And so, Simon found himself enduring Byulya’s training in the mornings and Hongfeng’s in the afternoons.
"Eat up! This is really bad for your body!"
"Ugh!"
"Stop exaggerating! You won’t die. What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger!"
During the day, he chewed on poison.
"You’ve gone through a lot putting up with my zizter’z ztubbornnezz. I’ll teach you the breathing technique to expel the poizon firzt. But before that, zhall we go for a light jog around the front yard? Forty lapz?"
At night, he meditated and conditioned his body.
The sisters competed fiercely, racing to feed Simon concoctions and push him through grueling regimens.
"It’z a world-clazz reztorative medicine brewed from a zky zerpent. It helpz with the circulation of jet-black within the body!"
"This is a poison that supposedly takes down an elephant in one hit or whatever, but it actually just hurts and isn’t lethal! It’s the perfect stuff to eat!"
’Why am I alternating between restorative medicine and deadly poison?’ Such questions were useless.
Even setting aside Hongfeng’s medicines—brewed from rather grotesque ingredients—Simon had no idea how to react to Byulya. She would abruptly present him with a vial of poison, rambling about how his tongue would stiffen for four days or how he would hover on the brink of death if he drank it. All the while, her eyes sparkled as if she expected praise.
"Professor, people usually die if they eat poison," Simon pointed out.
"You won’t die! I’m an authority in this field. Do you think I’d let you die? Shut up and eat it!"
Byulya grumbled, asking if he had any idea how expensive it was to procure poisons that inflicted agonizing symptoms without lethality or lingering aftereffects.
For a fleeting moment, Simon wondered if he should have just forced his injured leg to work and followed the others on their tour.
Yet, when he woke up the next morning...
’Why is my body actually feeling better?’
His condition had genuinely improved.
In Byulya’s case, he could only gauge her training’s effectiveness by consuming different poisons. The second day was less agonizing than the first, and the third day was more tolerable than the second. Since it was actually working, he couldn’t even bring himself to be mad.
Byulya grinned as she explained. "The ’Net Flower Venom Extract’ you just ate is completely harmless once antibodies form! Better yet, you can use Blood Venomology techniques while the poison is still in your system!"
Simon gathered blood to his finger, just as he did when using hemomancy. He lightly pricked his fingertip with a dagger. With a soft squelch, blood tinged with a sickly green hue welled up.
When a drop landed on the hide of a monster Hongfeng had hunted, it reacted with a sharp hiss. Real poison was coursing through his veins.
"Wow," Simon murmured.
"This is the absolute basics of Blood Venomology!" Byulya boasted, crossing her arms. "Against a Venomancer, enemies can’t even inflict wounds recklessly. A high-level Venomancer can control the speed and direction of their Blood Venom the exact moment they’re cut!"
"So," Simon said, looking up, "a first-rate Venomancer like you, Professor, can spew poison without even being wounded, controlling its speed and direction at will?"
"Gyahahahaha! Flattery won’t get you anything!" Byulya laughed, her shoulders shaking as she wiped her nose. "But I’m in a good mood, so tomorrow I’ll use a poison that’ll bring you even closer to death’s door! You should be grateful!"
"I should be grateful... right?"
After wrapping up his Blood Venomology training, Simon sat cross-legged and began his restorative meditation to expel the lingering toxins.
By the time he finished and opened his eyes, Byulya casually spoke up. "It’s all in the past, but I’m curious about something."
"What is it?"
She strode over and flashed a vicious, toothy smile. "Why the hell did you take that shitty ’Monarchology’ class in the first semester? I know Venomology isn’t your major, but it’s hard to believe my general class lost out to something like Monarchology."
Startled, Simon quickly waved his hands. "N-No! It wasn’t like that!"
Simon quickly explained the situation.
At the beginning of the second year’s first semester, Simon had abruptly taken on the heavy responsibility of Student Council President. He hadn’t shown it to those around him, but he was incredibly anxious about doing the job well.
Thus, he had decided to take only the minimum requirement of three general subjects and dedicate all his remaining time to his council duties. Compared to Jet-Black Mechanics, Curses, and Combat Magic, the offensive options of Venomology hadn’t seemed as immediately vital to his combat style, leading to his decision.
However...
’It won’t do for the Student Council President, who must set an example for everyone, to take only seven subjects.’
Jane had forced him to take ’Monarchology,’ claiming it was a mandatory liberal arts subject for his position.
Hearing the full story, Byulya burst into a fit of laughter. "Ah, so that was it? And here I thought my class actually lost to something like Monarchology!"
"I’m sorry I didn’t explain it sooner," Simon apologized. "I thought the resistance skills I learned in my first year would be enough, but that was pure arrogance on my part."
