Undead Shopping and the Day of the Group Exam

Upon arriving at Rochest Port, Simon headed straight for a warehouse owned by the Vanilla Group.

The sight that greeted him inside made his jaw drop.

"It's like an undead market."

He had merely mentioned that it would be nice to have undead ready for the upcoming Group Exam, but the sheer variety of materials stocked in the warehouse was staggering.

Benya shrugged her shoulders.

"I was pretty shocked myself when I saw what Sir Carlo brought in."

The undead artisan Carlo let out a hearty laugh.

"If we're going to prepare for you, we might as well prepare the full package! Take a look around — browse to your heart's content!"

Fortunately, Simon's funds were more than sufficient these days. Recently, Jean had advanced him a fixed percentage of the magic stone mine contract payment ahead of schedule.

A full 3,000 gold. If he wanted something, he could buy it without a second thought.

But first things first.

"Let's start with the most important item."

"You mean your reserved piece, of course!"

Carlo handed Simon a single ring.

It was the subspace ring containing Overlord. The surface had a slightly different finish than before.

"As you requested, our own subspace artisan made some additional modifications to Overlord's subspace. The domain can now remain anchored even after its feet leave the ground, and it's designed to close automatically whenever the summoner moves too far away."

"Sounds great!"

Simon tried it immediately. He slipped the ring onto his finger, confirmed that his left foot was touching the ground cleanly, and shouted the trigger in his mind.

'Open the gate!'

Kssssshhhhhhhhh!

A far more violent and ferocious roar than before erupted through the warehouse.

Surprise washed across Simon's face as the newly transformed Overlord burst forth from the subspace — then it quickly gave way to pure, unbounded satisfaction.

"Whoa……!"

"Hahaha! I'm glad it's to your liking!"

It was the same thrill he'd felt the very first time Overlord had come into his hands.

While Simon was utterly absorbed in playing with his reborn summon, Benya sidled up beside him.

"Not bad, right? At this level, I'd say it could conquer a battlefield full of Kizen 2nd- and 3rd-years without breaking a sweat."

"It's perfect."

Simon had to fight desperately to keep the grin from splitting his face wide open.

After running through a few more rounds of fine-tuning with Carlo, he stored the remade Overlord back into the ring.

He was already looking forward to the day he could put it to use in real combat.

"Oh, right! While we're on the subject — you know that Chaos Dullahan your friend left in our care?"

"Yes."

The Chaos Dullahan had been badly damaged in the battle against Ballak, and Simon had commissioned Benya's people to repair it.

"Sorry to say, but the poison worked its way down into the core, so the repairs are going to take a bit longer than expected."

"That's a shame."

Truthfully, judging from its condition, Simon had already suspected the restoration would be difficult.

At least the anti-mage function could be more or less covered by Dragonian, which was a mercy.

"In that case, rather than a simple repair, could I ask you to reinforce it through modification instead?"

"Of course. We'll see to it."

Somehow, this felt less like a job that ended in a simple repair and more like territory where luck alone would decide the outcome.

"A regrettable truth. Undead are not eternal. Losing one to the damage of battle, parting ways with it — that too is a summoner's fate."

Carlo said, his expression growing solemn.

"I myself have lost countless undead — children to me, really — out in the field. No one understands that feeling better than I do. But where there is parting, there is also meeting again!"

He spread his hands wide, gesturing toward the Vanilla brand's fresh lineup of undead.

"Pick out as many as you like!"

"……Sir Carlo, you sound like such a merchant."

Benya chided him.

Simon just laughed it off and let his gaze sweep the warehouse.

There were bones from a massive ogre, modified Dullahans, even specialized flight-type undead like gargoyles. Quite a few materials looked like they'd produce real synergy once combined with his Imperial Guard.

Simon resolved to focus his purchases on things that required no lengthy preparation yet could be deployed as immediate fighting strength.

