The final performance evaluation for Hemomancy was a "Demonstration of Black Magic Related to the Heart."
Simon was confident about this one as well. What ‘heart-related black magic’ could be more impressive than a lich’s Life Vessel? Although it was technically a branch of Summoning, the Life Vessel’s magic circle contained numerous Hemomancy formulas, so there was plenty to evaluate. Of course, that was all assuming Professor Walter would give him a fair grade.
"Cough, cough!’ A first-year with a Life Vessel already, how splendid. It’s an A+," Walter rasped. Having returned to campus after his sick leave, he gave Simon the grade without any fuss.
"Thank you." Simon bowed and studied the professor. He looked even more haggard than before.
’Professor Silage was like that, too. For some reason, all the Hemomancy professors seem to be in poor health.’ He figured it was probably due to the inherent risks of a field that directly manipulated blood and life force.
As Simon returned to his seat, the next student stepped up.
"I’m Scott Snyder! I’ve prepared my own original pulsator!"
"How exciting. Go ahead."
Most of the Kizen first-years had received the hemo-booster shot. While enhancing their hemomancy was a major factor, the undeniable reason was this very evaluation. Both Walter and the Hemomancy professor for the other classes had assigned it. Simon’s lich was a rare exception; for most students, the most manageable heart-related magic—one with less risk, cost, and preparation time—was to get the shot and demonstrate a pulsator.
This pulsator was an emerging trend. Professor Walter had explained the hemo-booster shot and its hematopoietic cells like this:
"—To manipulate the hematopoietic cells of a Blood Slime, you must match your heartbeat to a special frequency. You create the same pulse as a Blood Slime to replicate the conditions inside your own body."
The ‘pulsator’ was the technique that made this possible, usable only by those who had received the shot. With it, a necromancer could drastically increase blood production, alter the properties of their blood, or imbue a standard blood bullet with various characteristics. Students who had initially hesitated soon rushed to get the shot when they felt themselves falling behind. Simon had submitted an article to the school newspaper detailing his own investigation into the shot, but it was largely dismissed as mere suspicion. After the prestigious Pentamonium had officially announced that the hemo-booster was harmless, not getting it had become a clear disadvantage.
Even second- and third-year students were now seeking out Walter.
’Ugh.’
Watching the students enhance their hemomancy with pulsators, Simon’s worries only deepened.
’Is Professor Walter really innocent? Is this all just my paranoia?’
When the handwriting analysis had proven that ‘Professor Walter of Kizen’ and ‘Judas of the Blood Cult’ were different people, all of Simon’s theories had been shattered. It wasn’t strange for Walter’s acquaintances to call him ‘Judas’; the name was common enough, and it could easily be a nickname or an old name. Even the name inscribed on the fountain pen he always carried didn’t seem like such a big deal when he considered it with a cooler head.
"Simon."
The Hemomancy TA quietly approached his side.
"Professor Walter said to let him know anytime if you’re interested in getting the hemo-booster shot."
Walter always paid special attention to him. He had offered him a direct discipleship and, above all, was very interested in Simon’s SM-1, his ‘Cloud’. He wanted to continue the research of his own teacher, Silage.
However.
"I’m very sorry," Simon said, bowing politely. "I’m not interested at the moment."
The TA’s expression hardened slightly before he turned and walked away.
After the performance evaluations ended, the final exam period finally arrived.
As it was the only written exam of the integrated second semester, the students studied with a blood-curdling intensity. Kizen even changed the school rules to allow 24-hour activity on campus. The library, in particular, was open around the clock, and countless students were holed up inside, pulling all-nighters.
"Ughhhhhh..."
Every morning, students shuffled to their classrooms with zombie-like gaits, making zombie-like groans.
"Kizen must be a zombie factory," Dick moaned, staggering weakly.
But they had to attend class. The first period was Jet-Black Dynamics with Professor Eric Aura. With the professors currently writing the exams, there was a high chance questions would come from the material being taught now. The students listened with bloodshot eyes.
To keep from dozing off, Meirin pinched her thigh and even clipped a clothespin to her arm as a last resort. Kamibarez, who usually avoided drinking blood packs in public, was now sipping on one.
Throughout the class, students suffered from spontaneous nosebleeds. But they were used to it, simply plugging their noses with tissues and continuing to write without missing a beat. Everyone was desperate. No, they were frantic.
Only about half of them would become second-years; the rest would be sent home. Having come this far, no one wanted to give up.
"Alright, that’s all for today’s class," Eric said, putting down his chalk. "Everyone, good wor—"
He stopped, his eyes widening. The students, who should have been rushing out for lunch, were sitting bolt upright, staring at him with hollow eyes.
Eric let out a small "ah" of realization and offered a faint smile.
"Alright. Shall I go over a few things that will be on the exam?"
"Thank you!" they roared.
