Washburn Mountain Peak, the Demon King's Castle.
"...A failure. Huh."
Upon a throne built from countless skulls, a man with an androgynous appearance and long, flowing hair sat with his chin propped on his hand.
[Unexpected situation occurred.] In front of him, an undead that looked like a lump of living dough, with no facial features or defined shape, was stammering. [The initial phase of the operation was successful. Hardile infiltrated Gwoegong's mouth and seized control. However, Gwoegong relentlessly attacked a student other than Lorraine. Gwoegong was then completely destroyed by that student.]
[That's strange,] the zombie in a butler's uniform standing next to the throne chimed in. [If the operation had gone as planned, Gwoegong should have followed the trace of Jet-Black from the Ancient Undead it met in the Screaming Jungle. But for it to have chased a third party instead of Lorraine...]
"Alaje," Magnus, who had been listening quietly, opened his mouth. "Who is this guy that Gwoegong followed?"
[Simon Polentia. Special Admission No. 1 brought in by the Witch of Death. Summoning major. First place in this БМАТ exam.]
"Curious." Magnus licked his lips. "So that kid is also connected to the Witch of Death. Why did Gwoegong chase after him?"
[Are you suggesting that the 7th Legion Commander might be Simon Polentia, not Lorraine Archbold?] the zombie butler chimed in. [But he was not present at the time of Talaje's death.]
"That does bother me a bit. But our opponent is the cunning Witch of Death. We must consider various possibilities." Magnus closed his eyes for a moment, lost in thought, then spoke. "For now, keep Lorraine as the highest priority for detection. At the same time, begin an investigation into Simon Polentia. Anything, no matter how trivial, is fine."
The zombie butler and Alaje bowed their heads and were about to withdraw.
"Oh, and," Magnus opened his mouth. "Is that one listening to reason yet? I'm talking about that Ancient Undead from the 7th Legion we captured last time."
The zombie butler shook his head. [Still the same. He won't utter a single word, no matter what we do.]
"Hmm, a friend with deep loyalty to a legion that's already been disbanded. How un-undead-like." Magnus waved his hand, signaling for them to leave.
'...Ancient Undead.'
After his two subordinates had left, Magnus rose from the throne and walked with a leisurely gait to gaze out the window. The dizzying slopes of the mountain range could be seen below. 'For my goal, I need more Ancient Undead.'
Now, there were only two БМАТ exams left, which could be said to be the core of the integrated second semester. Simon's performance was nothing short of excellent. First in the first БМАТ. Tenth in the second БМАТ. First in the third БМАТ. Looking at it this way, getting tenth in the second БМАТ was a bit painful, but if he could secure top ranks in the fourth and fifth as well, he might be able to finish his first year as the top student.
'Alright! Let's not get complacent here and work even harder!'
There was some time until the next fourth БМАТ, so the students relaxed a bit and attended their daily classes. The first class was Divine Defense Studies.
"Today, we will learn about the subjects taught at Efnel." The old man in a white, immortal-like robe, elegantly waving a folding fan, was 'Parahan Imidor', the professor of Divine Defense Studies. He was a former bishop of Efnel and the current head of the Anti-Divinity Federation Association. As a representative figure leading the priests who had defected from the Federation, his appointment had been a much bigger topic of conversation than even Byulya's.
Many students felt a sense of repulsion at the idea of a priest teaching necromancers, or disliked Parahan, but no one could deny that this class was quite beneficial.
"The students of Efnel are your greatest enemies and obstacles. It would be best to think that you will encounter them four to five times before you graduate."
At Parahan's words, the Class A students swallowed nervously. To these young boys and girls who had just become necromancers, priests were beings of mystery and fear. For many students, that fear had grown even greater after the Saintess incident.
"I have a question." Just then, a male student raised his hand. Occasionally, students from extremist families who disliked Parahan would interrupt the flow of the class by throwing out questions like this.
"Speak." But Parahan actually liked it when students took an interest in his class and asked questions.
