Lethe’s Starfall concluded without incident. The result was the sa: besides the nine known individuals on Roc Island, no new sources of Divinity were detected. Once again, there was no sign of Ever Kireh.
---
The next morning, the fifth and final day of the Dark Festival, dawned bright and clear. The Summoning Departnt students were already buzzing with energy.
"Only one event left for each of us!"
"Let’s win big and take first place!"
Shouting words of encouragent, they all headed outside for morning training. A short distance away, Leonard, the Summoning Departnt representative, watched his juniors with a quiet gaze.
"Are you sure you won’t regret this?"
Leonard, who had been about to stand, paused. Will had approached him, his expression grim.
"You rejected Sota’s proposal. And then you went and thwarted his plan."
Sota, the new Command Departnt representative, had been plotting to ruin the Dark Festival and had tried to recruit Leonard to his cause.
Leonard glanced at his chattering classmates in the lobby.
"...Simon managed to pull us back up to second place. Depending on today’s results, we might even take first. Look at their faces. They’re all so happy." He let out a small sigh. "I can’t rember the last ti I saw them look so bright. How could I, their representative, ruin the festival for them? This Dark Festival is our stage."
"Leonard."
"I believe in my classmates, my juniors, and Simon. And," Leonard said, turning to Will, "I believe in Aizel. He’ll co back, even if we don’t resort to sabotaging the festival."
Will clicked his tongue and crossed his arms.
"Can I ask you sothing?"
"Of course."
"If that Simon guy had shirked all his departnt duties to focus only on the student council, would your choice have been different?"
As Leonard walked out of the dormitory, his smile turned slightly cold.
"If he had done that, I would never have forgiven him."
---
It was the fifth and final day of the Dark Festival. One match remained in the morning, followed by the afternoon closing ceremony where the winning departnt and the MVP would be announced. That night, a grand party was scheduled for each departnt.
The current rankings were as follows:
Departnt of Curses, 1st overall.
Departnt of Summoning, 2nd overall.
Departnt of Jet-Black Dynamics and Departnt of Venoms, tied for 3rd.
Departnt of Magical Combat, 5th overall.
Departnt of Command, 6th overall.
Departnt of Blood Flow, 7th overall.
This year’s competition was incredibly tight. Excluding the departnts that had fallen behind, the point difference between the top four was razor-thin. No one could afford to be complacent. The final morning match could cause a major shake-up in the rankings.
Simon arrived at the arena, ready for his last competition.
"Well, it’s the last match. Do your best."
Lethe said with a smile, her arms crossed.
"I’ll be watching from here, analyzing the strength of my future enemy."
Simon scratched the side of his head.
"I appreciate you watching, but are you sure you don’t need to check the other arenas?"
"You saw for yourself. I used Starfall last night, but Ever Kireh wasn’t on Roc Island."
Lethe shrugged.
"And if we assu Ever Kireh does show up, he’ll likely target the closing ceremony this afternoon when the crowds are largest."
"That certainly makes sense."
"So go and compete in the morning match without any worries."
"Yeah, thank—"
"Competing students, please assemble in the arena."
An announcent echoed through the area.
"I’m going!"
"Yes, yes. Go do your best."
After seeing Simon off, Lethe sat demurely in an empty spectator seat.
’For now, I should focus on the present rather than worrying about the future.’
’Let’s strive to ensure that future never cos to pass.’
Lethe pouted, propping her chin on her hand. "Well, I suppose that is the goal."
Bored while waiting for Simon, she let her gaze wander. The structure was stone, reminiscent of an ancient colosseum, though it felt more like a ruin than an arena. The walls of the spectator stands were riddled with window-like holes, many of them overgrown with moss, grass, and even small trees.
’A classical stadium? It has a certain archaic charm.’
"Excuse ."
A calm voice cut through her thoughts. Lethe turned to see a girl with short brown hair in a Kizen uniform staring intently at her.
"That’s my seat."
The girl’s lack of a badge on her collar told Lethe she was a Kizen first-year. Behind her stood a group of her friends. Lethe hesitated for a mont before rising to her feet.
"Are there assigned seats here?"