He had felt that keenly, especially during his fight with Balak.
"Therefore," Simon said, looking up, "if you’ll allow it, Professor, I’d like to take your Venomology class next semester."
"A student wants to take my class—there’s no need for permission!" Byulya grinned. "Great! I’m getting even more fired up! This time, I’ll feed you a poison that’ll really have you wandering the brink of death!"
"Excuse me?"
Simon couldn’t fathom why getting on her good side only put his life in greater peril.
That evening, as Simon lay collapsed on his bed after training, Pier’s clone called out to him.
[It seems Mur has fled, but I have something to show you!]
Since Hongfeng had left at dawn to hunt monsters for her restorative medicine, Simon slipped out of the house unnoticed. His leg hadn’t fully healed, but by donning Pier’s Bone Armor, he could manage to move around.
Clad in the armor, he descended back into the lower plains where the recent horrors had unfolded, eventually arriving at the temple in question.
"This is my first time down here," Simon muttered, scanning the temple’s basement.
[This temple was concealed by Mur’s barrier, which distorts perception! If it weren’t for me sensing the presence of an Ancient Undead, no one would have ever found it!]
"So Mur kept this place hidden until the very end?"
[Indeed!]
Simon and Pier made their way into the deepest reaches of the basement. All along the descending path, various traps and barriers lay shattered—traces of the destruction Pier had caused while chasing Mur.
[Right here.]
They reached the absolute bottom of the temple. The darkness was so absolute that nothing was visible.
"Is something here?"
[Kuhehe! You will see.] Pier detached from Simon, returning to his skeletal form. [Light it up!]
Simon pulled a lantern from his subspace and cast its beam forward.
His jaw dropped.
A massive object loomed in the darkness. A battleship? An airship?
It was a cylindrical metal aircraft of completely unknown purpose, fused seamlessly with biological undead tissue. However, it lay dormant. It seemed designed to react only to Mur’s jet-black.
’Was that guy seriously planning to start a war?’
Cold sweat trickled down his spine. Mur had been hiding in the plains to prepare this very battleship, not the Eildar Hydra. The Hydra had merely been a sentinel summoned to guard the vessel.
[It seems Mur wanted to take this with him, but it has fallen into our hands in the end!]
"Just what..." Simon turned his head. "What is Mur’s true identity?"
Between the Eildar Hydra and this impossible battleship, he couldn’t fathom what Mur’s ultimate goal was. At first, Simon had assumed Mur was simply the ’High Priest’ mentioned in the plains’ history books, but the scale of this operation went far beyond that.
[That bastard has existed since long before I, the Administrator, came to be! Do you know Mur’s moniker?]
"The Sin of the Dead, right?"
[Correct!]
He was the ’god’ worshipped by the people of the lower plains.
In some cities, he was remembered as a ’war hero.’
In certain regions, a ’mythological figure.’
He was an Ancient Undead who had deeply embedded himself in human history. Because he was the root cause of countless catastrophic incidents involving the undead, he had earned the title ’Sin of the Dead.’ The plains incident was merely a fraction of his legacy.
[But then, an event occurred where this Ancient Undead—the mastermind disrupting human history from behind the curtain—was captured and contracted by a mere human. That person was—]
"My father."
[Yes! Afterwards, Nephthys ordered Richard to obliterate Mur, but Richard refused. Instead, he took Mur’s core and made him a commander. It must have been quite the humiliation for the bastard!]
Simon crossed his arms. "Did Mur follow orders well when he was in my father’s Legion?"
[Kuhehe! Of course not. He was always an aloof and selfish wretch.]
The only ones he feared were Richard and Pier, who had fought alongside him. For Mur, who had existed for thousands of years manipulating human history, the memory of being subjugated by a human must have been deeply traumatic.
That was likely why, when Pier stormed this sanctuary, Mur had abandoned his prized battleship and retreated without putting up much of a fight.
[For Mur to have orchestrated this in the plains despite knowing I was present means he has other schemes prepared! The people of the continent also know that Mur was formerly part of the 7th Legion. If he causes more trouble, the blame might fall on us!]
"We need to catch him as soon as possible."
[No.] Pier’s eye sockets flared with ethereal light. [This time, I advise that we ’obliterate’ the bastard once we catch him.]
Simon fell silent.
Seeing Pier—who usually prioritized the Legion’s combat power so obsessively that his comrades scolded him for it—suggest obliterating a massive asset like Mur without hesitation proved just how dangerous the Ancient Undead truly was.
"Then what is his goal in plotting all this? Is he planning to plunge the continent into chaos like the Secret Society?"
[Mur walks a strictly different path from the Secret Society. He is a bastard faithful only to his own desires.] Pier shook his head and added, [Mur is trying to become a ’god.’]
"A god?"
