It was a quiet drinking gathering, a reunion of friends after the long vacation. As the alcohol took effect, the atmosphere gradually mellowed, and naturally, deeper conversations began to surface.
“Do you think we’ll be able to stay on the student council for the second semester?”
Kamibarez was the one who finally brought it up. In truth, it was a topic they had all wanted to broach, but everyone had hesitated, afraid of ruining the good mood.
“Hey, commoner. Do you know anything?” Meirin asked, shooting Dick a pointed look.
He just shrugged. “Come on. It’s not like I’m a vending machine that spits out information when you press a button.”
“If you don’t know, just say so!” she snapped.
“Of course I’ve heard things,” he replied smoothly.
Meirin groaned, raising her hands as if to claw at him for being so obnoxious. Dick quickly leaned back out of range and began his explanation.
“Even during the vacation, I keep in touch with my informants, so I hear things. First, about Balak.”
Balak had suddenly barged in and wrecked the stage where Simon and Aizel were supposed to duel for the student council presidency. Simon hadn’t heard what happened in the aftermath. For now, his name was technically on the president’s seat, but strictly speaking, the position had been practically vacant ever since the incident.
“Apparently, the third-year professors have banded together,” Dick said. “Now that Senior Aizel is gone, they’re planning to put Balak in the president’s seat no matter what. I even heard their head professor submitted a letter of resignation just to prevent Balak’s expulsion.”
“A resignation letter?” Meirin and Kamibarez jumped up from their seats in shock.
“No way! Why would the faculty go that far over a student council matter?” Meirin cried.
What was supposed to be a fight between students had spilled over into the administration.
Dick shrugged again. “Because it’s directly tied to their honor. You guys know the invisible competition among Kizen professors is just as fierce as it is among the students, right?”
Kizen wasn’t called a meritocracy for nothing. Secret feuds and cutthroat rivalries existed among the faculty, with their ranks, authority, and salaries fluctuating based on their students’ semester performance. If those metrics dropped, it was common for a professor to be fired before even finishing the term.
Even outside of Roc Island, prospective candidates were constantly eyeing those positions, exerting their own influence to drag down active professors. There was no need to explain the immense pride and honor of a Kizen professor who had managed to survive in such a ruthless environment.
“The reason it’s tied to their honor is because, until now, they could explain the situation away to outsiders,” Dick continued. “They could say Simon was just Aizel’s substitute, and he’d be replaced when he returned. They could spin it as giving early leadership experience to a second-year. The third-year professors lost some face, sure, but they still had a justification.”
Dick clasped his hands together, his expression turning serious.
“But Simon becoming the full-fledged president instead of a substitute means something entirely different. In a meritocracy like Kizen, it means Simon from the 329th batch is definitively superior to the third-years from the 328th batch.”
Meirin and Kamibarez slumped back into their seats, the weight of the situation sinking in.
Simon looked at Dick. “Then, a second-year like me taking the presidency must mean...”
“That the third-year professors failed to teach their students properly.” Dick pointed a finger downward with a sharp glare. “They’ll be collectively branded as incompetent.”
A heavy silence settled over the table. Meirin closed her eyes and took a sip of her wine.
“That explains it well enough,” she murmured. “It’s why Balak and the third-year professors have no choice but to be in cahoots.”
“Exactly.” Dick popped a cheese-topped biscuit into his mouth and continued. “The third-year professors were probably relaxing. They thought they’d quickly graduate their students, coast through a year or two of research, and then take on a fresh batch of first-years.”
“But suddenly, Aizel—their absolute masterpiece—leaves the school. Now their careers are in jeopardy, their teaching assistants are getting anxious, and rival necromancers are eyeing their jobs. A fire was lit under them.”
Simon crossed his arms. “So what’s the current situation?”
“I’m getting to that.”
According to Dick, the third-year professors had lobbied hard to ensure Balak received a ‘punitive mission’ instead of suspension or expulsion. It was a disciplinary measure being implemented for the first time in nearly a century. The old rule had become obsolete because it was deemed too dangerous, but the third-year professors had dug through Kizen’s archaic regulations to save Balak and dragged it back into the light.
