At the Exam Execution Headquarters, the two Crows, who had been moments from tearing each other apart, ceased their standoff. Now, they were sitting across from each other, casually enjoying tea.
"Ah, you should’ve told me he was your direct disciple," Evangellos grumbled, gulping down his hot tea as he shot Bahil a sideways glance. "Then I would’ve gone easy on him."
"He’s not my direct disciple," Bahil replied.
Evangellos’s expression soured with surprise. "What’s come over you? I thought you were the type who’s only satisfied when you get whatever you want."
"What are you talking about? Besides, this school is not so forgiving."
Evangellos clicked his tongue. "Ha! I suppose the ruthless Bahil I once knew is dead and gone. If the other professors’ interference is so annoying, just put a subtle curse on that Simon boy."
Bahil took another sip of tea. Seeming warm, he removed the fedora from his head and placed it on the table. "Special Admission Number One is a student that Lady Nephthys is watching personally. Winning a student’s heart with a curse is too risky. More importantly..." Bahil tilted his head back, his gaze distant. "I don’t like it."
"Oooh?"
"A genius is a complex being," Bahil explained, his voice taking on a professorial tone. "They emerge when intelligence, experience, values, personality, and parental discipline all converge in a delicate balance. Why would I cast a curse and flaw such a masterpiece myself? I want to teach a person, not a puppet."
After rattling on, Bahil’s face suddenly contorted into a monstrous scowl, and he flicked his tongue like a serpent. "I want him to trust and follow me with all his heart. I want him to become a disciple who respects me with his entire being, understands my philosophy from the depths of his soul, and with whom I can freely discuss the essence of the world."
’What a freak,’ Evangellos thought, though he wisely kept the observation to himself.
"Seeing you so obsessed... reminds me of when you were a rookie professor, chasing after that female Venomology major, insisting you absolutely had to teach her."
"Ah, are you talking about Chehekle?" Bahil’s expression smoothed over. "She’s working as my head TA. A very competent talent, indeed."
"You’re a crazy bastard, either way." Evangellos looked back at the screen, changing the subject. "More importantly, even I, the director-general, can’t interfere with the final stage. What are you going to do now?"
Just before the entrance to the Kizen campus, the final gateway awaited Simon.
"I’ve done what I can. From now on, it’s all up to him," Bahil said calmly. "If he is truly a talent worthy of being my disciple, I believe he can overcome this ordeal."
Riding his golem board, Simon found himself climbing an incredibly familiar hill—the very path connecting the Kizen campus and Rochest. A quick detour from here would lead to the Forbidden Forest and, beyond that, Pier’s ruins. He’d arranged to meet Pier and Erzebet there after the vacation, and he was already looking forward to their reunion.
’I wonder if they’re both on Roc Island?’
The chances were slim, but if Efnel had truly attacked Kizen, Simon planned to assess the campus situation before immediately heading for the ruins. It would be time for ‘Pion’ to make a comeback. He’d mobilize both Erzebet and Prince, facing the Priests with the full power of a Legion Commander.
A sense of urgency spurred him on, and he urged the golem to go faster.
A priest’s divine spear sliced through the air, hurtling toward him.
Just one spear. Simon accelerated, preparing to dodge. But the spear, which hadn’t seemed particularly fast, descended in a smooth, uncanny arc and, with unnerving ease—
’Thud!’
—slammed directly into his golem board.
’Huh...?!’
His vision abruptly shot skyward. The spear had punched clean through the golem’s body and embedded itself in the ground below. Inertia flung Simon forward.
’What? Is the spear’s trajectory bent?’
Simon’s body slammed into the ground. He bounced like a ball several times before tumbling through the grass, the taste of dirt and blood flooding his mouth as his head spun violently.
His body finally skidded to a halt. Amidst a thick cloud of dust, Simon coughed and pushed himself to a sitting position. His once-clean black uniform was caked in dirt, and his entire body ached as if every bone had been shattered.
’Ugh.’
To make matters worse, his left arm wouldn’t move properly, a consequence of the bad landing. In the worst possible condition, he managed to lift his head.
There, in the middle of the path leading to the Kizen campus, stood an old man. He looked like a divine hermit reigning over a high mountain, clad in white robes with one hand behind his back, the other gently waving a fan. A white beard, graying hair, and deep wrinkles lined his face.
Simon felt a vast, overwhelming flow of divinity emanating from him.
’A Priest. And a powerful one, on a completely different level from any I’ve met before.’
The old man, exuding the aura of a final boss, finally spoke. "Young necromancer. You can go no further."
His voice was deep and benevolent, yet laced with an ominous, cloying undertone.
"If you wish to preserve your precious life, you should turn back now."
Simon gritted his teeth and lowered his stance. "I can’t do that."
A Subspace tore open, and skeletons and zombies poured out. A few of the skeletons immediately formed Bone Armor over Simon’s legs and his immobile left arm. A palpable fighting spirit radiated from his body.
"Step aside."
’Huh.’ A glint of interest sparked in the old man’s eyes. The impact must have been severe, yet even as the boy panted with exhaustion, his gaze remained fiercely alive.
’Good. His eyes show a strong will.’
It was rare to find a youth with such a look. Pleased, the old man spoke in a surprisingly cheerful tone. "Running away is also a form of courage. You can’t be so foolish as to not feel the difference in our power."
