Show Me a Real Golem
"Match start!"
Simon immediately pulled an imaginary lever. Three sword-wielding skeletons sprang out of subspace.
Haren drew a magic circle in Jet-Black on his back. A moment later, with a wet *squelch!*, a demonic arm of pure Jet-Black erupted upward.
It was his signature technique—the Black Hand.
'Simon Polentia. I've prepared the perfect strategy for you.'
Moving the Black Hand so he could respond to any situation, Haren curled his lips into a smirk.
'He's aiming for Summoning, but the real threat is his Magic Combat. All I have to do is never let him close the distance.'
Simon was a slightly unusual case, defying the conventional wisdom about summoners.
The most common approach was to slip past the skeletons and target the caster directly—but Simon was proficient in Magic Combat as well.
Charging in blindly was dangerous.
'He'll probably attack me with skeletons while baiting my charge. I'm not falling for that.'
Haren held his distance and didn't move. Instead, it was Simon who took the first step.
'He's coming...!'
Haren watched with a face wound tight as a bowstring—but Simon wasn't coming forward. He was backing away.
Step. Step.
He kept retreating, one measured step at a time. The skeletons guarding Simon did the same, holding their positions as they drew the entire formation backward.
'...What is he playing at now?'
Haren's eyebrows twitched. Curious to see how far he'd go, he simply watched—and Simon retreated all the way to the far end of the arena.
Now there was only a wall at his back. He had deliberately put himself with his back against the sea, no way out.
'I don't know what strategy he's brought, but—'
A long-range attack would still work from here. Haren floated his Jet-Black magic circles into the air. Four Jet-Black Arrows were racing toward completion.
"Huh? What—what's going on!"
Dick shot up from his seat in the stands.
"He shouldn't be able to use any other dark magic while maintaining the Black Hand!"
But sure enough, Haren finished his magic circles and sent the Jet-Black Arrows flying.
Simon reacted just as quickly. Three shields burst from the subspace at his feet, and the skeletons tossed aside their swords to grip the shields in both hands.
'Block it!'
Shields raised, the skeletons charged at the incoming arrows.
*KRA-KOOM! KRA-KOOM! KRA-KOOOM!*
The collisions rang out. The skeletons slid backward, but they held a rock-steady guard.
'Why, you little—?'
The corner of Haren's mouth lifted. His gaze dropped to the weapons the skeletons had flung to the ground.
'He's not even planning to attack anymore. That's it, isn't it?'
Simon had retreated, and the skeletons had discarded their weapons.
Puzzled, Haren scrutinized Simon's every movement.
A bluish-green Jet-Black was rising up Simon's right arm—not a magic circle, but something seemed to be taking shape. Or maybe even this was just another act.
'If he has no intention of attacking... then—!'
Haren spread his palm. The Jet-Black flowing from it began to draw a curse magic circle.
It was a curse far beyond Haren's natural level—something made possible only by Bahil's procedure.
Bahil's secret technique: using the Jet-Black's property of memory to reproduce magic circles without any knowledge or mastery behind them.
The moment the circle completed, Haren thrust out his hand.
'Sickness!'
A pitch-black curse shot from the circle like lightning.
The skeletons leapt in front of Simon to intercept it, but the curse passed straight through the undead bodies and bored into Simon's chest.
"...Kuh!"
His vision spun in circles. Nausea and vertigo surged up, and Simon dropped to one knee.
The motion-sickness curse, Sickness—known to be especially effective against Magic Combat majors.
'Th-this is motion sickness?'
His head whirled; the world split into three, snapped back, split again, over and over.
Gritting his teeth, Simon clawed his mind back under control.
"Oh."
Haren smiled.
"Most students lose the will to fight after taking that hit. You mean to keep going?"
Drenched in sweat, Simon answered only with a crooked grin.
What an insufferable smile. Thinking so, Haren moved the Black Hand.
