With their new, albeit tense, alliance formed, the group resumed their journey. They crossed steep hills time and again, venturing deep into the mountain range as the number of monsters steadily increased.
"But you know," Meirin muttered, rubbing the back of her neck, "am I the only one creeped out by him?"
Some distance behind them, Hector trailed along, a solitary, brooding figure.
"It’s unsettling. It’s weird for a hothead like him to follow so quietly. What if he suddenly turns on us and stabs us in the back?"
Toto chimed in, "W-Wouldn’t it be okay? There are observers in the sky, and we’re all wearing recording artifacts."
Simon agreed and looked back. "Hector! Since we’re cooperating, let’s discuss our plan!"
"You idiot, don’t provoke him!" Meirin yelped, slapping Simon’s arm in a panic.
As expected, Hector scowled. "Don’t order me around, Simon Polentia!"
There it was. Simon smiled quietly.
"What are you smirking at?" Hector growled, his brow furrowed as he closed the distance between them.
Meirin and Toto flinched, immediately taking a fighting stance.
"You know, Hector," Simon said, his voice even, "before we move up to the second year."
Hector stopped in his tracks.
"How about we settle this, just the two of us? No evaluation, no rules. Just a fight to see who’s stronger."
Hector’s lips formed a straight line. "What you wanted to talk about."
With a single step, Hector was suddenly at Simon’s side in a burst of jet-black. "Talk," he commanded in a low voice.
Simon grinned, while Meirin and Toto exchanged surprised glances.
"First, to share the information we’ve gathered..."
Simon and Hector quickly exchanged what they knew, discussing tactics for the upcoming fight. Hector willingly offered to take the front line.
"Sometimes, I swear boys’ brains are still stuck in the Stone Age," Meirin whispered to Toto.
Just then, a low rumble echoed from above as rock fragments rained down on them. Everyone looked up.
Figures stood on the high cliff above.
"We meet at last, Simon Polentia!" a voice boomed, followed by a theatrical, villainous laugh.
It was hard to make them out from so far below, but the white uniform draped over one figure’s shoulders was unmistakable. It was Special Admission No. 7, Elisa Celine, flanked by her three party members.
"Just you wait!" she declared, raising a hand with an excited grin. "Let’s just say a rockslide, brought on by a series of unfortunate coincidences, is about to begin!"
Two ghost ships materialized at the top of the cliff, clearly intending to bombard the cliff face.
Toto protested, his face stiff. "W-What kind of cowardly trick is this!"
"Elisa Celine."
Hector cut in. Elisa, finally recognizing his voice, let her mouth fall open.
"He-Hector? What are you doing with Simon?!"
"Hello," Meirin chimed in, waving with a sweet smile. "Then I guess it would be okay if I coincidentally set your ships on fire?"
The two people Elisa was most wary of were standing right here.
"Elisa," Simon said, taking a step forward. "We know where the Dungeon Lord is."
Her eyes widened. "You know the Dungeon Lord’s location?"
"That’s right. Instead of fighting here, wouldn’t it be better to join us, take down the Dungeon Lord, and get promoted to the second year with good grades?"
"The choice is yours."
Her party members looked to her for a decision. Elisa chewed on her thumb, lost in thought.
"Elisa Celine is a politician to her core," Hector said in a low voice. "She values leverage and profit. She won’t refuse."
He was right. In the end, Elisa agreed to join the hunt.
"However! There’s one condition." Descending from the hill, she stuck out her hand. "The position of leader is mine—!"
"In your dreams! I’m the leader!" Meirin shot forward indignantly. "You should be on your hands and knees begging to join us, so what’s all this nonsense? And you think we’d give power to a politician?"
Hector also frowned. "What’s that supposed to mean? I thought I was the leader."
"Where did you suddenly come from?!"
’Leave it to a group of powerful necromancers to argue over leadership,’ Simon sighed to himself. He had to intervene before the fight escalated.
