His First Curse
Bahil's teaching assistants appeared, distributing one practice set to each student.
On the right side of each desk sat a plant shaped remarkably like a cactus, placed on a sand tray; on the left rested what looked like a mold—a "magic circle frame," a correction tool designed for novice necromancers learning to draw their first circles.
"It's rather embarrassing for a Kizen student to use a correction tool, but since this is your first lesson, we'll make an exception."
Bahil said.
"It's fine to use it while you get a feel for the work, but rely on it too heavily and you'll develop bad habits—be mindful of that. Now then! Let us begin practicing the exhaustion curse, 'Exhaust'!"
Bahil kindly walked them through how the tool worked, and Simon followed the instructions exactly as given.
He gripped the two handles attached to the frame and squeezed out his jet-black, feeding it into the handles.
The jet-black flowed through the mold of the tool, slowly taking on the shape of a magic circle.
"The key is this: how complete and refined can you make your main rune?"
'Runes,' simply put, were characters imbued with magical power. By drawing these characters with jet-black, a necromancer could bring about magical effects.
Simon focused intently, writing out the main rune and then tracing activation formulas along the circle's rim.
Of course, since he was working with a mold, he could draw the circle without truly understanding its structure.
"Students who have finished, lift your magic circle into the air."
Simon swallowed hard and raised his completed circle. The blue-black magic circle peeled away from the frame and floated up, hovering in midair.
'Whoa!'
A real magic circle. The very technique his father Richard had sometimes used—and now Simon had created it with his own hands!
A sliver of doubt nagged at him—would this actually trigger a spell?—but he couldn't help the swell of anticipation anyway.
He glanced around. Roughly half the class had their magic circles floating in the air.
'Ah!'
While he stood there in a daze, one edge of Simon's circle turned liquid and began to drip away.
"I see several students whose circles are collapsing."
Bahil said, as if he'd been waiting for exactly this.
"This happens when the jet-black hasn't been properly refined, or when the circle loses its cohesion. Try again."
Simon gritted his teeth and started over from scratch.
"As for students who can hold their circle in the air, we'll move straight into practical application! Cast your curse at the plant placed in front of your desk!"
The successful students drew in a deep collective breath and activated their circles in unison.
Whoosh!
Black gas shot out from the circles toward the cactus-like plants.
For half of them, nothing happened at all. For the other half, the plants wilted and drooped.
"Congratulations. If the plant shows a meaningful change, your magic circle is functioning properly."
"Yes!"
The boy in the seat next to Simon pumped his fist in triumph.
Swallowing his envy, Simon resumed work on his circle.
"The gap is already forming. Students who succeeded—repeat the process until you can complete your circles faster. And those who feel your speed is sufficient, try practicing without the correction tool, drawing the circle directly in the air."
Time flew by, and Simon tasted his fourth failure.
He could build the circle just fine, but the moment he lifted it into the air it went limp like a dying thing and collapsed to the floor.
'What's the problem?'
As more and more students succeeded, Simon grew restless.
Granted, Kizen gathered the continent's finest talents, and most students here had studied ahead of time.
It was only natural for Simon—who had encountered dark magic for the very first time today—to struggle. But no such self-consolation existed in Simon's head.
Why had he failed?
—Your jet-black still carries the properties of mana. The way it churns like fire means it hasn't escaped its gaseous state.
—I should learn to use my core more effectively.
The moment he recalled the voices of Nephthys and Lorraine from Langestin, Simon let go of the correction tool's handles. Then he closed his eyes and focused on the mana within his body.
'Back to the basics.'
He drew mana into his body with each breath, then moved it toward the core beneath his heart.
Everything was the same up to that point. Instead of feeding the mana into his core, Simon gathered as much of it as possible at the front.
'Ngh!'
The area below his heart tingled and ached, but he clenched his teeth and endured it. Then he drove the entire compressed mass of mana into his core all at once.
