They arrived at the second arena. It was identical to the first in design and seating capacity, so the spectators could move to their sa spots without issue. Simon returned to the contestants’ waiting area, while the transfer students settled into the seats behind them, chattering away. At the front, irin was preparing for her match.
After finishing her stretches, she closed her eyes, circulating the jet-black energy within her. A shimring black smoke emanated from her body.
’Her concentration is incredible.’
She was completely undisturbed by the noise and the crowd. Slowly, she opened her eyes and held out her palm. Glossy, black-tinged ice rose up, forming a delicate snowflake. The transfer students watching gasped at the astonishingly perfect ice sculpture.
Simon nodded in satisfaction. ’Her condition is perfect.’
He had been worried, given that it was right after their mission evaluation, but his concerns were unfounded. When she clenched her fist, the ice flower in the air shattered into dust.
"The Kizen Vice President seems pretty skilled."
"They say she’s a direct descendant of the Ivory Tower."
"For real?"
At the ntion of the Ivory Tower, irin’s head snapped in their direction. The transfer students all averted their gazes, their eyes darting about nervously. A quiet smile on his face, Simon approached her.
"Kizen’s victory is already secured. You can take it easy."
She snorted. "That’s not good enough for . If it’s Kizen, it has to be a clean sweep."
"Everyone~"
They both turned. Kamibarez was running into the waiting area.
"Kami!" irin cried, her face lighting up.
"Are you feeling okay?" Simon asked.
"Yes, I’m fine now!"
Fortunately, her opponent, Alizarin, had regained consciousness while being carried away on a stretcher. He wasn’t seriously injured, and the dical staff confird he would be able to attend classes the next day. Kamibarez had apologized to the bandaged Alizarin.
"I’m the one who should apologize," Alizarin had said, bowing his head deeply. "For rashly saying you were complaining, Ursula. My apologies."
He had looked at her then, his eyes filled with a new understanding. "That power... it must be a heavy burden."
Kamibarez decided not to relay his last words to Simon and irin. She didn’t want to worry them. If this blood, even half of it, was her inescapable destiny, then she would make it her own strength. That was her new resolve.
Just then, an announcent echoed through the arena.
"Students for the final match, please enter the arena."
irin exhaled sharply, then raised her arm, brimming with passion. "I’m going to go wipe the floor with them!"
Simon nodded with a smile, and Kamibarez gave her a tight, encouraging hug. With confident strides, irin walked out onto the field.
"Go get ’em, Vice President!"
"Let’s see what you’ve got!"
Cheers from the transfer students followed. irin gave them a slight nod of thanks, her sky-blue hair fluttering as she walked.
And with that, irin was gone.
An awkward silence descended upon Simon and Kamibarez, now alone in the waiting area.
’Ah.’
Simon broke out in a cold sweat, staring straight ahead. ’I want to crawl into a hole and die.’
When Kamibarez had been overwheld by her blood, he had been so shocked and flustered that his only thought was to protect her. But now, with a cooler head, he was belatedly realizing what he had done.
’L-Let go of ...!’
’Not until you co to your senses! Close the seal and calm the Ursula blood!’
With a dull ’thud’, Simon banged his head against the arena fence. The nearby guard flinched.
’I want to die.’
Looking back, he had no idea what had possessed him. Having just set a new personal record for embarrassing monts, Simon trembled. He lifted his reddened forehead and glanced sideways. Kamibarez was looking at him, her own cheeks flushed a deep crimson.
The mont their eyes t, she looked away, fixing her gaze on the floor. Simon’s heart sank.
’H-How do I apologize?’
School would start tomorrow. They would see each other constantly in the student council room; he couldn’t let this awkwardness fester. If there was a right ti to apologize, it was now.
"K-Kami," Simon began.
"Yes," she answered, her voice barely a whisper. She mustered the courage to et his eyes, but...
...she imdiately looked away again, her gaze locked on her shoes. Her face felt hot, and her fingers and toes tingled.
’The only one who can control you is you.’
Blood rushed to her cheeks. Just the scent of Simon standing next to her sent a panorama of that mont flashing through her mind, making her throat feel tight. No matter how embarrassed she was, she couldn’t possibly call the person who had rushed into the arena to save her an idiot. She had thanked him as soon as she recovered, but it didn’t feel like enough. She needed to apologize, too.
Their heads turned at the sa ti.
"About earlier—!"
"Actually—!"
They both looked away again, unable to hold each other’s gaze.
"...irin’s match is starting," Simon mumbled.
"R-Right. It is. Haha."
The guard standing nearby let out a long sigh. ’Kids these days. Flaunting their romance right in front of .’
---
"Students irin and White, please step forward."
The two finalists were called to the center of the arena. At that mont...
A wave of hostile boos erupted, so vicious it startled even Simon. It was a complete reversal of the polite sportsmanship the Moiran students had shown until now. A flustered Kamibarez looked around frantically.
