Exhaling sharply, Simon lifted the ball. The bones that had been stuck to it fell away, only to reassemble on his right foot like magnets.
’Bone Armor - Boots Mode.’
Unlike the standard Bone Armor, which left gaps between the plates, this form encased his entire right foot in a seamless, solid shell. Being made of bone, it was surprisingly light, and the feeling of firm support around his leg and foot was reassuring.
Once Boots Mode was complete, Simon tossed the ball high with a simple flick of his wrist. His gleaming eyes tracked its trajectory and descent. He counted two seconds in his mind, then spun, his body cutting through the wind. He completed two full rotations, maximizing his momentum. At the apex of his spin, his leg drew a dazzling arc, meeting the falling ball at the perfect moment.
Rotational force, leg strength, Internal Jet-Black Eruption, and the attractive force of the Bone Armor—all converged. Simon gritted his teeth and kicked. A deafening boom, like a cannonball leaving its muzzle, echoed across the field as the ball shot out in a perfectly straight line.
Lexio, struggling to maintain the fractured glass wall, watched it approach, his eyes wide with despair.
’Oh, shit, there’s no way I can block—!’
’KABOOOOOOOM!’
The precarious barrier shattered in a single, explosive blow. The ball struck Lexio directly in the face. Choking, he spurted a fountain of blood from his nose and was thrown several meters through the air before tumbling across the ground.
The ball fell, bouncing a few times before rolling to a stop. The students on the sidelines were frozen, as if time itself had stopped. And then...
"WE..."
"WE WON!"
"NIIIIIIICE!"
A ferocious cheer erupted like a firework display. Brad, who had been craning his neck, desperately trying to find some fault, blew his whistle with an expression of profound annoyance.
"Final round is over. The winner is Class A."
"WAAAAAAAAAH!"
Led by Meirin and Kamibarez, the Class A students swarmed the court, lifting Simon onto their shoulders and sharing in the jubilant victory. A short distance away, the students of Class C trembled with the bitter sting of defeat, watching with envy. A few of them pouted.
"What a show-off. It’s not like it even affects our grades."
"Big deal, winning a friendly match."
"You’d think they got first place in the evaluations or something."
Hearing the grumbling, Meirin slowly turned her head. She stuck her tongue out teasingly and high-fived another Class A student. The faces of the Class C students flushed crimson. Grades or not, for a Kizen student, there was nothing more humiliating than losing.
"Looks like the match is over, judging by the noise," a cheerful voice called out.
"Professor Hongfeng!"
Professor Hongfeng and her TAs emerged from a teleportation circle, carrying a massive cauldron. The TAs moved with practiced efficiency, setting up a fire pit and positioning the cauldron over the flames. When Hongfeng, wearing thick gloves, lifted the lid...
"WAAAAAAAH!"
A plume of white steam erupted into the sky, revealing a bubbling, simmering stew. The murderously delicious aroma wafted over them, and even the most stoic noble students found their mouths watering uncontrollably.
"It’z a ztew made from the meat of the ecozyztem-deztroying Nuthlug!" Hongfeng announced.
Simon offered a bitter smile.
’She cooked Nuthlug again.’
At the mention of monster meat, a few students’ faces stiffened, but no one reacted negatively. The scent alone was too divine. The only thought in their minds was the desperate need to taste it.
"Don’t worry! I had a bowl, and it’s a work of art!" Dick’s voice rang out. When another student asked how he knew, he boasted that he’d been invited to Hongfeng’s cabin, earning him a volley of envious glares.
"Ugh, that attention seeker is at it again," Meirin muttered, pressing a hand to her forehead. Simon and Kamibarez exchanged a quiet, amused smile.
"It’z a nazty monzter that harmz the environment, zo I hope you ztudentz will eat lotz and lotz of it!" the professor declared.
"Yes, Professor!" the students chorused.
"Alright! Clazz A, line up!"
The students formed a line, and the TAs handed out rustic earthenware bowls. Hongfeng herself stood before the cauldron, stirring the contents with a large ladle and personally serving each student, piling their bowls high with generous chunks of meat.
