Preparations and the Dragon's Blueprint
Whooooosh—
Simon sat cross-legged with his eyes closed, deep in concentration.
It was the meditation technique Hong Peng had taught him—a method for drawing focus to its peak in a matter of moments. When the crisp, clear bell tone he visualized in his mind at last faded into silence, that was the signal.
He opened his eyes and rose from his seat.
*Deploy.*
A dragon's magic circle inscribed in an alien, ancient tongue unfurled across the floor before him.
*Clatter!*
*Screech!*
The great bones scattered across the ground—the Dragon Factors locked within them, precisely—stirred in response and flew into the circle, each settling into its appointed place. It was like watching bones drift into a magical blueprint and assemble themselves: the long spine took shape first, then the arms locked together, then the legs slotted home.
And yet.
*Clack! Clack!*
The bones containing only small traces of Dragon Factor began to wobble before they could even serve as joints. The moment Simon poured his focus into stabilizing them, another section started to shake.
*Crash-rumble-rumble!*
At last, every bone collapsed out of the air. Simon let out a long sigh and slumped forward onto the floor.
"Hmm."
Summoning Professor Aaron, still holding his pocket watch in one hand with the other propped on his cane, gave a nod.
"Three minutes fifty seconds. Good work. You didn't finish, but you cut the time down considerably."
"Thank you!"
Simon beamed and bowed his head. Aaron studied his face for a quiet moment before speaking.
"That thing you were doing when you sat down at the start—what was it?"
"The meditation technique! Professor Hong Peng from Combat Magic taught it to me."
"I see."
"Looks effective. Should I add it to the curriculum..." Aaron's muttering drifted off. Simon wiped the sweat from his face with a towel, feeling pleasantly refreshed.
*Whoooooosh!*
Right then, Hector descended from the sky, whipping up a gust as he landed. His wings—larger than usual—billowed dust from the ground as they beat the air.
But Hector's expression was far from satisfied.
"Hector Moore, don't rush yourself. Adapting to new wings takes time."
Aaron pressed down hard on the timer again and continued.
"Fifteen minutes thirty-seven seconds. That's more than good enough."
"Yes, Professor."
Hector bowed respectfully before the professor—but the moment he glanced at Simon sprawled across the floor, his face twisted into a scowl.
"You stubborn bastard. Still haven't given up?"
"Of course not."
Simon sprang to his feet with a grin.
"I'm going to master both—dragon magic and the Death Knight."
*Tch.*
Hector clicked his tongue and turned away. While Aaron recorded the day's results in his documents, Simon slid in a question.
"Professor Aaron?"
"What is it?"
"White didn't come?"
The three direct disciples Aaron had chosen were Simon, Hector, and White. Though White bore the face of Magnus, and the professor clearly had his reservations about that, he had appointed him as a direct disciple all the same.
"I called for him, but that one wouldn't come even if I ordered him to."
Aaron replied without looking up and kept filling out his paperwork.
In the meantime, Simon and Hector moved a little distance away and rehydrated from their canteens. An odd, awkward air hung between them.
"In regular classes it's Death Knight construction, and in direct-disciple lessons it's individual training. All well and good, but—"
Aaron, his quill-wielding hand lowered, went on as he looked at his two disciples.
"It's about time you two started preparing for the 2nd-Year Group Exam."
The biggest topic on everyone's mind lately had been the Group Exam, announced at the start of the semester. And unlike the Death Knight or the Bone Dragon, it wasn't something that could wait—it would arrive before either project was complete. Unless they intended to face it with their current capabilities alone, they would have to carve out time to prepare.
"Anything already in the works?"
At Aaron's question, Hector shot Simon a sidelong glance before answering.
"Yes."
A curt, clipped reply. He was conscious of Simon's presence and said nothing more.
This time Simon spoke.
"I'm meeting with people from the Vanilla Group this afternoon."
"...Benya Vanilla, is it."
Aaron nodded with a faint smile.
"Understood. If either of you needs help, speak up anytime. The next direct-disciple lesson will be Group Exam preparation."
