The dark, stone passage they had been following had, at some point, given way to walls of living flesh. The crimson walls, webbed with veins and blood vessels, pulsed with a sickening, rhythmic life of their own. It was like being swallowed whole; Simon was reminded of his time aboard the Nether Whale.
’This is the basement of a school building?’
Throughout the fleshy tunnel, countless appendages that looked like the limbs of monsters writhed and squirmed with a constant, slithering sound.
"We’re retreating," Kajan stated flatly. "That’s unknown territory. From here on, even as your bodyguard, I can’t guarantee your life."
As Simon hesitated, biting his lip, Kajan spoke again, his tone firm.
"Uncovering the truth is all well and good, but your life comes first."
Finally, Simon nodded, his expression grim. He desperately wanted to know what lay beyond, what Walter was plotting, but the place reeked of a danger that went beyond anything they had faced so far. They had accomplished enough.
"Let’s go back."
Simon and Kajan managed to escape the building and return to their dorm room safely. Dick’s eyes widened in surprise at their exhausted state.
"Where have you two been? I thought you were just going out for a glass of wine!"
Kajan tossed his clothes aside, climbed into the top bunk without a word, and pulled the covers over his head.
"We just did some late-night training," Simon said with a wry smile. "Kajan was helping me with my martial arts."
"Man, I’m so jealous! I want to train with Kajan, too—!"
Before he could finish his sentence, a small needle flew through the air and embedded itself in his neck. Peeking out from under the covers, Kajan was holding a small blowgun to his lips.
"Ughhh..."
Dick collapsed onto his bed and immediately began to snore.
"It’s a sleeping needle I use often. He’ll sleep soundly," Kajan explained, briefly pulling back the covers. "As soon as dawn breaks, I’ll deliver a summary report to Lady Nephthys with what we’ve gathered. Even for necromancers, what we saw wasn’t normal."
"Yes, please do."
"You should get some sleep, too," he said before disappearing back under the blankets.
Simon turned off the lights and lay down, but sleep wouldn’t come. The horrific images from the basement were seared into his mind. ’What was that place? Is Walter really a bishop of the Blood Cult? And what is he planning to do at Kizen?’
He slept fitfully that night.
It was the next morning, despite the harrowing adventure of the night before, the sun rose as it always did, and the routine of school life began anew.
Today was Martial Arts. The Class A students, arriving on their hippos, found themselves at a training ground they’d never visited before. It was outfitted with an array of classic training tools: wooden dummies, scarecrows, and bundles of straw.
"Alright, alright, have a zeat!" Professor Hongfeng called out, clapping her hands.
The students, sweaty from their ride, grabbed drinks and gathered around.
"Today, we’re going to do a zimple review of what we’ve learned zo far!"
Dressed in a training uniform, she walked with a light step to a large boulder nearby.
"Now, watch the technique I uze and tell me what it iz!"
She placed her hand on the rock.
A large crater instantly formed in the stone around her hand. The students, though startled, shouted in unison.
"It’s Chwita!"
Hongfeng’s original striking technique, Chwita, was based on gathering Jet-Black in one’s fist or palm and then releasing it in a single, explosive burst.
"Well done! Azziztant Brad?"
Brad climbed onto the boulder and held up a shield, covering the stone. Hongfeng didn’t hesitate, punching the shield directly.
Her fist bypassed the shield entirely, leaving another deep crack in the boulder behind it. The shield itself was untouched. The students answered as one.
"It’s Cheonhyung!"
’Cheonhyung’, a piercing technique that could ignore armor and strike an opponent’s body directly. Hongfeng gave a slight nod and lowered her stance. Jet-Black coiled around her right hand, coalescing into a small, sharp blade, as if she were holding a dagger.
She swung it through the air.
The massive boulder split cleanly in two. The students practically fell over each other to shout the answer.
"It’s Chakgeom!"
Chakgeom, another of Hongfeng’s signature skills. It filled the role of a ‘blade’ in a discipline that primarily used fists and feet, and was versatile enough for long-range attacks.
After demonstrating the three techniques, she bowed with her fizt in her palm. Thunderous applause filled the training ground.
"You’ve all learned theze at leazt once, right?" she asked, wagging a finger. "Now, let’z zee a zhow of handz! Any ztudentz who ztill can’t perform any of theze three!"
A wave of tension swept through the crowd. Two female students nervously raised their hands, sweating. Simon noticed that Toto, sitting in the back, had also raised his hand.
"Alright, how about thoze who can do at leazt one of them!"
More than half the class raised their hands, including Meirin, Kamibarez, and Dick.
"Now, for two techniquez!"
The rest of the students shot their hands up, their faces beaming with confidence. Among them was the class president, Jamie; it seemed martial arts was one of his strengths.
"And finally, who can uze all three?"
Most of the hands went down, leaving only four raised.
"Ooooh."
The other students whistled and murmured in admiration. As Simon raised his hand, his eyes met Hector’s. The brawler was scowling as he held his own hand aloft a short distance away. The other two were martial arts majors.
