The entire first year had returned to Kizen. While many expected the aftereffects of their ordeal to linger, the moment classes resumed, the brutal days on Kera Island faded into a distant, feverish dream as the rhythm of school life took over once more. From the Cyclops assessment to the duel evaluations and the island survival test, Kizen’s curriculum was designed to relentlessly fuel the students’ ambition and drive.
These trials stirred a potent mix of emotions: awe and envy for those who excelled, and a new, sharp tension as they witnessed the startling growth of underachievers they had once dismissed. The atmosphere in the classrooms following an evaluation was always electric.
Naturally, Simon was no exception.
"Prepare yourself."
As the evening began to settle, Professor Aaron of Summoning observed Simon’s restoration technique. This had become their routine on days with Summoning class. Having already mastered the standard curriculum, Simon had little to gain from the regular lessons. Aaron, therefore, made time for special tutoring tailored to his advanced level.
"I’m ready, Professor!" Simon declared.
"Begin," Aaron commanded.
At the signal, Simon’s focus intensified. The skeleton standing beside him instantly disassembled, its bones hurtling toward his arm. In seconds, his right arm was encased in a shell of bone. The long humerus and femur locked into place like a central pillar while smaller bones knit themselves into the gaps, forming a solid shell. Jet-Black then seeped between the pieces, binding them together and forming articulated joints.
This was it.
’Bone Armor, focused entirely on one arm!’ he thought with a surge of pride.
Bone Armor was a defensive restoration technique that repurposed a skeleton into a protective exoskeleton. Simon had privately dubbed this arm-only version ‘Gauntlet Mode’. He had now succeeded three times in a row, each attempt faster and more stable than the last. Thrilled, he clenched and unclenched his new gauntlet, then swung his arm up and down as if lifting a heavy dumbbell. It felt far denser than his bare fist, and the power thrumming through it was undeniable.
’He really is a genius, after all,’ Aaron mused, watching with his arms crossed. He maintained a placid expression, but the back of his neck was slick with sweat. Restoration was a standard second-year technique, yet Simon had already invented his own application—Bone Nail—and mastered it to the point of using it in live combat. Now, he was perfecting an application of Bone Armor, one of the most notoriously difficult restoration skills. The speed at which he learned was nothing short of prodigious.
"Professor!" Simon called out, turning to Aaron. "May I test its striking power?"
"Of course."
Heart pounding with anticipation, Simon stood before a nearby tree. He planted his feet shoulder-width apart, drew back his armored arm, and with a powerful cry, slammed his fist into the trunk.
The heavy impact sent a shower of leaves fluttering down.
’Wow! And that’s without even channeling Jet-Black?’ Simon stared at his right arm in awe as Aaron began his explanation.
"As you’ve just experienced, Bone Armor is more than just a defense. It allows you to convert a skeleton’s inherent strength and Jet-Black into raw physical power. It is best thought of as a reinforced exoskeleton."
Simon nodded, his eyes shining.
"The effects of Bone Armor vary greatly depending on its assembly and the skeleton used," Aaron continued. "Even among Kizen’s necromancers, the styles are incredibly diverse. This kind of individuality, of course, cannot be taught. You must research and develop the Bone Armor that suits you best."
"Yes, sir! I understand!"
Aaron crossed his arms again. "Then, for your final task, prepare a full-body Bone Armor."
"Yes, sir!"
Aaron knew it was insane to have a first-year even attempt this. Still, Simon gave it his all. A full-body suit required at least two skeletons. At his command, two undead warriors dissolved into piles of bone, which then flew up and began clinging to his body. They formed plates over his chest and arms, then started encasing his legs.
However, the moment his focus shifted to his arm, the armor on his chest crumbled, the balance between sections broken in an instant. Once the joints gave way, the whole structure was lost. Simon let out a sigh of disappointment.
"Well done," Aaron said, offering a rare compliment despite the failure. "Covering a single arm and encasing your entire body are on completely different levels of difficulty. There’s no need to be impatient."
"Thank you, Professor!"
And with that, another private lesson concluded.
’Oh, this is great,’ Simon thought, immensely satisfied. He retrieved his skeletons, wishing every Summoning class could be dedicated to restoration.
Aaron sat on a nearby bench and lit a cigar, exhaling a plume of smoke. "The new mission period begins next week."
"Yes, it does."
Simon was eagerly awaiting this mission, primarily for financial reasons. Buying the golem had left him nearly broke, and he couldn’t keep borrowing from Dick. A mission that offered official pay was a lifeline. More importantly, it was an opportunity to use his Legion freely, away from Kizen’s watchful eyes. If he was lucky, he might even acquire a new Ancient Undead.
"Have you considered which mission you’ll take?" Aaron asked.
"No. I plan to decide after the list is posted."
Aaron let out a long stream of smoke. "A word of advice. If there are no missions on the list to your liking, sometimes the best option is to simply wait."
"...Pardon?"
"You heard me. You still don’t fully understand the influence that comes with being Special Admission No. 1." Aaron held the cigar between his fingers. "You should learn to leverage your position."
