With a solemn voice, Jane abruptly announced the start of class and lightly snapped her fingers.
With a soft ’vwoom’, a single magic circle unfolded in the air, as neat as a painting.
"Most offensive spells derived from Jet-Black Dynamics have this structure," she explained, lightly touching the magic circle with her fingertip. "Runic language, formulas, circuits, lines. A necromancer converts the mana in their body into Jet-Black, unfolding and activating a magic circle on their body, the ground, or in the air."
She activated the circle. The Jet-Black, which had been flowing like water, passed through the runes, condensed, and took the form of a flame.
’Dark Blaze’
It shot forward. The ball of black fire flew to the end of the arena, scattering noxious smoke, before hitting the barrier and vanishing.
"Just like that. Flying in the form of a projectile is the standard. There is no result without a cause. This method is the easiest, fastest, and most efficient, which is why many necromancers adopt it."
Simon blinked, a slightly dumbfounded expression on his face.
’Why is she explaining this to me now?’
It was the most basic of basics, something every Kizen student knew.
"However, a visible projectile has the disadvantage of being seen and dodged."
She drew a new magic circle in the air and conjured a butterfly from within it. The butterfly flew toward Simon with fluttering wings.
"Dodge it."
Simon watched the butterfly’s movement and easily sidestepped it. The butterfly that passed him exploded with a sharp ’pop’ a moment later.
"Well done. Then how about this?"
She drew another magic circle. Just as Simon was waiting tensely for the spell to emerge...
Without warning, a butterfly materialized an inch from his throat.
’What the—?’
The force of the explosion sent Simon tumbling across the arena floor with a deafening ’boom’.
"Ugh!"
Thanks to the barrier on his protective suit, it didn’t hurt, but the impact was jarring. Jane spoke, her expression impassive.
"Did you see it?"
Lying on the floor, Simon clutched his ringing head and replied, "N-No."
If he had seen it, he would have dodged it. It felt as if the butterfly had just popped out of nowhere.
"Then we have no choice but to repeat it until you can."
"Pardon?"
Before her words even finished, butterflies erupted all around Simon. The hair on his body stood on end as he immediately threw himself to the side.
A chain of explosions tore through the air. Caught in the shockwave, Simon rolled across the arena floor again. Before he had a moment to get up, another butterfly was descending from above.
"Agh!"
He pushed off the floor with both hands, his body springing away to dodge.
Another blast shook the arena.
’What kind of class is this?!’
As her student ran for his life, Jane watched with a deadpan expression.
"H-Here, please sit, Professor."
A teaching assistant hurried over with a chair. Jane sat down. The assistant stood politely, her face tense, then glanced at Jane.
"Did something happen at the last faculty meeting? Why is Simon the only one getting a separate class?"
No matter how you looked at it, this seemed less like a makeup class and more like special training. Of course, training personally conducted by Vice-Principal Jane was a precious opportunity one couldn’t get even with a pile of gold, but the intensity was excessive.
Explosions continued to rock the arena.
Jane, who had been watching silently, finally spoke.
"This is not a Combat Magic class, Student Council President."
Simon, who had been desperately fleeing the butterflies, heard her words, and his eyes widened.
’Right! She definitely...’
"Did you see it?"
Jane had asked if he ’saw’ it. The butterflies appeared at such a close range that it was impossible to dodge them by sight alone. The point wasn’t to react to the butterfly’s movements.
’I have to sense it before it appears!’
His wide-open eyes quickly scanned the air. His senses flared, detecting the surrounding Jet-Black.
But a butterfly appeared from thin air without any warning, striking Simon squarely in the chest.
With a deafening crash, Simon’s body was sent flying with brutal force, crashing hard onto the floor.
"Oh, no," the watching assistant whispered, covering her mouth with a pained expression.
Jane remained impassive.
"Huu... haa..."
Breathing heavily, Simon’s eyes glinted. He instantly drew a magic circle on his palm and swung his arm, spreading a veil of Jet-Black around him like smoke.
Sensing something, Simon threw his body forward. A butterfly popped out of the air a split second later, but he was already past it.
"Ah!" the assistant gasped, clapping her hands together in delight. "He saw it and dodged, right? He saw it and dodged, Professor!"
Only then did a faint smile touch Jane’s previously expressionless face.
"He’s starting to get the hang of it."
Simon knew that black magic couldn’t just materialize from nothing. There had to be a ’premonition’—a sign that the magic was about to activate. It was just that the sign was too small, too faint to notice.
So, he had committed the somewhat wasteful act of scattering his hard-gathered Jet-Black into the air. Only then could he sense it: a tiny ’point’ pushing through his own dark energy.
Simon identified the location of the point and either stepped back or leaped over it to dodge.
’Good. I’m getting used to it.’
His senses were becoming extremely sharp. He couldn’t see it, but if he detected a strange sense of unease and moved, he was right seven times out of ten. As time passed, his success rate climbed.
"Good."
Finally, Jane stood up. As the butterfly attacks ceased, Simon let out the breath he had been holding and crouched down. The assistant ran over and handed him a water bottle and a towel.
"How was it?" Jane asked after a five-minute break.
"It’s terrifying to think about encountering this kind of black magic in a real fight," Simon replied.