"Be careful, the bowlz are hot!"
The students took their food and found spots in the shade. As they savored the beautiful scenery, they took their first bite.
"This is insane!"
There were no over-the-top reactions. Every student who tasted it immediately went for seconds.
The Class C students swallowed hard, their eyes burning with envy. They couldn’t remember ever wanting something so desperately in their lives.
"She said that, but surely she’ll give us some too, for the sake of sportsmanship, right?"
"Of course! That would be the heartwarming way to end it, wouldn’t it?"
Just then, a Class C student who had been sent to scout came running back.
"There’s still some left! Looks like enough for half a bowl each!"
"Yes!"
They indulged in wishful thinking, but Kizen wasn’t a place for heartwarming conclusions. The remaining stew was for Hongfeng and her TAs. The assistants ladled heaps of it into large basins, while the professor sat right in front of the cauldron, scraping it clean. The faces of the Class C students fell.
"Hey, Class C isn’t allowed over here!"
"TA! These kids keep coming over and begging!"
"Step back, students. Rules are rules."
For Class C, it was the cruelest torture imaginable.
Unseen, Serne used a feather to discreetly levitate a bowl of stew from a distracted Class A student.
"It’s just okay," she murmured to herself after a taste. "I don’t see what all the fuss is about."
She used her feather to return the bowl. Sitting alone on a rock, her sullen gaze fell upon Simon, Kamibarez, Dick, and Meirin, laughing and talking boisterously.
"It’s because Simon tenderized the Nuthlug with his golem! That’s why the meat is so soft!" Dick declared.
"Hahaha! No way!" Kamibarez giggled.
"You have to admit, it was tastier at the cabin, right?"
"Ugh, that’s a classic case of glorifying the past," Meirin scoffed. As she spoke, she turned her head, and her eyes met Serne’s. Meirin flashed a triumphant, winner’s smile before whipping her head away.
’Aha, so this is what it felt like,’ Serne thought. She smiled bitterly and took another spoonful of stew. As she kept eating, she had to admit it was actually pretty good.
That night, after all his classes and personal training were done, Simon made his way to the dormitory rooftop. A sign reading ‘STUDENT ACCESS PROHIBITED’ was strung across a barrier line, but Simon offered a silent apology to the staff and slipped past it.
The door to the roof was locked solid. Glancing around, he spotted a window and approached it. A single rope dangled just outside.
’This must be it.’
Without hesitation, Simon threw open the window, planted his foot on the sill, and leaped, grabbing the rope with both hands. Using his arm strength, he hauled himself up and over the rooftop railing.
There, on the moonlit rooftop, sat a man with faded gray hair. He was positioned with the soles of his feet pressed together, his head tilted back to gaze at the full moon. He exuded a strange, solitary aura, like a lone wolf.
The wind stirred, and his blade-sharp hair fluttered, revealing an ear and cheek crisscrossed with old scars, large and small.
"Hey," the man said.
Simon smiled and walked over, sitting down beside him.
"How long have you been out here, Kajan?"
"Two hours."
"You should have stayed in your room."
"I like watching the moon," Kajan stated simply. "And once I fall asleep, I can’t wake up."
He quietly opened his Subspace. From within, he produced a bottle of wine and two glasses.
’Wine, out of the blue?’
Kajan uncorked the bottle with his bare hands and poured. The red liquid streamed into the glasses. They raised them, clinked them together, and took a sip.
"Good," Kajan grunted.
"It is," Simon agreed.
"I enjoy drinking wine while watching the moon."
’He’s more sentimental than he looks,’ Simon thought, savoring the vintage. The flavor that danced on his tongue jolted him. This was no cheap bottle from Rochester; it was top-grade. As Simon swirled the wine, appreciating its aroma, Kajan watched with a satisfied expression.
"Thanks for lending me Erzebet."
"Not at all."
There was a reason Simon hadn’t brought Erzebet to Deathland. The search in the Forbidden Forest was still ongoing, as was his cooperative investigation with Kajan. Erzebet was a spy, an Ancient Undead specialized in reconnaissance and information gathering, not combat. He had tasked her with scouting suspicious locations with Kajan at night.