“What’s a punitive mission?” Kamibarez asked, her eyes wide.
“It means taking on an incredibly dangerous, high-stakes mission instead of facing standard disciplinary action,” Dick explained. “The bare minimum requirement is infiltrating the Holy Federation and fighting active priests. It essentially forces a student into a deadly situation, which is why it hasn’t been used in decades.”
“However,” Simon interjected, “if it’s Balak, he’ll complete the mission and return no matter what.”
“Exactly.” Dick raised a finger. “The duel to decide the presidency fizzled out, and the ball is now in the professors’ court. Just like the third-years have an inferiority complex toward our batch, their professors have a ‘little’ bit of a complex toward ours.”
It was understandable. The second-year faculty was an absolute powerhouse. Nephthys’s right hand, Jane, was the professor in charge of second-year Dark Mechanics.
Bahil was a star among stars, and Professor Hongfeng never missed the top spot in student satisfaction. Aaron had his fair share of issues, but his combat skills were indisputable.
With the balance of power within the school clearly tilting toward the second-year faculty, the third-year professors were desperately trying to install Balak as president to maintain a shred of their dignity.
“I don’t know how the internal faculty discussions are going, but it wouldn’t be strange for either you or Balak to become president at this point. If you take the seat, Balak—who has already revealed his ambition to devour the school—” Dick looked pointedly at Simon. “He’ll try to drag you down by any means necessary, whether through a duel or something worse.”
Kamibarez looked at Simon with worried eyes. Meirin forced a brave smile.
“You can win, right, Simon? You beat the absolute crap out of Balak back then!”
Simon shook his head. “I kept reviewing my duel with Balak over the vacation. But...”
At the time, Balak had just finished defeating Aizel, the number one student in the school. On top of that, he had hacked Ednic Grerium’s magic circle and held off the spectators with wide-area venom magic. In reality, Balak had practically taken on Simon, the spectators, and Aizel all by himself.
“It’s frustrating, but with my current strength, it would be difficult to beat Balak in a formal duel,” Simon admitted, lifting his head. “That’s why I need time.”
“Time?”
“I’m going to register for Professor Byulya’s Venomology class this upcoming semester.”
After the decisive battle with Balak, Simon had suffered from the lingering effects of the poison, languishing in the infirmary for days. If Anna hadn’t personally traveled to Roc Island to cast recovery magic on him, he might have been bedridden for the entire vacation.
“I need to raise my resistance level to withstand Balak’s poison. That’s the bare minimum.”
The three of them nodded in agreement.
“And,” Simon added.
“And what?”
“The completion of the Bone Kurokuz.”
Everyone’s jaws dropped.
“D-Did I hear you wrong just now?” Dick stammered.
“I’m going to complete it before the semester ends. I even made a promise to Nephthys.”
As long as he met those two conditions, he was confident he wouldn’t be pushed back, even in a one-on-one fight against a third-year like Balak.
Simon smiled warmly. “It looks like the second semester is going to be busy.”
That marked the end of the serious talk.
“Let’s stop talking about school and faculty politics! It’s making my head hurt!”
Meirin waved her hands dismissively. The atmosphere had grown too heavy, and they desperately needed a change of topic. The four of them shifted gears, returning to lighter stories about their daily lives.
Simon shared his experiences rebuilding the territory and doing volunteer work after the torrential rains in Leshill. Dick talked about his twin younger brothers, Bill and Al, who had recently opened their cores and were feeling under the weather. Meirin bragged about being offered a lead role at the Langerstine Grand Theater. And Kamibarez happily recounted how she had taken in an abandoned puppy over the break.
They could finally talk and smile without the looming pressure of the academy. Everyone had a great time, laughing boisterously over their drinks. In that moment, the student council didn’t feel like such a big deal. Even if they lost their positions, they would still be able to sit around a table and laugh together like this.
“I’m going to hit the restroom for a bit,” Simon said, excusing himself with a smile.
As he walked away, Meirin leaned across the table. “Kami, Kami. Doesn’t it seem like Simon got a bit taller?”
