The ‘Noble’ clubroom occupied the top floor of the Second Year Central Hall, offering a panoramic view of Kizen’s beautiful landscape of mountains, rivers, and castle walls. A young man strode across the plush carpet, drawing hushed whispers from the second-year students present.
He was an infamous figure, a hot topic in Noble circles: the first-year Special Admission No. 10, Malcolm Randolph. He had been summoned.
A second-year girl waiting by the door gave a light wave. Malcolm offered a curt nod and turned his attention to the entrance.
"Freshman, you ready?"
"Yeah, whatever."
"Prince... I an, President. The first-year is here."
She opened the door, revealing a luxurious room shrouded in dim light. The antique furniture, the tables, and the fruit arranged on platters all looked faded and muted. Seated in a large, throne-like chair was Andre, the president of Noble and the third prince of the Dresden Kingdom. He sat with arrogant poise, legs crossed, chin resting on his hand.
"Sit."
"Yes."
As Malcolm took a seat, Andre gestured with a flick of his finger. A woman in a maid’s uniform approached with silent steps, placing a teacup and refreshnts before him. Malcolm inwardly clicked his tongue.
’He’s insane.’
This woman wasn’t a servant. She was a second-year Kizen student, Andre’s equal, yet he had her dressed in a maid’s uniform, ordering her around. She seed deeply ashad, keeping her head bowed low.
’The rumors were true.’
He didn’t know what kind of leverage Andre had on her, but if the student council or faculty found out, it would throw the entire school into an uproar. Then again, even if soone exposed it, the world would likely dismiss it as an immature prince’s prank. Andre, being royalty, would get off with a slap on the wrist, while the whistleblower’s life would beco a living hell.
Having seen such injustices all his life, Malcolm adapted quickly. He gestured to the upperclassman with the casual air of soone addressing a real maid. She bowed and departed. A faint smile touched Andre’s lips, clearly pleased by the display.
"Do you know why I called you here?"
"I have no idea," Malcolm replied bluntly, raising his head. "My very presence here is likely to damage Noble’s reputation."
"I know. You’re the son of a vulgar gang boss, after all."
Malcolm’s eyebrow twitched at the word ‘vulgar,’ but he showed no further reaction. The real question was why the third prince of the Dresden Kingdom had summoned him. Andre’s next words were more than enough to make swallowing the insult worthwhile.
"I’m giving you the chance to join Noble."
The maid-student reappeared, carefully placing a quill and an application form on the table.
"If you had any brains at all, you’d understand that this is a crucial turning point in your life."
Andre leaned forward, lacing his fingers together. "It’s a chance for a trashy gang to connect with the powerful figures of the Dark Alliance. Your father might jump for joy when he hears the news."
Gangs were violent criminal organizations, but to operate smoothly, they needed connections to local and central powers. Gaining entry to a circle filled with the real power players of the Dark Alliance would allow his father’s gang to expand several tis over.
"...What’s the condition?"
Allowing a gangster’s son into Noble was like splashing mud on a priceless pearl. There had to be a reason for risking their public image. Malcolm braced himself for so ridiculous demand.
"It’s nothing much," Andre said with a grin. "Your opponent for this Duel Evaluation is Special Admission No. 1, Simon Polentia."
"Yes, that’s right." "That bastard rejected our offer to join." Andre swept a hand through his hair.
"I’ve never been so humiliated. If it were any other student, I’d let it go, but they say this is the first ti in twenty years that a Special Admission No. 1 has rejected Noble for another club. Twenty years. A very important tradition has just been broken."
"And of all tis, it had to be while I’m the president." Andre gritted his teeth. "I’m already getting relentlessly mocked from the outside. At this rate, I won’t even be able to look the forr presidents in the eye after I graduate." With a weary expression, Andre leaned back in his chair and sighed. He picked up a nearby wine glass and took a sip.
"In that case, am I to carry out retaliation?"
"No. It’s not retaliation," Andre said, his eyes gleaming. "Call it tradition. You know the saying at Kizen—Watch out for Noble. Cross them, and you’re done for. Even when things are going your way, the mont you offend Noble, it all starts to fall apart. We’re simply reinforcing the Kizen customs ."
Andre took sothing from his coat and tossed it to Malcolm. It was an artifact engraved with the crest of the Dresden royal family.
"Sir, borrowing another person’s artifact for the Duel Evaluation is against the rules..."
"It’s not a loan," Andre smirked. "It’s a down paynt. From now on, that artifact is yours. You can even register it at Kizen as your own property."
Malcolm’s jaw dropped.
"In front of that massive crowd, you will use the power of that artifact to crush Simon by an overwhelming margin. And the mont the duel is over, you make this sign." Andre swished his hand through the air, drawing the letter R—the mark of the Dresden royal family. The ssage was clear: defeat Simon and attribute the victory to Noble and Andre.
"I understand what you’re saying."
From Malcolm’s perspective, there was no reason to refuse. The situation was simple. Andre’s pride had been deeply wounded, and he was under external pressure. He wanted to make Simon pay for his insolence and restore Noble’s authority, and he was willing to accept Malcolm as a pawn to achieve it. It was perfectly understandable. In this world, a noble’s pride was more precious than life itself.
