Simon immediately mimed pulling a lever, and three armed skeletons erupted from a Subspace beside him. Across the field, Haren drew a Jet-Black magic circle behind his back. A moment later, with a wet splat, a demonic arm made of pure darkness burst forth. It was his signature technique: the Black Hand.
’Simon Polentia. I’ve come fully prepared for you,’ Haren thought, a smirk playing on his lips as he maneuvered the Black Hand into a defensive posture. ‘His major is Summoning, but his real threat is Combat Magic. I just have to keep my distance.’
Simon was an anomaly. The standard strategy against a summoner—bypass the minions and target the caster directly—was complicated by the fact that Simon himself was a proficient fighter.
Rushing in recklessly would be a mistake. ‘He’ll probably use the skeletons to attack and bait me into charging forward. I won’t fall for that.’ Haren held his position, maintaining his distance. But then, it was Simon who made the first move. ‘Here he comes...!’
Haren watched, his expression tense, but Simon wasn’t advancing. On the contrary, he was backing away.
He continued to step backward, and the skeletons guarding him did the same, maintaining their formation as the entire unit retreated. ‘What in the world is he doing...?’ Haren’s eyebrow twitched. He watched in silence, wondering how far Simon would go, until he reached the very edge of the arena. With his back to the wall, Simon had cornered himself. ‘I don’t know what kind of strategy he’s cooked up, but...’
Haren could attack from a distance as well. He manifested several Jet-Black magic circles in the air, and four Jet-black Arrows rapidly took shape.
"Huh? What’s going on?" Dick exclaimed, shooting up from his seat in the stands.
"He shouldn’t be able to use other black magic while maintaining the Black Hand, right?"
But as if to prove him wrong, Haren completed the spell and launched the arrows. Simon reacted in an instant. Three shields materialized from a Subspace on the floor, and the skeletons dropped their swords to grip the shields with both hands. ‘Block them!’ The skeletons charged forward, shields raised against the incoming projectiles.
’CLANG! CLANG! CLAAANG!’
The sound of impact echoed through the arena. The skeletons were driven back but managed to hold their ground.
’Well, now, look at this.’ The corner of Haren’s mouth curled into a smirk as his gaze fell upon the swords the skeletons had discarded. ‘So, you have no intention of attacking at all. Is that it?’ Simon had retreated, and his skeletons had abandoned their weapons.
Puzzled, Haren scrutinized Simon’s posture. A dark, bluish Jet-Black energy was rising from Simon’s right arm. It wasn’t a magic circle, but Simon was clearly preparing ‘something’. Or perhaps this, too, was just an act. ‘If you have no intention of attacking...!’
Haren opened his palm. The Jet-Black that flowed from it began to form a curse circle—a spell far beyond Haren’s normal capabilities, made possible only through a procedure performed by Bahil.
It was one of the professor’s secret techniques: recreating a magic circle using Jet-Black’s inherent memory, bypassing the need for knowledge or proficiency. Once the circle was complete, Haren extended his hand. ‘Sickness!’
A pitch-black curse shot from the circle like a bolt of lightning. The skeletons leaped in front of Simon to intercept it, but the curse passed harmlessly through their undead forms and burrowed into Simon’s chest. ‘...Ugh!’
The world began to spin violently. A wave of nausea washed over him, and Simon dropped to one knee. The motion sickness curse, ‘Sickness’. It was known to be brutally effective against Combat Magic majors.
’This... this is motion sickness?’ His head swam, the world fracturing into three distinct images before snapping back into one, over and over. He gritted his teeth, desperately clinging to consciousness.
"Oh?" Haren smiled. "Most people lose their will to fight after a hit like that. You plan on continuing?"
Dripping with sweat, Simon simply raised the corner of his mouth in response. Finding the smile intensely irritating, Haren moved his Black Hand.
’WHOOOOSH!’
The demonic arm extending from his back lashed out like a whip. Simon sent his shield-wielding skeletons to intercept it.
’CLAAAANG!’
Two skeletons were sent flying. The Black Hand then changed its trajectory in mid-air and swung toward Simon.
Despite the crippling nausea, Simon channeled Jet-Black into his right foot and leaped into the air. ‘I’m... I’m actually going to die!’ He dodged the attack, but the jump only intensified the vertigo. Landing hard, Simon wiped his mouth. ‘You little rat...!’
Haren swung the Black Hand again. Simon scrambled across the floor, frantically dodging the whip-like attacks that changed direction at will. Haren’s one-sided assault continued relentlessly.
"What are you doing, Simon!" Meirin yelled, jumping to her feet. "Attack! Fight back, you idiot!"
