Aaron strode forward, unlocked his lab, and stepped inside. Simon watched him go, slightly bewildered. ’Professor Aaron can joke, too.’ He didn’t realize it, but any other TA would have been floored by the sight.
And so, for the first ti, Simon entered Aaron’s laboratory. Every surface was covered with unidentifiable undead materials. The sheer volu of artifacts made it clear just how deeply the professor loved Summoning. A massive set of dragon bones snaked around the entire room, its presence both awe-inspiring and intimidating. It swayed gently, as if alive, suggesting it was more than a re decoration—it was a fully articulated skeleton.
"Zit wherever you can find a zpot," Aaron said, casually shucking off his trousers. He tossed them over the dragon’s neck, and the massive skull shook as if in protest but didn’t resist further.
Simon suppressed a laugh and searched for a place to sit. The floor was as cluttered as the walls, covered in priceless-looking research materials, forcing him to step carefully. He finally spotted a sofa, gently pushed aside a ghoul mannequin that was leaning against it, and sat down.
"Zo, what did you want to azk?" Aaron, now clad only in shorts and slippers, was at a counter, the sound of a kettle clicking on.
Simon took a steadying breath. "In the dueling evaluation, I want to know how to win using only Summoning."
Aaron’s movents paused for a fraction of a second. Then, as if nothing had happened, he calmly poured tea into a cup. "Why would you do zothing zo pointlezz?"
"Excuse ...?"
"Zimon Polentia, I’m aware you’re zhowing promize in Combat Magic and other zubjectz," Aaron said, walking over and sliding a teacup toward him. "There’z a perfectly zimple path to victory in thiz evaluation. I don’t underztand why you’d go out of your way to make thingz difficult."
Simon swallowed. He had expected this. In their very first class, Aaron had made comnts that seed to disparage his own field. That’s what made it all so strange. This lab was a testant to his passion. Why would a man who loved Summoning this much, who had dedicated his life to it, speak of it so dismissively to his students?
"Then allow to ask you a question in return, Professor." A new strength entered Simon’s eyes. "A Summoning aspirant wants to win with Summoning. Is any other reason necessary?"
Aaron froze, his gaze fixed on Simon. Simon t his stare without flinching. After a long mont of silence, Aaron lifted his cup and took a sip of tea. Feeling his own throat was dry, Simon carefully did the sa. The first taste was bitter, but it left a sweet, lingering warmth.
"Do you want to give you the zolution?" Aaron asked, setting down his cup. Incredibly, a faint smile played on his lips. "Or do you want to help you refine the zolution you’ve already chozen?"
A wide grin spread across Simon’s face. "The latter, Professor."
---
Finally, the day of the dueling evaluation arrived. Kizen was running five indoor arenas simultaneously to accommodate all the matches. Dick, irin, and Kamibarez had made their way to the second arena. Simon was the only mber of Group 7 scheduled for a morning duel, and they had all co to cheer him on.
However...
"Where in the world is he!" irin exclaid, anxiously tapping her foot in the stands. Kamibarez was just as restless, her head swiveling back and forth. Simon’s match was next, but he was nowhere to be seen.
"You two stay here," Dick said, getting to his feet. "I’ll go look for him."
Just as Dick left, another match concluded. The victor raised his hands in triumph while his opponent, barrier gauge depleted, hung his head in defeat. The rules were similar to the Cyclops evaluation: contestants wore full-body ‘Protection Suits’ that generated a shield, and the first to have their barrier gauge hit zero lost. A win today ant a spot in the middle-tier squads; a loss ant starting in the lower tier. Another loss in the lower tier next week could lead to demotion to the lowest squad—putting them one step away from expulsion.
The pressure was imnse. The stands were packed with students cheering for friends and scouting future opponents. There were also adults present—scouts from various organizations across the Dark Alliance, who had been granted access to observe Kizen’s next generation of talent.
And in the second arena, their interest was focused on one person.
"We’ll finally get to see this year’s Special Admission No. 1."
"Simon Polentia... I’ve never heard the na."
"His origins are a mystery, too. They say Lady Nephthys herself selected him."
"I hear he’s a Summoning aspirant."
"Summoning? What are the Kizen professors thinking? Surely they aren’t going to let Special Admission No. 1 waste his potential in Summoning?"
While the scouts murmured and updated their lists, irin and Kamibarez grew more frantic. They couldn’t sit still, their eyes darting toward the waiting room entrance. An announcent echoed from the speakers above.