Simon and Hector each shouldered their bags and rose from their seats.
"Yes, sir!"
Simon had sensed from the start that this Group Exam was anything but ordinary, and he had been making his own preparations. Sota Psyche was scheming something behind the scenes, and more troubling still, Lamia—Magnus's Ancient Undead—was lying in wait somewhere near the candidate site for the exam. Whether by coincidence or design, the omens were ugly, so preparing was simply the sensible thing to do.
Finishing his afternoon classes early, Simon headed straight for the Mutant Club room.
*Knock knock.*
"It's Simon."
He knocked cautiously and eased the door open—and a tall, slender third-year girl already seated inside greeted him with a whoop of delight.
"Welcome, my boy!"
Currently ranked 6th among all third-years—Benya Vanilla, heiress of the Vanilla Group, the enterprise dealing in every manner of undead-related materials.
"Sorry I'm late."
Simon said his apology, then gestured toward the person beside her.
"Ah, and this is...?"
"Oh, let me introduce you."
A burly, full-grown man seated at Benya's side rose to his feet. Thick-armed and rough-hewn in appearance, he wore a rope-like sash wound around his waist.
"Sir Carlo, an undead artisan of the Vanilla Group."
"A pleasure to meet you!"
Carlo grinned wide, flashing a golden tooth.
"Carlo's the name! Just call me Carlo, no need for fuss."
"Ah—yes, sir. I'm Simon Polentia."
"Heard plenty about you from the young miss and the other artisans! Hahaha!"
Simon's history with the Vanilla Group's artisans ran deep. Back in his first year, they had built his marine undead Deimos for him, carved out the subspace for Overlord, and lent their aid to his very first Lich as well. Now one of those same artisans had come to see him.
Benya said with a sunny smile.
"He stopped by Kizen on work, and when your name came up, he came along to meet you himself."
"That's reassuring to hear!"
"Right! Shall we begin, then? The Simon Polentia Group Exam Countermeasures Meeting!"
*Clap clap clap!*
When Benya clapped her hands, Carlo pounded his thick palms together in a seal-like applause to match.
The two of them, somehow, got along like a house on fire.
"It's hardly grand enough to call a 'countermeasures meeting,'" Simon said, scratching his head.
"It's an important one! This is our Vanilla Group lending a hand in a partnership for our future Student Council President, after all. Have you thought anything through? I want to fit whatever we do to your needs and ideas as closely as possible."
The exam's theme and concept hadn't been officially announced yet, which made the planning tricky. Simon considered for a moment, then spoke.
"To be honest, I don't think we need to prepare some grand new undead. Just finishing the Bone Dragon and the Death Knight is already more than I can handle."
At the mention of a Bone Dragon and a Death Knight, artisan Carlo's mouth hung open. He stared at Benya for a moment, and Benya wiggled two raised fingers in confirmation—yes, he really was only a second-year.
"This time, I'd like to focus on improving and strengthening the summons I'm already using—or the ones I've stopped using lately."
"That's my boy—right on the money!"
Benya slung an arm around Simon's shoulder.
"Example? Which summons?"
Simon murmured quietly.
"Open."
*Shhhrrrrr!*
A subspace yawned open from the floor, and long tentacles made of blades surged out, writhing in the air.
It was Overlord, the summon Simon had relied on heavily since his first year.
"It's a powerful undead, but I've hardly touched it since becoming a second-year."
In his first year, simply handling Overlord well had been enough to power through any fight without obstruction. But time had moved on—his classmates had grown far stronger, and he faced far more dangerous opponents now. The situation had changed.
"A metallic-type tentacle undead! Remarkable. To think the joints move this smoothly!"
Artisan Carlo leapt up and ran his hands over the Overlord.
Benya cut back in.
"So tell me—why have you stopped using it?"
"There are restrictions. To use it, I have to hold still in place. The range is short, and there's a delay between drawing it from subspace and getting it moving. And above all, its durability is disappointing."
