Vontmon, female, age 22.
— Believed herself to have lost both parents long ago and to have lived alone ever since.
— However, she suddenly began suffering seizures. Weeping, she claimed her hometown and family had vanished. Exhibits extreme anxiety. Three suicide attempts to date.
— She insists she once lived in 'Bollen-di Village.'
— Even lifelong residents of the area, who had lived there for decades, know of no such village. Finding this suspicious, local officials traveled to the location where the reporter claimed Bollen-di Village stood.
— A ruined village that no one had ever known of was found to exist. Human body parts were discovered mixed into the roofs and walls of the village like building materials.
Simon lifted his head wearing the expression of a man who had just stumbled through some grotesque horror novel. Kazhan too furrowed his brow and turned to Aleister.
"You're telling me Ever Kire annihilated this village? Erased its very existence?"
"Yes. And that was already two years ago." Aleister stroked his beard with a grim face. "Headquarters judges it highly likely to be Ever Kire's work, given the traces, quirks, and habits of the ability that was used. If it truly was her, there are only two possibilities. The first: she can now sustain a wished-for alteration for over two years."
Simon picked up the thread. "Which would mean she's removed the duration limit entirely—that she can turn an altered reality into genuine, permanent reality?"
"That's exactly it."
Aleister gazed at the severed head of the Harvest Saintess. "Fortunately, it appears Ever Kire had no spare capacity to rewrite her death as 'reality.' When experts analyzed the residual ability left on the Harvest Saintess, their estimate was that she would return to normal in four days."
"……Four days."
That would be after the Dark Festival ended.
And if Ever Kire used this festival to bend reality to her wishes—and then made those alterations permanent—
'This wouldn't end at mere catastrophe.'
Simon clenched his fist.
He needed more information about her. Much more.
"Lord Aleister!"
Just then, a man in a formal suit came running toward them. "The interrogation results on the captured Priest are in!"
"Good work."
A new set of first-class classified documents was delivered. Aleister had proposed sharing them with Kazhan and Simon as well, given their contributions to the mission. When the black documents' security seal was broken, all that appeared was a blank sheet of paper bearing a magic circle. When Aleister touched the circle, a mana screen unfolded in the air.
The shackled woman thrashed against her restraints, screaming.
On the screen, the woman was seized by convulsions, shrieking uncontrollably. Aleister read through the documents behind the recording and spoke.
"Her name is Endiel. By all accounts she was an outstanding Priest who served on the deepest frontlines. She failed to return to her unit after a certain battle and was declared killed in action."
He lowered the papers. "But she never died. She was alive—and she has no idea what she's done. She denies every one of her actions."
Simon bit at the tip of his finger. "She was being controlled by Ever Kire. So does that mean the real Ever Kire is still out there somewhere on this island?"
"No time to waste sitting around. Keep investigating, Simon."
"Yes, sir!"
Simon and Kazhan left the cave at once. Aleister called after them.
"I'm forever in your debt. The moment new information on Ever Kire comes in, I'll share it with you."
"Please do!"
And yet.
The joint investigation with Kazhan didn't even last ten minutes.
They had been patrolling the plaza when, without warning, a swarm of Summoning Department students pounced and seized Simon.
And so—
WAAAAAAAH!
When he came to his senses, Simon was standing in the middle of the arena clad in a barrier suit.
Once again, the stands were packed to the brim, the crowd erupting in cheers.
"……"
Simon stood there blankly for a moment, then pressed a hand to his forehead.
'This is not the time to be spacing out.'
"Simon Polentia."
The back of his neck prickled. He turned around to find Hector, also in his barrier suit, glaring at him with savage eyes.
"Focus on the match."
Hector's nostrils flared; he looked like a man one second away from detonating.
It was true that his mind had been elsewhere, so Simon obediently admitted it and forced his concentration back into place.
'I promised I'd fight at least one match a day, so there's no way around it.'
His only thought was to get through the Dark Festival quickly and get back to hunting Ever Kire.
— Yes! Next up is perhaps the most highly anticipated department of all—the Summoning Department!
The announcer boomed, whipping the crowd into a frenzy.
