The next morning’s class was Necrology, which ant Simon had a free period.
He was in an empty classroom at the crack of dawn, frantically scrawling formulas across the blackboard. The collar of his shirt was askew, and beads of sweat dripped from his disheveled hair.
With a final, elongated stroke, he finished the last formula, punctuating it with a firm dot.
’This is it.’
Simon dropped the chalk and rushed back to the desks he had pushed together. His Skeleton Mage set and practice sheet were laid out, waiting. Glancing back and forth between the blackboard and his work, he began ticulously correcting the magic circle’s formulas and circuits.
"The problem was the main circuit all along."
His jet-black flowed into the circle, correcting the errors. He forged new pathways, converted the values of the formulas, and refined the design. Once the modifications were complete, he placed his hand over the circle again.
"Activate."
’Vwoom!’
The magic circle humd to life. His jet-black awakened the runes, and the formulas began processing their power. Energy flowed like a river through the spiderweb of circuits, causing the ten primary strokes to glow with a beautiful light.
’So far, so good.’
Satisfied, Simon turned his attention to the staff fixed to the desk. He connected the magic circle’s circuit to it. If the staff cast the spell correctly, the fully assembled undead would be able to do the sa.
’Please work!’
A magic circle materialized above the staff.
And then...
’Crackle!’
With a sharp spark of black electricity, the circle collapsed.
"Oof."
Simon collapsed with it, slumping into his chair as all the strength drained from his body.
"What went wrong?" he muttered, his voice hoarse as he stared at the blackboard. A magic circle was a delicate ecosystem. A single error could cause a cascade of failures, but this was utterly baffling. It was like killing a bug and having a snake on the other side of the forest drop dead. He couldn’t grasp the chain of cause and effect. It felt like he was adrift in an endless Möbius strip, face to face with an insurmountable wall.
’When can I make a lich?’
A hot flush of sha washed over him. He couldn’t even build a simple Skeleton Mage. What was he thinking, spouting off about high-level undead in front of Professor Aaron?
"Ughhh."
Rubbing his reddened face, Simon flopped onto his back on the cool floor, staring up at the empty classroom ceiling. A breeze drifted through the open window, rustling his hair.
"Still," he whispered, watching the curtains flutter. A faint smile touched his lips, a stark contrast to his haggard face and the dark circles under his eyes. "This is fun."
After a mont of stillness, he shot back to his feet. The instant he’d tried to clear his head, a flood of new ideas had rushed in. The pursuit of a goal was exhilarating. It left you breathless, made your ankles ache, but you knew the hardship wasn’t endless. And you knew the view from the top would be magnificent.
"Alright. Let’s see who wins this fight."
He ran back to the blackboard and began incorporating his new ideas. It would be pathetic to give up now when he’d declared he would create a lich. He would complete this Skeleton Mage with his own two hands, no matter what it took.
---
"Hmph, hmm. Hmm."
irin humd happily as she walked across the school grounds, her sky-blue hair dancing in the breeze. She was in a fine mood today.
’What’s gotten into him?’
Simon had asked to et her—just the two of them—before their afternoon classes. No Dick, no Kamibarez. It was so unlike him that it sent a flutter of nervous excitent through her. She’d woken up early to get ready, and thankfully, it was a good hair day and her makeup had set perfectly.
Her long hair trailing behind her like a silken banner, she arrived at their eting spot: an empty classroom. The door was slightly ajar.
She peeked through the crack and saw him. Simon was asleep at a desk, bathed in the afternoon sun, a gentle breeze rustling his hair. He, who never even snored, was letting out soft, rhythmic breaths. Quietly, she slid the door open and slipped inside.
His head was turned to the side, pillowed on his arm, a position that highlighted the sharp line of his jaw and the curve of his neck.
’He’s completely out cold.’
With his mouth slightly agape, sleeping so soundly, he looked less like the mature, calculating person she knew and more like a little neighborhood kid. She fought the sudden urge to poke his cheek to wake him, deciding he looked too peaceful to disturb. Instead, she quietly pulled over a chair and sat down directly across from him.
’Hmm.’
The wind was strong today. It played with his dark blue hair, making it look like the surface of a rippling ocean. The way the light caught it, shifting the color with every movent, reminded her of a painter’s palette. As she stared, she felt a blush creep up her cheeks.
’Am I being a creep?’
Just in case, she waved a hand in front of his face. Not a twitch.
’Haaah.’
He asks her to et him and then falls asleep. So much for romance. Still, this was a rare opportunity. She crossed her legs, folded her arms, and leaned in, preparing to study his face properly. Usually, she was too shy to look at him this closely.
Looking at him like this... he reminded her of Pion. She had imagined the man who saved her in the Death Land to be gruff, terrifying, and built like a mountain. But when she’d t him again in Kelsoma Village, he had been much leaner than she’d pictured.