***VRRRRROOOOM!***
The demonic arm stretching from his back lashed out like a whip. Simon sent his shield-bearing skeletons forward to intercept.
*BOOOM!*
Two skeletons went flying effortlessly. The Black Hand curved mid-air, changing its trajectory, and whipped down at Simon.
Even through the wretched vertigo, Simon channeled Jet-Black into his right foot and leapt skyward.
'I'm—I'm seriously gonna die!'
He'd dodged the attack, but the jump made the nausea and queasiness twice as bad. Touching down, Simon wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
'You sneaky little rat...!'
Haren moved the Black Hand again. As it bent freely through the air and lashed like a whip, Simon tumbled frantically across the ground, dodging and rolling.
Haren's one-sided offensive continued without pause.
"What are you doing, Simon!"
Meilin leapt to her feet and shouted.
"Attack! Counter him already!"
"Excuse me—student in front! Kindly keep it down!"
At the voice from the seat behind her, Meilin flushed scarlet and ducked her head.
It had been a while since anyone had a chance to tease her, but Dick was far too preoccupied for that, sweat beading down his face as he stared at Simon's fight.
"...Something's wrong. Seriously wrong."
"Hey, Dick."
Meilin shot him a sidelong glare.
"All that intel you dug up! Not a single bit of it is right! You said he can't use other dark magic while the Black Hand is active! You said the Black Hand's max reach is two meters! You said the guy's only good at Jet-Black Mechanics and can't curse his way out of a paper bag! Not one word of it checks out!"
Dick scratched his head raw.
"I don't know! I don't get it! Did he hide his power? Was the guy secretly a monster all along?"
"What kind of talk is that?"
"I don't know either!"
Dick burst out.
"One thing's for sure! The Haren Coke standing down there right now is several times stronger than the one the world thinks it knows!"
***KRA-A-BOOM!***
Dodging the whip-like Black Hand, Simon clamped a hand over his mouth. He felt like he'd vomit at any second.
"...Damn it. You dodge disgustingly well."
Haren Coke panted hard. Before anyone noticed, a new Sickness circle had already taken shape in his left hand.
"But the moment this finishes, it's over. Let's see if you can survive a second stack, shall we?"
"......"
A blatant provocation.
While needling Simon's nerves, Haren crept closer and closer.
He even swung the Black Hand in grand, sweeping arcs to expose gaps in his own guard, baiting Simon to charge—but Simon never once used Magic Combat.
He only silently brought out fresh skeletons to replace the shattered ones.
Something was wrong. By every measure, it was Haren who was pressing the attack.
He'd landed a curse, and the next one was already taking shape.
And yet. And yet.
'What on earth is he preparing?!'
It was Haren Coke who felt hounded, cornered in his own mind.
***KU-RUMBLE!***
***KRA-A-BOOM!***
'......'
Meanwhile, Bahil watched the match quietly from the stands, arms crossed.
Just as he had predicted, the match was flowing in an utterly one-sided direction.
"Interesting, isn't it?"
Bahil turned his head, murmuring the words aloud.
"This is the first time you've come to watch a first-year Duel Evaluation, isn't it? Senior."
From the direction of the stairs, Aaron—dressed in his usual t-shirt, shorts, and slippers—was climbing into the stands. He tried to walk straight past Bahil without a word of acknowledgment.
"Guilt."
Aaron's steps stopped dead.
"Isn't that the reason you never take direct disciples, Senior? Because you know, plain as day, what hardships await anyone who chooses Summoning. Most of your students failed to overcome those hardships and transferred out—so I imagine you simply can't bear to watch it happen with your own eyes anymore."
Bahil gave a casual shrug.
"And yet here you are, at this late hour. Feeling ambitious, are we?"
"......"
Aaron turned back with a chilling look in his eyes. Bahil met the stare head-on and smiled.
"Then watch."
Bahil spread his hands wide.
"See exactly what's happening to our student."
By now, it was Haren who was actively closing the distance, swinging the Black Hand with abandon.