’—Student Simon Polentia of Class A and Student Haren Cork of Class G, please report to the arena.’
His opponent, Haren Cork, was already walking onto the field. Kamibarez clasped her hands together, trembling. "Please, Simon! Where on earth are you?"
---
Haren Cork stepped into the arena and took a deep, satisfying breath. The inspector who had taken his blood sample gave him a thumbs-up. Just as Bahil had promised, the doping test had co back clean.
’Haaa, I’m really overflowing with power.’
The feeling was indescribable. Haren had spent his entire life chasing after others, always a step behind. But not anymore. Now, it felt as though the whole world was at his feet. He felt he could crush anyone he pleased.
’...Simon Polentia.’
Special Admission No. 1. The elite of the elite. He’d always despised the special admission students. The one in his own class, No. 8, was just as arrogant and violent as the rest. They were all born to powerful families, coddled and showered with support, blessed with talent they never had to work for.
’Just you wait.’
He knew most of the scouts in the stands were here for Simon. But after today, they would change their minds. The entire continent would be watching him. Haren’s gaze drifted to the edge of the stands, where he spotted Bahil, dressed in his signature white suit, observing the match.
’...He said as long as I don’t kill him, right?’
Haren couldn’t give up this power. He desperately wanted to remain under Bahil’s patronage, to beco his direct disciple, and he would do whatever it took.
’I’ll make sure to thoroughly break at least one of his arms and legs.’ He had fought tooth and nail for this sliver of an opportunity, a chance that the privileged took for granted. This was a once-in-a-lifeti shot, and he wouldn’t let it slip away. He would win by any ans necessary.
’—Student Simon Polentia of Class A, please report to the arena.’
His opponent was late. The announcent was now being broadcast not just in the arena but throughout the entire school.
’Late? Figures. All these special admission brats are the sa.’ Haren crossed his arms.
The referee glanced at his watch. "The schedule is being delayed. If he doesn’t arrive in five minutes, Simon Polentia will be disqualified. Haren Cork will be declared the winner."
A murmur of disappointnt rippled through the crowd. irin and Kamibarez were practically vibrating with anxiety. Sothing had to be wrong. If Dick couldn’t find him, no one could.
Five minutes evaporated in an instant. The referee checked his watch one last ti. "Ti’s up. This match goes to Haren Cork—"
"Wait a minute!"
’Thud!’
At that dramatic mont, the waiting room door burst open. A haggard-looking Simon erged, leaning on Dick for support.
"Ooh!"
"There he is!"
A wave of relief and excitent washed over the crowd. The big match was still on.
"Simon!" Kamibarez cried out.
"You idiot!!" irin shouted, waving frantically.
Simon spotted them and gave a weak wave in return, signaling he was okay.
"I can walk on my own, Dick."
"Good grief." Dick released him and gave his back a firm slap. "Do well."
"Yeah."
Simon walked to the center of the arena and bowed to the referee. "My apologies for the delay."
"It’s fine. Just get ready quickly."
A team of attendants sward him, fitting him into a Protection Suit and taking a blood sample. The preparations were swift.
"Contestants, shake hands."
At the referee’s instruction, Simon and Haren t in the middle. Simon offered a faint smile. "Sorry to keep you waiting."
Haren remained silent, his eyes scanning Simon’s condition. The haggard face, the dark circles, the dirt-caked uniform.
’He’s clearly in terrible shape. This will be an easy win.’
They shook hands and returned to their starting positions. A holographic screen materialized from a mana projector.
[Simon Polentia: 100%]
[Haren Cork: 100%]
"The match ends when one contestant loses consciousness or their barrier gauge reaches zero," the referee announced.
Both fighters nodded and took their stances. A palpable tension descended upon the arena. irin and Kamibarez leaned forward, holding their breath. Dick, now back in the stands and covered in sweat, collapsed into his seat beside them.
"Dick! You did it!" Kamibarez exclaid.
"What happened to you? Where was Simon?" irin demanded, noticing the dirt on Dick’s uniform.
He brushed himself off. "Simon was behind the arena."
"Huh?"
"I’ll explain later. For now, let’s just watch."
Down in the arena, Simon closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath.
When he opened them again, his usual sharp focus had returned.
’What a monster,’ Haren thought with a bitter smile, lowering his stance.
The referee’s raised arm fell.
"Begin!"
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