Know Thy Enemy
“The winner is! Simon Polentia, Class A!”
A wave of cheers, great and small, erupted from every corner of the stands. It was less the roar of excitement than the collective gasp of a crowd whose souls had briefly left their bodies.
“...Unbelievable.”
“He really is Special Admission No. 1.”
“Where is that boy headed? Once he graduates, our organization—”
“Oh, come on, boss. At that level, I doubt Kizen will ever let him go.”
“How long has it been since we've seen an ace from the Summoning department? Kid's got real character.”
As officials and agents from various institutions and organizations traded opinions, the students in the front rows of the stands suddenly sprang to their feet.
“Simon! You did it! You were amazing!”
“Ugh, seriously! Scaring us half to death for nothing.”
“That final move was beautiful! Wahaha!”
Camibarez, Meilin, and Rick were waving their arms and shouting at the top of their lungs. Simon spotted the three of them and waved back with an embarrassed grin.
The official from one of the organizations crossed his arms.
“Aren't our kids adorable?”
“Uh, boss... that comment just now—”
“Shut up, you lunatic! They're my direct juniors!”
“Ah— right. You did graduate from Kizen, didn't you.”
Having waved to his group members, Simon turned his head. Haren, who had been slammed into the wall, peeled loose and dropped, and medics loaded him onto a stretcher.
From the snatches of conversation Simon caught, the protective suit had kept him from any real injuries—the only problem was that the sheer shock of it all had left his body trembling.
Haren himself was blinking blankly, a dazed look on his face.
“Haren.”
Simon walked over to him.
“...”
“I honestly don't know what kind of grudge you're holding against me. But let me tell you something.”
Simon smiled, easy and unhurried.
“With power that isn't truly yours? You will never beat me.”
“...!!”
At those words, Haren's eyes went wide.
“Alright, alright, off we go.”
Haren, his face drained of all color, was carried away on the stretcher exactly as he lay.
Simon brushed off his hands lightly and turned away. The sight of the indoor arena's wall whistling in the wind through a fresh hole finally brought the embarrassment flooding in, late as it was.
They say they can fix it with magic, but I still feel ashamed.
Deconstructing the golem here would only have caused more of a nuisance, so Simon led it out of the arena instead. In the meantime, the referee proceeded with the next match.
“Simon!”
Before he knew it, Camibarez and the rest of his group came running out of the arena.
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
“Nope, not a scratch.”
“Hey! What the hell are you?! You scared me! And you didn't tell us any of this was coming!”
At Meilin's outburst, Simon gave a sheepish smile.
“Sorry for the worry.”
“Hah! Well, I wasn't worried at all!”
Meanwhile, Rick was sidling up to the mud golem with an expression of pure awe.
“Hooo, so this is Simon's golem, huh!”
The moment he stretched out his hand to touch it, the golem leaned back and glared at him. Rick flinched and stumbled backward.
“Nice golem? Good boy—”
This time Camibarez stepped up and stroked the golem.
The golem didn't reject her touch. If anything, it bowed slightly, tilting itself into the perfect position for a good scratching.
“...”
Rick's face darkened into a sulky scowl.
“...Maybe that thing isn't just a pile of dirt after all.”
“What did you just say?”
“Simon! Can I try riding it?”
Camibarez asked, her eyes sparkling. Simon just laughed, sweat dripping down his face.
“...?”
“Cami.”
Meilin swept her hair back and spoke.
“Keeping a golem running burns jet-black the whole time. Give it a few more minutes and Simon might just wither away.”
“Oh! Oh no! I'm so sorry! I wasn't even thinking—!”
Camibarez hurriedly scrambled off the golem.
Only then did Simon release his will and shut the golem down. At once, the golem rumbled and collapsed into a heap like a mud mound.
Simon walked over to the mound and pulled something out of the crumbled earth—a large, gleaming sphere. This was the Golem Core.
“So this is what it looks like.”
Camibarez and Meilin crouched down and carefully touched the core.
Just then, a sharp ting! rang out from its surface. Camibarez let out a short yelp and scrambled backward.
“It's fine.”
Simon said with a laugh.
“It does that sometimes when it's in a good mood.”
“Ah...”
“Wait, isn't this thing crazy expensive, though? How did you get it?”
At Meilin's question, Simon grinned.
“Money from missions, plus a little credit here and there. I managed.”
Simon had earned 500 gold from his last mission, and on top of that had collected 200 gold in additional fees from Lord Raymond for wiping out the Gray Orcs infesting an entire mountain range.