"Hey, you in the front! Could you keep it down?" a voice from the row behind them grumbled.
Meirin’s face turned beet red as she ducked her head. It was a perfect opportunity to tease her, but Dick was too focused on the match, sweating profusely as he watched Simon’s struggle.
"This is weird. Something’s really weird."
"Hey, Dick," Meirin hissed, glaring at him. "Your intel was completely useless! You said he couldn’t use other black magic while casting the Black Hand! You said its maximum range was two meters! You said he was only good at Jet-black Dynamics and sucked at Cursology! Not a single thing you said was right!"
Dick scratched his head in frustration. "I don’t know, I don’t get it! Was he hiding his true strength all along?"
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"I don’t know!" Dick yelled back. "But one thing is certain! The Haren Cork we’re seeing right now is several times stronger than the one on record!"
Simon dodged another whip-like strike from the Black Hand and covered his mouth, fighting the urge to vomit.
"Damn it, you’re annoyingly good at dodging," Haren panted. A new ‘Sickness’ magic circle was already forming in his left hand. "But it’s over once this is complete. Let’s see if you can handle a second stack."
It was a blatant provocation. Haren taunted Simon as he slowly closed the distance, deliberately swinging the Black Hand wide to create an opening, trying to lure him into a charge. But Simon refused to use Combat Magic. He just silently summoned new skeletons to replace the ones that were shattered.
It was strange. Haren was clearly dominating the fight. He’d landed one curse, and the next was nearly complete. And yet... ‘Just what in the hell are you planning?’ It was Haren who felt like he was being backed into a corner.
’CRASH!’
Meanwhile, Bahil watched the match from the stands, his arms crossed. Just as he’d predicted, it was a one-sided affair.
"How interesting," he mused, turning his head. "Isn’t this the first time you’ve come to watch the first-year dueling evaluations?"
From the stairs, Aaron was climbing into the stands, dressed in a simple shirt and shorts. He tried to walk past Bahil without a word.
"Guilt."
Aaron stopped in his tracks.
"That’s the reason you don’t take on direct disciples, isn’t it?" Bahil continued. "Because you know all too well the hardships they’ll face if they choose Summoning. Most of your students couldn’t handle it and changed their majors, and you can no longer bear to watch it happen." He shrugged. "But now, are you getting greedy?"
Aaron turned, his gaze cold. Bahil met his stare with a smile, unflinching.
"Let’s have a look, shall we?" Bahil said, gesturing toward the arena. "Let’s see what state our disciples are in."
By now, Haren was actively closing the distance, swinging his Black Hand with abandon. Simon was purely on the defensive, dodging and evading. The skeletons’ shields finally shattered. A follow-up strike destroyed the skeletons themselves, but Simon persistently restored them.
"Once Haren’s second ‘Sickness’ is complete, this match will be over," Bahil declared.
"Am I wrong, Senior?"
Aaron silently gazed down at the duel, then turned and started back down the stairs.
"Senior? Where are you going?"
"The match is already decided," Aaron said, glancing back at Bahil. "I came just in case, but there’s no need to watch any further."
Bahil watched Aaron’s retreating figure with a puzzled expression.
The arena was shrouded in smoke from Haren’s relentless assault. His face flushed red, Haren panted heavily.
He couldn’t figure out Simon’s strategy. The Jet-Black on Simon’s right arm continued to flicker, but it wasn’t a magic circle or anything of the sort.
’No, it doesn’t matter. It’s over for you now!’ Haren thrust his left hand forward. As Simon’s posture crumbled from dodging the Black Hand, the second ‘Sickness’ curse struck home. ‘Ugh!’
That was the second stack. Simon felt his surroundings twist into a horrifying vortex as the dizziness and nausea peaked. He was in no condition to fight.
"How does it feel? Like shit, right, Special Admission Number One?" Haren sneered, baring his teeth. "You came here thinking you’d crush someone like me, but it’s not so easy, is it? The sight of you crawling on the floor—that’s reality."
"Nothing in this world is a given," Simon said, pressing his left hand to his forehead as he slowly pushed himself to his feet. "Phew..."
The flickering Jet-Black on his right hand vanished. Haren’s grin stretched from ear to ear.
"Giving up? Are you going to surrender?"
"No."
Simon slowly reached for his neck, rolling it to loosen the tense muscles. A series of sharp cracks echoed in the quiet.
"It’s complete now. Time for a counterattack."
Was he talking about whatever he’d been preparing this whole time? Haren’s head snapped around, frantically scanning the arena. Nothing had changed. Not Simon, not the arena, not his own condition. It wasn’t a curse or an illusion. ‘He’s bluffing to the very end...!’