Simon: defense and evasion. Nothing but a pure defensive game.
The shields in the skeletons' hands finally shattered. The follow-up blows broke the skeletons apart—but Simon stubbornly raised them again and again with Restoration.
"Once Haren's second Sickness completes, the match is decided, wouldn't you say?"
"......"
"Am I wrong, Senior?"
Aaron silently looked down at the match between Simon and Haren. Then he turned his back and started back down the stairs he'd just climbed.
"Senior? Where are you going?"
"The outcome was already decided."
Aaron tossed the words over his shoulder.
"I came just in case—but there's no need to watch any further."
"...?"
Bahil stared in bewilderment at Aaron's retreating back until it vanished from view.
***KUUU-RUUUUMBLE!***
The arena had been blanketed again and again in hazy smoke from Haren's onslaught. His face was flushed crimson, his breath coming in ragged gulps.
"This is—!"
He simply could not fathom Simon's strategy. That Jet-Black had been rippling up Simon's right arm the whole time, but it wasn't a magic circle or anything else he could name.
'No—no need to understand it. It ends now, for real!'
Haren thrust out his right hand.
Toward Simon, whose stance had collapsed dodging the Black Hand, the second Sickness flew.
'Ugh!'
That made two stacks.
Simon felt the world warp horribly around him. Dizziness and nausea crashed against their limits.
There was no fighting in this state. None at all.
"How's it feel? Like garbage, right? Special Admission No. 1."
Haren bared his teeth in a grin.
"You came planning to stomp someone like me flat, I'm sure—but it's not so easy, is it? That thing crawling on the ground? That's your reality."
"There's nothing 'certain' in this world."
Pressing a hand to his forehead, Simon slowly pushed himself upright.
"Hoooh."
The Jet-Black that had been shimmering on Simon's right hand vanished. Haren's grin stretched from ear to ear.
"He gave up. Going to surrender?"
"No."
Simon slowly raised his hand to his neck and worked loose the bunched muscle there. It gave a satisfying pop-pop.
"It's finished now. Time for my counterattack."
"...?!"
That thing—the thing he'd been preparing all this time?
Haren jerked his head around, frantically scanning the arena.
Nothing had changed. Not in Simon, not in the arena. Not in his own body, either. It wasn't a curse or a hallucination.
'It's a bluff—he's bluffing to the very end...!'
"You know what?"
Simon clenched his fist and drove it into the empty air.
***KUUUUU-RUUUUUUMBLE!!!***
"WAH!"
"KYAAAAA!"
The entire arena shuddered.
Screams erupted from all corners of the stands as people flinched in fright, whipping their heads around in every direction.
Expressionless, Simon drew his fist back—and struck the air again.
"Duel Evaluation, Supplementary Rules. Clause 3, Article 4."
***KUU-RUUUMBLE!***
"Any student participating in a Duel Evaluation who leaves the arena during the match is disqualified."
***KUUUUU-RUUUUUUMBLE!***
Haren's eyes went round as saucers.
The arena wall behind Simon was gouging itself—over and over—in the shape of a colossal fist.
"But no matter how carefully I combed through every clause, I couldn't find a single rule forbidding something from being brought in from outside the arena."
***KRA-AAAAA-BOOOOOM!!!***
At last the arena wall burst apart and crumbled down in chunks.
The scenery beyond came into view. The referee, the groundskeepers, the spectators—every single one of them stood with their mouths hanging wide open.
*KU-BOOM! KU-BOOM! KU-BOOM! KU-BOOM!*
Something enormous was forcing its way into the arena from outside. Each time its massive legs struck the ground, fresh cracks split the dueling floor.
"...Ha."
Haren gave a hollow laugh.
"...Heh! Ha! HAHAHAHA! You absolute X-ing lunatic!!"
A large-scale summon—a colossal body of packed earth and mud, built around a 'core' empowered through summoning magic.
The symbol of the summoner's craft.
