The Sixteenth Arena
Lethe's Star Weaving came to a safe end once again.
And the result:
Besides the nine divine signatures already known to remain on Roke Island, no new resonance could be felt anywhere.
Once more, there was no trace of Ever Kire.
The next morning.
Day five of the Dark Festival. The final day of the festival was dawning, and the students of the Summoning Department were already up and bustling from the early hours of dawn.
"Just one event left each!"
"Let's win it big and snatch first place!"
Everyone headed outside for morning training, shouting encouragement to one another. And a little apart from them, Leonard, the representative of the Summoning Department, stood quietly watching his juniors.
"You sure you won't regret it?"
Leonard, who had been about to rise from his seat, froze.
Will had come up beside him at some point, his expression hard.
"You turned down Sota's offer. And then you went a step further and ruined the guy's plan entirely."
Sota, the new representative of the Spirit Studies Department, had been plotting to wreck the Dark Festival itself, and had pressed Leonard to cooperate as well.
"......"
Leonard gazed for a moment at the juniors and classmates noisily chattering in the lobby.
"...In the end, Simon pulled us back up to second place. Depending on today's results, we might even take first. Look at their faces. Look how happy they all are."
With those words, he let out a small sigh.
"I don't know how long it's been since I've seen them looking this bright. And I'm supposed to ruin the festival for them, as their department rep? This Dark Festival is our stage — the Summoning Department's stage."
"Leonard."
"I trust our classmates, our juniors, Simon. And..."
Leonard turned to look at Will.
"I trust Eisel. Even if we don't go to the trouble of wrecking the festival ourselves, Eisel will come back."
Will clicked his tongue and crossed his arms.
"Can I ask you one thing?"
"Sure."
"If that Simon had tossed aside everything to do with the department and focused only on Student Council work — would your choice have been different?"
The smile on Leonard's face as he walked out of the dormitory cooled, ever so slightly.
"Then obviously, I never would have forgiven him."
Day five of the Dark Festival. The final day.
In the morning there would be one last match, and in the afternoon a closing ceremony would announce the champion department and the 'MVP'.
And that night, a grand department party was scheduled.
The current standings were as follows:
Cursing Department — 1st overall.
Summoning Department — 2nd overall.
Jet-Black Mechanics and Poisoning Departments — tied for 3rd.
Combat Magic Department — 5th overall.
Spirit Studies Department — 6th overall.
Bloodstream Department — 7th overall.
The ranking battle at this year's Dark Festival had been agonizingly tight. Excluding the departments that had drifted toward the bottom, the gap between Cursing, Summoning, Jet-Black Mechanics, and Poisoning was not large at all.
No one could afford to let their guard down, and depending on which side won the single remaining morning match, the entire standings could be shaken to their foundations.
Simon also arrived at the stadium to compete in the final match.
"Well then, last match of the festival. Give it your best, why don't you."
Lethe said with a smile, arms crossed.
"I'll just sit here and do a little advance analysis of how well my future rival performs."
Simon scratched the side of his head.
"I appreciate you watching, but are you sure you don't need to be checking the other stadiums?"
"You saw it yourself, didn't you? I used Star Weaving last night — Ever Kire isn't on Roke Island."
Lethe shrugged.
"And even if we assume Ever Kire does show up, she'd aim for the afternoon closing ceremony, when the crowds are thickest. Obviously."
"That's true enough."
"So go run your morning match without a worry in the world."
"Right, tha—"
— Competing students, please gather at the arena.
The broadcast rang out across the grounds.
"Gotta go!"
"Yes, yes. Do well out there."
After seeing Simon off as he sprinted down toward the arena, Lethe quietly took a seat in a stretch of empty stands.
Rather than worrying about the future, focus on the present. And work harder still, so that future never comes to pass.
Lethe pouted slightly and rested her chin on her hand.
"Well, I suppose that's right."
Bored while waiting for Simon to appear, she glanced around her surroundings.
It was a stone structure that brought an ancient colosseum to mind — it felt less like a stadium and more like a ruin. The walls of the stands were riddled with holes like windows, with moss clinging between them and grass and small trees growing out of the cracks.
A classical arena? Some old architectural style, I suppose. It's got a quaint charm to it.
"Excuse me, pardon me."
At the calm voice, Lethe turned her head. A girl with brown bobbed hair in a Kizen uniform was staring straight at her.
