Simon laid out his proposal.
"The problem is that Meirin can’t dodge the Cyclops’s attacks, right? I can help her with my summoning magic."
"...How?"
"Skeletons. I’ll summon undead to act as a distraction. While the Cyclops is focused on them, Meirin can prepare Dark Flare and attack."
It was undeniable that Meirin’s Dark Flare was Group Seven’s most potent weapon. If protecting her was the main issue, Simon could provide a solution from a summoning standpoint. He could not only draw the beast’s attention but also use his undead to intercept attacks meant for her.
"Oooh." A satisfied smile spread across Meirin’s face. "Now you’re making sense. I guess a special admission is special for a reason."
"Ugh."
With a solution to the critical issue of Meirin’s survival now on the table and no better ideas presenting themselves, Dick had no choice but to accept his role.
Meirin’s face brightened considerably.
"What about you, Kami? Do you know any binding techniques in Hemomancy?"
Kamibarez smiled, scratching the side of her head.
"Hemomancy is almost entirely focused on versatile, offensive magic... I think it would be better for me to just use curses."
Meirin nodded, satisfied, and turned to Dick. After a moment of wracking his brain, Dick let out a heavy sigh of resignation.
"Exhaust. I’ll practice it all week."
"Yep, yep. That’s what’s best for the team!" Meirin said triumphantly.
Simon offered Dick a placating smile.
"We haven’t finalized the strategy yet. We still have time before the presentation, so let’s keep thinking."
"R-Right."
As he replied, Dick found himself looking at Simon in a new light. Meirin was the official leader, but it was Simon who was actually mediating their disagreements and guiding the group’s atmosphere. And in doing so, he was cleverly securing his own advantage. If he could successfully protect the team’s main damage dealer with his undead, a high score in teamwork was practically guaranteed.
They were deep in discussion when the bell rang, signaling the end of class.
"For the next class, prepare a ten-minute presentation on your strategy to defeat the Cyclops," Jane announced as she stood. "The roles of each member and the specific black magic they will use must be clearly stated in your materials. That is all."
"Thank you for your hard work!"
The serious expression on Simon’s face finally melted away. The end of class was a bliss he never got tired of.
"Let’s go, Simon!" Dick called out, grabbing his bag. "Today’s special at the third cafeteria is Hamburg steak!"
Simon grinned and got to his feet.
"A limited special is sacred."
After their meal, Simon and Dick made their way to the Venomology classroom for their last class of the day. It wasn’t a standard classroom but ‘Venomology Lab 2,’ where a large magic cauldron sat beneath each desk. As they settled into a spot in the middle of the room, a sharp voice cut through the air.
"Hey! Merchant!"
Meirin stormed into the lab, Kamibarez trailing behind her with a smile.
"Your information was wrong! You said the third cafeteria had a Hamburg steak special! It wasn’t even on the menu!"
Dick chuckled.
"It sold out in five minutes. They took it off the board."
"...Ugh, how annoying."
"Should’ve run like hell through the shortcut with us."
"I don’t know any shortcuts! Would it kill you to wait up?"
Dick waved his hand dismissively.
"Hey, you want to eat with us, too? That’s pushing it. Let’s just pretend we don’t know each other outside of class."
"The feeling is mutual," Meirin retorted, dropping her bag in the seat next to Simon. "But we’re stuck together until this Cyclops evaluation is over. And let me be clear: if your lack of cooperation drags down my grade, I won’t let you off easy."
"Ooh, I’m so scared. What are you going to do?"
When she stood there, momentarily speechless, Dick leaned in and cupped a hand to his ear.
"I’m listening! What are you gonna do, huh? Tell me nice and slow."
"I’ll curse you!" she growled. "I’ll throw a hundred different curse dolls into your room!"
Dick burst out laughing.
"You’d get caught by my information network for trespassing in the boys’ dorm long before that. Or, more likely, you’d be found as a corpse by a pissed-off Kajan Edvalt."
"Who’s Kajan Edvalt?"
"Someone you don’t want to meet," Dick said with a smirk, lacing his fingers behind his head.
"Who is he?!" Meirin demanded.
As she yelled and Dick taunted her, their childish squabble escalating, Kamibarez and Simon’s eyes met. She offered a small, sweet smile.
"Hello!"
"Hi."
Soon, the lab filled with other students, followed by the Venomology professor himself.
"Ehh, in this class, who is the president?" the professor droned. His name was Lang Strauss, a stooped, skeletal old man whose wrinkled face spoke of countless years.