Simon remained silent, settling into a combat stance with his armored limbs—the ready position for ‘Matu’.
The old man accepted the challenge. Folding his fan, he tucked it into the belt behind his back and extended an arm into the air. Divinity coalesced in his palm, forming into a longsword well over a meter in length.
The sound of the divine sword was chillingly sharp, as if slicing through the very air. After two light practice swings, the old man pointed the blade forward. "Come at me."
Simon kicked off the ground and charged. His right fist, encased in Bone Armor, flew forward. The old man, without moving from his spot, swung his sword with casual ease.
’Claaaaang!’
Sparks flew as the divine sword and Bone Armor collided. Simon’s eyes widened. That single blow had cracked his armor and extinguished his Jet-black.
The punch had been a feint. Using his outstretched left arm as a pivot, Simon spun his body, seamlessly transitioning into his signature roundhouse kick.
Again, the Bone Boots were shattered by a simple swing of the old man’s sword. The old man then kicked Simon in the side, sending him tumbling across the ground.
"Your movements are too wide." The old man conjured divinity in his palm.
A transparent pane of divinity materialized in the air. When the old man swung his sword and shattered it, the pane exploded into a shower of divine fragments.
’A ranged attack!’
Simon quickly pushed off the ground, throwing himself aside. His heart sank as he saw the divine shards embedding themselves in the earth.
"Not yet."
The old man created several more panes in the air. With one hand behind his back, he walked past them, flicking his sword back and forth. A flood of divine fragments poured down on Simon.
Any Bone Armor that came into contact with the fragments was easily torn apart or neutralized. As a few shards lodged themselves in Simon’s body, he slammed his head to the ground, his face contorted in extreme pain.
’Hmm. I avoided his core, but was that too harsh?’ The old man wondered. His expression remained solemn, but inwardly, he felt a pang of regret.
And then...
’...No, really.’ Simon’s body trembled as he lay on the ground, head down. ‘...It doesn’t hurt at all. Is this really okay?’
It was a desperate act. He’d had practice feigning injury from holy power, thanks to his encounter with Flema. His immunity was a trump card he couldn’t reveal, not even if this was a real Efnel Priest.
Simon gritted his teeth, his voice strained. "Now it’s my turn!"
While Simon had been buying time, the skeletons that had emerged from the forest now swarmed the old man from both sides, swinging their weapons. Once again, the old man simply swung his sword a few times from where he stood. A series of silver slashes filled the air, and the skeletons were sent flying.
’Not yet!’ Simon’s concentration sharpened to a razor’s edge. ‘It’s not over!’
The skeletons, sent flying by the sword, abruptly halted mid-air and scattered into dozens of bones. All the pieces, save for those severed by the divine blade, prepared to charge.
It was Bone Nail, one of his signature skills.
’And to this!’
Six Overlord blades shot out from his Subspace. A combined assault of Bone Nail and Overlord. An offensive that seemed impossible for any two-limbed human to dodge rushed in from all sides.
"Driving me into a corner is a fine tactic, but it’s not a very good strategy against a Priest," the old man noted. He held his divine sword forward and made the sign of the cross. A divine barrier erupted from his body, deflecting the entire onslaught.
Simon panted, recalling the Overlord.
"And the reason you’re making such a grand display to draw my attention is..." The old man’s head turned. "...because of the zombies you secretly sent to the side, I presume? When do you plan to use them?"
A cold sweat drenched Simon’s back. ‘He saw through it all.’
That calm demeanor, born from a lifetime of experience, was terrifying. He wasn’t showing the slightest opening, no room to create a variable.
’Still, I have just one advantage over him.’
Simon slowly raised his right arm, extending it toward the zombies. "This is your first time on Roc Island, isn’t it?"
The old man watched the smiling boy with eyes full of intrigue.
"Hmm, that’s true. Does that pose some sort of problem?"
"Your understanding of the terrain."
The magic circle for Corpse Explosion bloomed on Simon’s palm. This was a mountainous region. He had traveled this road to Rochest countless times, and he knew the ground was unstable. On rainy days, landslides would often make the path a mess.
The minions had reinforced the bedrock with a wooden fence, but...
’If I destroy that with a strong impact!’
Simon clenched his fist as if pressing a detonator.
A series of rumbling explosions thundered through the air. The surroundings shook violently, as if in an earthquake, and a massive landslide poured down from the right.
"Ugh!!"
The landslide swept over the old man first. He instantly deployed a divine barrier, and the pouring earth and rock obscured his vision.
’Hohoho! I’ve certainly been had this time!’
While the old man maintained his barrier, Simon had already created another golem board and was surfing over the cascading debris.
"Just like this!" Simon’s eyes gleamed with concentration. "To the entrance!"
In truth, the landslide wasn’t that large. But the old man, unaware of its scale, had opted for a surefire defense by holding his ground. Simon had turned that crisis into an opportunity.
That single difference created a massive gap between them.
’I did it!’
It was a straight shot to the Kizen campus now. The familiar entrance was visible, the gate wide open.
The moment Simon passed through it—
"WOOOOAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"
A massive cheer, roaring like thunder, jolted Simon back to his senses.
’Huh?!’
He brought the board to a stop and looked around, his eyes widening in disbelief.

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