When a large quantity of mana was pushed in suddenly and forcefully, the jet-black flowing out of the core came denser and harder. It was a stopgap measure Simon had devised on his own, having never yet been taught proper core manipulation.
'There it goes!'
Simon's eyes snapped open and he seized the tool's handles.
The purified jet-black settled into the frame far faster than before. He finished the rune work and formulas in a rush and lifted the circle into the air.
'Got it!'
It wasn't collapsing this time.
Simon guided the circle, aiming it at the plant in the sand tray. When the feeling came, he wanted to nail it in one clean shot.
'Exhaust!'
The moment he activated the circle, gray smoke billowed out from the center of the rune and struck the plant dead-on.
Simon watched the plant's condition with breathless urgency.
Swish.
The plant's rigid stalk sagged downward.
'Yes!'
Simon pumped his fist. A prickling thrill surged up his spine. He'd nearly shouted out loud in the middle of the classroom, he was that happy.
This was Simon's first dark magic spell, ever.
"All right, that's enough."
Bahil clapped his hands.
"Students who never succeeded, please practice in your dormitories tonight."
Disappointed groans rose from all corners of the room. Bahil returned to the podium and picked up his attendance ledger.
"Now! For the remainder of our time, we will hold a practical match using the magic you learned today. Students I call upon, please come to the front."
A taut tension swept through the classroom at once. Students scrambled to avoid Bahil's gaze or feign indifference.
Bahil smiled pleasantly as he looked over the ledger.
"Oh, my. Special Admission No. 1 is in this class, isn't he?"
Every head turned in unison.
"Simon Polentia. Come forward, please."
"......Yes."
So that vague sense of foreboding had been leading up to this.
Simon walked to the podium, pulling himself together.
He'd succeeded in the end—there was nothing to be nervous about. Just do what he'd always done.
"Now then, who shall be our fine Special Admission No. 1's opponent?"
The students flinched and darted their eyes away. Bahil, finding their reactions amusing, grinned broadly and flipped through the ledger.
"There are two students whose entrance scores caught my eye."
After a moment's deliberation between the two, Bahil finally spoke.
"Hector Moore. Come forward, please."
"Yes."
It was the very boy Bahil had mentioned remembering—the huge student. Hector rose from his seat and stepped up to the podium.
Soon the two stood facing each other at the front of the room.
Simon swallowed dryly. Up close like this, Hector seemed even bigger than he had from a distance.
"I will now explain the rules."
The assistants placed standing desks in front of Simon and Hector. On each sat the same correction tool used for Exhaust during the lesson.
"The only spell permitted to either of you is Exhaust. Complete your Exhaust and strike your opponent! The first one whose knee or hip touches the floor loses."
Simple rules.
Simon steeled himself. Since he was standing here in front of everyone anyway, he wanted to win.
"Professor."
At that moment, Hector raised his hand.
"Yes, what is it?"
"I'll compete without the correction tool."
Oooooh—
Whistles rang out from around the room. The tension broken, the students were now thoroughly ready to enjoy the spectacle.
"An admirable attitude."
Bahil had made it clear early in the lesson that he disapproved of correction tools. Having watched him closely, Hector was now showcasing both his skill and his confidence while scoring points with a proposal he knew Bahil would love.
For all his bear-like, rough-hewn looks, the boy was shrewd about managing appearances.
Bahil turned his head toward Simon.
"And you, Simon? How will you proceed?"
Simon's mouth went dry. Every eye in the room was fixed on him, brimming with expectation.
Honestly, the atmosphere made it awfully hard to refuse.
"I'll use the correction tool."
Facing reality was better than reckless, boyish pride.
Worst of all would be accepting the challenge here for the sake of appearances, then failing to land a single Exhaust and crumbling helplessly.
Bahil gave a wry smile and looked at Hector, who answered as though he'd been waiting for this.
"I have no intention of retracting my statement."
"Very well."
The room's sympathies swung firmly to Hector's side.
The stingy Special Admission No. 1, versus Hector, who had carved an image of stubborn grit and confidence into everyone's minds.