"Wh-Why are they booing irin?!"
"They’re not booing irin," Simon said, his expression grim as he turned toward the stands.
"Get lost, White!"
"How dare you show your face at the transfer evaluation!"
"Coward! Go ho!"
"Fraud!"
The target of the jeers wasn’t irin, but their fellow Moiran student, White. The situation was baffling.
’What’s going on?’
He’d had a strange feeling about this guy from the start, and the crowd’s reaction only intensified his curiosity. Simon subtly moved from the waiting area toward the spectator seats.
"Hey, guys." He leaned against the railing and spoke casually.
The Moiran students who had been booing jumped, startled.
"I-It’s the Kizen Student Council President!"
"That last match was aweso!"
He noticed badges with the number ’2’ pinned to their collars—the symbol for second-year students at Moiran. After a quick glance to make sure no adults were listening, Simon asked quietly, "That guy, White. He’s from Moiran, so why does everyone hate him?"
As if they had been waiting for the question, the students eagerly began to tell him White’s story.
According to them, White had transferred in out of nowhere at the end of their first year, just before final exams. His origins were a mystery, with rumors ranging from him being the scion of a fallen noble house to a hidden son of royalty.
At first, the students had been kind to him. But his actions imdiately after transferring had been shocking. He didn’t just ace every test; he challenged Moiran’s Top 10 students to duels and crushed them with an overwhelming gap in skill. He brought the second-ranked student to their knees in a single blow and finally defeated the top-ranked student, who had been first in line for the transfer, becoming the undisputed strongest first-year.
For students of the three great necromancer schools, the second sester of the first year was the most intensely competitive period, as it decided who would transfer to Kizen. Even upperclassn were wary of the first-years during this ti. Then, a star talent had appeared like a cot, throwing the school into turmoil.
The administration, seeing an opportunity, made an exception to the absolute rule that ’transfer students must have completed at least one full sester’ and added White to the transfer list. To the school’s leadership, it was a logical choice to maximize their prestige and profit. But to the students, it was an unforgivable betrayal.
The first-years and even the upperclassn rose up in protest. The situation escalated until the third-years had to intervene. Moiran’s third-year Student Council President challenged White to a duel: if White lost, he would give up the transfer; if the president lost, he would resign his position.
And in that match...
"White won."
Simon’s jaw dropped. "...Are you serious? A first-year transfer student beat a third-year Student Council President?"
"Yeah, it’s hard to believe, but it’s true," the student said with a bitter smile. "Our president stepped down, and two days later, he was so devastated he submitted his withdrawal from the school."
"He did it with only a month left until graduation."
Rumors about White swirled. That he wasn’t really seventeen but a professional adult necromancer. That he used forbidden black magic. That he was a spy from Efnel. Moiran’s headmaster took the suspicions seriously and launched a full investigation, but in the end, White was cleared of all wrongdoing.
One way or another, in a necromancer school, skill was king. White had secured his spot as a Kizen transfer. But even now, as a second-year, the resentnt among his peers lingered.
’Hmm.’
Simon turned his head. He saw irin shaking hands with White.
’This is worrying.’
Kizen’s overall victory was already assured. A part of him wanted to stop the match, knowing how dangerous this opponent was, but it was a centuries-old tradition between their schools. More importantly, it would be an insult to irin, who was determined to win. He had no choice but to trust her.
"Are both students ready?" the referee asked.
irin and White nodded in unison.
"Then we will now begin the match between White of Moiran and irin Villenne of Kizen!"
The professors stepped back. After a final check, the referee’s arm dropped.
"Begin!"
Shouts erupted from the stands.
"Go, Kizen!"
"Please, soone knock that bastard down a peg!"
It was an ironic scene: Moiran students cheering for the opposing school. irin imdiately deployed a magic circle, a white chill flowing from it as she prepared her offense.
’Good, irin is at her peak today.’
As the match began, Simon hurried back to Kamibarez’s side.
"Simon, what did you talk about with the Moiran students?" she asked.
"Ah, just a little about irin’s opponent. I’ll tell you the details later."
White didn’t even draw a magic circle. He simply stood in place, unmoving, as if inviting her to do her worst.
’I wonder how irin will handle this.’
As Simon watched, she finally unleashed her first spell.
’Frozen’
A white frost spread out in all directions, freezing the water in the surrounding canals solid. A cautious light glead in irin’s eyes.
’Both of the previous opponents used water-based techniques. With this, I’ve neutralized that annoying ho-field advantage.’
Then she raised her open palm.
With a great crack, the ice in the canals shattered and shot into the air. This wasn’t just about defense.
’Now, I’ll put it to better use!’
The surrounding ice began to gather around her. There was no need for defense. This was the preparation for an all-out assault.
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