— Student Council President Simon Polentia, who has claimed first place in every single match he's entered so far! And Hector Moore, ranked third overall and Class Representative of the department! This is a five-person team event, but these two are entering as a duo of just two! What kind of performance will they show us in today's obstacle course?!
Flap!
The referee dropped the flag and blew the whistle.
TWEEEEEEEE!
— And they're off!
BAAM!
The instant the match began, Simon shot forward.
'End this fast!'
Thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip!
Thwip-thwip-thwip!
Poison-tipped arrows came flying from every direction. But dodging this kind of arrow barrage was something he'd done a dozen times over in Battle Arts class—he knew it inside and out.
'Move like Kazhan does.'
Simon slipped through the arrows with nothing more than the barest, most economical shifts of his body.
Whoosh!
Shriek!
He neither defended nor attacked. With astonishing focus, he burned the trajectories of every incoming arrow into his brain and left the evasion entirely to his reflexes. It looked almost as though the arrows were bending around Simon of their own accord.
WAAAAAAAH!
— As expected of the Student Council President! His fundamentals are so airtight he's not taking a single hit!
Simon's gaze flicked toward the buzzer waiting in the distance.
Press it past the obstacles, and the match was over.
The fastest record so far belonged to the Battle Arts Department: sixteen minutes, fourteen seconds.
'Even sixteen minutes is far too long!'
Simon hurled himself into the torrential rain of arrows.
'Ten minutes. No—five!'
The image of the Harvest Saintess's split face flashed through his mind.
'Faster!'
Thud! Thwack!
Arrows slammed into his thigh and forearm.
'Even faster!'
He remembered the Saintess incident from his first year—the burning Kizen campus.
'Fas—'
"What do you think you're doing!"
Yank!
Simon's nape was seized and he was hauled backward by force. Flames gushed up from the ground and incinerated the spot where he'd been standing.
"Hector!"
"You fool! How many times did that bespectacled bastard explain it—arrows, then FIRE!"
Hector wove his hands into an intricate pattern and flung them apart. Hundreds of black scales whirled into motion around the two boys, guarding them like a shield and deflecting the arrows.
"Look at your barrier gauge!"
"!"
It had already dropped below half.
He'd nearly been eliminated before he could even reach the buzzer. Only now coming back to himself, Simon drew a deep breath.
'And here I thought my focus was sharp today.'
The truth was that his focus had been pointed the wrong way. Simon hadn't been concentrating on the match at all—he'd been concentrating on Ever Kire.
"Run!"
The moment the flame trap ended, Hector bolted. Simon followed right on his heels.
Shara-rala-rala-rak!
Hundreds of scales swirled together and billowed out like a black curtain, blanketing the air around them. Every time they did, arrows and spears slammed against them and bounced away.
— GRRAAAW!
— GRRRRRL!
Now monsters came pouring in. Four-legged hound-beasts—the 'Hunter Nolls,' creatures with razor claws and vicious tempers.
Hector's cheeks bulged as he faced them down.
<Dragon Breath>
FWOOOOOSH!
In an instant, he spread fire across the ground, raising a wall of flame.
<Dragon Fear>
On the opposite side, he let loose a roar laced with Fear, sealing the Nolls' movements in primal terror.
"Hup!"
He stretched his arm back toward the starting platform. The body of a waiting 'Dullahan' rose to its feet and lifted into the air.
"Work!"
The scales that had been blocking arrows from all sides swarmed over the Dullahan, transforming it into the scale-armored Dullahan they'd seen at the last performance evaluation.
It swung its massive greatsword, sending blades of force ripping through the field, cleaving monsters apart one after another.
'Incredible!'
Simon shattered a Hunter Noll's jaw with a kick and glanced back over his shoulder.
'How many operations is he running at once?!'
"This is beyond infuriating!" Hector bellowed, controlling a dozen summons simultaneously. "Unilaterally announcing you might not show up to matches—THAT behavior of yours!"
His fist thundered forward, blasting monsters away in a chain of impacts.
"And above all—the way you nearly burn to death in the one match you DO show up for, because you can't even focus!"
He spun, and the corpse dragon wings clinging to his back whirled like blades, bisecting a wave of monsters clean through.