"She doesn’t seem to trust me much," Kajan remarked.
Simon chuckled.
"I don’t think it’s a matter of trust."
"Hm?"
He’d once asked Erzebet why she was so prickly with Kajan. Lounging in the ruins, she had pouted and launched into a tirade about him hitting her in the face during a fight. It seemed they’d had a minor disagreement. "As long as she’s a capable partner, it doesn’t matter," Kajan said, dismissing the topic.
"More importantly, the investigation wasn’t without results." He reached into his coat and produced a single photograph. It had been taken with a magic recorder.
Simon’s eyes widened. It was a picture of an altar. Glistening blood stained the ground crimson, and animal entrails were draped like grotesque garlands. In the center stood a large cross.
"D-Don’t tell me...!"
"Yes," Kajan confirmed, his voice grim. "A Priest was here." He swept his messy bangs from his face. "By the time we arrived, he had already finished his ritual and vanished. When we approached the altar, we heard a click. Then the bomb went off."
Kajan unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it up. His abdomen was a wall of brick-like muscle, but the right side was tinged a sickly gray—the telltale sign of a wound healed with a potion.
"It was all a trap."
"Oh...!"
"I should have known something was wrong when I didn’t see a goddess statue on the cross," Kajan said, lowering his shirt. "For some reason, it seems he needs to perform these rituals periodically. And lately, the frequency has been increasing." He gazed at the full moon, took a sip of wine, and continued, "Something is going to happen at Kizen, and soon. Stay sharp."
"I will," Simon replied, his face hardening.
They clinked their glasses again. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the camaraderie of sharing a common goal. Or maybe it was the kinship of two people hiding their true identities at Kizen. Whatever the reason, the conversation flowed easily. They talked late into the night.
"By the way, Kajan," Simon began, glancing at him cautiously. "Why were you held back a year?"
Kajan silently drained his glass.
"A mission."
It had happened last year. While on his usual nightly patrol of Roc Island, Kajan had discovered a Priest performing a ritual in the Forbidden Forest. After a fierce chase, he’d lost his quarry but had managed to get a clear look at the face under the hood.
"S-So!" Simon shot up. "You’re saying you know what the Priest looks like?"
"I’m not finished yet," Kajan said flatly. "The next day, I skipped my classes and searched the entire school for that face. During a break, I found him: a first-year student, chatting with his friends in a classroom. It was him. I checked again and again; it matched the face in my memory perfectly. When I entered the classroom, he panicked, stumbled backward, then turned and fled. That confirmed it for me. I tackled him and beat him senseless. He was unconscious and covered in blood."
He paused, pouring more wine.
"But he wasn’t the Priest. It was all a trap. The real Priest had worn a Bio-Mask—a perfect replica of that student’s—and deliberately let me see it."
"Oh!"
A Bio-Mask was a disguise necromancers used to hide their identities.
"Later, when I asked the student why he ran, he told me a man who looked exactly like me had been stalking him. He said that every night, the man would sit by his fourth-floor dormitory window and just... stare at him."
A chill crawled up Simon’s spine.
"I received a heavy disciplinary action. Lady Nephthys’s help was the only reason I wasn’t expelled, but my activities have been severely restricted ever since." Kajan’s hand clenched into a fist. "This man is meticulous, a predator. He plans every move without a single flaw."
"I believe it," Simon nodded. The performance evaluation had been proof enough of that.
He never imagined they would stoop to harming the cyclops just to get to him.
"We conducted a thorough investigation of the faculty and their subordinates, even using mental-type black magic, but found no clues," Kajan explained. "Still, one thing is certain: that Priest is here on Roc Island. Our only option is to force a confrontation."
"I see," Simon murmured, lifting his wine glass. That would be far from simple.
"Now it’s your turn," Kajan pressed. "You only encountered them once, but do you have any information that might help identify the Priest?"
"Hmm. It’s a bit of a long shot," Simon admitted, his gaze falling to a small pebble on the ground. "But I left a mark on the Priest that only I can recognize."

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