"I’ve been lying low lately because of various issues, but I can’t let this slide," Andre declared. "We need to show what happens to those who defy us through the fall of Special Admission No. 1. Soon, everyone will know that Simon Polentia was never qualified to join Noble in the first place."
Malcolm could now clearly see the picture Andre was painting. "I’ll accept your orders, but wouldn’t it send a stronger ssage if you stepped up and crushed him yourself, sir?"
"You don’t know the first thing about class," Andre chuckled. "And above all, there are professors who look favorably on Simon Polentia. Why do you think the Curses Research Society and Sadam went out of their way to recruit him? It ans Professor Bahil and Professor Silage are backing him."
"Understood. Then I’ll crush him head-on through legitimate ans." Malcolm downed the hot tea in one gulp. He tucked the artifact into his coat and made the ‘R’ insignia of the Dresden Kingdom. "In front of everyone, I’ll show them that Noble is still a force to be reckoned with."
Andre’s lips curled into a sly grin. "That’s the spirit."
---
Simon could hardly focus on his classes all day. And for good reason.
"Hey! Gellen said he finished your Subspace artifact. He wants you to co pick it up today!"
The dedicated Subspace for his Overlord was finally complete. Even during class, his mind was filled with nothing but thoughts of the artifact. His body was in the lecture hall, but his spirit was in Rochest. The mont his last class ended, Simon bolted straight for the ‘Mutant’ clubroom.
"Benya! Hurry!" he urged, hustling Benya to get ready. They slipped past the castle walls using Kevin’s stable route.
"Wow, I can’t believe Kizen has a place like this!" Benya exclaid, her voice echoing in the narrow passage. "You’re only a first-year, but you sure know your way around!"
She crawled along, marveling at the glistening stalactites and the stream of groundwater trickling past. Looking ahead, she asked, "Hey, Simon! Can I take the lead?"
"No," he replied flatly.
"Huh? Why not?"
"...Ahem. You just can’t."
Eventually, they both erged safely from the tight passage and into Rochest. Their eting spot was a quiet, open lot on the outskirts of the district.
"Miss Benya! Simon! I’ve been waiting for you," Gellen announced, placing his fedora over his heart and bowing deeply. His hairline seed to have receded even further since their last eting, revealing a prominent bald patch. Simon felt a pang of pity but pretended not to notice as he returned the greeting.
"Gellen! Is it really finished?" Simon asked, his voice laced with anticipation.
"Yes. I worked day and night, and I’m glad I could et the deadline," Gellen said, beaming. "Here it is."
He held out a ring case. Simon eagerly took it and flipped it open. While his old Subspace ring had a prismatic sheen, this new one was a brilliant, shimring gold. He tucked the case into his pocket and was about to slide the ring onto his finger when Gellen stopped him.
"Ah, you must wear that ring on your left hand."
"Oh, really?" Simon did as he was told, slipping it onto his left ring finger.
"Then let’s test it right away," Gellen instructed. "The activation sequence is to let your left hand hang comfortably, then open and close your fist, extend and retract your index and middle fingers simultaneously, and finally, open and close your fist again."
Simon nodded, performing the motions exactly as described. A low hum filled the air as a Subspace gate materialized behind his back.
"Whoa!"
It was custom-sized, just large enough to fit the Overlord perfectly. Since Simon only ever planned to store the Overlord in this Subspace, the dinsions were more than enough. He summoned the creature from his original Subspace and, with help from Benya and Gellen, guided it into the new one.
As the Overlord entered, a magic circle on the floor of the Subspace ignited. The entire dinsion brightened as if a switch had been flipped.
"Let’s keep the main Subspace open so we can observe its structure," Gellen said. "Now, all preparations are complete. Please channel your Jet-Black into the ring."
"Okay!"
As Simon infused the ring with his power, an elegant black pattern blood across its previously smooth, featureless surface.
"First, the basic function," Gellen began. "This ring reads the user’s will. You need only to will a Subspace to open within a five-ter radius."
"Is that all it takes?"
"Yes."
Simon swallowed hard and focused on the empty space beside his right shoulder.
And then—
A Subspace Open Gateed instantly. Acting on instinct, Simon connected with the Overlord’s consciousness.
A razor-sharp limb shot out from the swirling portal.
"Wow!" Benya gasped, clapping enthusiastically. Gellen nodded, a look of deep satisfaction on his face.
’The connection is seamless, without any lag,’ Simon thought, amazed. ’This really is on another level.’
He turned to look behind him. A portal had opened on the floor of the Subspace, directly beneath the Overlord’s main body, and the creature was pushing its limb through it. When Simon ntally commanded the limb to retract slightly, he saw it pull back from the gate in the real world. It was definitive proof that the two spaces were perfectly linked.
"How is the conscious connection?" Gellen inquired.
"It’s great! Perfect!"
After a few more trials, Simon decided it was beyond perfect. He no longer needed to issue a separate command for the Overlord to extend its limbs. All he had to do was open a gate in the air and designate a target; the Overlord would handle the rest. He could completely erase the preparatory motions from his mind and focus solely on the fight.
"This is the result of visualizing you handling the Overlord hundreds, even thousands of tis, to determine the most efficient thod," Gellen explained proudly.
"...Haha, that’s actually quite touching."
"But it’s too early to be surprised," Gellen said, his eyes twinkling. "Because the most important function of this Subspace cos next!"
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