The Direction of Corruption

Corruption magic was, without question, different in every respect from the black magic theory they had learned until now.

-You handle the main runes and control runes at the same time? Wouldn't the whole thing collapse?

-Twisting the serial circuits like that would make the resistance spike way too hard.

It defied common sense.

The students, who had charged in brimming with confidence, found themselves flustered by an endless parade of utterly alien equations and laws.

Of course, even within this absurd framework, there were clever students who managed to catch the underlying rules and put them to use.

-So when the main and control runes mix, they collide — and that collision is what feeds jet-black into the circuit.

Simon was startled at first too, but new knowledge called for a new attitude. With his characteristic flexible thinking, he quickly uncovered the pattern.

Though beyond any question of mindset, Simon had already been trained in absorbing alien mathematics through his study of dragon magic.

For someone who had mastered an entirely different tradition of magic, a new set of rules like Corruption magic posed little real difficulty.

Then there were the others.

-Wonderful, Lady Loraine! How did you do that?

-Ah, it just felt like mixing it this way would work, somehow.

Loraine, too, traced the equations by pure instinct, working her way toward the answer.

-Hector, as expected of you!

-There's really nothing he can't do.

Hector, being a user of dragon magic himself, found his answer without much delay.

The students blessed with talent — or with flexible minds — adapted to the new theory at remarkable speed. Ironically, it was the model students, whose heads had been stuffed to bursting with conventional summoning studies through self-study and preparation, who were now struggling the most.

'Mmgh.'

Aseraz Mikel, ranked 5th overall, was a prime example.

'I don't understand it.'

Ever since becoming a necromancer, she had believed her whole life that 'one plus one equals two' — absolutely, unconditionally. But under these rules, apparently it could be three, or four. The notation, the order of operations, the way jet-black was distributed — every single thing was different.

Asking why was meaningless.

Corruption magic was a discipline that took the black magic once wielded by Ancient Undead, reworked it, unraveled it, and reconstructed it so humans could use it. An approach infinitely beyond human common sense ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was only natural here — but that made it no easier for her to accept.

And so, without having fully grasped the lesson, Aaron's practical session began.

-No need to be nervous. Since today is your first day with Corruption magic, I've prepared a simple ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠assignment.

Aaron brought something out.

A fist-sized hermit crab monster — an undead called a Lepintor.

Even after becoming undead, this Lepintor retained its habit of gnawing on seaweed. Undead lacked digestive organs, of course, so everything it ate was expelled unchanged — but the compulsion to chew seaweed endlessly remained.

It was precisely this nature of the Lepintor that—

-You will alter using Corruption magic. The most exemplary result would be corrupting the Lepintor so that it becomes a carnivore.

Aaron set a plate of fish pieces down on the table as he spoke.

-Alternatively, if you simply stop it from gnawing seaweed any further, I'll grant a 'PASS.' I don't like stating the obvious to students who are already in their second year, but physical modifications — restructuring its mouth and so on — are not permitted.

Matt Comer, who had been about to seal the Lepintor's mouth shut, lowered his tools with a glum expression.

-You must introduce a meaningful change to the magic circle, and you must use Corruption equations. Begin.

The Corruption practical began at once.

With its summoning circle drawn across the flat shell it carried on its back, the Lepintor was an undead whose circles were easy to modify — which was why it so often served as a lab subject.

The students groaned and sweated, doing their best to apply the Corruption equations they had only just learned.

For Aseraz, it was an agonizing hour. She sat at her desk, rolling her eyes as she studied the other students' work. Rather than trying to understand the theory, she focused on accumulating data.

Having to mimic other people's results just to earn a PASS. If it's like this, could I ever create a Corrupted Death Knight?

A self-loathing feeling crept over her.

"Finished already, Simon Polentia?"

Aseraz's head snapped around as she'd been scanning everyone else's equations.

Already done?

"Yes, here it is."

Simon had transferred his Lepintor into a water tank and stepped back. The Lepintor paddled around the tank, steadily munching its seaweed.

"Hm."

Aaron offered it a piece of fish. No reaction. It just kept eating seaweed.

"So what changed?"

Simon smiled faintly.

"Everything."

A moment later, Aaron's eyes went wide.

The Lepintor, which should have been chewing seaweed without end, had grown weary at some point and gone limp, its movements stopping entirely. It was even settling in as if to sleep.

"So that's what this is."

"Yes."

Simon nodded.

"I shifted the direction of the corruption slightly — so the Lepintor believes it's still alive."

Monsters that had become undead carried all manner of lingering traits.

Among them were tendencies to obsess over survival and their old ecology, clinging to habits from when they lived.

For the Lepintor, it was consumption. By denying the fact of its own death, it sustained the sensation of being alive only through the act of eating.

But Simon's corruption had instilled a sense of fulfillment in the Lepintor instead. It no longer believed it was dead at all.

"I told you to change its habits. I never taught anything this high-level."

Aaron scratched his jaw, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"The result's a success, either way. PASS."

"Thank you, Professor!"

Simon had claimed the very first PASS in the department.

As he chatted with Aaron about this and that, Aseraz stared at his back from behind, silent and unblinking.

It was only two hours after class had fully ended that Aseraz finally received her 'PASS.'

She trudged out of the lecture hall, shoulders sagging.

How did it come to this?

I will break Simon Polentia. She had entered the Summoning Department with that proud declaration — and yet she kept slamming into a wall where Simon was concerned.