And a few days ago, when he'd gone down to Rochest to buy Skeleton Archers, he'd spent 90 gold of it on three of them.
Which left him with 610 gold in hand.
“Golem Cores start at a minimum of 700 gold.”
At the necromancer shop owner's words, Simon had been about to give up in resignation.
That was when the shop owner made a new offer.
“This isn't exactly pocket change, so let's call it a special discount—650 gold, with 50 on credit. How about you take it for 600?”
And so, suckered in by the shop owner's smooth talk, Simon had gone and blown everything on the Golem Core.
Maybe I overspent a little, but whatever.
Still, the golem had been worth every gold. Its combat power went without saying, and unlike skeletons, it would last him a long, long time.
Simon carefully tucked the Golem Core into his subspace.
“By the way, Rick—when's the next mission period?”
“...Why do you ask all of a sudden?”
Because he wanted to get back out there and make money again, that was why.
Necromancy runs on gold.
Simon was smiling to himself at the thought.
The morning duel evaluations drew to a close.
After a light lunch, Simon's group moved on to the fourth arena. This was where Rick, Meilin, and Camibarez would all fight their duels.
First up was Rick, who left for the waiting room to prepare.
“Cami, are you sure you're okay without eating anything?”
Simon asked.
Perhaps because of the tension of the duel looming ahead of her, she only managed a strained smile, curled up tight with her knees pulled to her chest.
“...Yes, I'm fine. I just can't get anything down.”
“You're one to talk—you're okay, right?”
Meilin crossed her arms and shot Simon a glare.
“If you're just going to push yourself watching our matches, go take a nap instead.”
“I'm fine, really. That earlier duel scared all the sleep right out of me.”
“...Unbelievable.”
“Oh, Rick's coming out now!”
Just as Camibarez said, Rick and his opponent in their protective suits were stepping toward the center of the arena.
Rick's opponent was a girl named Rikang Chopra. Dark brown hair tied in a ponytail, skin a shade of warm brown.
“Tch, another girl as my opponent.”
Rick muttered, resting his arm behind his head. At those words, Rikang's face twisted into a fierce scowl.
“What's it to you? Just wait—I'll shut that mouth of yours for good.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Rick smirked and shook her hand. The moment the two took their distance, barrier gauges flickered to life on the mana projectors.
Rick Hayward : 100%
Rikang Chopra : 100%
“Are both students ready?”
“Yes!”
“Yes.”
The referee nodded.
“Then, we will now begin the duel evaluation between Rick Hayward and Rikang Chopra.”
The referee dropped his arm.
“Begin!”
Rick instantly opened his subspace and drew out a sleek one-handed sword, gripping it firmly.
Enchant.
A magic circle unfurled across the blade, and the steel darkened to jet-black. He gave it a light swing and settled into his stance.
“That's it? That's all you've got?”
Rikang gave a scoffing laugh and opened her own subspace. Out of it burst no fewer than twenty swords, clattering to the ground in a heap.
Baffled murmurs rippled through the stands.
“What is that?”
“...Can she even use all of them?”
Meilin and Camibarez traded remarks of their own.
Then a magic circle spread above the pile of blades, and every one of the swords began to darken to jet-black in unison.
Multi-enchant...!
By sheer coincidence, this was a battle between two enchanters.
Even watching all twenty swords darken at once, Rick remained perfectly relaxed. Unlike Rikang, he was layering enchant upon enchant into a single blade.
“Heh heh. You don't know a thing about enchanting. How much jet-black you can cram into a weapon—that's what determines its performance. Multi-enchanting is a technique even the pros avoid unless they're truly top-tier.”
“Shut your mouth and watch!”
Rikang spread her hand. At once, the twenty swords trembled as if alive and rose into the air.
Oooo—
Gasps and cries of awe crossed through the crowd. The swords were dancing around her like an honor guard.
Look closely and you'd see fine threads of jet-black attached to each hilt—she was using them to lift the blades into the air.
“Die.”
Rikang spat the words and flung her fingers wide. Three of the floating swords shot toward Rick at a vicious speed.
“Hah-yah!”
Rick sprinted across the jet-black and swung his shortsword.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Sparks flew with every metallic impact, and the swords dropped to the ground one after another.
Shushushushushuk!
As if her aim had been dialed in, this time a full ten swords came screaming in from ten different directions.
“Whoa, this one's nasty!”
Dropping the sword in his hand, Rick pulled a handle-equipped object from his own subspace and sank to one knee, thrusting it out in front of him.