"We don’t have one!" someone called out.
"Then from now on, you will lead the greeting."
"Yes, sir!" Jamie Victoria shot to her feet. "Everyone, attention! Salute the professor!"
"Good afternoon!" the class chorused.
"Yes, yes. Welcome, everyone." Lang was the only professor at Kizen who insisted on such formalities. Leaning on his staff, he slowly made his way to the podium. "Ehh, you all are... what class is this?"
"Class A, sir!"
"Oh, right. Is this the first class for Class A?"
"Yes, it is!"
"Ehh, then everyone, please open your textbooks to page one," Lang said, opening his own copy. He then began to read from it in a slow, monotonous drone.
The effect was devastating. Ten minutes in, students were already struggling to keep their eyes open. The combined force of his droning voice and glacial pace was overwhelming; he might as well have been pumping sleeping gas into the room.
"Ehh, so, what this means is that Venomology is not simply a discipline that deals only with poisons. By combining and arranging various chemicals—"
Dick’s head dipped sharply. Simon shot him a wry smile and nudged him with an elbow. Dick jolted awake, but it was a wasted effort; five minutes later, his head was drooping again. The tedious lecture, disguised as a textbook reading, dragged on for forty minutes. By then, half the class had their heads on their desks.
"Ehh, now we’ll be making the low-grade poison potion from the textbook..." Lang finally announced.
’Finally, a practical exercise!’
Dozing students began to stir. The teaching assistants, finally springing into action, moved swiftly to distribute potion ingredients to each desk.
"Eh—then let’s begin... Let’s see. Potion brewing requires—thorough—measurement..."
Precise measurement and the correct order of ingredients were paramount. Students carefully weighed their materials on the provided scales. The TAs filled their cauldrons with water, and following Lang’s instruction, they began by chopping and adding the ‘Gurodan Poison Mushrooms’ and ‘Frog Tongues’.
"And next is... Ahem! Ahem!"
Suddenly, Lang doubled over, wracked by a violent coughing fit. It looked serious. The students stared, wide-eyed, as the TAs rushed to his side. A purplish, blood-like fluid was pooled in the old man’s hand.
"Professor, you’ve pushed yourself too hard. You must rest," one of the TAs urged.
Still coughing, Lang shook his head.
"N-No, I can’t. Without me, the class..."
"It’s the practical portion now, sir. We can manage it. You must think of your health."
After several more earnest pleas, Lang finally relented and allowed the TAs to help him out of the classroom. The students blinked, wondering what new chaos this was.
And in Professor Lang’s place, a teaching assistant with fiery red hair stepped up to the lectern.
She let out a faint sigh, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on a student still nodding off. With casual ease, she lifted a heavy textbook and hurled it.
The book slammed onto the student’s desk, jolting him awake.
"Everyone, on your feet," she commanded, her voice sharp as a whip.
"On your feet!" she repeated.
Startled, the rest of the students scrambled up from their seats. The red-haired teaching assistant crossed her arms, her glare sweeping across the room. "What is this disrespectful attitude before your professor, Class A?"
Silence.
"Falling asleep with your head on the desk because you’re bored?" she snapped, her voice resonating with palpable authority. "How can degenerates rotten to the core like you dare to call yourselves Kizen students!"
Every student stiffened, their backs ramrod straight. She pressed a hand to her forehead as if to cool her temper, pausing for a moment. "Let’s show one another a basic level of courtesy. Understood?"
"Yes!" they chorused.
"Be seated."
The students, now thoroughly chastened, sat down. She let out a deep sigh and briskly tied her hair back with a strap. "I am Professor Lang’s teaching assistant, Francesca Belmont. I will be conducting the class in his stead. Today’s practical will be on the Lesser Poison Potion. Close your textbooks."
With bewildered expressions, the students complied. She picked up a piece of chalk and strode to the blackboard.
"The most crucial element in brewing a lesser potion is not controlling variables through precise measurements and ingredient order, but the brewer’s ability to adapt," she began, her tone all business. "The water in your cauldrons should be boiling by now. From the ingredient pouch on your left, add the Salamander Powder and Barley Flour."
A student’s hand shot up. "How much should we add?"
"The amount doesn’t matter," Francesca replied without missing a beat. "Add as much as you feel is right."
Following her instructions, Simon and the others began adding the ingredients. Soon, Simon’s cauldron turned a murky green and began to emit a bitter smell.
"Now, any student whose cauldron is emitting blue smoke, please raise your hand."
