Simon and Hector wrapped up their final joint training session for the Kurokuz’s Factor.
Simon absorbed a wealth of knowledge just by watching Hector move. For the Moore heir, wielding the Factor was an unconscious act as natural as breathing, but for Simon—who had only just dipped his toes into Dragon Magic—every subtle shift in posture was a vital clue.
Hector definitely noticed the constant glances, but he kept his focus locked on his own drills, practically daring Simon to steal his techniques if he was capable.
Whenever Simon’s curiosity got the better of him and he asked a question, Hector would flash a wildly triumphant smirk.
"Why would I teach that to a guy who’s only studying the Kurokuz’s Factor to beat me?"
Simon sweatdropped and backed off.
’But why does he look so happy about it?’
And with that, their joint training finally came to an end.
"Thank you, Professor!" Simon called out.
"You may go."
Aaron dismissed them before turning to leave. Simon and Hector began the walk back.
After a few steps in silence, Hector scowled.
"Don’t follow me."
Simon shrugged. "We’re just heading in the same direction."
Since they were both bound for the Summoning dormitories, their paths naturally overlapped. They kept walking, maintaining a deliberate distance between them.
An awkward breeze rustled the trees.
Sprinting off alone or bounding away with jet-black would have felt entirely too dramatic, so they simply endured the quiet.
After a few more tense moments, Hector broke the silence.
"When moving the Factor, don’t rely on experience. Follow your intuition." He kept his gaze forward. "You fail because you try to use pathetic tricks when you’ve barely even learned Dragon Magic. The Kurokuz’s Factor doesn’t retain memory like jet-black does."
"Move according to your instincts. Once that builds up, it will eventually become an absolute movement."
’Oh.’
It was the answer to the question Simon had asked earlier. He smiled faintly.
"Thanks, Hector."
Hector’s face contorted in utter disgust. The glare felt like a massive dragon baring its fangs, which only made Simon chuckle.
"Do whatever you want," Hector spat. "While you waste your time on pathetic attempts in this domain, I’ll be moving even further ahead."
"Yeah, yeah."
A sudden gale tore through the courtyard, shaking the trees violently. Simon stopped and looked up at the sky.
That wasn’t a natural wind. It carried a distinct trace of jet-black.
A second gust slammed into them. This time, Hector stopped and braced himself, having sensed the mana as well.
The wind grew fiercer by the second, howling around them until a figure plummeted from the sky. The person decelerated right before hitting the ground, landing lightly on both feet. As his fluttering clothes settled, a young man wearing stylish glasses lifted his chin.
"Aizel!" Simon’s face lit up.
Hector, who had been on high alert, quickly realized who it was and immediately bowed at a crisp, respectful angle.
"It is an honor to meet you. I am Hector Moore, the second-year Summoning representative."
Because the class representatives worked closely with the third-years, their hierarchy was incredibly strict. Aizel lightly raised a hand to acknowledge the greeting, but seemingly uninterested in Hector, he immediately turned his gaze to Simon.
"Simon Polentia."
"Yes!"
"I have something urgent to discuss. Could you spare a moment?"
Hector frowned and raised his head. Even as a second-year, he was still the heir to the Moore family. Was Aizel really just going to ignore him to focus entirely on Simon?
"Yes, of course," Simon agreed.
Aizel immediately channeled his dark magic. Wind swirled beneath their feet, and they shot up into the air simultaneously.
"I’ll go on ahead, Hector!" Simon’s voice rapidly faded as the two vanished from sight.
Hector clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white.
’That bastard... don’t tell me the reason he’s studying the Kurokuz’s Factor is...’
---
High in the sky, the rushing wind roared around them. Aizel took off his glasses.
"Ugh, that was terrifying."
His imposing demeanor vanishing in an instant, he gently rubbed his arms and hunched his shoulders.
"Who was that burly kid with the terrifying glare?"
"That’s Hector Moore," Simon replied. "He introduced himself, didn’t he?"
"I was too nervous to hear him properly. So he’s from the Moore family." Aizel rubbed the bridge of his nose with a trembling hand. "Why are all the second-years so huge this time around?"
"Honestly, I can’t even make eye contact with guys that big. They remind me of the kids who used to bully me."
"Ahaha."
He hadn’t been ignoring Hector at all; he had just flown away in a frantic rush because he was intimidated.
The more Simon got to know Aizel, the more he understood the hidden truths behind the upperclassman’s aloof facade.
"Anyway, you’re going to spar with me again today, right?" Simon asked, his eyes sparkling.
Aizel looked back at him with a slightly exasperated expression. "T-Today too?"
"Let’s just do a light session since we’re already together! Final exams are right around the corner. Come on!"
---
They arrived at a makeshift arena created by Aizel parting the sea. There, the two clashed once again.
Aizel was as relentless as always, but this time, Simon was at a slightly greater disadvantage. While attempting to prepare the Chaos Dullahan, he had to simultaneously dodge the barrage of jet-black wind magic raining down on him.
He fired off Cancel Sparks to keep Fulgor in check. Whenever the distance closed, he attempted a Slip to evade. Occasionally, he charged straight in, utilizing the ’Yeonpung’ technique Professor Hongfeng had taught him.
His ultimate goal was to somehow fend off Aizel’s overwhelming offensive long enough to summon the Chaos Dullahan.
However, his vision suddenly went dark. When he opened his eyes, he was staring up at the sky.
It was the exact same ending as before.
’So close.’