The advice was as cryptic as a riddle. Simon wanted to press for details, but Aaron was already tapping the ash from his cigar, dropping the butt into a trash can, and rising to his feet.
"Let’s head back."
"Ah, yes sir!"
The next day after classes, just as Aaron had predicted, a mission request board was installed in the dormitory. Students milled about, murmuring as they scanned the various notices posted on four color-coded boards.
’White’ - Missions within Roc Island. No possibility of conflict with Priests. ‘Blue’ - Missions within the Dark Alliance. Extremely low possibility of conflict with Priests. ‘Red’ - Missions within neutral territory. High possibility of conflict with Priests. ‘Black’ - Missions within the Holy Federation. Guaranteed conflict with Priests.
"I took an easy one on Roc Island last time, so I should probably head out now, right?"
"Anyone want to team up for a search mission in the neutral zone?"
Letting the chatter of the other students fade into the background, Simon and Pier meticulously examined the four boards.
[Nothing!] Pier’s voice echoed in his mind. [No matter how much I look for it, I see no incidents that would warrant the attention of a Commander. ‘Tsk!’ An entire continent this peaceful is a problem in itself!]
’Hmm.’ Simon nodded calmly. The last mission had been an incredible stroke of luck; it was exceedingly rare for an assignment to align so perfectly with the trail of an Ancient Undead.
[There is one remote possibility,] Pier noted, his focus shifting to a black request form. [Countless bite marks and a corpse eaten alive. One might suspect the work of that Prince whelp who leads the zombies, but... it’s hardly conclusive. And the risk of going to investigate is far too big.]
’Right. I’ve heard it’s nearly impossible to get a professor’s permission for a black-level mission.’
He turned his attention to the high-paying requests. His recent golem purchase had taught him just how crucial capital was for a necromancer.
’Ugh.’
But none of the lucrative missions appealed to him. Perhaps earning over 500 Gold last time had raised his standards, but every option felt lackluster.
’I should try Professor Aaron’s advice.’
He couldn’t afford to be hasty. With no idea when the next mission period would be, he needed to choose a task that would guarantee a stable income.
"Simon! Have you decided?" Dick called out, already holding a white request form.
"Not yet. You’re doing a white one again? Won’t you fall behind if you only take the easy missions?"
"Tomorrow is another day!" Dick grinned, clamping the request form between his teeth as he slung his uniform jacket over his shoulder. "Kizen is a place where one wrong move can get you expelled. You have to live each day to the fullest!"
"And living to the fullest means a mission on Roc Island?" Simon deadpanned.
"Hehehe, it’s all part of the plan. Now, let’s go grab a late-night snack! I’m starving!"
The next day, Simon decided to wait without registering for a mission. Kamibarez chose to challenge a blue mission this time, while Meirin, still recovering from the exhaustion of Kera Island, opted to quickly complete a white mission and rest in the dorm.
Their first class of the day was Venomology.
"Ahem! My apologies," Professor Lang Strauss rasped, coughing. "I’ll have to ask you to take over today as well!"
"Of courze, Profezzor. Pleaze go inzide and get zome rezt," Francesca replied gently.
The professor’s condition was worsening. It had become common for him to cough up blood during his lectures, forcing his head teaching assistant, Francesca, to take over. Recently, the episodes had grown more frequent, and she had begun conducting the theory classes as well. Sometimes, Lang didn’t show up to class at all.
While the students were genuinely concerned for his health, they secretly hoped to see Francesca at the lectern. Lang’s classes were a battle against drowsiness, whereas Francesca’s were delivered with a professionalism and dynamism that rivaled any of the full-time professors. A growing number of students felt it was time for Lang to retire and for Francesca to take his place.
"It feels wrong to say this, but in a place as ruthlessly meritocratic as Kizen, I don’t think Professor Lang can compete anymore," Meirin said, echoing the thoughts of many. She, like most, was firmly in Francesca’s camp. "They force this brutal competition on us, but the professors get to just sit back and rest on their past achievements? That doesn’t seem right."
"I’m telling you, it’s not that simple," Dick countered, ever the pragmatist. "When a professor’s position at Kizen changes, they and all their TAs have to pack up and leave. A whole new team moves in to fill the vacancy. It’s like a complete regime change."
Simon nodded in understanding as Dick continued.
"Everyone knows Francesca is brilliant. I want to keep taking her classes, too. But if Professor Lang steps down, she has to leave with him."
"Ugh, it’s so complicated," Meirin muttered, propping her chin on her hand.
"Becoming a professor immediately is practically impossible," Dick said, wagging his finger. "A TA holds a unique position at Kizen, somewhere between an educator and a servant. Strictly speaking, they’re more like a class helper."
Meirin scowled. "A helper? Choose your words more carefully."
"That’s the perception," Dick insisted. "Of course, with a professor’s recommendation and enough experience, they can climb higher. But for a TA to be promoted directly to professor... that would require an intervention on the level of Lady Nephthys herself."
The sound of approaching footsteps silenced them instantly. Dick and the rest of Group 7 stiffened, their faces frozen. The fifteen-minute break had ended, and Francesca was entering the classroom.
Her gaze was fixed directly on Simon’s group.

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