Carlo glued himself to Simon's right side, rattling on about how extraordinary each product was, while Benya took up his left, explaining the practical limitations of each piece and checking whether it suited his particular style.

"What am I supposed to do once you graduate, Senior Benya?"

The thought occurred to him suddenly as he sorted through materials, and Simon asked ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it with a tinge of bitterness.

Benya covered her mouth and laughed, ho ho ho.

"Don't worry, I'll always be in Langoustine even after I graduate. We can meet up as often as you like."

"That's a relief."

Before long, the undead shopping spree had more or less wrapped up, and only the most important item remained.

"You know that artifact your friend asked us to appraise?"

Benya set a long, luxurious black case down on the table. With practiced ease, she unwound layer after layer of seals until, at last, she opened the box.

Goooooooh!

Simon's face scrunched up without his meaning to. A thick, viscous jet-black was seeping sluggishly from within the case.

Simon carefully lifted the 'object' inside.

It was the bones of an unidentified priest, unearthed from a museum across the border in the Holy Federation — and this was none other than the 'flag' that had been clutched in those very bones' hand.

"It's not your everyday find. If I had to compare it to the closest thing people know—"

Benya continued with a grave expression.

"—I suppose you'd call it a cursed sword."

Gooooooooooooooh!

The moment Simon took hold of the banner, a dark-crimson, formless flag shimmered into existence at its tip, swaying like something alive.

Two weeks earlier.

Simon had been visiting a string of people, trying to learn more about the corpse he'd brought back from the museum.

First he'd gone to Farahan, the professor of Sacred Defense, and shown him the remains. But the former priest had been unable to guess the man's identity from bones ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠alone.

The next stop was Aaron, his supervising professor. Aaron, as a necromancer, had no particular knowledge of priestly figures — yet the visit yielded an unexpected harvest.

It was the flag the skeleton had been holding that caught his attention.

Moreover, it was a soul-bound holy sword — a weapon that, once claimed by a wielder, remained that wielder's property forever. Death changed nothing; even the grave could not sever the bond.

Simon voiced the hypothesis he'd only been turning over in his head.

After a long silence, Aaron finally spoke.

The work itself had gone surprisingly smoothly, apparently. The holy sword's light had already long since faded, and merely linking it to the priest's corpse Simon had brought back was enough to reawaken its power.

The only problem was that the force it emitted was overwhelming — far too much to use as a mere tool without some form of restraint. Which was precisely why Simon had requested Vanilla to handle the tuning.

"Professor Aaron did the hardest part of the work; all we did was reinforce its stability. We added a safeguard so the power only manifests when it's released, but honestly, it's still not something a person could wield directly."

Benya raised her index finger.

"We won't know its exact effects until the Corrupted Death Knight — its true owner — is complete."

Simon turned the flag over in his hands, examining it from every angle.

"Is it different from the cursed sword that Jull from the Battle Arts Department uses?"

"Completely. They're different bloodlines entirely."

Holy swords and cursed swords sprang from wholly separate roots to begin with.

And a weapon that had once been a true holy sword, warped across long ages and through the magic of corruption, would be something else again. In the absence of a proper term for it, people simply called it a cursed sword — but it was nothing like the genuine article.

"Anyway, be careful how you store it."

Benya said, her eyes hardening.

"And don't even think about using it!"

"Ahaha, understood."

Simon tucked it carefully away.

That was what he said in front of his worried senior — but in truth, his head was already brimming with ideas for how he might somehow put it to use.

Of course, mastering its usage and applications would take time.

'……Now, who should I go see about that?'

A week later.

At long last, the day of the 2nd-year Group Exam had arrived.

The entire 2nd-year class rose early in the morning and assembled in the grand hall, where they boarded a teleportation magic circle and were carried off to a new destination.

The arrival point was a small, nameless island.

A single teleportation circle couldn't bridge the distance to the actual exam site, so this island had been chosen as an intermediate staging ground.

