Two Pity Counted, No Third
The corner of Brad's mouth curled upward.
"Nice spirit. Here I come!"
Brad stamped hard against the dirt and charged. Simon watched him come with his eyes wide open.
His movement was strange. The sight of a hulking, gorilla-built man twisting his body left and right as he closed the distance was immensely intimidating.
A right straight.
The instant Simon's head began to move, Brad's arm arrived in front of his eyes with a sharp whip of air, no wind-up at all.
CRACK!
A tsunami-like shock surged past the barrier and smashed into his face.
Even as the blow landed, Simon threw out a clenched right fist of his own, but Brad had already lowered his stance and was sliding toward Simon's left.
WHAM!
Back to the right.
SLAM!
Back to the left.
"Ugh!"
Simon staggered backward.
Without the protective suit, each and every one of those strikes could have knocked him out cold—or worse.
"Hahaha! What are you doing!"
Simon wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and chased after his opponent's movements as best he could.
Is this bastard actually trying to beat me?
Watching him, Brad found it absurd.
Honestly, even by Brad's own reckoning, this fight made no sense. No matter how he dressed it up, this was a fifth-year Kizen teaching assistant beating down a first-year freshman. Once word got out, the professors would condemn him for it. Bullying, petty venting—call it whatever they liked, and he'd have no defense.
And yet.
If I don't do it this way, this anger just won't settle!
WHUUUUM!
A properly loaded blow buried itself in Simon's abdomen. His body folded sharply, and Brad's follow-up elbow cracked against the back of his skull, slamming him into the dirt.
This bastard is going to become Professor Hong Peng's direct disciple. All the more reason to beat these bad habits out of him now!
Brad lifted his leg to stomp on Simon's head—
Whoop!
Instead, Simon twisted around and clamped onto his ankle.
What the—!
Shff!
At the same moment, both of Simon's legs coiled around Brad's like writhing snakes, and in one continuous motion he rolled his whole body, wrenching with all his weight. Brad wobbled, his back tipping into view.
A joint lock?
Then a skeleton bursting out of Simon's subspace hurled a spear at him.
Why, you little—
His stance was unstable, but Brad reacted nimbly, gathering jet-black into his palm and detonating it.
An application of the Magic Combat technique Wind Shatter. The violent blast of pressure blew the spear and skeleton clean away.
Meanwhile Simon had released his legs and slipped out to the opposite side.
"Skilled, aren't you? Were you a fighter before coming to Kizen?"
In answer, Simon raised both fists in a guard.
"I just studied estate management under my father."
"And I'm supposed to believe that!"
Brad charged again. Simon drew out two skeletons and sent them flanking left and right, then dropped low.
No need to think about anything else. Land one clean hit, and it's my win.
Adding his own speed to Brad's charge, Simon too kicked off the ground in a dead sprint.
The distance between them shrank to near-collision, and Simon shot his arm out.
"...!"
Brad's body vanished downward. As Simon's arm sliced through empty air, he felt hands clamp hard around his waist.
I knew exactly what you'd go for!
A perfect German suplex. Brad flipped his body backward and arched, bending Simon's spine like a bow.
Simon's head and neck drove into the ground with a thunderous crash, dirt dust billowing up.
Having pulled off the move effortlessly, Brad released his arms and rose to his feet.
FWOOOONG!
From the smoke, Simon's leg whipped out and slammed against Brad's arm with a sharp crack.
A kick while falling? Does this bastard not feel impact at all?
That kick was a feint. Brad quickly raised his other arm to guard his face.
BOOM!
Just as expected, Simon's opposite leg collided with it, a shockwave rippling out. Then Simon's leg swung back, and a storm of kicks came lashing out one after another.
A kick-based rapid-fire combination.
Fwoom! Fwoom! Fwoom!
Brad retreated, twisting his shoulders to slip each blow.
The corner of his mouth lifted.
He's good. Where in the world did something like this crawl out from?
It was embarrassing to admit, but his blood was boiling over a mere freshman. He'd assumed this was your typical book-smart Special Admission No. 1—a pure studyhound—but now he could faintly understand why Professor Hong Peng had been tripping over herself for this kid.
This bastard has the physique AND the natural instinct. But his form is unstable, and his power doesn't transfer properly. The classic problems of someone who never received systematic training from a professional.
Professor Hong Peng must have seen exactly the same thing.
With a genius like this right in front of you, how could you not ache to teach him!
KRAK!
Brad startled and whipped his head around. Behind his retreating back, two trees were toppling toward him in an X.
The skeletons Simon had sent out had hacked them down with their axes.
When did he even send the skeletons—!
To think that, while facing him in direct combat, the boy still had bandwidth left to connect to his mental link.
Even as he dodged Simon's kicks, Brad coiled jet-black around both fists.
Shring. Shring.
When Brad spread his fingers, serrated blades of jet-black flew out like sawteeth and sheared the trees neatly in two.
This time it was an application of the Magic Combat technique Fixed Blade. The bisected trees hit the ground, and Brad re-set his stance.
"Hup!"
Simon came charging in again.
Let's end this.
The instant Brad twisted his waist to throw a full-power punch, Simon gritted his teeth and thrust his forehead forward first. Brad's eyes bulged.
Is this bastard out of his goddamn mind, trying to die—!
"Bone Nail."
Simon flicked his fingers upward.
Thk. Thk.
"...!!"
Brad's horrified gaze snapped backward.
The skeleton's sharp bone segments had gouged his thigh. The skin had split, blood trickling down in a thin line.
What? Why HERE of all—!
His gaze darted—and there it was. Skeleton bones embedded across the surface of the fallen trees around him.
This was the whole setup from the start!
Brad's attention had been swallowed whole by piecing the situation together—just long enough for a chill to crawl up his spine. He raised his head.
