The Saintess’s arm went flying. A better aim might have killed her, but hitting a target that was a re dot in the distance was a miracle in itself. Simon felt his consciousness fading as he extended his right arm. ’Restoration.’
A light flashed in the distance, and Pier’s greatsword snapped back into his hand. [Hey, boy! This is no ti to lose consciousness!] Simon’s body was plumting toward the cratered mountain range. Just in ti, two of Serne’s feathers zipped over and attached to his shoulders. His body, which had been falling backward, flipped over into a controlled descent. Guided by the feathers, Simon entered the large hole in the mountain. He saw more feathers attaching themselves to the rock walls. "This feels a bit like déjà vu, doesn’t it?" Serne remarked, approaching him with a tired smile. "To think the successor of the Ivory Tower is busy cleaning up soone else’s ss. And after all that help, you only managed to take one arm?
The sound of Pier’s skull laughing raucously filled the air. Simon, slumped on the floor, managed a weak chuckle. Kajan let out a dry, disbelieving laugh, his disheveled hair hanging over his face.
’...Crazy bastards,’ he thought.
Two Kizen students had tead up to corner a Saintess and blow off her arm. Anyone who heard the story would scoff. The information was so unbelievable that it probably wouldn’t even sell.
" Ugh."
Simon’s consciousness began to slip. Serne quickly stuck a few feathers into his side, and his mind snapped back into focus. "Get a grip," she said coolly. "I don’t think it’s ti to pass out just yet."
"Huh...?"
As if on cue, the entire command center began to shake violently. Everyone looked up. "Persistent," Kajan muttered. The entire ceiling was collapsing. Serne clicked her tongue and sent her feathers upward, forming a defensive magic circle above their heads. The ceiling shattered again. A new hole, five tis larger than before, opened up, and the Saintess descended from the sky. Her feet touched the floor. The sight of her empty right shoulder was deeply unsettling. [At last,] she said, raising her head. [I understand the goddess’s will.]
The hem of her sacred robes fluttered as an indescribably imnse power radiated from her. The three of them stepped back warily. [The existence of a Legion Commander impervious to Divinity.]
Her gaze fixed on Simon. [An anomaly. An Irregular. This is a grave disaster. I have even confird that the undead he commands are also immune to Divinity. If he is allowed to mature, Efnel will have its greatest enemy. The reason the goddess guided to Kizen was not to terrorize it...] Her entire body was consud by a dazzling White Fla. [...but for the sole purpose of eliminating you, Simon Polentia.]
Flema began to recite a prayer. Serne gave a bitter smile and gestured behind her. "Shall we make a run for it?"
Just as Simon nodded, a massive wall of White Fla erupted, blocking their only escape route. [Forgive this humble servant’s irreverence,] Flema intoned, kneeling. [I have realized that the failure of your great power was to enlighten your foolish servant as to the target that must be judged.]
"Ah, this is bad," Serne said. "I think she’s pulling herself together."
"She’s accepting simple self-justification as an epiphany," Kajan added, clicking his tongue. "The situation hasn’t changed at all."
Just then, Flema’s body, wreathed in White Fla, began to grow and transform. It was no longer human. Her form beca a smooth, white celestial tal, her waist a razor-thin line connecting to a powerful torso. Curved wings sprouted from her back, and her face was a featureless tal plate, with only two points of blue light glowing where her eyes should be. [In accordance with the will of the great goddess, I will stake my all to root out this seed of evil.]
This was her Executor Mode, a state maintained by burning her own lifespan as fuel for the White Fla. She was truly betting everything on this fight. A sword of pure White Fla sprouted from her wrist. Her tal body radiated intense heat, causing the air around her to shimr. The three of them knew it before the fight even began. This was a battle they could not win. [Now.]
She raised her right arm high. The sword of White Fla shot up dozens of ters, erupting in a massive conflagration. [Get annihilated.]
The burning sword descended toward Simon’s head. He desperately raised Pier’s greatsword. ’In this state, I can’t block it...!’
With a clear, ringing sound, Flema’s sword was stopped. Simon’s eyes widened. He hadn’t been the one to block it. ’This is... don’t tell ...!’
[So soon!]
Flema’s head snapped around. A golden portal was tearing open in mid-air.
---
’20 minutes ago.’
"His true strength is Madness!" Bahil shouted, his voice ringing with excitent. "I’m saying he’s the kind of talent who can beco truly, magnificently obsessed with sothing!"
Aaron, listening, narrowed his eyes in disdain. "...You just see a reflection of yourself in him."
"Madness is a virtue of genius," Bahil retorted with a shrug. "Let share an experience. During a Class A Cursology practical, I briefly interfered with Simon’s body to assist him. I placed a sensory curse on him to maximize his concentration. But..."
At the word, not only Aaron but also Hongfeng and Silage’s eyes widened. "He is inducing ’Compello’," Bahil declared. "The very state that only the greatest necromancers experience. Yes! A re seventeen-year-old brat! He’s triggering ’Compello’ just by trying to replicate the focus he felt in a Cursology class!