The students took to calling it 'Camp Island' — a fitting name for a kind of base camp for the exam — and before anyone quite noticed, the teaching assistants and professors had adopted the name as well.

Here on Camp Island, the students would receive the briefing on the exam rules, be issued their necessary supplies and equipment, and then set out to take the Group Exam.

Murmur, murmur, murmur!

The students milled about, clustering and mixing, trading bits of this and that.

It was still the small hours of the morning, but not a trace of weariness showed on their faces — they were taut with anticipation.

"Department representatives! Take stock of your department's members and report in!"

"Don't wander too far! The exam rules briefing starts soon!"

The teaching assistants looked run off their feet trying to keep the students under control.

Simon was chatting with Mayrin, Dick, and Camibarez.

"Everyone ready?"

Mayrin asked, hands planted on her hips.

"Sounds like the school poured a ton of effort into this Group Exam. It won't be easy — but let's grit our teeth and survive this one too."

"You bet!"

"Absolutely!"

Dick and Camibarez answered with bright energy. Mayrin turned her head toward Simon.

"Simon?"

No answer. She pouted her lips and flicked her fingers in front of his face, tap tap.

"Hello? Earth to dummy! Snap out of it!"

"Ah — huh?"

Simon finally came back to himself, laughing and shaking his head.

"Sorry. My head's been all over the place lately."

"Heh heh."

Dick pointed at Simon with a knowing grin.

"Seems like you've been preparing something big lately. I'm looking forward to— Whoa! Jeez, you scared me."

An enormous frame had wedged itself between them before anyone noticed.

Hector Moore.

"Hey, Hector."

Simon greeted him. Hector only stared back, lips pressed into a flat line, face frozen cold. Mayrin and Camibarez's expressions sharpened into full alert.

"Want me to guess what you're about to say?"

Dick butted in with a sly smirk.

"Brace yourself, Simon Polentia! It'll be me who takes you down in this exam!"

"……"

Hector didn't spare Dick so much as a glance. He thrust his hands into his trouser pockets and turned his back.

"Watch yourself."

"?"

With those words alone, he turned and walked away. Dick stared after his back, utterly baffled.

"That's it? Did the guy eat something weird?"

"You blockhead. Honestly!"

Just as Mayrin was about to launch into a scolding—

A teaching assistant's voice rang out across the island.

The students flooded toward the arranged seats and sat down wherever they pleased.

A tall podium stood waiting before them, and when Simon saw the people seated there, he smiled.

Every single 2nd-year department professor had gathered in one place.

"It's Professor Jane!"

"Professor Bahil!"

The students waved at their professors. The professors waved back, but their expressions were oddly stiff. This exam would determine how their respective departments' students performed, and they all seemed coiled tight as springs.

"Haha. Yes, yes. A pleasure to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠see you all."

One professor, however, waved at the students with perfect composure.

Bahil, professor of Curse Magic.

The instant he raised his hand, happy shrieks erupted from the female students.

"Senior Aaron."

Bahil lowered his hand and shot a glance at the man seated beside him.

"I hear you've been working yourself to the bone lately. Not only crafting a Death Knight, but securing a paladin's corpse all the way in the Holy Federation — and if I'm not mistaken, you even gave the Chief Inquisitor Rate the slip."

Aaron's weary eyes rolled sideways.

"Keep it down. You're killing my brain."

"Haha."

Bahil's mouth curled upward.

"Splendid work. I look forward to the Summoning Department's continued efforts."

"……You."

Aaron rubbed his eye sockets with his palm and went on.

"This is driving me crazy — why the hell do you look so happy?"

Bahil answered only with a quiet smile, gazing off to one side.

In the direction he was looking, Simon could be seen chatting with Camibarez.

"Quiet."

At that moment, Vice Principal Jane stepped up onto the podium.

The students fell silent all at once. She switched on the amplifying crystal orb she'd received from a teaching assistant and opened her mouth in a calm, measured voice.

"Good morning. I will now explain the rules of the Group Exam."