Brad’s lips curled into a smirk.
"All talk. Here I come!"
He stomped on the ground and charged. Simon watched, his eyes wide. The man’s movements were strange. For someone with a gorilla’s build, he was unnervingly fluid, twisting his body left and right as he closed the distance.
’A right straight.’
Simon started to move, but Brad’s fist was already there, arriving in front of his face with a sickening ‘shwick!’ that seemed to skip the motion in between.
’Crack!’
A tsunami of force slammed through the barrier and into his face. Simon reeled, throwing a right hook of his own, but Brad had already dropped low and circled to his left.
’Thwaack!’
Another blow.
To the right again. Then the left.
"Ugh!"
Simon staggered backward. Without the suit, any one of those hits could have knocked him out, or worse.
"Hahaha! What’s the matter?" Brad taunted.
Simon wiped his mouth, his eyes desperately trying to track the man’s movements. ‘This bastard... He’s fast, but he’s not unbeatable.’
Brad was flabbergasted. By his own admission, this was a ridiculous fight. No matter how he spun it, he was a fifth-year TA beating up a first-year student. Anyone who heard about it would condemn him. He couldn’t deny it was bullying, a way to vent his frustrations.
And yet... ‘If I don’t do this, my anger will eat me alive!’
A solid punch buried itself in Simon’s abdomen. His body folded, and a follow-up elbow from Brad slammed into the back of his head, driving him to the ground.
’He’s going to be her direct disciple. All the more reason to teach him his place right now!’
Brad raised his foot to stomp on Simon’s head, but Simon’s hand shot out, twisting and grabbing his ankle.
’What the—!’
In a flash, Simon’s legs coiled around Brad’s like snakes. In one fluid motion, he flipped his body, using his momentum to throw Brad off balance. The TA stumbled, his back now exposed.
’A joint lock?’
A skeleton burst from Simon’s Subspace, hurling a spear.
’Clever little punk.’ Despite his unstable footing, Brad deftly gathered Jet-Black in his palm and detonated it. It was an application of the Combat Magic technique, Wind Crush. A violent gust of wind sent the spear and the skeleton flying. In that brief moment, Simon released his hold and scrambled away.
"You’re skilled," Brad said, genuinely impressed. "Were you a fighter before coming to Kizen?"
Simon raised his fists.
"I just studied to be a lord under my father."
"Like I’d believe that!"
Brad charged again.
Simon summoned two more skeletons, sending them to flank him as he lowered his stance. ‘Forget everything else. One hit. That’s all I need to win.’
Matching Brad’s speed, Simon surged forward, stepping on a platform of Jet-Black. As the distance between them vanished, he threw a punch.
Brad’s body dropped, disappearing from view. Simon’s fist sliced through empty air as a powerful hand gripped his waist.
’I knew what you’d try!’
It was a perfect German suplex. Brad arched his back like a shrimp, and Simon’s head and neck were slammed into the ground with a sickening ‘thud!’ that sent dirt flying.
Having executed the move flawlessly, Brad released him and stood.
’Whoooosh!’
A leg shot out from the cloud of dust, but Brad blocked it with a sharp ‘thwack’. ‘A kick while falling? Does this kid feel no impact?’
The kick was a feint. Brad quickly raised his other arm to guard his face.
As expected, Simon’s other leg connected, the impact echoing through the clearing. As his leg retracted, it was followed by a dizzying flurry of kicks.
Brad leaned back, dodging each strike. A grin spread across his face. ‘He’s good. Seriously, how does he do it?’ It was embarrassing to admit, but his blood was boiling just from fighting a freshman. He’d dismissed Simon as a book-smart, empty shell, but now he was starting to understand why Professor Hongfeng was so captivated.
’This kid has the physique and the natural instincts. But his form is unstable, his power transfer is inefficient. Classic signs of someone without formal training.’
Professor Hongfeng must have seen the same thing. How could she not be itching to мол a raw talent like this?
’CRACK!’
Startled, Brad glanced behind him. As he backpedaled, two massive trees were toppling toward him in an X formation. Simon’s skeletons had chopped them down with axes.
’When did he have time to summon them...?!’
To think he had the mental capacity to command his undead while fighting him. As Brad dodged another kick, he wrapped his fists in Jet-Black.
When Brad opened his fist, a serrated blade of Jet-Black shot forth and effortlessly split a tree in two—an application of the Combat Magic technique, Blade Form. The bisected trunks crashed to the ground as Brad reset his stance and let out a sharp grunt.
Simon kept charging. ‘Time to end this,’ Brad resolved. Just as he coiled his body to throw a devastating punch, Simon gritted his teeth and lunged, leading with his forehead.
Brad’s eyes flew open. ‘This bastard... Does he have a death wish?!’
"Bone Nail." Simon flicked a finger upward.
A sharp ‘thwack’ echoed from behind Brad, followed by a sickening thud.
A horrified gasp escaped him as his gaze shot over his shoulder. Sharp bone fragments from a skeleton had torn into his thigh, and blood was already gushing from the open wound. ‘What the hell? Where did that come from...!’ His eyes darted around, spotting skeletal remains embedded in the fallen trees. ‘Was this all part of his plan?’