"Zertainly," Hongfeng said, stroking her chin. "Although he had help from another ztudent, Zimon learned Internal Jet-Black Eruption in just two triez. It zeemz he really haz opened the door to ’Compello’."
"Ohh, that’s news to ," Bahil said with a nod. "In any case, I’m sharing this so that, as his educators, we don’t negatively affect his concentration—"
"I am against it," Silage interjected, coughing. "If he keeps accessing ’Compello’, his mind will break. He’s only seventeen. You know full well the fate of necromancers who beco addicted to it."
"But," Bahil countered, a smirk lingering on his lips, "they also achieved incredible feats and are rembered throughout history."
"...Professor Bahil!"
"Don’t misunderstand. I pride myself on caring for Simon’s health. Those who break themselves by overusing ’Compello’ were only ever destined for that fate. But Simon’s potential is on an entirely different level."
"The world calls that exploitation," Silage shot back. Bahil’s eyes turned cold. "Professor Silage, forgive , but are you truly a necromancer?"
"If you think it’s rude, then don’t spout such nonsense. Our role as professors is to guide him to reduce his reliance on such a dangerous power and help him build a stable skill set to win without it. The boy can climb high enough without such reckless asures."
Annoyance crept into Bahil’s expression. "His potential is infinite! Clipping a genius’s wings under the pretext of managent is a disqualification for an educator, and for a necromancer, it is a sin—"
"Enough."
Hongfeng clapped her hands, diating. "You’re going to ztart a fight. Today iz Profezzor Lang’z funeral. Thiz iz neither the ti nor the plaze."
Silage, his face flushed, fell silent. But Bahil still looked like he was itching to say more. Just then, Aaron’s gaze shifted. "...It’s noisy outside."
Silage sniffed the air and rushed toward the entrance. The other professors followed. A crowd of mourners had gathered at the mausoleum’s entrance. The professors pushed their way to the front. "Kamibarez!" Silage cried out. A Kizen student was stumbling into the mausoleum, covered in blood. It stread from her eyes and mouth, and the large wings on her back hung limp and broken. "...Ah."
The mont she saw the professors, tears welled in her eyes. "Professors! Please!"
"Calm down. Your body is too damaged," Silage said, supporting her as she swayed. "...Please save Simon! Save everyone!"
"Save them? What are you talking about?"
Just then, a small girl appeared beside Kamibarez in a flash of light. "It seems we have a problem," said Nephthys Archbold. At her appearance, all the mourners, including the professors, bowed their heads in unison. "You’re..." Kamibarez’s pupils trembled. It was the little girl who had visited her lecture hall for snacks. "Hiii! Can you show that?" the girl chirped, pointing to Lang’s diary, which Kamibarez was clutching to her chest. Kamibarez hesitated, but after seeing Hongfeng nod, she handed the diary to Nephthys. Nephthys opened the diary. The other professors crowded around, reading over her shoulder. ’My teaching assistant is trying to kill .’
The professors’ eyes widened in shock. "It’s Lang’s handwriting," Nephthys muttered, turning the page. The professors’ expressions shifted from surprise to shock, then to confusion, and finally, to pure, unadulterated rage. "Yep. No need to see any more," Nephthys said calmly, handing the diary back. As Kamibarez hugged it tightly, Nephthys smiled brightly and patted her head. "It’s okay now."
Kamibarez, who had been on high alert, felt a wave of calm wash over her at the girl’s voice. "Leave the rest to us."
Perhaps it was the reassurance in those words, but Kamibarez’s tension finally broke. Her eyes lost focus, and her eyelids fluttered closed. Nephthys sighed tiredly and slowly stood up. "Ah, I really."
Her sweet, smiling voice turned ice-cold. [I want to tear them all to shreds.]
Suddenly, the bright day was plunged into pitch-black darkness as black lightning tore across the sky. The mourners trembled in terror. The weather had changed in an instant. Nephthys turned. "Silage, please see to this child’s treatnt."
"Yes."
"And," Nephthys said, looking back, "the ones who will go with are..."
Before she could finish, Aaron, Bahil, and Hongfeng raised their hands, their auras radiating murderous intent. A few others in the crowd raised their hands but quickly lowered them in the face of the three professors’ intensity. "Good." She nodded and snapped her fingers. An afterimage flickered, and Jane appeared, bowing her head. "Get ready, Jane."
"Yes."
Jane unleashed her black magic, and her body—along with those of Aaron, Bahil, and Hongfeng—was engulfed in Jet-Black and compressed into a small cube. The cubes flew into Nephthys’s hand. She pocketed them and extended her other hand into the air. ’Tick! Tock! Tick! Tock!’
A magic circle depicting a rotating golden clock appeared, expanding into a massive gate. "Shall we go?" The Witch of Death took a step forward.
---
’5 minutes later.’
With a clear, ringing sound, Flema’s sword was stopped. Simon’s eyes widened. A foreign, golden magic circle had materialized in front of him. ’This is... don’t tell ...!’
[So soon!]
Flema’s head snapped around. A golden portal was tearing open in mid-air. From within, a girl with flowing silver hair erged. "It’s been a while," Nephthys said with a crooked smile. "Saintess of Purification."
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