About half the class raised their hands.
"Those students will be making a poison with a nerve-paralyzing effect. Next, students with green smoke?"
Simon and the remaining students raised their hands.
"Students with green smoke will create a poison that induces acute headaches and hallucinations. It’s particularly advantageous when dealing with mages or necromancers."
The students blinked, exchanging glances. This was clearly advanced knowledge, something not found in any textbook or preparatory study guide. Francesca descended from the podium and moved among the desks, rattling off a torrent of information.
"Students with green smoke, please take off your uniform jackets and hang them on your chairs. The assistants will bring you additional ingredients." She paused, her eyes sharp. "From now on, the steps are the same for everyone. Use a ladle to skim off the oily film spreading across the surface. Vegetable fatty acids will reduce the poison’s effectiveness."
Her voice commanded the room. "Keep stirring. You must stir continuously until the potion develops a thick viscosity. If the heat is too strong, the potion could solidify, so be mindful of your flame control."
Perhaps it was the stark contrast to Professor Lang’s dreadfully boring lecture, but Francesca’s class felt incredibly dynamic, almost electric. She was dripping with sweat, her passion for the subject evident as she guided them. Moved by her skill and effort, the students’ eyes lit with interest, and they followed her instructions with newfound focus.
"My potion is turning yellowish. Is that okay?" a student asked nervously.
"That’s excellent," Francesca praised, a rare smile touching her lips. "A slight yellow tint signifies a premium-grade poison. You could probably sell that in Rochest."
A potion that could be sold! The student’s face lit up at the unexpected compliment, and his friends nudged his arm in congratulations.
"I-I’m Catherine Meyer!" another student called out. "It was blue smoke at first, but now it’s turned green!"
"When you stirred with the ladle, you brought up the ingredients that had settled at the bottom, changing the effect," Francesca explained smoothly. "We’ll have to adjust for the hallucinogenic effect. Mr. Hesse, please prepare the ingredients for green smoke over here."
She continued to move between the students, checking on their cauldrons. Just then, a girl shot her hand up. "Claudia Mendes! Professor, my potion is a little strange—"
Francesca’s expression hardened instantly. Realizing her mistake, Claudia quickly covered her mouth.
"I am not a professor, Claudia," she said, her voice laced with ice.
"I-I’m sorry, TA!"
"Alright, what’s the problem?" Her anger vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Francesca offered a gentle smile as she instructed Claudia on her potion. After Claudia added more Salamander Powder as advised, Francesca even patted her on the head, praising her work.
"Hey, Simon," Dick whispered, leaning closer. "I think I know how that old geezer Lang has survived at Kizen all this time. His TA is insanely competent!"
"...You’re right," Simon murmured in agreement.
Claudia, now completely engrossed in Venomology, had even started asking for advice on her major. Simon watched Francesca answer her warmly, a complicated expression on his face.
"What’s wrong?" Dick asked.
"Oh, it’s nothing."
The class was nearing its end. Francesca granted free time to the students who had successfully completed their potions and gave those who had failed another chance, patiently reteaching them. Simon, having finished his own potion, was flipping through his textbook.
"Simon! Should we bring this for the Cyclops battle?" Dick asked excitedly. "A poison potion has to be effective, right?"
Simon smiled. He’d been thinking the exact same thing.
’To face the Cyclops, you will all need to push your abilities to their absolute limit this week,’ Jane’s voice echoed in his mind. ‘Don’t just let a single class slide by; make the knowledge your own and use it for the performance evaluation.’
He was experiencing firsthand how every lesson could be applied to real combat. Jane’s instructional methods were truly remarkable.
"Idiot. This won’t work." Meirin approached, her arms crossed. Kamibarez followed, standing next to Simon with a bright smile. "Lesser poison potions are useless against mid-sized monsters and larger. It definitely won’t work on a Cyclops."
"Is that so?" Simon continued to flip through the textbook, his expression thoughtful. His hand paused on a certain page.
’The ingredient is a Rehak Mushroom?’ he thought, a flicker of recognition passing through him. It was a mushroom his mother, Anna, sometimes detoxified and cooked for him. He lowered his head, his eyes tracing the text.
"Meirin, what about this one?"
"What is it?" She came over to look where he was pointing. "..."
After a moment of silence, Meirin’s head snapped up, and she sprinted back to her desk. "Simon! What page is this?"
"254."
She hastily opened her own textbook and began to read the section with intense focus. "Guys! I think this could work if we can make it!"

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