"Guys, listen to me. First of all..."
A low, resonant hum suddenly filled the air, silencing Simon and cutting off the argument instantly. The entire landscape was stained a deep, bloody red. The rocks, the cliffs, the very ground—everything glowed crimson as if bathed in a scarlet sunset. Everyone looked up at the sky.
"What is that...?"
A ring floated in the dungeon’s sky. A colossal ring of blood, too vast to comprehend. It flowed like a viscous liquid, sealing the dungeon entrance and looming over them like a malevolent eye.
"Did someone trigger the dungeon?"
"Is the boss monster about to appear?"
The other students assumed this was part of the evaluation and prepared for battle, but Simon knew better. A terribly ominous premonition washed over him. Cold sweat trickled down his spine, the back of his neck stiffened, and his mouth went dry. Every one of his senses screamed danger.
’That... I think I’ve heard about it somewhere before...’
Simon frantically searched his memory, and a piece of a conversation with Lorraine surfaced from his subconscious.
"—The dungeon entrance is blocked by black magic called the ‘Ring of Blood.’ If an unauthorized person gets close, all the blood in their body boils, and they die."
"—Because no army or security force can enter, it’s become a den of criminals and a pit of evil due to its complete isolation."
That was it. Her answer after the BMAT when he had asked where Silage had gone. She had said Professor Silage had gone to disable this very Ring of Blood.
’But why is it here, in this dungeon?’
Startled from his thoughts by a sudden chorus of screams, Simon whipped around.
The air throbbed with the sound of frantic heartbeats—so loud it was as if they were inside his own head. It was impossible, hearing the hearts of others like this.
"M-My body...!"
All the students—everyone but Simon—began to glow an incandescent red, like iron in a forge. Unnatural, vein-like patterns spread out from their hearts, crawling down their legs and up toward their heads. The students screamed, a chorus of pure pandemonium.
’What? What in the world is...!’
"Simon!"
He quickly turned. The transformation had already spread to Meirin’s legs and was now creeping up her face.
"I...!"
She couldn’t finish her sentence, a soft hiss escaping her lips as she froze mid-word, her body locking into place like a statue. Simon felt his heart plummet as he looked around.
"Toto! Hector!"
The other students were also encased in the furnace-like red glow. The chaotic noise vanished, replaced by an eerie silence.
’Thump- Thump- Thump- Thump-’
Only the violent, unnatural pounding of their hearts remained. Simon rushed over and placed his hands on Meirin’s shoulders.
"Ugh!"
She was burning hot. It was a heat no human body should produce.
’As I thought, that ring in the sky is the cause.’
Even the observers floating high above were glowing red-hot, falling from the sky like rain in a series of soft ’thuds’.
’But why am I the only one who’s fine?’
’Thump!’
Just then, his own heart gave an irregular beat. He staggered, clutching his chest as a wave of heat flared through his body. He was starting to change, just like the others.
’Damn it!’
He dropped into a cross-legged position and slammed his eyes shut, instantly activating a magic circle to induce a state of ‘Blood Poison’ in his own body.
’I’ll endure it with Venomology’s resistance system!’
He flooded his body with the jet-black stored in his core, converting his blood. The moment it turned, his blood boiled as if fighting an adverse reaction, as if something were trying to forcibly undo the state. If the ring in the sky was an ultra-wide-range hemomancy curse, one that altered the blood...
’Then I’ll use a resistance that prevents blood alteration.’
With his eyes still closed, Simon took out a detoxification kit from his subspace and, using only his sense of touch, selected the ingredients and chewed them.
’Hold on! Hold on! Hold on!’
’Thump- Thump-’
He should have summoned skeletons for protection, but there was no time. He lost track of how long he sat there, drenched in sweat, his focus absolute as he fought to establish his resistance.
And finally.
"Haaaaaah."
The heat inside him slowly began to subside. Simon opened his eyes, his expression grim.