“You think so?” Kamibarez tilted her head.
“He claims he hasn’t, but I feel like I have to look up at him a bit more now.”
“I’m not really sure. I always have to crane my neck to look at him anyway.” Kamibarez made a playful show of stretching her neck as high as it would go.
Unable to hold back, Meirin lunged forward and pulled her into a tight hug. “You’re so cute! I missed you so, so much over the vacation, Kami!”
“M-Meirin. I can’t breathe,” she wheezed.
Just then, Dick returned from the counter, setting down a fresh plate of cheese and biscuits before taking his seat.
“Anyway, what time are we leaving for the grasslands tomorrow? I want to check the ship’s condition a couple of hours before departure.”
“Let’s just head out early in the morning,” Meirin suggested.
“I’m so excited!” Kamibarez beamed. “I wonder what kind of adventures we’ll have in the grasslands?”
Just as the three of them were happily chatting away, the heavy thud of uninvited footsteps echoed into their cabin. Startled, Kamibarez’s eyes widened. Dick let out a deep sigh.
“Who is it?”
A young man folded his dripping umbrella and stepped inside. At a glance, he looked to be around their age. His dull gray hair looked heavily bleached, shaved close on the sides and back, with thick earrings dangling from his lobes. The jacket he wore was covered in complex, gaudy patterns, and intricate tattoos snaked from the backs of his hands all the way up to his shoulders.
“Excuse me. Wow, it’s really pouring out there.”
Without waiting for an invitation, he pulled up a chair and sat down. Three other guys filed in right behind him.
“You guys.” Meirin’s eyes narrowed. “You’re from Combat Magic, aren’t you?”
“Oh, look at the celebrity we have here. Nice to meet you, Vice President Meirin Villenne.”
He made a mocking show of pressing his palms together in greeting, then casually snatched a cheese-topped biscuit off their plate and popped it into his mouth. He immediately turned back to his friends, making an exaggerated gagging face, and snickered. The rest of his crew chuckled along with him.
“What do you want?” Kamibarez asked cautiously, shrinking back.
“Nothing, really. Just wanted to hang out. The name’s Kinter.”
Kinter picked up an empty glass from the table and shook the dust out into the rain a couple of times. Setting it back down, he grabbed their remaining bottle of wine and started pouring himself a drink.
“It’s just four guys on our end, so our table’s a bit... dull.”
The red wine splashed into his glass.
“You need to hear some girls laughing to make drinking fun, you know?”
Pulling both feet up onto his chair to squat, he downed the wine in one go. He immediately scrunched up his face in disgust and glared at Dick.
“You cheap bastard, you should buy the girls something a little more expensive.”
Dick silently glared at him.
“Ah, whatever.” Slamming the empty glass down with a sharp clack, Kinter slid the wine bottle across the table toward Meirin.
“Pour me a glass, will you, ‘classmate’?”
Meirin’s face twisted in anger, a visible vein popping on her forehead.
“Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“Are you out of your mind?”
Meirin stepped forward with a chilling glare, but Kinter just snickered and tilted his head, practically daring her to try something.
“Whoa, whoa, hey! Why is everyone acting so hostile on such a good day?”
Dick quickly stepped in, physically blocking Meirin from doing something she’d regret. He turned his attention to the Combat Magic students.
“Sorry, but we have no intention of sharing a table,” Dick said firmly. “We just want to spend time among ourselves.”
“Wow, amazing.” Kinter laughed, revealing a sparkling gold tooth. “The dead-last loser is actually talking like a real person.”
Dick’s expression twisted. Kinter just snickered, grabbing another biscuit and tossing it into his mouth.
“What’s going on?”
A cold voice suddenly rang out from behind them. Meirin, Dick, and Kamibarez turned around, their faces instantly brightening. The Combat Magic students, on the other hand, flinched in spite of themselves.
“I asked a question.”
The atmosphere shifted in an instant. It was one of the most famous and influential figures in Kizen—a student who needed no introduction.
“I said, what’s going on here?”
Simon stepped out of the shadows and stood before them.

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