Still, unlike their previous bouts, there was undeniable progress. He had withstood Aizel’s massive onslaught while laying the groundwork for the Chaos Dullahan. If he had stalled for just a few seconds longer, he might have successfully summoned it and seized the victory.
"A-Are you okay? I hit you too hard, didn’t I?"
A panicked Aizel grabbed the freshly awakened Simon by the shoulders and shook him. Soon, the two made their way out of the parted sea and perched on a tall tree branch to talk.
"Should I go a little easier on you in the actual fight?" Aizel asked.
"Don’t do that," Simon said, shaking his head. "People will definitely notice. I’ll absolutely perfect a finishing move to defeat you before the real fight."
Aizel scratched the back of his head. "You’re really amazing."
"Pardon?"
"Even though I was the one pouring on the fierce attacks, it felt like I was the one being cornered. My mouth went dry the longer it went on. I really thought you were going to complete the Chaos Dullahan."
It was the highest form of praise. Simon smiled in satisfaction.
"It’s an honor to have sent a chill down the spine of Kizen’s strongest."
Aizel chuckled as well. He raised his head, gazing at the setting sun as it dyed the sea a brilliant orange.
"I suddenly had a thought," Aizel murmured. "Back when I was a second-year, could I have fought like you against Senior Phantastus?"
Simon remained silent.
"Honestly, I still wonder why he picked a loser like me as a candidate for Student Council President." Aizel slumped his shoulders, his voice growing weak. "Senior Phantastus always valued living a proactive life."
"Shouldn’t he absolutely despise someone like me, who spends his whole life walking on eggshells around others? The presidency should have gone to you or Balak, not me."
He rested his forehead against his fingertips.
"Why me and not Balak? Just because my rank was one step higher? Someone like me..."
"Aizel," Simon said quietly. "From what I see, I think you’re plenty proactive."
"H-Huh?"
"Living for nearly three years with a personality completely different from your own, maintaining that persona, and reaching the very top isn’t something just anyone can do. Even with this Student Council President issue, I offered you an easier way out, but you firmly rejected it. You said it would ruin your reputation. You value your pride more than your own life."
Simon smiled warmly.
"You can’t do that with half-baked resolve. Your determination to push forward with this persona to the bitter end—isn’t that your own proactive decision?"
Aizel’s surprised expression melted into a soft laugh. "No, that’s a foolish answer. I’m still just worrying about what others think."
"Your resolve to act out that persona is self-directed in itself."
"Hahahaha! What kind of logic is that?"
The two burst into loud laughter.
"Anyway, I don’t think your achievements, your skills, or the people around you will disappear just because your personality changes," Simon said. "Aizel is Aizel."
Beneath the sunset sky, Simon beamed.
"And personally, I root for your true self even more."
"Simon." Aizel stared blankly at the younger boy before suddenly scoffing. "You’re popular with girls, aren’t you?"
"Excuse me?"
"I suddenly feel a sense of distance between us. Go away."
"Ahaha! What’s with the sudden change?"
---
After talking with Aizel about Student Council matters for a while longer, Simon arrived at the Mutant Club room. He had made good time since Aizel transported him via magic.
’Has the item arrived by now?’
With a pounding heart, Simon pushed open the door to the club room.
"Hello, Mr. President!"
"Welcome back!"
The first-years, who were diligently studying for their exams, jumped up and greeted him warmly. Simon waved at them.
"By any chance, is Benya here?"
"Yes! She’s down in the basement!" one of them chirped. "She brought in some kind of huge box, too!"
’It’s finally here!’
Simon walked past them, desperately suppressing the feeling that his chest was going to explode with excitement.
"Study hard for your exams, guys."
"We will!"
He maintained a relatively calm demeanor in front of his juniors, but the moment he hit the basement stairs, he couldn’t hold back and bounded down the steps. He threw the door open.
"Benya!"
"Oh my, you startled me. Are you here, my boy?"
Benya was indeed waiting for him. In front of her sat a massive wooden box, easily as tall as she was.
"Benya! Is this...!"
"That’s right. It’s the item you ordered." She smiled, gesturing to it with an open palm. "Opening it for the first time is the owner’s privilege. Go ahead."
"Yes!"
Simon stepped up to the crate and placed his hand on the lid. The security spells deactivated one after another. Simon and Benya leaned in, their eyes shining with anticipation.
With a heavy hiss of depressurization, Simon lifted the lid with all his might. Staring at the dazzling contents inside, the two let out gasps of awe in perfect unison.
"This is the new weapon you’ll use to conquer Aizel," Benya murmured.
"Yes," Simon agreed. He clapped his hands together, his eyes burning with determination. "I’ll start working on it right away!"
---
Meanwhile, after dropping Simon off at the Summoning dormitories, Aizel arrived at the Jet-Black Mechanics dormitories.
’Hm?’
His forearm had been aching for a while. Rolling up his sleeve, he found several bruises and shallow cuts scattered across his arm—souvenirs from Simon.
’When did he...?’
He had been struck without even realizing it. Aizel smiled as Simon’s words echoed in his mind.
’Aizel is Aizel. And personally, I root for your true self even more.’
Standing blankly in front of his dorm room door, he soon let out a soft chuckle.
’Even so, it’s too late for that.’
"Aizel."
Just then, a figure phased right through the dormitory wall. Aizel quickly snapped back to reality and turned his head.
"Sota."
The Necromancy representative, Sota Pshyke. He approached Aizel with a stiff, hardened expression.
"We need to talk."

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