At 2 AM, devoid of light, the city was blanketed in a gloomy darkness that exuded a mysterious atmosphere. It was a side of Langerstine unknown to the tourists who only saw the vibrant tropolis—a side known only to its residents. On this night, while the city slept, a man in a black hood sat on a terrace chair, quietly admiring the view.
A long, drawn-out yawn from behind shattered his reverie. A man with a protruding belly and a thick beard that stretched from his chin to his ears trudged onto the terrace.
The man in the hood took the cigar from his mouth, holding it between his fingers with a smirk. "Tired?"
"Don’t even get started," the bearded man grumbled, smacking his lips and rubbing his eyes. "You show up at the crack of dawn and kick up all this trouble. Of course I’m tired."
"You have certainly adapted to city life." As he spoke, the hooded man’s gaze drifted to the other man’s bulging gut and slovenly clothes.
The bearded man laughed heartily, slapping his belly. "They say it’s a dog-eat-dog town, but once you get used to it, it’s not so bad. I guess I prefer this intense, day-to-day struggle over herding sheep on the plains."
"Must be nice."
The man’s voice was laced with impatience. The bearded man simply yawned again. "I’m sleepy, so get to the point. I already told you, not even I can find that guy."
"My business is different today."
The man flicked his cigar off the terrace and produced a photograph from his coat. "I’m looking for this boy."
The bearded man took the photo, his eyes blinking slowly. "Isn’t that a Kizen uniform? What’s this kid done?"
"They say he’s the prized Special Admission No. 1. His na is Simon Polentia."
The bearded man’s brow furrowed. "A word of advice: stay away from Kizen. And you should never, ever touch the students. Even in your backwater town, you must have heard what Nephthys did to Efnel when they went after a few first-years, right?"
"I know."
He snatched the photo back and tucked it into his coat. "Just tell if you can find him or not."
"Well, the school year is about to start, so even if we don’t go looking, he’ll be in this city soon enough..."
The bearded man suddenly flinched and spun around. "What is it?"
"...Soone’s in the house."
He tiptoed to the edge of the terrace and peered into the living room, spotting a single mouse scurrying across the floor. He let out a quiet sigh of relief. "We’re on the third floor. How did that thing even get in?" he muttered in annoyance, grabbing a nearby broom. The mouse was busy nibbling on crumbs, completely oblivious. "Nice and easy now. Stay still."
The mont he whispered the words and raised the broom, the mouse turned to face him. Its eyes flashed with the feral light of a wild animal. "Huh—!"
As if on cue, hundreds of pairs of eyes glinted from the shadows of the room. "Gah!"
The bearded man shrieked, dropping the broom as he stumbled backward. A tide of rats began to pour out from the floor, multiplying endlessly. The man in the hood shot to his feet. "Damn it! It’s him!"
"Agh! Aaaargh!"
The bearded man scrambled to escape the horrifying swarm, only to find the walls, floor, and ceiling crawling with a thick, shifting carpet of countless cockroaches. He slapped a hand over his mouth, gagging. Sothing was rising from the darkness of the terrace. A person. He stood on the third-floor landing, his feet planted on a writhing mass so dense it was impossible to tell what it was. "Huuuuuhhh!"
The bearded man foad at the mouth, paralyzed by terror. The man in the black hood, however, just grinned and drew a sword from his belt. "To think you’d walk right into my grasp!"
He kicked off the ground and charged. But on his first step, dark spots blood across his skin. On his second, hideous hives erupted. By his third, his hands and feet had turned a sickly yellow. As he took his fourth and final step, he let out a choked groan and collapsed, writhing on the floor. "Uggghhh!"
The swordsman convulsed in agony, foam spilling from his lips. The bearded man could only tremble, staring up at the nocturnal visitor who now stepped onto the terrace. "Wh-What business...! N-No, please, spare my life!"
"Just now," the visitor’s lips parted, his voice a low whisper in the sudden silence. "Did you say Simon Polentia?"
---
"Simon! Is everything packed?"
"Yes! All packed, Mom!"
Early that morning, Simon ca down from his room to find a freshly pressed Kizen uniform laid out in the living room. Anna had washed it with the utmost care to ensure the embedded black magic remained intact. He cautiously picked up the uniform, as pristine as the day he got it. ’I finally get to wear this again.’
A wave of emotion washed over him as he changed. He slid his legs into the black trousers, tailored like a formal suit, and felt their soft, pleasant texture against his skin. After fastening his belt, he slipped on the white shirt, buttoned it, and tied the red necktie. Finally, he shrugged on the jacket, the Kizen crest gleaming on the chest. He looked in the mirror at the sharply dressed young man staring back. ’It feels just like my first day at Kizen.’
As he was admiring his reflection, Anna erged from the kitchen. With a practiced hand, she popped a piece of apple pie into his mouth and expertly straightened his tie. Taking a step back, she clasped her hands, her face flushed with pride. "Oh, my son is all grown up. You’ve really beco a fine young man."
"Are you ready, Simon?"
The front door opened, and Richard walked in, a man in a brown robe at his side. "Who’s this, Father?"
"A servant of Kizen, sent by Lady Nephthys herself. He’s prepared a teleportation circle in the yard."
The servant bowed politely. "Simon. I have a magic circle ready to take you to the outskirts of Langerstine. A carriage from there will get you to your destination in under two hours."
"Oh, thank you for going to the trouble!"
That was Kizen for you. He’d realized it during his trip to the Holy Federation, but teleportation circles were exceedingly rare. These devices, which Kizen students used so freely, required astronomical resources, manpower, and effort to create and maintain. Most people went their entire lives without ever using one. "I’ll be waiting outside."