’Thank you, Professor Velya.’
Feeling the effect lift, he got to his feet. He moved his limbs, confirming he was stable.
The Ring of Blood still spun in the sky. He looked around. The students remained frozen in their red-hot state, all activity ceased, their hearts the only things moving, beating with a violent, unnatural rhythm. It was as if their bodies were mere shells, their hearts laid bare. Could he wake them?
’If this is just a curse...’
Divinity might be the answer. He scanned the group and approached Hector, who seemed the most physically robust. Placing his hands on him felt like touching a hot stove, but he gritted his teeth and endured it.
"I can do anything," Simon muttered, as if casting a spell on himself, and his eyes flashed open.
<Cure>
A white flash erupted from his palms with a surge of power. ‘Cure’, a white magic that dispels curses and poisons. It was dangerous for a necromancer, but he had no other choice.
"Damn."
There was no change in Hector. A curse should have reacted somehow, but there was nothing.
’This isn’t a simple curse.’
Simon let out a long breath, closing his eyes. With everyone’s life on the line, it was hard to stay calm. After a long moment of deliberation...
"Pier, Herseva. Come out," Simon commanded, summoning his main undead.
Pier emerged from the massive subspace, and Herseva from the smaller one.
[Mwahaha! Are you certain about this, boy?] Pier’s voice boomed as he approached, his cape billowing and the Greatsword of Ruin resting on his shoulder.
"It’s fine. It seems the observers and recording artifacts have all been neutralized," Simon said.
The moment the Ring of Blood had activated, his own artifact necklace had sizzled and died. Pier pried it off with his greatsword and let it clatter to the floor.
"This is an emergency," Simon stated grimly. "I can’t afford to worry about my legion being exposed."
[Understood!]
Simon donned Pier’s Bone Armor and dashed off with Herseva.
Leaping over the rocky mountains with Pier’s strength, Simon was lost in thought.
’At this rate, my only option is to clear the dungeon as quickly as possible!’
He pushed himself to go even faster. He passed other students who had made it this far, but they were all frozen in the same incandescent, crimson state.
"Even Chatel."
He saw what looked like a massive statue and wondered who it could be, only to realize it was Chatel Maer, the giant half-blood. Seeing that even a powerhouse of that level had fallen, there was only one possible reason.
’The ‘Blood Conversion Curse,’’ he realized with dawning horror. A curse that fundamentally alters a person’s blood. And for some reason, he was the only one whose symptoms had been delayed.
The culprit was obvious. Simon gritted his teeth, his jaw aching with the force of it.
[I’ve arrived, boy!]
"I see."
As he sprinted breathlessly over the mountaintop, a narrow gorge—the only entrance—slashed across his vision.
[Ugh! How ghastly.]
Herseva shuddered. The monsters that had once guarded the path to the Dungeon Lord were now a gruesome tapestry of blood and torn flesh. The thought that he would have had to fight through them all was dizzying, yet the reality before him was infinitely worse.
Simon passed through the gorge of corpses unopposed.
[Traces of a barrier, boy!]
On the path to the Dungeon Lord’s chamber, the remnants of a barrier lay completely shattered. Someone had torn the entire dungeon asunder.
Simon strode past the broken ward and finally entered the Dungeon Lord’s sanctum. It was a wide basin, walled in by towering rock faces.
And there...
’Ah.’
The Dungeon Lord. The creature might have been beautiful, a spectral deer with countless white tentacles. Now, its chest was impaled by a single crimson spear. Someone had already defeated it.
"I was waiting for you."
A man stood before the fallen creature. The moment Simon saw him—the intellectual face, the glasses, the hair like autumn leaves—a cold fury ignited in his eyes.
"Professor Walter...!"
"That is a name I have since discarded."
Walter removed his glasses, letting them clatter to the floor. A chilling, humorless smile twisted his lips.
"You will call me Professor Silage."

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