They looked like people possessed by their studies. After furiously scribbling down every last word from Eric, down to his most trivial jokes, the students finally left the classroom, satisfied.
"Alright! What’s for lunch today?" Dick asked, stretching his arms wide.
"I’ll pass. I have to go to the library," Meirin said, the dark circles under her eyes looking pronounced. She had entered a full-on ‘study-bug’ mode, complete with large horn-rimmed glasses, her bangs pushed back with a headband, and the rest of her hair tied up with a string. "I don’t even have time to eat."
"...Wow! Meirin is refusing food? Is it the apocalypse?" Dick teased as usual, but she didn’t react. His pride stung, he tried again. "Ugh, look at how greasy your hair is. It’s practically shining. You should wash it, seriously."
"I don’t even have time to wash my hair," she replied coldly, already walking ahead.
He now noticed she was wearing pajama pants under her uniform skirt. Dick shook his head.
"Unbelievable. Is she possessed by the ghost of a student who died from studying too much?"
Kamibarez, walking beside Simon, gave an awkward smile.
"She was second in the school on the midterms. She said she’s determined to be first this time."
"Nah, even so..."
As if even the time it took to walk to the library was a waste, Meirin had her review notebook open as she strode past them. She staggered once, looking dizzy, and it was unsettling to watch.
"Meirin."
Unable to watch any longer, Simon quickened his pace to catch up with her. She answered without looking up from her notebook.
"What? The three of you can go to the cafeteria without me."
Simon placed a hand lightly on her shoulder.
"Do you remember the ‘Cyclops Performance Evaluation’, our first team assignment back in the first semester?"
"Um..."
"You were on the frontline team. You suddenly started overdoing it, saying you needed to work on your weakness in martial arts, and you ended up spraining your ankle and causing a huge fuss."
She whipped her head around, her face flushed bright red.
"W-Why are you suddenly bringing that up? That’s ancient history!"
"It’s the same now," Simon said in a calm, placating tone. "If you rush too much, something is bound to go wrong. You need to manage your condition, eat to replenish your energy, and give your brain some fuel. Don’t you think?"
He crossed his arms and pretended to think.
"Oh! And I heard today’s lunch is chicken steak."
Having subsisted only on fruit, Meirin couldn’t stop a bead of drool from forming at the corner of her mouth. Her face turning red, she quickly wiped it with her sleeve and said primly, "W-Well, if you’re going to insist, I guess I have no choice."
"Hey, wait a minute!" Dick shouted in protest from behind. "Why do you ignore me but listen to Simon? Is his mouth made of gold or something?"
"Shut it," Meirin snapped, glaring at him. "The world is ending? My hair is greasy? All you did was tease me!"
"That’s enough, that’s enough." Simon gently pushed the two of them, who had started bickering again, toward the cafeteria. Kamibarez followed, a bright smile on her face.
It was a week later.
"Freedom!" Dick bellowed.
The final exams were over. The moment Jane announced the end of the test and collected the answer sheets, Dick leaped onto his desk, waved his exam paper like a scarf, and flung it into the air. Other students erupted in shouts of joy, their smiles and laughter finally returning, regardless of their grades.
"Dick Hayward."
Dick, who was now tearing up his exam paper with a skill that rivaled Vintra’s, turned to see Jane beckoning him with a menacing look on her face.
"Follow me to my office."
"Ah, Professor, please!"
"Hahahaha!"
Amidst the boisterous laughter, Meirin removed her glasses and set her headband on the desk as if breaking a seal. She shook her head, and her sky-blue hair cascaded down like a scene from a photoshoot.
"Ugh! Now I feel alive!" she declared, stretching her arms wide with a relieved smile. Two male students who were approaching to compare exam papers with her blushed.
"Hm?"
Noticing them, she narrowed her eyes.
"What is it? Why are you looking at me like that? You wanna die?"
"N-Nothing at all!" The two scurried away.
After chasing them off with a single glance, she snorted and packed her things.
"Good work, everyone!"
"You did well, too, Kami," Simon said as he and Kamibarez stood up.
"You all know, right? The finals are over, but there’s no time to rest," Meirin said coolly, tucking her exam paper into her bag. "The biggest hurdle is still waiting for us."
"You’re right," Simon agreed.
"Yes!" Kamibarez affirmed.
Just as she said, the first-year students of Kizen had one last trial. Simon crossed his arms, his expression turning serious.
"The promotion exam to become a second-year student. I wonder what it will be like?"
"—Are the preparations complete?"
"Yes."
A secret conversation flowed through the darkness.
"—Good work. I will see you on the main stage, then."
The communication cut. A long breath was drawn in the silence.
"Everyone, prepare yourselves. The appointed time has come."
At those words, a thousand figures clad in old robes rose from their seats in unison.
"The birth of the apostle is at hand."

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