"Only in a few sections," the girl explained. "This area is reserved. You have to purchase tickets at the booth."
’That explains why the seats are so good,’ she thought.
"My apologies."
"It’s fine. It’s an easy mistake to make."
Lethe stepped aside as the brown-haired girl took her seat, her friends filling the spots around her. They chattered and laughed boisterously, buzzing with excitent for the upcoming match.
"Ahem."
The brown-haired girl, who had been checking her reflection in a hand mirror, glanced at Lethe with a slight frown. "Is there sothing else you need?"
Lethe was trying to place a faint mory. She was sure she had seen that face sowhere before. Not in person, perhaps, but it was disturbingly familiar.
Suddenly, the necklace she wore—the one that sealed her powers as a Saintess—reacted with a sharp crackle of energy. A sharp, tingling pain lanced through her neck as her authority strained against its bonds.
’Huh? What’s going on?’
This had never happened before, and a wave of panic washed over her. She gripped the necklace, forcing her power back down.
’Why would a Saintess’s power react to a necromancer?’
The brown-haired girl noticed Lethe’s distress and stood up. "Are you okay? What’s wrong?"
"Ah, it’s nothing."
The offer of help was kind, but the girl’s proximity only made the pressure worse. Lethe quickly took a step back.
"Sasha!" one of the girl’s friends shouted. "What are you doing? The Student Council President is here!"
"Really?"
At that, Sasha whipped her head around, her previous concern forgotten. Her eyes sparkled as she dashed toward the railing.
A thunderous roar erupted from the stands. Below, Simon was making his way past the waiting area, clad in his Student Council President’s coat. His re appearance was enough to send the crowd into a frenzy. Not to be outdone, Sasha and her friends added their voices to the din.
"President Simon!"
"Over here!"
As Sasha moved away, Lethe felt the artifact around her neck settle. She found a seat far behind the boisterous group and watched Simon make his entrance. In the front row, Sasha and her friends were now waving a banner emblazoned with adoring ssages and screaming at the top of their lungs.
"President Simon! You’re so cool!"
"Oh, I’m so glad I skipped class for this!"
"Look over here, please!"
The commotion was so intense that Lethe could barely see Simon. Seated in the back, her lips twitched in annoyance.
’He’s ridiculously popular for such an idiot. What do they even see in him?’
Just then, Simon, who was marching across the arena floor, seed to wave in her direction.
’Wait, is he waving at ?’
Lethe’s eyes widened. She hesitantly started to raise her own hand in return.
A piercing shriek cut through the air.
"The President! He waved at ! He waved at !"
"No, it was !"
"PRESIDENT SIMON!"
Sasha and her friends were leaping up and down, their faces alight with pure ecstasy. Her view was completely blocked, and Lethe’s expression soured.
’Ugh, seriously.’
Swallowing the urge to kick them in the back of their heads, she stood up again, catching a fleeting glimpse of Simon. Lethe finally gave a small wave, and he lowered his hand as if he had seen it.
"He waved at ! He really did!"
"I’m telling you, he was looking at !"
Watching Sasha and her friends continue to bicker, Lethe slumped back into her seat in disgust and crossed her legs.
’Little brats are so damn loud.’
Back ho, her temper would have flared, and she would have taught them a lesson they wouldn’t soon forget. But here, in a foreign land, she forced herself to hold back. Lethe closed her eyes, trying to calm the storm brewing inside her.
---
"This is the Valkese Arena! We’re broadcasting the final second-year match of day five! Today, I, your announcer Conrad, will be flying solo! The professors are all busy preparing for this afternoon’s closing ceremony, so please look forward to the main event later today!"
The announcer clutched the amplification crystal, his face flushed with excitent.
"Only one departnt can claim the title of champion of the Dark Festival! Everything hangs on this morning’s match! And we have so breaking news! Student Council President Simon Polentia himself has entered the arena! Can the Departnt of Summoning overco the Departnt of Curses to claim first place?"
Simon darted frantically across the platforms inside the arena, his head on a swivel.
’I’d love to take first place, that’s for sure!’
The mont he paused, a volley of curses rained down from all directions. He executed a clean backflip, landing neatly on another platform.