There was never any question who the onlookers would root for.
"Begin when I give the signal. Both of you—show your classmates a fine match."
Hector lowered his stance, and Simon gripped the handles of his correction tool.
"Begin!"
Simon unleashed the jet-black he'd prepared and fed it into the tool. The jet-black spread rapidly, filling the magic circle frame.
'I can do this!'
Maybe it was the pressure, but the jet-black didn't flow as smoothly as it had during practice. Simon held his patience and waited for the circle to complete.
The main rune at the circle's center was drawn, and just as he was about to continue with the detailed formulas—
"......!"
His whole body suddenly turned leaden, and his legs began to shake.
'No way!'
Simon looked up. Hector, who had finished his first spell at some point, was wearing a triumphant grin.
"Ooooooh!"
"Go, Hector!"
"He's seriously fast."
Riding the momentum, Hector immediately began preparing his second spell, while Simon clenched his teeth and fought to keep his own pace.
'One hit landed, and my whole body's this heavy!'
Cold sweat poured and his legs trembled uncontrollably.
Why curses were so terrifying—and why they were such efficient weapons of attack—Simon was learning with his entire body.
'It's complete. Now, lift it!'
The instant Simon raised his finished circle from the tool, one side of the ring went limp and collapsed.
Ah—
Murmurs of sympathy rose from around the room.
Even if he activated it now, the broken formulas would render the spell useless. Without hesitation, Simon discarded the circle and began preparing a fresh one.
'Ugh!'
Then Hector's second Exhaust struck home. Strength drained out of him, and his body grew even heavier.
It was the worst. Even standing upright was becoming a struggle, when every ounce of concentration should have gone into spellcasting.
No wonder his focus kept wavering.
The match flowed one way, overwhelmingly.
Hector showed no mercy—third, fourth, fifth Exhaust, fired one after another. Simon's knees shuddered as if they might buckle at any moment.
The students enjoyed Hector's blazing offensive only briefly; now they were watching Simon with pity in their eyes.
'It's over. He's no match.'
'He hasn't landed a single hit?'
'Is he really Special Admission No. 1?'
His condition and concentration in tatters, Simon failed to construct a circle twice in a row.
Hector poured his sixth Exhaust into Simon and said:
"Surrender. You're pitiful to watch."
Simon forced strength into his legs out of sheer spite.
Absolutely, absolutely—I can't back down like this.
'Again!'
His third attempt, begun immediately. Hector sighed and prepared his seventh Exhaust.
'......Hmm.'
And Bahil watched the two boys' contest with his arms crossed.
That boy Hector was unquestionably the real deal. Talent for curse magic aside, he had the proper mindset of a student.
A candidate to survive to the third year. He'd already resolved to take this one for himself.
'Whereas Special Admission No. 1, on the other hand......'
Frankly, he was a mess. Getting into Kizen meant advance study was the bare minimum—some students had even seen real combat.
Yet this Special Admission No. 1 had none of those fundamentals.
He was like someone learning dark magic for the very first time.
'Why did Lady Nephthys choose such a boy for No. 1?'
Skipping the notoriously brutal entrance exam and receiving an official invitation to Kizen—Special Admissions 1, 2, 3, and 4 were, without exception, prodigies of the century.
Among them, the selection of the 'top'—Special Admission No. 1—was the exclusive prerogative of Nephthys, Kizen's ruler and headmistress, and every one of her picks had grown into something extraordinary.
But this student showed no such promise—hardly the caliber of Nephthys's usual choices.
If there was anything special about him, it was his stamina.
An ordinary student would be on their knees after four Exhausters. Yet Simon was still standing after nine.
Naturally gifted endurance. He must have trained his body rigorously even before this. And the fact that he was still clinging to his spellwork while barely able to stand showed considerable mental fortitude too.
But that was all. Professor Hong Peng of Magic Combat might salivate over him, but the boy did nothing for Bahil.