"Great! There will be differencez in learning zpeed, but by the end, we’ll train until everyone can uze Chwita, Cheonhyung, and Chakgeom freely! You muzt mazter theze techniquez," she said, then added with a smile, "zo you can fight on equal footing with the azziztantz, right?"
That was right. The final evaluation was a one-on-one match against a teaching assistant.
"Today, we’re going to train theze zkillz intenzely! Everyone, on your feet!"
After a few light stretches, the training began. The assistants circulated, correcting stances and offering advice. Students who could already perform two techniques tended to pick up the third one quickly. Since Simon had already mastered all three, he felt relatively at ease.
"Hey, Simon."
Meirin approached him, fidgeting.
"Yeah, what’s up?"
"Ahem." Cheeks flushing, she took a moment to gather her words before finally blurting out, "I-If you’re not busy, could you help me with Chakgeom—!"
"Students who can do all three, come over here!!" an assistant bellowed.
Simon’s head turned toward the call. Meirin silently fumed, Argh! but forced an awkward smile.
"Ah, it’s nothing. You should go!"
"It’s fine," he said, waving it off. "You’re more important. I’ll teach you, so get into your stance."
Meirin’s face turned the color of a ripe tomato. This guy.
Very, very rarely, he would say something that just... landed.
"Which one can you do?" Simon asked.
"Ch-Chwita."
"Then let’s start with Cheonhyung. If you know Chwita, you’ll learn it faster."
Simon adjusted her stance, offering a few tips.
"We’re used to flowing Jet-Black into things our palms touch, right?" he said, lightly taking her wrist. Her shoulders gave a little jump.
"The ‘memory’ of Jet-Black can make this tricky. When using Cheonhyung, you have to consciously send the energy through the object, not into it. It’s a feeling of ignoring what your palm is touching and striking what’s beyond."
He gently placed his right hand over the back of her pale hand. As he summoned his Jet-Black, it seeped out from under her palm.
"See? You can’t feel my Jet-Black, can you?"
"Uh..."
"Meirin?"
"Uh, uh-uh! Can’t feel a thing! Nope!" she stammered.
Simon smiled and continued.
"Intentionally ignore the object in front and focus on the target beyond it. Now, try—"
"Simon Polentia—!!"
A booming voice interrupted them as a burly, hulking man approached. It was the martial arts assistant, Brad. He was about to launch into a tirade when he saw Simon and Meirin holding hands. He snorted.
"Ha! So this is what you were doing? Flirting?"
"Wh-What are you talking about!" she shrieked, snatching her hand back.
Brad made a show of cleaning out his ear as he glared at Simon.
"Those who can do all three, get over to the training course. Teaching is our job."
"Right, I’m going. Sorry, Meirin."
After Simon departed, Brad crossed his arms.
"Was he teaching you Cheonhyung? Go on, try it. I’m a much better teacher!"
Meirin shot him a look of pure disbelief but complied, attempting the technique in the air.
"That’s not it!" he yelled. "There’s no power! It needs more oomph! More snap!"
What in the world are ‘oomph’ and ‘snap’? she thought.
She tried a few more times, but Brad just slapped his chest in frustration before demonstrating it himself. Then he simply told her to copy him.
"Why can’t you get it! I said more oomph! More snap! Just do exactly what I do!"
"I’ve had enough. Thank you," she said flatly. She gave him one last exasperated glare, then turned and stalked away, her blue hair swishing behind her. That man, she decided, would never be a professor in his life.
Meanwhile, Simon arrived at the training course. It was a systematic and challenging setup. Rails ran along both sides of the course, with rotating wooden dummies moving along them. The dummies had several wooden arms attached to their torsos, which would swing at the challenger.
A martial arts aspirant was already running the course. As a dummy rotated, its arms would lash out, and the student had to strike them precisely to bend the joint and allow passage.
Just then, Hongfeng called out.
"You’re here, Zimon! You’re up next!"
"What is all this?" he asked, looking bewildered.
"It’z a performance evaluation! We were originally going to do it next week, but!" she said with a bright smile, "we’re giving our top ztudentz a chance to try it first, without any prezzure!"
The student currently on the course was knocked aside by an approaching shield and eliminated.
’I see.’
It was a martial arts obstacle course that required the fluid use of ’Chwita’, ’Cheonhyung’, and ’Chakgeom’ to complete.
"Think you can do it?"
At her question, Simon grinned.
"Yes, I think I can."
Hongfeng gave him an okay sign. Seeing it, an assistant shouted.
"Student Simon Polentia will now attempt the training course!"
At the mention of Simon’s name, other students began to gather, craning their necks for a good view.
’Simon Polentia?’
Hector approached, his face grim. The other two advanced students had failed, but Hector had passed by the skin of his teeth. He crossed his arms and ground his teeth.
’Well, it won’t be easy for him this time.’
Simon took a light, steadying breath and stood before the starting line.

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