The servant left, and the ti for goodbyes had co. Richard placed his hands on Simon’s shoulders and launched into a list of warnings, from general precautions to specific instructions on what to do if his Legion was discovered. Nearby, Anna was arranging lunch boxes. ’For Kamibarez Ursula.’
Anna had insisted on packing a lunch for every mber of his team. She had written their nas on little notes, complete with hand-drawn hearts and a short ssage asking them to look after her son and do their best. Simon committed his father’s advice to mory, carefully stored his mother’s lunch boxes in his Subspace, and bowed deeply. "I’m leaving now."
Outside, the magic circle glowed softly in the yard. As Simon stepped before it, Richard and Anna followed him out. Tears welled in Anna’s eyes, and Richard gently pulled her into an embrace. "Be careful, Simon!" his father called out. "Kizen is not our ho. You can’t let your guard down for a second. Use all your strength to absorb the knowledge of the greatest necromancers of our ti and make it your own!"
"Just co back healthy!" his mother added, her voice thick with emotion. "And don’t skip your als!"
Simon bowed to his parents one last ti before turning and stepping onto the circle. ’I’m finally going back. Back to Kizen!’
His feet lifted from the ground as the world dissolved into light.
---
The teleportation was worlds away from the jarring experience he’d had in the Holy Federation. When he opened his eyes, he was in a small, rural town—a satellite city built to support the sprawling tropolis of Langerstine. The road was lined with carriages, their drivers haggling with potential passengers. Simon joined a queue, and his turn ca quickly. "To Langerstine, please."
"Right away, sir! It’ll be a comfortable ride!"
As the carriage set off, Simon pulled out his remaining vacation howork. Two hours, the driver had said. The ti flew by. He was deep in concentration when the driver announced their imminent arrival. Looking up from his papers, Simon gazed out the window. "Whoa..."
Langerstine. The capital of the Dresden Kingdom and the port city closest to Roc Island. He felt the sa awe that had struck him when he first left Leshill and saw a true city. Towering buildings scraped the sky, carriages wove through the streets in a chaotic dance, and the sidewalks teed with an endless river of people. The carriage stopped just inside the city limits. "Sorry, but this is as far as outside carriages can go. This part of town is very territorial."
"Understood. I can walk from here. Thank you for the ride!"
After paying the fare, Simon stepped out, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, letting the city’s vibrant hum wash over him. ’First, I’ll et up with Kami.’
Dick was already in the city running errands, and irin wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow. eting Kamibarez was his best bet. He started up the city’s steep incline at a leisurely pace. ’She said she’d be waiting on Campbell Road, right?’
It was the street lined with shops for necromancers. He rembered visiting with Lorraine before the start of school to buy his Subspace and textbooks. Lost in thought, he continued his climb. ’This hill is even steeper than I rember.’
The city’s inclines were notoriously sharp; you had to break a sweat just to reach the main comrcial district. There was a running joke that the only things you gained from living in Langerstine were a quick wit and powerful legs. ’Clatter, clatter!’
As he trudged up the hill, a carriage pulled up alongside him and stopped. "Hey, there!"
Simon paused. The carriage door clicked open, revealing a pair of shapely female legs. A mont later, the door swung wide, and a woman with long, ivory-colored hair erged. As Simon stared, she pushed her sunglasses up her nose with a single finger and grinned. "Fancy seeing you here, Simon. Getting ready for the new sester?"
"Serne!"
It was Serne Aindark, Kizen’s Special Admission No. 2 and the official heir to the Ivory Tower. She winked. "Where are you headed?"
"...Why do you ask?"
His guard went up instantly. She stepped aside, patting the empty seat beside her. "Langerstine is a maze. Hop in! I’ll give you a ride."
"No, you really don’t have to—"
"What do you think you’re doing!" Harsh shouts erupted from the other carriages on the road. "Is that woman insane?"
"Why the hell are you stopped in the middle of the road!"
Serne glanced back at the irate drivers, gathered her long hair in one hand, and gave her head an elegant shake. A flurry of white feathers drifted from the velvet strands and embedded themselves in the drivers’ necks. Their faces went slack, their eyes glazing over. "Ehehehe."
"Well, a carriage can stop for a bit."
"A relaxed life is a healthy life, I always say."
Simon offered an awkward smile at their sudden change of heart. When their passengers began to complain, the drivers started yelling back at them. In an instant, traffic throughout Langerstine ground to a halt. "Are you going to keep a lady waiting?" Serne asked, patting the empty seat again with a sweet smile. "...Haaah."
Defeated, Simon climbed into the carriage. "Let’s go!" she chirped, and the driver imdiately shook the reins. "So, where are you headed?" she asked, sliding her sunglasses back down with a chuckle. "Campbell Road."
"You heard him, driver."
The driver, visible only as a silhouette behind a thin cloth partition, skillfully turned the horses into a side alley. Serne stretched out her long legs, crossing one over the other, and folded her hands on her knee. "Once we’re back at Kizen, it’ll be one intense day after another, won’t it? I look forward to working with you this sester."
"Yeah. Thanks for the ride."
"Don’t ntion it. With this, I’ll just add one more stamp..."
"I’m getting off."
"Ahaha! Just kidding!"
He hadn’t given it much thought before, but her constant talk of stamps was starting to get on his nerves. Just then, Serne playfully tapped the driver’s back through the partition. "Driver, aren’t you going to say hello? It’s been almost two months."
The driver remained silent. Who could it be? The cloth was pulled aside, revealing a strikingly familiar face: faded gray hair, a long scar cutting through his right eye, and the sharp, predatory features of a wolf. The unexpectedness of the encounter made it all the more welco. "Kajan!" Simon exclaid.
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