"Hahh!"
Simon's eyes flew open as he lifted his fourth circle off the frame. This one had formed properly—it floated in the air without dripping.
He activated the spell at once. Gray gas shot out and struck Hector's body.
"......!"
Hector, mid-preparation for his own spell, staggered violently. His knee buckled and he nearly lost his footing, catching himself on the floor with one hand just in time.
'It finally landed!'
Simon pumped his fist. And for the first time, a flicker of panic crossed Hector's face as he raised his head.
'What the—why is this so heavy?'
Hector had experienced Exhaust before, through his advance studies.
But had the curse ever been this crushing? He'd nearly gone down from a single hit.
Even so, the score was 9 to 1. He was unquestionably in dominant position.
Yet having conceded that first strike, Hector felt an unfamiliar unease gnawing at him. The way his opponent clung to his heels like a leech was unbearably grating.
'Just fall already!'
Hector gathered every scrap of his concentration and activated the tenth circle floating before him.
Thud.
At last—after enduring a full ten Exhausters—Simon dropped to one knee.
"Enough. We have our winner."
Bahil stepped forward.
"The victor is Hector Moore."
Applause erupted from the students.
Hector wiped the sweat streaming down his forehead and turned his gaze.
There sat Simon, drenched in sweat as if caught in a downpour, slumped on the floor.
'......'
It didn't feel like a victory at all.
The moment his first Exhaust had landed, Hector had known his opponent was a beginner.
Someone who had never studied dark magic. The match should have ended right there.
Should have.
But the boy wouldn't stay down.
Nine Exhausters to the face, both legs shaking like leaves—and still he'd gritted out a complete spell and landed a hit on him.
'......Creepy little bastard.'
Before that thing grew any bigger.
Before it became something no one could hold back anymore.
Wasn't it better to crush him now, while he still could?
Hector gave the matter serious thought.
"Good work as well, Simon. You may return to your seat."
Bahil snapped his fingers, and the tenfold Exhaust curse crushing Simon dissolved.
The curse was gone, but the fatigue of holding out against it remained in full. His breath reeked of exhaustion.
And yet.
'Whew.'
He had no regrets. Simon rose to his feet feeling strangely light.
'That was fun.'
He found himself thinking he'd made the right choice, coming to this school.
"That concludes today's lesson."
Bahil declared class dismissed on the spot.
The students flowed out of the lecture hall like an ebbing tide, and Bahil sank into his chair, leaning back. Then he closed his eyes and sat perfectly still, as if in meditation.
"Pr-Professor."
Just then, one of the female students, who had been hesitating shyly, approached him.
"I had a question about today's les—"
"One moment."
Bahil held out a palm, eyes still closed.
"When class is fully over, come visit my office. I'll resolve every question you have then."
"R-Really? Th-Thank you so much!"
Well, wasn't this a windfall.
Elated at being invited to Professor Bahil's office, the girl let out a small squeal and dashed out of the lecture hall.
Bahil watched her retreating figure through half-lidded eyes, glaring.
'Compose yourself.'
A curse had nearly burst from his throat.
This feeling, right now.
This lingering resonance, right now.
He had no desire to squander this moment on some cheap trifle like her.
Bahil closed his eyes again and savored the lesson, replaying it in his mind.
'......Simon Polentia.'
It was Simon he was thinking of.
At first he'd assumed the boy was merely blessed with good stamina. He'd been wrong.
No doubt every student who watched today believed Simon had been utterly crushed, 10 to 1.
But that final, single Exhaust he landed on Hector.
Through a professor's eyes—eyes trained to read a student's talent and potential—Simon's one lone Exhaust was worth several times, no, dozens of times more than the ten Exhausters Hector had unleashed.
In his mind, Simon's Exhaust replayed over and over again.
'He's magnificent!'
Bahil's mouth split into a long, wide grin.
'No matter what it takes, I must get that genius into the Curse major!'
Bahil's innermost desire was beginning to itch and squirm.