The Professor's Question

Aaron strode over, pushed open the lab door, and walked inside.

Simon could only stare blankly at his retreating back.

So Professor Aaron jokes around too, huh.

What Simon didn't know was that if any of the other TAs had witnessed this scene, they would have fainted on the spot.

And so, Simon entered Aaron's lab for the very first time.

Everywhere his eyes landed, the room was crammed floor to ceiling with all manner of unidentifiable undead materials. Simply standing inside it was enough to feel just how deeply Aaron loved summoning.

The dragon bone winding its way around the entire laboratory was especially striking. It swayed as if it were alive — clearly not mere decoration, but an actual skeleton.

"Sit anywhere."

Aaron said this while slipping out of his trousers, then flung them over the neck of the dragon bone coiled around the lecture hall. The dragon bone shook its neck in what could only be described as disgust, but it didn't put up any further protest.

Simon bit back a laugh as he searched for a place to sit. The walls — and, naturally, the floor as well — were covered in valuable undead research specimens, so every step had to be a careful one. Before long he found a sofa, nudged aside a ghoul model leaning against it, and sat down.

"So. What was it you wanted to ask?"

Aaron, now stripped down to shorts and slippers with his shirt entirely off, was rattling about, brewing tea.

Simon drew a light breath and spoke.

"In the duel evaluation, I want to know how to win using only summoning."

Aaron's movements stopped for just a beat. Then, as if nothing had happened, he went right on pouring tea into a cup.

"Why would you bother with something so useless?"

"I'm… sorry?"

"Simon Polentia. I'm well aware that you're distinguishing yourself in Magic Combat and your other subjects too."

Aaron came over and pushed a teacup toward Simon.

"There's an easy way to get through this evaluation sitting right in front of you. I don't see why you'd go looking for extra suffering."

Simon swallowed dryly.

Honestly, he'd expected Aaron to say exactly that. In their very first summoning class, Aaron had made remarks that seemed to belittle his own discipline.

Which made it all the stranger.

One look at this lab told Simon a great deal. Why would a man who loved summoning this much — a man pouring this much passion into his field — say such things to Kizen's students?

"Then let me ask you the opposite, Professor."

Strength gathered in Simon's eyes.

"If a summoning student wants to win with summoning, do I need any other reason?"

"…."

Aaron stopped moving and stared at Simon. Simon didn't look away either.

A moment of honesty hung in the air. Then Aaron lifted his teacup and took a sip. Simon, whose throat had gone dry, carefully drank as well.

The first taste was bitter — but the aftertaste lingering in his mouth was faintly sweet.

"Do you want me to hand you the solution? Or—"

As Aaron set down his cup, there was — hard as it was to believe — a smile on his lips.

"Do you want me to refine the solution you've chosen for yourself?"

At the same moment, Simon bared his teeth in a grin.

"The latter, Professor."

The day of the duel evaluation had finally arrived.

Kizen was running five indoor arenas simultaneously for the occasion. Rick, Meilin, and Camibarez had come to Arena 2, since Simon was the only member of Group 7 with a morning match. They had all stopped by to cheer him on.

Except—

"Where the heck IS he?!"

Meilin stamped her foot in the stands while Camibarez fidgeted endlessly, glancing this way and that. Simon's turn was fast approaching, and there was not so much as a hair of him to be seen.

"You two stay here."

In the end, Rick got to his feet.

"I'll go out and look for him."

While Rick was out searching, another match came to an end. The winning student threw ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠both hands up in triumph, while the one whose Barrier Gauge had hit zero bowed his head low.

The rules of the duel evaluation were much the same as the Cyclops assessment. Students from both sides fought in Protective Suits that provided full-body defense, and whichever fighter's Barrier Gauge dropped to zero lost. The victor of today's duel would start in the Mid Squad, the loser in the Low Squad.

And if that loser dropped another match in the Low Squad next week, their record would drag them down into the Lowest Squad — meaning expulsion from Kizen would come within sight.

That reality had every student's nerves wound to the breaking point. The stands were packed with students come to cheer on friends, and students come to gather intelligence.

Of course, the crowd wasn't made up of Kizen students alone. Adults with entry permits had come in from every corner of the Dark Alliance as well. Kizen's students were the next generation of talent who would one day lead the continent, so it was only natural that institutions and organizations alike sent people to scout them.

And right now, the scouts in Arena 2 had exactly one thing on their minds.

"We're ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠about to see this year's Special Admission No. 1."

"Simon Polentia, was it? Never heard the name before."

"His origins are unclear too. They say he was simply selected out of nowhere by Lady Nephthys herself."

"I hear he's aiming for the Summoning department."

"Summoning? What are Kizen's professors thinking? They can't seriously be planning to bury Special Admission No. 1 in summoning."