Enchant!
FWOOOOOSH!
Rick's jet-black unfurled into the shape of an enormous umbrella. The swords came hurtling into it, slamming against the barrier with furious force.
The metallic ringing was deafening.
He couldn't quite block all ten—the corner of the jet-black shield tore, and the swords grazed past his body.
“Rick!!”
Camibarez cried out anxiously, eyes glued to the mana projector.
Rick Hayward : 69%
Rikang Chopra : 100%
His barrier gauge carved away, Rick staggered backward.
“Phew, that was close! But now it's my turn... huh?”
The swords that had attacked him lay scattered across the ground—then shuddered and flew back to their places around Rikang. Rick's mouth fell open into a hollow smile.
“You're pretty good~”
Rikang scowled.
“You've still got strength left to run your tongue?”
“Sure do! Want to see just how long I can keep it up?”
Rick drew in a deep breath.
“Name, Rikang Chopra. And her real name—Priyanka Chopra.”
“!!”
Rikang's eyes went wide.
“Native of Deepak Territory in the Shahed Kingdom. ‘Chopra’ is her mother's family name; her core was opened by the village sage. One year from core opening to her first jet-black. Special talent: hunting. Hobby: cooking.”
“Wh-what are you doing?!”
“Admitted to Kizen, assigned to Class G. Subject test average in the seventies. First friend she made here: Narsha Abra. Intends to major in Jet-Black Mechanics, though lately she's been showing interest in Magic Combat. Minor knee injury on record. Height 163, weight 61, waist circumference—”
“SHUT UP! YOU LUNATIC!”
Rikang Chopra screamed, her face blazing scarlet.
Meilin, mortified to be associated with him, covered her face with her palm, and Camibarez ducked her head down to her chest.
“Know yourself, know your enemy—and you'll win a hundred battles out of a hundred.”
Rick grinned and opened his subspace.
From within, five metal stakes jutted out. He pulled one free and drove it into the ground.
“That's my motto. See, nobody on this earth knows better than I do that I'm weak~ which is why I take a very keen interest in knowing others.”
“Stop blabbering and die already! Ugh!”
Rikang flung all ten swords at him at once. Rick laid his palm on the metal stake and poured magic into it.
Enchant!
Magic flowed into the stake. The swords hurtling toward Rick were all wrenched off course, slapping flat against the metal stake one after another.
“...!”
“Think of it as a kind of electromagnet. When it runs on jet-black, it pulls in metal of the same nature.”
Rick braced against the stake and pushed his upper body upright.
“Carbon steel and amarine, mixed half and half. Right?”
“H-how could you possibly know even that?!”
Rick pulled a slip of paper from his jacket and held it up with a grin.
“The purchase list of what you bought from the weapon shop in Rochest.”
“...!”
“The second your mission money came in, you bought nothing but twenty swords. And that tells me one more thing.”
Tossing the slip of paper over his shoulder, Rick rummaged in his pocket and produced a single one-silver coin. When had he enchanted it? The coin was already black.
“You didn't buy a single shield or piece of armor, did you?”
Rick spread a magic circle across his right palm, and another across the coin. Then, with the two circles pressed face to face, he clenched his fist tight.
“Maybe you let your guard down because your opponent's a pure enchanter—but if that's the case...!”
Rick whipped both arms back behind his head and lifted his left leg. In the next breath, his foot slammed into the ground and his weight surged naturally forward.
At the same instant, his right arm came whipping around, palm unfurling, and the two meeting magic circles threw off a crackling burst of sparks.
“You're nothing but a sitting duck against long-range acceleration attacks!”
SHWAAAAAK!
With a violent crack of displaced air, the coin shot out like a flash of light.
...T-too fast!
There was no dodging it.
Rikang desperately flung the swords around her into its path, but the coin punched through them a half-beat early and slammed into her forehead.
BOOM!
A circular shockwave rippled out from her forehead. The protective suit's barrier caught the blow, but the impact flooding her skull in an instant rolled her eyes back.
THUD!
Her body crumpled to the ground.
Rick Hayward : 69%
Rikang Chopra : 35%
The enchanted coin's power hadn't been enough to finish her in a single blow—but the shock of that impact had knocked Rikang unconscious all the same.
The referee checked her condition, then raised his voice.
“Match suspended! Rikang Chopra has lost consciousness. Victory goes to Rick Hayward!”
“Ka-hah!”
Rick pumped his fist, a delighted grin spreading across his face.