"I don't quite understand. Why do we need to know about things like a priest's classes?"
"I will explain that shortly."
Just then, another male student who hadn't been given permission to speak shot up from his seat.
"Your intentions are suspicious! Professor, do you think the students of Kizen or Efnel are superior?"
It was a question that was bound to get him criticized no matter how he answered. In fact, it was a question of the century, as inconclusive as asking whether you like your mom or your dad more.
"I have experienced both Efnel and Kizen," Parahan said in a low, composed voice, stroking his beard. "In terms of skill, you could say they're evenly matched, but when it comes to mental fortitude, you all can't compare to the youth of Efnel."
Murmurs spread. The students whispered among themselves. The student who had asked the question raised his voice as if he'd caught the professor in a trap.
"Professor! That statement just now...!"
Parahan instantly pointed a finger at the student. A stream of divinity shot out like a bullet, stopping right in front of the student's brow.
The students gasped, eyes widened. He thought for a moment that the divinity had pierced through his forehead without him even realizing it.
"Just like this." The student stood with his mouth agape, his legs trembling violently. His pants could be seen growing damp. "The students of Efnel undergo training of a somewhat dehumanizing and inhumane intensity. That is because they believe faith and mental fortitude are the very source of divinity. You had best go to the restroom."
A teaching assistant took the male student and disappeared to the back of the classroom. Parahan returned to the podium, waving his folding fan.
"Of course, I believe it is a difference in teaching methods. When it comes to flexibility and creativity in battle, as well as the ability to create variables, I believe you all are far superior. Now, let's get back to the lesson." He walked to the blackboard on the podium. "Efnel has seven core subjects."
Then, he picked up a piece of chalk and carefully wrote, one character at a time.
Blessing Studies
Divinity Dynamics
Divine Beast Studies.
Healing Studies
Guardian Studies
Spirit Studies
Holy Combat Studies
Putting down the chalk, Parahan stroked his beard and smiled.
"Doesn't it look familiar?"
The students began to murmur. Jamie Victoria shot her arm up.
"Professor! The top three subjects! Their concepts are similar to Cursology, Jet-Black Dynamics, and Summoning!"
"Well done. Five points for attitude."
Jamie clenched his fist, beaming.
"Just as you all choose your majors, the students of Efnel select one of these subjects. When you face a priest, if you observe their white magic closely, you can easily deduce their specialization." Parahan's gaze sharpened. "Once you know your opponent's major, you can glean a vast amount of information: the types of white magic they use, their strengths and weaknesses, their combat style, their disposition, even their offensive and defensive patterns. All of that information, free for the taking."
Listening intently, Simon found himself nodding along, completely engrossed.
"Now, do you understand why..." Parahan set down the chalk and smiled. "...you must know your enemy?"
The lecture hall fell silent once more. Whatever their personal feelings about the professor, no one could deny that Parahan's class was incredibly helpful.
"Fortunately for you, priests do not delve deeply into strategies for dealing with necromancers. The very act of learning something evil and profane is forbidden, and they have a compulsion to avoid anything that might shake their faith in the slightest. Therefore, you must exploit your opponents' weaknesses and press them relentlessly. That is how a necromancer, at a natural disadvantage, can defeat a priest. In short—" Parahan tapped the blackboard with his folding fan. " —you must fight like a necromancer."
Simon almost burst into applause. The other students were swallowing hard, their attention rapt.
"Now, let's learn about each subject in detail."
In truth, Simon already knew most of the material for Defense Against Divinity. Before he'd crossed into the Holy Federation during the break, Lethe had drilled him relentlessly so he wouldn't be discovered by the Heretic Inquisitors. His understanding of the Federation was so deep that he could fool even the most seasoned among them.
"Is there any student here who can explain Guardian Studies?"
Simon raised his hand. "Simon Polentia. It is a discipline specializing in defense through divine shields and barriers."