While the adults in the stands chatted and drew up their scout lists, the two most anxious people there were Meilin and Camibarez. Neither could stay seated, their eyes sweeping the waiting room over and over.

Just then, an announcement crackled from the loudspeaker on the ceiling.

His opponent, Haren Coke, was already entering the arena.

Camibarez trembled, hands clasped together.

"Come on, Simon! Where are you?"

Haren Coke stepped out into the arena and took a deep, greedy breath.

The inspector who had drawn his blood sent back the okay sign. Just as Bahil had promised, it wouldn't trip even a doping test.

Ahhhh, my whole body is buzzing with power.

The feeling he had right now was… hard to put into words.

Haren had spent his whole life chasing someone else's back. But not anymore. It felt as though all creation lay beneath his feet — as though, if he so wished, he could trample any one of them flat.

…Simon Polentia.

Special Admission No. 1 of Class A. The prodigy among prodigies.

The special admission students had always gotten under his skin. The No. 8 of his own Class G was just as bad — every last one of them arrogant and savage. People born to the right parents, fed and clothed in luxury, never knowing hunger, showered with staggering resources, overflowing with talent handed down through their genes without lifting a finger.

Just watch.

He knew perfectly well that the majority of the scouts up in the stands were here to see Simon. But once this duel evaluation ended, their minds would change. The entire continent would have its eyes on him.

Haren's gaze drifted to one side of the stands. At the far end, Bahil in his white suit was watching this match too.

…He said I just can't kill him, right?

Haren couldn't give up this power. He wanted Bahil's support to keep coming — and for that, he fully intended to worm his way into becoming Bahil's direct disciple, no matter what it took.

At the very least, I'll make sure one arm and one leg of his stop working for good.

He had clawed his way, with bleeding fingers, to a single sliver of the opportunity that the well-born enjoyed every day of their lives. A chance that might come along once in a lifetime — if they were lucky.

He would not let it slip away now. He would use any means, any method.

But his opponent was running late.

By now, the search for Simon wasn't limited to Arena 2's loudspeakers — announcements were echoing through the entire school.

…Tardy? Figures. Every special admission brat is exactly like this.

Haren crossed his arms. The referee presiding over the match checked his wristwatch.

"We are falling behind schedule. If Simon Polentia has not appeared in five minutes, he will be disqualified by forfeit, and this duel will be recorded as a victory for Haren Coke."

Disappointed groans and clicks of the tongue rose from all around.

Meilin and Camibarez stamped their feet in frustration. No matter how they turned it over, something had to have happened. If Rick couldn't find him, nobody could.

Five minutes vanished in the blink of an eye, and the referee, lowering his wristwatch, spoke.

"Time's up. This match goes to Haren Co—"

"Hold on a second!"

BA-ANG!

At the most dramatic possible moment, the waiting room door flew open — and out walked Simon, looking dazed, propped up by Rick.

"Whooooaaa!"

"There he is!"

Scouts and students alike, everyone who'd been waiting broke into smiles at the news that the big match had not been canceled.

"Simon!"

"You idiot!!"

Meilin and Camibarez waved frantically, sagging with relief. Simon spotted them and raised a hand to signal he was fine.

"I can walk on my own, Rick."

"You sure can."

Rick let go of him and gave Simon a solid thump on the back.

"Go get 'em."

"Yeah."

Simon walked to the arena and bowed to the referee.

"I'm sorry for being late."

"Ah, it's fine. Just get ready quickly."

The waiting henchmen swarmed over, fitted Simon into his protective suit, and drew his blood. The preparations for the duel evaluation wrapped up in no time.

"Fighters, shake hands."

At the referee's instruction, Simon and Haren met at the center and clasped hands. Simon smiled pleasantly.

"Sorry I was late."

"…."

Haren said nothing, sizing Simon up. The dazed expression, the heavy dark circles, the school uniform caked in dirt.

One look and I can tell his condition's a disaster. This'll be a rout.

The two released the handshake and backed away to their marks. Screens bloomed from the mana projectors.

"The match ends the moment one fighter loses consciousness or ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠their Barrier Gauge drops to zero percent."

Both fighters nodded and took their stances.

In an instant, a knife-edge tension settled over the entire arena.

Meilin and Camibarez craned their necks as they waited, and Rick, who had climbed up into the stands, came toward them streaming with sweat.

"Rick! You really worked so hard!"

"What's with you? Where was Simon, anyway?"

Rick's uniform was smeared with dirt in patches. He flopped down into his seat and brushed off the grime.

"Simon was behind the arena."

"Huh?"

"I'll explain later. Let's just watch for now."

In the arena, Simon closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath.

"Hoooooooh."

When he opened them again, his usual focus had returned in full.

The little monster.

Haren let out a bitter smirk and sank even lower into his stance. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The referee's raised arm dropped.

"Begin!"