[That is all I know. Richard, too, could not fully comprehend Mur’s desires, and thus failed to draw out his ’Geheim.’]
Mur sounded like a profoundly troublesome Ancient Undead. Simon turned his head back to the giant battleship resting in the gloom.
For now, there seemed to be no way to operate it without Mur himself, but Simon was certain it could be put to good use. At the very least, it could serve as excellent bait.
"For now, I need to figure out a way to get this thing out of the plains and move it to a safe location."
It was impossible to fit the colossal battleship into his subspace.
Simon decided to summon Akemus and Erzebet—who had been preparing to return to Roc Island—back to the plains. He also removed his subspace ring, commanding Herseva to remain behind as well.
He planned to have Herseva use her Ancient Undead secret technique, ’Geheim,’ to create a floating territory of sand to transport the battleship, while the others provided an escort.
The destination was Frost Field, guarded by the North God, Zairos. It was the safest territory under Simon’s effective control.
Not only did it boast an extreme climate with year-round blizzards, but if necessary, he could also request aid from the allied 2nd Legion and the Grand Duke.
Having finalized his tactical plans as the Legion Commander, Simon returned to Hongfeng’s cabin and lay down, acting as if nothing had happened.
Sometime later, the group that had gone on the plains tour arrived on horseback. Unlike Kinter’s group and the first-years, who dismounted with cheerful faces, the Student Council members wore subdued expressions.
"Ah, well. It was somewhat fun, I guess," Dick said, yawning in his traditional plains clothing. "But it definitely wasn’t the same energy as when we first got here."
The other two nodded in agreement. On their first day in the plains, they had laughed and had the time of their lives just getting caught in the rain.
"Plus, Meirin and Dick fought a lot," Kamibarez added with a soft smile. Dick and Meirin had constantly clashed over differing opinions throughout the trip, bickering endlessly.
"That’s because he keeps causing trouble and spouting nonsense!" Meirin grumbled.
"You’re the one who always cuts people off and cynically dismisses everything I suggest," Dick shot back. He let out a deep sigh. "Man, I miss my best friend."
"That’s my line!"
In truth, the tour had only served to highlight Simon’s absence.
Simon was the one who kindly listened to even the most trivial stories. When conflicts arose, Simon mediated. He was the social glue that kept their conversations flowing smoothly, always attentively looking out for everyone.
"Mhm." Kamibarez lifted the bag in her hand.
It wasn’t anything grand, but it held a souvenir they had bought for Simon.
"Simon must have been really tired and bored doing rehab training all this time. I hope he likes it."
"Let’s hurry!"
The Student Council members rushed toward Hongfeng’s cabin.
"We’re back, Simon! We’re coming in!"
The door clicked open, and the members stepped inside.
They stopped in their tracks.
Inside the room, which was so profoundly quiet that the silence felt heavy, Simon sat cross-legged on the bed. He was meditating with his eyes closed, a strange, profound aura emanating from his body.
Despite their noisy entrance, he didn’t move an inch.
His mind appeared completely empty, perfectly tranquil.
Slowly, Simon opened his eyes.
’CLICK! CLACK!’
Instantly, bones scattered all over Hongfeng’s house began to gather. From the chairs, from under the bed, from inside the cabinets and the wardrobe—storage spaces burst open as over a thousand bones flew out, dancing through the air.
They moved with the fluid grace of a school of fish swimming through the ocean.
’CLACK! CLATTER!’
The bones converged in front of Simon and began to build a tower. They slotted together one by one into a highly intricate structure, erecting a massive bone spire right before their eyes in a mere five seconds. All the members gaped in awe.
Simon broke his meditative state, his eyes returning to normal.
With a heavy rumble, the tower collapsed into a pile. As Meirin, Dick, and Kamibarez stared in utter bewilderment, Simon smiled warmly.
"You guys are back?"
"Simon!" Dick shouted in excitement. "H-How did you do that just now?!"
Meirin stomped her foot on the floor in mock frustration. "Are you playing dirty and getting stronger all by yourself again? That’s it, I’m going to train, too!"
Kamibarez trotted over to Simon’s side and held up the souvenir. "Simon! I missed you! We bought this for you!"
Reunited, the four of them finally laughed brightly, eagerly pouring out their stories from the past few days.
As expected, not a single person could be missing.
The group was only truly complete when all four of them were together.
The day before the opening ceremony.
It was finally time to return to Kizen. The Student Council members, the four Combat Magic students, and the first-year trio—everyone packed their bags and prepared to leave.
"My friends, I shall never forget you!"
"Have a safe trip!"
Receiving the warm farewells of the Marlat clan, Simon straightened his school uniform tie in front of the teleportation magic circle.
’Let’s go back. To Kizen!’

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