Toward Simon, who stood smiling with perfect composure, Haren screamed in desperation.
"This is a FIRST-YEAR evaluation, you X-ing—! I mean, what the—! WHY IS THERE A GOLEM HERE!!!"
Summon Mud Golem.
A summoning spell that draws in surrounding earth around an internal Golem Core, shaping it into the form of a golem.
***WAAAAAAAH—!***
A first-year bringing a golem to his very first Duel Evaluation! The stands erupted into total chaos.
Meilin and Camibarez stood gaping. Dick laughed the same hollow laugh Haren had.
"When I went out looking for Simon earlier, I found him burying a Golem Core behind the arena. Simon planned to build the golem outside the arena from the very start."
Meilin whipped her head around.
"Okay, fine, the Skeleton Archers I can believe—but a first-year can actually make a golem?!"
Dick shrugged.
"You're looking at it right now, aren't you?"
Of course, no one took the shock harder than Haren himself.
"That's impossible! There's no way! Referee! Isn't that an external summon? It should count as a foul loss—!"
The referee shook his head coolly.
"That summon is animated by Student Simon's own Jet-Black. It is his golem."
Having buried the Golem Core behind the arena, Simon had headed straight for the burial spot the moment the duel began. To Haren, of course, it would have looked like nothing more than a cowardly retreat.
Then he'd committed to an all-out defense while completing the golem beyond the wall. Since the core was outside, there was no risk of it coming under attack.
And so—without a single visual cue—he had channeled his Jet-Black into the buried Golem Core, drawing in the surrounding soil bit by bit until the golem stood complete.
"Now, then."
Simon smiled.
"My turn, isn't it?"
*KU-BOOM! KU-BOOM! KU-BOOM! KU-BOOM!*
The instant Simon gave the command, the golem broke into a terrifying charge.
Despite a bulk that looked like it should move with glacial slowness, it was faster than anyone could have imagined. Savoring the tension of facing a gigantic monster alone, Haren clenched his fists.
'Damn it...!'
Life is unfair.
People are born holding different hands.
Talent. Wealth. Status. Body. Bloodline. Nation.
He knew all of it.
That was why he'd wanted to break through.
He'd wanted to prove what value a talentless commoner could create in the instant he seized his one chance.
But.
Even so—this is too much!
'A golem is just going too far...!'
A wall of talent so colossal it defied imagination.
More than the golem bearing down on him, it was Simon standing behind it that seemed to tower vast and high above Haren, impossibly out of reach.
"HRAAAAAAAAH!"
Driven past the edge by pure spite, Haren roared and charged.
It was do or die now.
Kicking off the ground, he launched into the air and spun his whole body in a whirling rotation. Then he hurled the Black Hand with every ounce of strength he had left.
The air tore violently apart as the demonic fist slammed into the golem's chest.
***KU-RUUUM.***
But.
The golem's body didn't budge an inch. A few clods of dirt crumbled loose, and the Black Hand's arm bent like soft jelly.
"A straight punch,"
From behind the golem, Simon could be seen drawing his own fist back.
"you throw with your whole weight behind it."
As Simon thrust his fist forward, the golem linked to him through his will drove its massive arm forward in perfect sync.
***KUUUUUUUUU-RUUUUUMBOOM!!!***
The world shook.
Haren's body, caught flush by the golem's punch, shot off at the speed of light and slammed into the far wall of the arena. The wall shattered and caved inward like a crater, and fissures split the dueling floor in every direction.
A wild gale, like a stampede of unbridled horses, tore through the arena, and everyone in the stands hunched low against it.
"Hoooh."
Simon slowly lowered his arm. The sickness curse Haren had cast unraveled, and his vision snapped back into crisp clarity.
Simon Polentia:76%
Haren Coke:0%
The referee, who had been standing there dumbstruck, finally came to his senses and thrust out his hand. Sweat beaded across his forehead.
"The winner is! Student Simon Polentia of Class A!"