"You know," Simon said, clenching his fist before punching the empty air.
"Whoa!"
"Aaaaaah!"
The entire arena trembled. Screams erupted from the stands as startled spectators looked around in alarm.
With a deadpan expression, Simon drew his fist back and punched again.
"Dueling Evaluation Detailed Rules, Article 3, Section 4."
"A student participating in the Dueling Evaluation will be disqualified if they leave the arena during the evaluation."
Haren’s eyes flew wide. The arena wall behind Simon was denting inward, forming the shape of a colossal fist.
"But no matter how many times I read the rules," Simon continued, "I couldn’t find a single clause prohibiting someone from bringing something in from outside the arena."
’CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!’
The wall finally gave way, crumbling into a shower of stone and dust. The outside world was suddenly visible. The referee, the staff, and the entire audience stared, their jaws agape.
’THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD!’
Something enormous was storming into the arena. With each step its massive legs took, the dueling floor cracked and splintered.
"Ha..." Haren let out a hollow laugh. "...Heh! Ha! Hahahaha! You fucking crazy bastard!"
It was a massive summon, its hulking body formed from earth and mud packed around a magical core—the very symbol of a summoner.
Haren screamed at the nonchalantly smiling Simon. "This is a first-year evaluation! For fuck’s sake! What—Why is there a golem here?!"
Summon Mud Golem. A spell that gathered earth around an internal ‘Golem’s Core’ to give it form.
’WAAAAAAAAAAH!’
A first-year bringing a golem to his first dueling evaluation! The crowd went absolutely wild. Meirin and Kamibarez’s mouths hung open in shock. Dick just let out a hollow laugh, much like Haren.
"When I went outside to look for Simon earlier, I saw him burying a Golem’s Core behind the arena," Dick explained. "He planned to build it from outside the arena from the very beginning."
Meirin whipped her head toward him. "Forget the Skeleton Archers for a second! Is it even possible for a first-year to make a golem?!"
Dick shrugged. "You’re looking at it right now, aren’t you?"
Of course, no one was more shocked than Haren.
"No way! That’s impossible! Referee! Isn’t that an external summon? That’s a foul! He should be disqualified...!"
The referee coolly shook his head. "That summon is being controlled by student Simon’s Jet-Black. It is his golem."
Simon had buried the core behind the arena, then moved to that spot as soon as the duel began—a move Haren had mistaken for a retreat.
From there, he’d focused entirely on defense, using the time to construct the golem on the other side of the wall. With the core safely outside, it was never in danger of being attacked.
He had activated it with his Jet-Black and shaped it from the surrounding earth, all without a direct line of sight.
"Now then," Simon said with a smile. "It’s my turn, isn’t it?"
’THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD!’
At Simon’s command, the golem charged forward with terrifying speed. Despite its massive, seemingly sluggish frame, it was unbelievably fast.
Haren tightened his fists, a strange thrill cutting through his shock at the prospect of facing the giant beast alone. ‘Damn it...!’ Life was unfair. Everyone was born with different cards.
Talent, wealth, status, body, race, nationality. He knew all of that. That’s why he’d wanted to shatter those expectations.
He wanted to prove that a commoner with no talent could achieve greatness if given the chance. But still... ‘A golem is just too much...!’
It was a wall of talent so immense he could barely comprehend it. To Haren, Simon, standing calmly behind the approaching golem, seemed far larger and more insurmountable than the beast itself.
"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
Haren let out a furious battle cry and charged. It was do or die. He launched himself into the air, spinning his body before unleashing his Black Hand with all his might. The air tore apart as the demonic fist slammed into the golem’s chest.
’THWUMP.’
But the golem’s body didn’t even flinch. A few clumps of dirt fell away, and the Black Hand’s arm bent like soft jelly.
"A straight punch," Simon’s voice echoed from behind the golem as he pulled back his own fist. "You have to put your weight into it."
As Simon threw his punch, the golem, linked to his thoughts, mirrored the motion with its own colossal arm.
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Struck by the golem’s punch, Haren was launched like a cannonball across the arena. He crashed into the opposite wall with enough force to shatter it, caving it in like a crater as cracks spiderwebbed across the floor. A violent gale swept through the stands, forcing everyone to shield themselves.
Simon slowly lowered his arm. The curse Haren had cast lifted, and his vision returned to normal.
[Simon Polentia: 76%]
[Haren Cork: 0%]
The dazed referee finally snapped back to his senses and thrust his hand into the air, beads of sweat dotting his forehead.
"The winner is... student Simon Polentia of Class A!"

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