Jane raised her hand, her face a blank mask.
Startled, Simon snapped his chin up. He had sensed it but couldn’t dodge. This time, butterflies had materialized from all directions simultaneously, clinging to him.
"We call this type of black magic ’Fulgor’."
"...’Fulgor’," Simon repeated.
As Jane flicked her fingertips, the butterflies vanished like dust.
"Then if I meet a skilled ’Fulgor’ user like you, am I bound to lose?"
"Of course not."
A tiny magic circle unfolded at her fingertip, an unusual electric current crackling from it.
"When a new attack technique is created, a countermeasure for it is also created."
The crackling intensified. It didn’t seem like a typical lightning-type Jet-Black spell. A round, amorphous electric charge flared up and then scattered.
"Watch carefully."
She created a ’premonition,’ a tiny point in the air, to summon a butterfly. But as the electric current grazed the point, the spell was canceled.
"Right before ’Fulgor’ activates, you can block it by giving the area a slight stimulus with Jet-Black."
Simon’s eyes sparkled as he watched her cancel ten ’Fulgor’ spells at once. She turned to look at him.
"Once you understand the principle, it can also be useful against priests who use the same type of white magic. Would you like to learn?"
Simon clenched his fists. At this point, he didn’t care why Jane was suddenly offering to teach him the counter to ’Fulgor’. He just wanted to make the skill his own.
"Yes! Please teach me!"
The next makeup class was Combat Magic.
"One!" the head assistant of Combat Magic shouted.
"Yah!"
"Hah!"
The students in their gym uniforms swung their staffs, following his lead. It was weapons training infused with Jet-Black.
"Now, the staff is the prototype of all polearms! What is it?"
"Prototype!"
"That’s right! Pick up any long object off the street, infuse it with Jet-Black, and you can use it in any fight. And the basis of staff arts is rotation! What is it?"
"Rotation!"
"That’s right! For flexible rotation, your legs can’t be this stiff!"
The assistant walked by, tapping a student’s thigh with his staff, causing the student to wobble.
"Let’s start with the downward strike! Anchor your back leg, twist at the waist and hips, and bring the staff down! Five times! Begin!"
Kamibarez, also in her gym uniform, flapped her wings as she swung her staff, then looked up.
’But where did Simon go?’
The roar of a waterfall echoed on the west side of Roc Island. Right there...
Simon sat in a formal, meditative position directly under the torrent, shivering. His lips were trembling.
’What kind of makeup class is this?!’
Right next to him, the Combat Magic professor, Hong Feng, sat in the same position, looking completely unfazed. She smiled brightly.
"Juzt 20 more minutez! Zimon!"
"Pro-Professor!" Simon said through chattering teeth. "Isn’t the lesson we’re supposed to be reviewing Jet-Black Staff Arts? Is it okay if we don’t learn that?!"
"It’z okay! I’ll teach you later!" she said with a wink.
After their ’warm-up’ in the waterfall, Simon and Hong Feng changed into clean clothes and moved to a flat, grassy area.
’I wanted to learn Jet-Black Staff Arts,’ Simon thought, sniffling as he followed her.
"Alright! Time for clazz-y!" Hong Feng chirped.
The two faced each other. Perhaps because of the many trees, delicate flower petals drifted down from the sky.
’Professor Bahil, Professor Jane... why are my makeup classes so weird... huh?’
Hong Feng, who had been smiling brightly, lifted her leg. Then, she lightly stomped her foot on the ground.
With a heavy ’thump’, the very air seemed to shudder. The descending flower petals tore with a ’rustle’ and rained down. Simon suddenly felt a surge of tension and snapped into a ready stance.
"I have a fizt here!" she announced, raising her right hand. "How do you hit an enemy with thiz without moving it?"
"...Pardon?"
Simon blinked. It wasn’t a long-range attack technique, so how was he supposed to hit an opponent with his fist without moving?
"The anzwer iz—!"
A sudden rush of air was the only warning he had. Simon couldn’t even perceive what had happened. Combat Magic didn’t use magic circles. It was the harmony of the body and Jet-Black. And right now...
With a soft ’thud’, her fist was lightly touching his chin. He collapsed to the ground and looked up at Hong Feng with a dazed expression.
"You do it like thiz! Eazy-peazy, right?"
Simon looked behind him. She hadn’t approached him; he had been pulled toward her.
"Would you," Hong Feng’s expression turned serious as she took a stance. "Like to learn?"
What was this?
’The world of Combat Magic is truly endless!’
He didn’t even know what had hit him, but Simon felt his blood pump with excitement as he got to his feet.
"I would like to learn!"
The next afternoon, in front of the second-year campus park.
His promised meeting with Lorraine was waiting. Since it was the weekend, she was dressed in neat casual clothes.
"Sorry! Have you been waiting long?" Simon came running, out of breath.
She turned around, her night-sky-black hair fluttering. Then she let out a deep sigh.
"What in the world happened to you?"
Simon, wrapped in bandages from head to toe, laughed awkwardly and scratched the back of his head.
"You didn’t get into a fight, did you?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.
"No, no, it’s just from some makeup classes."
Her expression turned incredulous.
"...Makeup classes?"

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