"That's my seat you're in."
Students without badges on their collars, she'd been told, were Kizen first-years. Behind the girl stood several other students who appeared to be her friends.
Lethe stood up awkwardly.
"Oh — were these seats open, then?"
"Only a few sections. This one's reserved seating — you have to buy a ticket at the ticket booth."
No wonder the seats were so good.
"Sorry about that."
"It's fine. You couldn't have known."
Lethe retreated, and the brown-haired girl walked over and sat down. Her friends filled the seats around her, chattering and laughing boisterously about the match to come.
"Ahem."
The brown-haired girl, who had been checking her reflection in a hand mirror, frowned faintly and looked back at Lethe.
"Do you still need something?"
Lethe was clutching at a hazy memory.
She had seen that face somewhere before. She was almost certain she hadn't met her directly, and yet the face felt familiar.
Zap!
Then, suddenly, the necklace at her throat — the artifact sealing her power as a Saintess — began to malfunction. A prickling, stinging pain shot through her as her divine authority threatened to bleed out.
Huh? What's wrong with it?
Nothing like this had ever happened before, and she panicked. Lethe gripped the necklace and forced her power back down.
Why is a Saintess's power reacting to a necromancer?
The brown-haired girl, seeing Lethe struggling, rose from her seat.
"Are you okay? What's wrong?"
"N-nothing, really."
She appreciated the offer of help, but having the girl come closer only made things worse. Lethe quickly put a good deal of distance between them.
"Sasha!"
Just then, one of the bobbed-haired girl's friends shouted.
"What are you doing? The Student Council President is coming out!"
"Seriously?!"
At those words, Sasha whipped her head around and then dashed off, her eyes sparkling as if none of the earlier awkwardness had ever happened.
Waaaaaaah—!
Beneath the waiting area, Simon was passing by in his Student Council President's coat. His mere appearance drew a torrent of cheers, and Sasha and her friends raised their voices just as loudly.
"President sunbae-nim!"
"Over here!"
Once Sasha had drawn away, Lethe felt the artifact settling back down.
She took a seat in the back row, far away from Sasha, and watched Simon make his entrance. In the seats ahead, Sasha's group was even waving a banner going on about his milky-pale skin, screaming at the top of their lungs.
"President sunbae-nim! You look amazing!"
"Hnngh! Skipping class was so worth it!"
"Look this way, please!"
With Sasha's group making a ruckus in front, Lethe couldn't see Simon at all. The corners of her mouth twitched from where she sat in the back.
Unbelievable how popular the guy is. What's so great about that fool, anyway.
Just then, she spotted Simon, marching across the arena, waving his hand — toward where she was sitting.
Wait — he's waving at me, right?
Lethe's eyes went round. She, too, was fumbling to raise her hand when—
"Kyaaaaaaaah!"
"The President! Sunbae-nim! He waved at ME!"
"No, he waved at ME!"
"President sunbae-niiiiim!"
Sasha and her friends leapt around, faces glowing with elation. In an instant her view was blocked completely, and Lethe's face crumpled.
Argh, dammit.
Swallowing the urge to kick them all in the backs of their heads, Lethe stood up from her seat as well.
She caught glimpses of Simon between the gaps. Only then did she finally manage to wave, and whether he saw it or not, Simon lowered his hand.
"Eeee! He waved at me!"
"I'm telling you, it was at ME!"
Watching Sasha and her friends still squabbling, Lethe sank back into her seat in irritation and crossed her legs.
Little brats are obnoxiously loud.
Ordinarily she would have flipped the whole section upside down and taught them a lesson, but she was in enemy territory, so she held back.
Lethe closed her eyes and let her anger settle.
— Welcome to Balkeje Arena! We are bringing you live coverage of the final second-year match of day five! Today, with no commentary support, I, your host Conrad, will be running the show solo! All of our professors are preparing for this afternoon's closing ceremony! Please look forward to the afternoon closing ceremony — today's highlight of highlights!
The announcer clutched his amplifying crystal orb, his face flushed with excitement.
— Only one department can claim the crown of the Dark Festival! Everything hinges on this morning's match! And there's one more piece of astonishing news! Student Council President Simon Polentia is competing here, in our very own stadium! Can the Summoning Department overtake the Cursing Department and seize first place?!