As his mind raced to process the trap, a chilling aura washed over him. He looked up. Simon twisted in midair, bringing his leg down in a massive, devastating arc. Brad scrambled to shield his head with his arms.
’CRACK!’
"Gah!" The kick was too fast to block properly. Blood exploded from his nose as he reeled backward.
Simon landed softly, a smirk playing on his lips. "Now you’re out of excuses. I win."
’Snap.’
The last thread of Brad’s self-control tore apart. "...Heh. Haha. Hahahaha!" he roared. A terrifying aura of Jet-Black erupted from his body, shooting into the air before wrapping around him like living armor. It was the symbol of a Combat Magic major: Jet-Black Armor.
Within seconds, Brad was encased in a pitch-black plate. "I admit it," he ground out through clenched teeth. "I lost. The promise stands. I’ll accept whatever punishment you decree. But before I leave Kizen!" He balled his fists. "I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I don’t pulverize you right here, right now!"
Simon let out a heavy sigh. "That wasn’t part of our deal. How much more pathetic are you going to get?"
"Say what you want! I don’t care!"
"Fine," Simon replied, letting his arms fall limp at his sides. "Have it your way."
Brad’s eyebrow twitched. "What are you doing? Get in your stance!"
"My patience for this is wearing thin, too," Simon said coolly. "I’ll do as I please. If this is how you want to play it, then just get on with it and beat me down."
"You little bastard...!"
Radiating pure killing intent, Brad lunged forward and grabbed Simon by the collar.
"BREAD!!!"
A colossal shout, powerful enough to shatter eardrums, shook the entire island. Startled, Brad whipped his head around, his jaw dropping in disbelief. "Pr-Professor Hongfeng...?"
She was striding toward them, a murderous expression on her face. A cold dread washed over Brad, and he instantly dispelled his Jet-Black Armor.
"Azziztant Brad," Hongfeng said, her voice dangerously low as she stopped to glare at him. Her usual warm demeanor was gone, replaced by something cold and terrifying. "Explain what is happening here."
Standing at attention, Brad began to sweat profusely. "I-I was just giving Simon some sparring guidance..."
’SLAP!’
The force of Hongfeng’s slap sent Brad flying dozens of meters, tumbling across the dirt.
’Agh...’ Lying on the ground, Brad clutched his cheek. In five years of service, she had never once laid a hand on him. But that single blow confirmed it. This power was unmistakably hers.
"Get up," she commanded.
Brad scrambled to his feet and approached, his cheek already swelling a bright, angry red.
"Turn around."
He obeyed.
"Now, azzume the mozt painful ztanze you can."
"Y-Yes? A painful stance...?"
"Begin."
Without another word, Brad slammed his head into the ground, his body going rigid as he pushed himself up with his fingertips. He then balanced his entire weight on a single finger, extending shards of his Jet-Black Armor toward the sky. The position demanded constant control over both stamina and Jet-Black; it looked agonizing.
"Zimon!" Hongfeng rushed over to Simon, her expression softening with profound relief. "Are you hurt?"
"No, I’m fine. I was wearing the protective suit..."
"Your faze lookz very zwollen." She cupped Simon’s cheeks in her hands and began to massage them in circles.
"Pr-Professor?"
"Is thiz okay? How about here?" One of her hands began to probe his forearm and abdomen, while the other stretched his cheek like taffy. Her touch was undeniably filled with ulterior motives.
Gritting his teeth, Simon hissed, "Don’t..."
In truth, this wasn’t Hongfeng. It was Erzebet, transformed. She had come on Simon’s orders to collect the Nuthlug corpses, but when the fight broke out, she had intervened in disguise. For the day she might escape Kizen, Erzebet had memorized the voices of its professors and key figures.
She tilted her head, whispering so only Simon could hear, "How was that? Am I not of use to you now, Legion Commander?"
"You saved me, and I’m grateful, but please back off," he muttered.
She grinned, then grabbed a button on his uniform and reverted to Hongfeng’s voice. "Zimon. I think I need to check for a wound here."
"There are no wounds there, Professor...," Simon said through trembling lips. He had to play along, lest Brad discover the truth.
At Simon’s urgent gesture to leave, Erzebet swept her hair back with a look of disappointment. "Azziztant Brad!"
"Ye-Yes, Professor!" Brad was now using his Jet-Black Armor to beat his own body, faithfully executing the order to remain in the most painful state imaginable.
"I am deeply dizappointed in you," she declared. "Maintain that form for the next twenty hours. Then you may return."
"Yes, Professor!"
’Twenty hours? Isn’t that a bit much?’ Simon’s eyes questioned her, but Erzebet placed a hand on her chest as if to say, ‘Leave it to me.’
"From tomorrow on, you will act naturally," she continued, her voice sharp. "You will not zpeak of, or even think about, thiz inzident to anyone, myzelf included. Act as if it never happened. The mere thought of it makez me want to tear you to shreds."
"...Yes, understood."
"And you will never lay a hand on ztudent Zimon again. If this happens again..." Her eyes flashed with menace. "There will be no zecond chanzez."
"...Yes, understood."
"Let’z go, Zimon." Erzebet took Simon’s hand and led him away, leaving Brad behind, not daring to even look in their direction.

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