"I am fighting HERE, right now, Simon Polentia! Where the hell are YOU!"
At that one shout—
Simon felt his mind snap into sharp focus, as if a jolt of electricity had run through him.
"You think this isn't the time for matches like this! You think this isn't where you belong! It's ALL the same arrogance!"
Crack!
Hector's fury-twisted face loomed right in front of Simon's.
"So tell me! What in the world has you so damn distracted!"
His eyes flashed, savage and wild.
Simon stared back at him through wavering pupils—then, at last, let a faint smile cross his lips.
THWACK!
Hector flinched and whipped around. A Hunter Noll that had been lunging for his throat hung limp, impaled through by a violet spear.
"Thought I should focus?"
Simon said with a grin, Chaos Spear in hand. Hector batted the monsters aside with his wings, and the two boys stood back to back, watching the encircling horde.
<Simon Original—Chaos Spear>
Simon drew five spears from his hip at once, gripped them between his fingers, and flung them skyward.
The violet lightning bolts twisted and swam as they pleased, BOOM! BOOM!, annihilating the monsters below.
<Hector Original—Corpse Dragon Transformation>
Hector, absorbing every scale and wing onto his body, became a black dragon and crushed the monsters beneath him.
THWACK! CRACK! CRUNCH! SNAP!
The two boys began sprinting madly for the buzzer. Incoming arrows, flames, curses—even the monsters themselves. Everything crumbled before their charge.
WAAAAAAAAAAAH!
The heat of the stands rose like a blast furnace.
[NOW you're starting to look like yourself again!]
Hector roared, kicking a Noll out of his path.
"Hector, one favor!"
Simon shouted, whirling the Chaos Spears in both hands.
"If, someday, danger falls on our school—if our department students and our classmates are threatened—"
The monsters swarming Simon's flank were blown away by violet thunder raining from the sky.
"Will you stand for us?"
[Something like that—]
Hector soared upward and unleashed his breath, turning everything around them into a sea of fire.
[—is my duty whether you ask or not! I am the Class Representative of the Second Year!]
A smile spread across Simon's face. He kicked off the ground and launched himself forward hard.
His target: the buzzer.
[GO!]
Hector spun up one dark flame-family spell after another in the air, swatting away every projectile that came streaking at Simon.
Then Hector thrust his entire body forward, and the scales, wings, and claws sheathing him shot out in a flash, wrapping themselves around Simon as he tore ahead.
<Hector Original—Corpse Dragon Suit>
Simon abandoned all defense and simply went faster.
The wings at his back beat the air, driving his speed higher still. Countless projectiles poured down, only to slam against the scales and ricochet away.
OOOOH—!
The frenzied crowd leapt to their feet, again and again. Black scales were being stripped away bit by bit under the onslaught, Simon's body showing beneath—but Simon did not slow.
'Fitzgerald said it. Right before the buzzer, for certain—!'
KUUUUNG!
A mid-tier monster materialized in front of the lever—the gatekeeper, 'Sharos.'
The beast that led the Nolls. The most brutal obstacle of the course, one that had always cost challengers at least five minutes of precious time.
Sharos lunged—and Simon, who had crossed the vast distance in a blink, spent the jet-black energy he'd been hoarding.
<Simon Original—Chaos Reaper>
Surging up from Simon's shadow like a wave, the masked phantom swung its violet scythe in a bright, graceful arc—
SHREEEEEEK!
The gatekeeper was split cleanly in half. Simon slipped through the gap, slammed his palm onto the buzzer, and rolled roughly across the ground.
— THE MATCH IS OVER! MATCH OVER! IT'S OVEEEER!
The announcer screamed, spittle flying.
— First place, once again—!
1st Place — Summoning Department — 08:56
Previous Record: 16:14 (Battle Arts Department)
— An utterly impossible pace from Simon and Hector of the Summoning Department!
Roaring cheers burst from every corner of the arena.
"THAT'S IT!"
The Summoning Department students clung to one another, screaming their lungs out. Simon's name was being chanted from all directions.
'Whew.'
Sweat dripping from him, Simon finally tipped his head back.
His tangled mind felt clear for the first time all day.