Simon was darting frantically across the platforms inside the arena, glancing warily in every direction.
Obviously I want first place!
The moment he paused, curses fired by the other students came raining in from all sides. Simon backflipped out of the way and landed on a different platform.
Just as I thought.
The checkering was even heavier than he'd anticipated. Every single student in this arena had him in their sights.
This event was called Stepping Stones.
Balkeje Arena was a flooded arena that doubled as a swimming pool. From an enormous statue of a human figure at the center of the arena, water came pouring down in endless cascades.
The students moved by leaping across floating platforms bobbing on the water's surface.
And in the sky above the arena, 'plaques' drifted about under remote control. Catch one and drive it into your department's pillar at the center of the arena, and you scored a point.
Splash! Splash!
Evading the attacks, Simon sprinted across the platforms, then launched himself high into the air. A plaque was flying straight toward him.
Bare hands won't cut it!
Touching it carelessly could tear his hand apart. Simon gathered Jet-Black into his fist and hammered the incoming plaque.
⟨ Hong Feng Original — Drunken Strike ⟩
KRAKOOM!
The plaque's spin and velocity bled away to almost nothing, and Simon caught it in his hand.
"The President's got one!"
"Stop him!"
The suppression came at once. Dark-flame spells and curses poured in from every angle, while a Combat Magic student charged head-on across the platforms.
So that's how you want to play it.
Simon leapt toward a stretch of open water with no platform beneath it, and in the same motion, tore open a subspace.
"Come out! Deimos!"
Simon's hidden card — a dedicated aquatic-warfare summon.
Deimos, forged from the bones of a young Nether Whale, bore Simon up on its back and tore through the current at a full gallop. The projectiles raining in from all sides, he weaved through with effortless grace.
Whoooooosh—!
Simon grabbed his whipping hair and looked ahead.
There!
Seven pillars.
Simon hurled the plaque toward one of them.
"Not a chance!"
A Combat Magic student dove to intercept the flying plaque, and Simon flicked his fingertips.
The Bone Armor he had affixed to the plaque in advance activated, bending its course. The outstretched arm of the diving student grazed the plaque's tip by a hair's breadth — and Simon's plaque skimmed past the very top of the pillar.
Argh, so close—!
Aaaaaaaah!
!
In that instant, a chilling sensation washed over Simon.
A scream?
He whipped his head around, but all he could see were students locked in combat.
Nothing but the sound of water, the whistle of plaques cutting through the air, and the cheers of the crowd.
Bzzt!
What...?
Simon surveyed the arena with dazed eyes.
Bzzzzt!
Have I... been here before?
A headache surged up. His skull throbbed as if it resented being made to think, trying to force him to give up — but Simon pressed a hand to his forehead and stubbornly kept digging.
A water arena.
A quaint old stadium with water cascading from a colossal statue. No matter how he turned it over, this place stirred a strange sense of déjà vu — the feeling that he had been here before.
Bzzt!
Zzt!
Zzt!
— It's human bone. They didn't starve to death, and they didn't drown. They were murdered.
And then — Simon's own voice.
Simon strained harder, chasing the voices rising through the static.
— We will return the arena to its original location. We have no intention of holding the Dark Festival in a venue that nearly compromised the safety of our students.
Yet another woman's voice.
The whole arena flickered — blurred out of focus, then snapped back, over and over.
— Investigate every Kizen official involved in vetting and contracting the Balkeje Arena. There is no way they didn't know about the rumors. There has to be a connection—
What is this? A memory? Did I have memories like this?
He couldn't believe these voices had surfaced for no reason.
Balkeje Arena.
The name of this very stadium.
But — its contract had been canceled?
"......"
Simon slowly folded down his fingers.
There are exactly fifteen arenas in the Dark Festival.
Simon counted them off one by one on his fingers, recalling each stadium's name. He had done Student Council work until he was sick of it — he knew the names of all fifteen by heart.
Woodville Stadium, Boyleston Stadium, Ringcastle Stadium, Serute Stadium...
And yet, no matter how he racked his mind through all fifteen of them—
There's no such place as Balkeje Arena.
The sixteenth arena.
Simon was standing in a place that should not exist.
The very instant that realization struck him—
Craaack!
Crack-crack!
The scenery around him began to split apart.
And through those fissures, something else began to come into view.