"Well done. Name one representative barrier spell—"
"The Barrier of Praise," Simon answered instantly. "It's a spell priests use to buy time for blessings. Since it operates in the realm of the unconscious, it can be broken by using a confusion-type curse."
The teaching assistants for Divine Defense looked on in amazement, their faces clearly asking, 'What's with this kid?'
Parahan let out a hearty laugh. "Well done—no, excellent. Ten points for attitude."
"Thank you, sir!"
For Simon, the Divine Defense class was a gold mine for points. Meirin, sitting beside him, nudged him with her elbow and whispered, "Hey, what gives? When did you study so much for this class?"
Seeing her envious expression, Simon grinned. "I have my ways."
"Ugh, that's not fair! You have to tell me!"
After the lecture, they moved straight into practical training. Today's session was about accepting divinity into the body. The main goal was to overcome their innate fear of it and learn to expel it with Jet-Black.
"Aaaaaaaargh!"
"Ughhh!"
The students' reactions were even more visceral than their ordeal in the poison-drinking Venomology class. Screams erupted as students felt they were losing their minds from even a minuscule injection of divinity.
'Focus, focus,' Simon told himself, tense for an entirely different reason.
"Let me know if you feel you can't take it anymore," the TA in front of him instructed, holding his arm and channeling a stream of divinity into him. The TAs were also former priests.
"Hngh!" Simon's face turned pale.
"A-are you okay?" the TA asked, concerned.
"...Ah, yes. So far." A ragged voice, as if wracked with pain, escaped him, but a part of his mind felt a mix of skepticism and embarrassment. 'I feel like my acting skills are the only thing improving.'
First, he had to convincingly act as if he were in agony. Second, he had to be vigilant not to accidentally use his own divinity. Sometimes, when he got too immersed in the class, holy power would suddenly flare from his hand. It had happened once or twice, but thankfully, he hadn't been caught. Since then, he had been doubly cautious.
"Heh, just a moment." Parahan approached them. "I'll guide this student myself."
"Ah, yes, Professor."
The TA stepped back, and Parahan took Simon's hand, channeling divinity into him. Simon grimaced.
"Are you alright? Divinity and Jet-Black ultimately share the same root. Now, try to push out the divinity with your Jet-Black."
"Yes, sir!"
Without much difficulty, Simon summoned his Jet-Black and suppressed the divinity that had entered his body.
"Hmm. Well done."
He pretended to fail once, then succeeded on the second try. Parahan, nodding in satisfaction, sent Simon back to his seat.
'Did I succeed too quickly?' Simon wondered, looking down at his palm before shaking his head and returning to his spot. And just like that, another Defense Against Divinity class came to an end.
"They've got the limited-time steak on the menu today! Let's run for it!" Dick shouted, tucking his textbook under his arm.
Meirin and Kamibarez began to pack up, and Simon was about to get up as well when a voice called out.
"Student Simon." A Defense Against Divinity TA had stopped him. "Professor Parahan would like to see you for a moment."
"Pardon?"
Just then, he saw Parahan in the distance, waiting and waving his folding fan.
"You guys go on ahead," Simon said.
Dick's eyes widened. "Whoa, what's this? Is he offering you a direct discipleship?"
"There you go again, speaking without thinking," Meirin scoffed. "Required subjects don't have direct discipleships."
While Dick and Meirin bickered, Simon quickly made his way over to Parahan.
"Come with me to my research lab."
"Ah, okay, sir."
Parahan's lab was in the building just one floor up. The two entered a room with clean, white wallpaper and sat facing each other on a sofa.
"Would you like some tea?"
"No, I'm fine, thank you."
Parahan nodded and snapped his folding fan open. As if on cue, the room's curtains swished shut, the lights went out, and the room was plunged into darkness. Simultaneously, divine magic circles activated, bathing the space in a soft glow.
"P-Professor?"
"Don't be alarmed. It's a simple device to block sound and sight from the outside. Now, I'll ask you just one thing." Parahan stroked his beard, his expression intensely serious. "Can you use divinity?"

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