Yes, just like Simon was now.
’Pion’s jet-black had a bluish tint to it, too.’
Her heart began to pound. Her breathing quickened. She laced her fingers together, forming the shape of a mask, and slowly brought them toward his face.
’Huh, if I look at it this way, they almost look...’
Just as she stretched her arm out to fra his face...
His eyes snapped open.
"Gah! Whoa-! Oof-!" irin shrieked, jolting back so hard her chair scraped against the floor. Her face, all the way to her earlobes, turned a furious shade of red.
Simon blinked, montarily confused, before a warm smile spread across his face. "Oh, it’s you, irin. I must have dozed off."
"Agh, you scared !" she yelled, clutching her chest. Her heart was hamring against her ribs. Anyone could see she was the one caught in the act, but she defaulted to raising her voice.
"My apologies," he said, accepting her outburst with his usual easygoing smile.
"...Hmph."
irin quickly scooted her chair back, putting so distance between them, and began fanning her flushed face. "S-So, why did you call ?" she asked, turning her head away coyly while sneaking a glance at him.
"I wanted to ask you sothing," he replied.
Why did that sound so significant all of a sudden? Knowing him, it was absolutely, positively not what she was thinking, but still!
"Actually, I’m completely stuck on a Jet-Black Elental magic circle. I was working on one for Cold Bolt."
’Yep, of course not. What did you expect? You fell for it again.’ irin’s smile was fixed, but the corner of her mouth twitched.
"When I tried changing the main circuit..."
Oblivious to her internal crisis, Simon launched into an enthusiastic explanation of his magical conundrum. She pouted, a wave of irritation washing over her.
"...and that’s why the basic formula keeps exploding. Did you follow that?"
irin sighed softly and propped her chin on her hand. "That’s a circuit resistance problem."
"Hmm? I thought the resistance was fine."
"No, you dummy! Listen to !"
In an instant, they were both at the blackboard, scribbling formulas and heatedly debating.
"No, you can’t approach it that way!" irin argued, passionately correcting his equations. As she furiously wrote, a small laugh escaped her.
’I really am a necromancer, aren’t I?’ Getting this worked up over magical theory and rushing to a blackboard to prove a point...
"What is it?"
"Ah, nothing. Just watch, I’ll prove it to you!"
After a twenty-minute debate, irin erged victorious. Simon finally understood his mistake, the solution clicking into place with satisfying clarity. It was no surprise, really. Based on academic scores alone, she was the second-ranked genius in Kizen, and Jet-Black Dynamics and Elentalism were her specialties. The gap in their knowledge was so vast it was almost embarrassing for him to have argued.
irin flashed a triumphant smile. "But why the sudden interest in elental magic? You’ve always done fine with Summoning. Are you trying to add a new weapon to your arsenal?"
"No, I was building a Skeleton Mage."
"Huh?" irin looked bewildered. "What are you talking about? The class for that is tomorrow. Why are you building one by yourself?"
"Uh, just... getting a head start, I guess."
"You really go looking for trouble, don’t you?" She shook her head, placing her hands on her hips. "Anyway, you owe a al for helping. All that thinking made hungry."
"Yeah, let’s go."
---
Their next class was Jet-Black Dynamics with Professor Eric Aura.
Jet-Black Dynamics was the very backbone of black magic. Professors of other subjects often had to adjust their own lesson plans based on its progress, as it determined which formulas and runes the students had learned. ’Didn’t you learn this in Jet-Black Dynamics?’ was one of the most common refrains heard in Kizen’s classrooms.
And while students like irin, who specialized in elental magic, could major in the subject, Jet-Black Dynamics itself was a mandatory course for all. For that reason, the professor never took on a direct disciple.
"That will be all for today."
The man who taught this crucial subject, Eric Aura, was a middle-aged professor with a reputation for being completely colorless. His skill was undeniable, but his teaching style was famously by-the-book, devoid of any personal flair. He was a devout purist of theory.
His clean, dry lectures, focused solely on the transmission of knowledge, were often found dull by students accustod to the showmanship of star professors like Bahil or the interactive thods of Hongfeng. It was a class of pure theory, no practicals. A subject that demanded students spend their days hunched over, wrestling with magic circles, runes, and formulas until their heads ached.
Still, every student understood the gravity of the subject. It was a class they couldn’t afford to neglect, as mastering its principles was essential for applying formulas in all their other courses.
"Thank you for the lesson!"
The mont class was dismissed, students flooded out of the lecture hall. As Eric tidied up his desk, a student ca forward.
"Yes, do you have a ques—"
Eric turned and was slightly taken aback. It was usually the sa few who had questions about Jet-Black Dynamics, but today’s visitor was unusual.
"This is the first ti you’ve co to see , Simon Polentia."
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