That wall was the gap in talent.

Granted, her written scores were higher. But that was nothing more than a difference in total knowledge, born of having pre-studied slightly more material than he had.

It was never a score earned from being genuinely superior to Simon.

'Simon Polentia.'

And it wasn't just his ability, either.

He was cheered and celebrated by so many people.

Once, when Simon's return had been delayed and she'd voiced a complaint about it, this was what came back to her:

-Everyone's talking about you and worried, but Aseraz just comes right out and says she's glad Simon's gone, since it bumps her ranking up a notch every time he's out.

Kizen is a pure meritocracy, isn't it? An endless competition. So why do people look at me like I'm in the wrong for pointing out the obvious?

If Simon doesn't come back, everyone moves up one rank. They only pretend to worry on the outside — secretly, they're delighted.

'Haah.'

It felt like her heart was burning pitch black.

And that sense of deprivation toward Simon had grown all the larger because of today's lesson.

'Maybe I should just withdraw.'

The thought crossed her mind for a moment — but Aaron's classes were genuinely valuable, that much was true. She couldn't give up her chance to obtain a Death Knight.

More than anything, her pride wouldn't allow it. A loser who felt a wall before her rival and fled the department? She had no intention of making herself that pathetic.

Just as she squeezed her eyes shut and pressed on—

Shhhhhhh—

Aseraz's eyes flew wide open.

Black jet-black energy had unfolded across the path directly ahead of her.

'Who would pull a prank like this with black magic indoors——'

She was about to brush past it in dismissal when, with a soft hiss, the jet-black crumbled away like ash, and from within it dropped a pristine white envelope.

<Aseraz Mikel>

Her own name was written on the envelope.

She let out a small sigh and snatched the letter up with a sharp motion.

Who on earth is playing games with me? Irritated, she tore open ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the envelope, pulled out the letter, and read the first line.

"……!!"

A chill ran down her spine. She whipped her head around, scanning her surroundings. She needed somewhere deserted, right now. Spotting a women's restroom nearby, she broke into a run.

Bang!

She slammed the stall door shut, sat down on the toilet, and drew the letter out again.

Then she read through its contents, slowly.

Haah. Haah.

Her eyes trembled and her breathing turned ragged.

Before long, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

That afternoon, campus park.

"Whoa, that's insane! You actually met the famous Chief Inquisitor Rate and came back in one piece?"

Simon was walking along with Dick, who had come to borrow his memorization notes for Dark Dynamics, chatting about this and that.

"Loraine and Serne helped me out, or I wouldn't have made it."

"Khh, that's a solid ten years' worth of bragging rights."

Catching up with Dick after so long felt good. Dick drained the coffee he'd bought from a nearby street café, then crunched the leftover ice between his teeth and asked,

"Anyway, anything else happened since the Curse Doll incident?"

"Like what?"

Dick glanced around casually, then tapped the cup in his hand against his fingertips.

"Oh, you know. No more of that weird crap from Ballack's new student council?"

"Nothing, really."

In truth, there had been one minor thing — a tail from the student council had followed them whenever they entered the Forbidden Forest. Erzebet had thoroughly crushed the surveillance itself, though, and no other problems had come of it.

Dick shrugged.

"Word through my information network says Vice President Sota's getting antsy. Be careful. I've already shut down about two of his schemes myself."

"Mm."

"Especially with the Group Exam coming up soon."

Dick thrust out his hand dramatically.

"There's a hundred percent chance they'll pull something."

"It's a major exam hosted by Kizen Headquarters, though. No way."

"What does that matter? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠This is Kizen's Group Exam we're talking about — the rules let you knock opponents out of the running deliberately. Once the exam starts, everything becomes strategy. And if it really turns out to be something like an island survival evaluation—"

Dick looked Simon in the eye.

"They could mobilize the other second-years to eliminate you before it even begins. You know Kizen's rule — Top 10 or class valedictorian, doesn't matter. Cross the expulsion criteria and you're expelled, no exceptions."

"Isn't that a bit paranoid?"

"Oh really. You're telling me you can still call it paranoia after seeing this?"

Dick pulled a newspaper from inside his coat.

It was a paper published by the Kizen Newspaper Club.

While Simon was reading the paper, Dick went on.

"Those Newspaper Club bastards have become outright tabloid trash. They cut out every important point and only mention the facts and quotes that suit them — they're manipulating public opinion, top to bottom."

Dick heaved a deep sigh.

"And that's not all. They're working the first-years to the bone so they can't pay attention to school affairs, and they're stirring up conflict to split the second-years apart — anti-Simon Polentia versus pro-Simon Polentia, that kind of thing."

Simon pressed a hand to his forehead.

"I absolutely despise this political stuff. It's exactly why I turned down Leonard's offer, too."

"I know. But like it or not, with or without your consent, you've already walked into the eye of the storm. Prepare for the Group Exam harder than you ever have before. There's definitely going to be sabotage coming your—"

"Simon!"

Just then, a teaching assistant came sprinting over from the direction of the Summoning Department building.

Simon rose from his seat.

"Oh, Professor. Sir."

"Simon."

The man caught his breath in one gulp, then spoke.

"Professor Aaron is asking for his direct disciples."

At those words, Dick broke into a wide, delighted grin.

"Called it. I bet he's got something special cooked up for you."