’Just as I thought.’
The resistance was fiercer than he had anticipated. Every student in the arena had their eyes on him.
The event was called ’Stepping Stones’. The Valkese Arena doubled as a massive swimming pool, currently filled to the brim. Water gushed from a colossal statue of a person at its center, and students had to navigate by hopping across the platforms floating on the surface. High above, enchanted shurikens zipped through the air. The goal was to catch one and embed it in your departnt’s designated pillar to score points.
Dodging the onslaught with a series of splashes, Simon sprinted across the platforms before launching himself high into the air. A shuriken hurtled toward him.
’Can’t catch that with my bare hands!’
Touching it would shred his palm. He gathered Jet-Black into his fist and punched the incoming projectile.
Hongfeng Original - Chwita
The shuriken rang out with a sharp clang as he struck it, sending it spinning away with its velocity and rotation drastically reduced. Simon snatched it from the air.
"The President caught one!" soone yelled.
"Stop him!"
The response was imdiate. A storm of Jet-Black flas and curses erupted, while a student from the Departnt of Combat Magic charged him from the front.
’So that’s how you want to play?’
Simon leaped toward a gap between platforms, simultaneously opening a subspace.
"Co forth, Deimos!"
It was Simon’s trump card: a summon specialized for aquatic combat. Deimos, crafted from the bones of a Nether Whale calf, surged forward, carrying Simon on its back as it sliced through the water, effortlessly weaving through the barrage of projectiles.
The wind whipped through Simon’s hair as he pressed a hand to it and looked ahead.
’There!’
Seven pillars stood in the distance. He hurled the shuriken toward one of them.
"Not a chance!"
A Combat Magic student leaped to intercept it, but Simon rely twitched his fingers. The Bone Armor he had preemptively attached to the shuriken activated, altering its trajectory mid-flight. But the student’s outstretched arm brushed the very tip of the shuriken, causing it to graze the pillar and fly past.
’Damn, so close...!’
A sudden, bloodcurdling scream sent a chill down his spine.
’A scream?’
He whipped his head around, but all he saw were students locked in combat. The only sounds were the rushing water, the whiz of shurikens, and the roar of the crowd.
’Static!’
’Sothing’s...’
Simon scanned the arena, his vision slightly blurred.
’Static!’
’Have I... been here before?’
A headache began to throb behind his eyes, a dull, insistent pounding that tried to shut down his train of thought. But Simon pressed his fingers to his temple, stubbornly clinging to the feeling.
’An aquatic arena.’
An old-fashioned arena with water pouring from a giant statue. No matter how he tried to place it, he was struck by a powerful sense of déjà vu.
’Static! Zzt!’
"No, this is just unacceptable! The arena is in a complete state of disrepair! The underwater section, in particular, needs a ton of work."
’Static!’
A woman’s voice echoed through the noise in his head.
’Whose voice is that?’
"They’re human bones. They weren’t starved or drowned. They were murdered."
This ti, it was his own voice. Simon focused, straining to hear more.
"We will be returning the arena to its original location. We have no intention of holding the Dark Festival in a venue that nearly compromised the safety of our students."
Another woman’s voice. His vision of the arena blurred, snapping back into focus, then blurring again in a dizzying loop.
"Investigate every Kizen official involved in the inspection and contracting of the Valkese Arena. There’s no way they didn’t know about the rumors. There has to be a connection."
’What is this? A mory? Do I have a mory like this?’
He knew, instinctively, that these voices were not surfacing for no reason.
Valkese Arena. That was the na of this place. But the contract was canceled?
Simon slowly curled his fingers into a fist.
’I’m sure of it.’
There were fifteen arenas designated for the Dark Festival. He ntally ticked them off one by one. After the endless drudgery of his duties as Student Council President, he had all fifteen nas perfectly morized. Woodville Arena, Boilstone Arena, Ringcastle Arena, Serute Arena...
But no matter how many tis he ran through the list...
’There’s no such place as the Valkese Arena.’
The sixteenth arena. He was in a place that should not exist.
The very mont that realization dawned on him, the world around him began to fracture with a series of sharp cracks. And through the fissures, sothing else began to bleed through.
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