FWAAAAAAM!
Simon's leg, his whole body contorted in midair, was coming down in a massive sweeping arc. Brad desperately shielded his head with his arms.
SLAAAAM!
"Khak!"
It was too fast to fully block. Blood burst from his nose as Brad staggered backward.
Simon landed lightly on the ground and grinned.
"I'd say that settles it. No excuses left, right? I won."
Click.
Brad felt the last thread of the patience holding his reason together snap.
"...Heh. Haha. Hahahahaha!"
GUUUUUMBLE!
Jet-black of tremendous intensity erupted upward from every inch of Brad's body.
The tendrils reaching into the air soon wrapped around him like a garment.
Jet-Black Robe—the badge of a Magic Combat specialist.
In the blink of an eye, Brad stood encased in jet-black armor.
"Fine. Fine, I'll admit it."
Brad growled the words through his teeth.
"I lost, and the deal stands. Whatever punishment you want, I'll follow it. But before you leave Kizen—"
He clenched his fist tight.
"—if I don't beat the living hell out of you right here, I'll regret it for the rest of my life!"
"..."
Simon let out a long sigh.
"Doesn't that violate our agreement? Just how ugly do you intend to get?"
"Nothing you say matters!"
"Fine. Then do as you please."
When Simon let both his arms hang limp at his sides, Brad's brow twitched.
"What the hell are you doing! Take your stance, now!"
"Humoring you has finally exhausted my patience. I'll do as I please too. If you insist on it this way, then just hurry up and beat me."
"Why you—!"
Brad strode forward, murder in his eyes, and grabbed Simon by the collar—
"BRAD!!!"
BOOOOOM!
A roar so immense it felt like his eardrums would burst shook the entire island.
Brad whirled around in cold terror—and his jaw dropped.
"P-Professor Hong Peng...?"
Hong Peng was advancing on him with an expression like a blade. Feeling the blood drain from his entire body, Brad hastily dispelled his Jet-Black Robe.
"TA Brad."
Hong Peng stalked up and glared at him. It was a complete one-eighty from her usual warm, gentle self.
"Care to explain what in the world thith is?"
Brad snapped to attention, sweat streaming down his face.
"I-I was giving Student Simon combat instruction..."
SLAP!
Hong Peng's hand cracked across his cheek. That alone sent Brad's body flying dozens of meters, tumbling across the dirt.
Oh...
Sprawled on the ground, Brad clutched his cheek.
In five years of serving under Hong Peng, she had never once struck him.
But this one blow told him everything. This power—this was Hong Peng, no doubt about it.
"Up on your feeth."
At her words, Brad straightened himself rigidly and stepped forward. His cheek was swollen bright red.
"Turn around."
Brad turned.
"From thith moment on, you will hold the motht painful pothible pothion a TA can take."
"Y-yes? The most painful position, you mean—"
"Do it."
At those words, Brad immediately dropped his head to the ground and raised his body straight up. Balancing on his fingertips, he pushed himself up further still, holding his entire body weight on a single finger, then fanned out the robes of his jet-black so they stood upright into the sky.
A state demanding both raw stamina and constant jet-black control. It looked, at a glance, maddeningly agonizing.
"Simon!"
Hong Peng hurried over. Her expression had melted into deep relief.
"Are you hurt anywhere?"
"No, I'm fine. I had the protective suit on..."
"Your face looks quite swollen, though."
Saying so, she seized Simon's cheeks with both hands and began rotating them around in circles like a massage.
"P-Professor?"
"Does this hurt? How about here?"
As she spoke, one hand roamed freely over his forearms and stomach while the other kept kneading his cheeks like dough, stretching them out.
However he looked at it, the touch was brimming with self-interest.
Simon clenched his teeth and muttered under his breath.
"...Ghhhk."
The truth was, this woman was not Hong Peng.
It was Erzebeth, transformed into her guise.
She had originally come at Simon's command to collect the Nusselack corpses, but when the fight between Simon and Brad broke out, she had shapeshifted into Hong Peng's form and intervened.
Erzebeth, ever preparing for the day she might have to escape Kizen, had committed the voices of Kizen's professors and key figures to memory. She tilted her head down and whispered into Simon's ear, low enough for only him to hear.
"Well, my lord? Is the girl not of use to you now, as I did promise?"
"...You saved my neck and I'm grateful, but could you back off a little."
She smirked, grabbed a button of Simon's academy uniform shirt, and slipped into Hong Peng's voice.
"Simon. I'll need to take a look at this wound here."
"...There's no wound there, Professor."
Simon said, trembling.
He couldn't afford to blow their cover in front of Brad, so playing along was his only option.
When Simon gestured for them to hurry and leave, Erzebeth swept her hair back with a regretful look and spoke up.
"TA Brad."
"Y-yes, ma'am! Professor!"
Brad had by now taken to beating his own body with robes conjured from his own jet-black—faithfully carrying out the order to hold the most painful position possible.
"I am truly disappointed by today's affair. Hold that form for the next twenty hours, and then you may return."
"Understood!"
Twenty hours? That's way too harsh no matter how you slice it, isn't it?
Simon shot her a look, but Erzebeth just placed a hand over her chest as if to say, leave it to me.
"From tomorrow onward, act as if nothing happened, and never—never—speak of today or even think of it, to anyone, myself included. Behave as though it simply never occurred. Because if you so much as recall it, I may want to tear you apart and kill you."
"...Yes, ma'am. Understood."
"And you will never lay a hand on Student Simon again. If it happens one more time—"
Her eyes flashed.
"—there will be no second mercy."
"...Yes, ma'am. Understood."
"Come along, Simon."
Erzebeth took Simon by the hand and led him away.
Brad didn't dare so much as glance after them.