The fact that Simon himself had grown mattered just as much. Attacks he once would have parried one by one by summoning Overlord to wrap around his body, he could now simply dodge with combat arts or neutralize with other dark magic. And besides, he had Dragonian—a construct with far superior defensive capabilities to begin with.
"Understood! You want to trade away some of its defensive function for greater versatility and a more aggressive role—is that right?"
As if he'd been waiting for exactly this, Carlo spread diagrams, scale models, and quills out from his bag in one grand sweep, and began sketching with uncanny skill.
"Length and attack power we can reinforce right away."
Simon stared at the schematic Carlo had drawn moments later, mouth agape.
"This is actually possible?"
"Nothing is impossible for an artisan."
"Hold on, Sir Carlo. With this structure, the lower blades would contact the ground over too wide an area and wear out fast. What about a shape like this?"
"Excellent eye, young miss!"
Soon all three necromancers were heatedly crowding around the diagram, piling on ideas and ambitions one atop another. The schematic's scale kept growing and growing.
"At this rate the budget triples. Will that be all right?"
Simon—who had been trying to fit a magnificent mane onto Overlord's tentacles—froze for the first time. Then he quietly drew an X through the idea and stole a glance at Benya.
"S-Senior. I'll be receiving funds in a month—could I pay you then...?"
Excavation of the magic stone mine in the Carlos Northern Territory would begin next month, bringing in an advance payment. He'd planned to cover it with that.
"Oh, of course! Don't worry your head about money."
Simon's head dipped at once.
"Then we keep the mane."
"Better yet—what about mounting a cannon on it?"
As Simon and Benya competed to bolt ever more things onto the Overlord, Carlo threw back his head and laughed.
"Piling on functions you'll never actually use does more harm than good. I recommend focusing on just one or two features a summoner can truly count on the moment he draws the summon out."
And so the rough improvement plan for Overlord was settled. Carlo said he wanted to inspect the interior as well, and Simon nodded, opening the subspace to show him Overlord's very body.
"To operate the improved Overlord effectively, we'll need to overhaul the subspace too."
Carlo then ran a simple test. Even a superbly spec'd undead was worthless if the necromancer couldn't handle it properly. He evaluated Simon's undead control, the focus of his thought-currents, and the like, then nodded in satisfied approval.
"You can tell he's held the Student Council presidency. Very good indeed."
With that, the Overlord remake was decided. Simon handed the construct's subspace equipment over to Carlo.
"Ah, and one more thing."
Both their heads turned at Simon's words.
"I'd like to improve my signature technique a little further—the Imperial Guard."
"!"
Benya's and Carlo's eyes gleamed bright all over again.
With the massive event of the Group Exam looming, time slipped swiftly by.
First came the Mission Assessment season, returning after a long while. Students had five nights and six days to venture beyond Roke Island and carry out missions. Simon chose the easiest tier available—the Blue Request Form—deciding he would strain himself later if he had to: one simple mission on Roke Island, and every remaining hour devoted to Group Exam preparation.
The other students, it seemed, had much the same idea, and nearly half of them stayed on campus running personal training instead.
While the Mission Assessment season thus unfolded, the professors and headquarters staff gathered in a conference room to deliberate over the coming Group Exam.
"Chenon Island would seem the most suitable location, wouldn't it?"
"Yes, it looks well suited to evaluating the students' combat capabilities. We'll need the other professors' input as well."
At the staff member's words, the professors began voicing their thoughts one by one.
"...."
Vice Principal Jane sat in the head seat, silently listening.
Then she glanced toward the back of the room, and abruptly rose from her seat.
"Nephthys is approaching."
Every person present shot to their feet.
Moments later, accompanied by scampering footsteps, Nephthys appeared, slurping away at an ice cream cone.
"Hello hello, everyone!"
She waved her hand cheerfully at the professors. Jane stepped back from the head seat and spoke.
"With the front lines keeping you so busy, we hadn't expected you to come in person."
"Well, I *am* the Headmaster. Of course I come to meetings!"
Nephthys plopped herself down into the seat.
"Now then—where were we?"