Chapter 23

　　After lunch, the Class A students returned for their second session of Basic Black Magic.

　　"What? The results are already out?"

　　The classroom erupted into chaos the moment they walked in. On one wall, the test results for the entire class were posted for all to see.

　　"Whoa! That was fast!"

　　"Move, let me see!"

　　Students dropped their bags and rushed to the wall, eager to see not only their own scores but everyone else’s as well.

　　"Yesss! 85 in Cursology!"

　　"Ugh, Hemomancy dragged my whole average down."

　　"Should I seriously change my major?"

　　"See? Didn’t I tell you to go with option 5 for the Combat Magic question?"

　　"You’re such a fake. You were crying about bombing Cursology, but you got an 80?"

　　The atmosphere was as noisy as a marketplace. Simon dreaded looking at his scores, but he wasn’t foolish enough to deny reality. He took a deep breath and found his name.

　　[Simon Polentia]

　　Cursology: 40

　　Jet-Black Dynamics: 33

　　Summoning: 76

　　Necrology: 25

　　Hemomancy: 20

　　Venomology: 20

　　Combat Magic: 43

　　Defense Against Divinity: 40

　　…Just as I expected.

　　He had mentally prepared himself, but the scores were still abysmal. The only silver lining was Summoning, where he had managed a decent 76. It seemed his weekend studies had paid off.

　　"Simon! Simon! How are your test scores?" Dick asked, rushing over.

　　"76 in Summoning. Everything else is a disaster."

　　"Whoa! 76?" Dick slapped him on the shoulder. "That’s great! Honestly, for someone with no prep studies, that’s better than I expected! It’s much better to have one subject you’re good at than to be mediocre at everything!"

　　"How about you?"

　　"My highest is 74 in Jet-Black Dynamics, and the rest are in the 60s and 70s. My average should be around 70."

　　Simon blinked.

　　"You’re a good student, too."

　　"I just studied enough to not get kicked out," Dick replied with a shrug, but then his expression hardened slightly. "That said, this is a development we didn’t anticipate. Everyone’s scores are out in the open from the very first day."

　　Dick’s plan had hinged on them having more information than anyone else, allowing them to snatch up talented group members quickly. But with everyone’s scores laid bare, all the students now had a clear, objective standard for choosing their teammates.

　　"H-Hey, everyone!" a female TA called out, struggling to be heard over the din. The students were out of control. "Please return to your seats! The professor will be here any minute…!"

　　"Leave them be."

　　Just then, the classroom door opened and Jane walked in. The chatter died instantly at her arrival, though everyone’s eyes remained glued to the results board.

　　"You have thirty minutes," Jane announced, placing her bag on the lectern. "Check your scores and form groups of four. Barring special circumstances, these groups will remain for the entire semester."

　　The faces of the Class A students froze. They were starting right now?

　　"From now on, Basic Black Magic will be conducted as a group class, and you will be given assignments that can only be solved by working together. Individual scores and group scores will be calculated separately. Of course, even if an individual is outstanding, a lack of teamwork will result in deductions."

　　She adjusted her necktie and allowed a faint smirk to grace her lips.

　　"So you’d best choose your members wisely."

　　That single phrase flipped an emergency switch in every student’s mind.

　　"Thirty minutes. Any students who have not formed a group by then will be bundled together into a separate group. Now, begin."

　　The moment she finished speaking, a flood of voices erupted.

　　"Jasmine! Who’s Jasmine?"

　　"That’s me?"

　　"Your Cursology score is high! Want to join us? We have Jet-Black and Necrology prospects!"

　　"Looking for three for a Big Three group! Must have scores over 60!"

　　"Any groups need a top-tier Necrology student?"

　　The competition to recruit members was already fierce. Simon and Dick nodded to each other and split up.

　　Dick will go for our number one pick, Jamie, Simon thought.

　　He moved to find their second choice, Claudia. Unfortunately, she was already deep in conversation with two other students. Judging by their animated expressions, she was already taken. Their third choice, the Cursology prospect Rosenthal, was busy forming his own group. Their fourth choice, the Hemomancy prospect Catherine, was being recruited by that same Rosenthal.

　　Groups were forming in the blink of an eye.

　　This isn’t good.

　　Dick wasn’t having much luck with Jamie, either. The students with high test scores now held a kind of power. They wanted to build groups centered around themselves. And since every group was prioritizing the Big Three, the Cursology prospects were being snapped up fast. This was a crisis. Failing to secure a Cursology specialist would leave a massive hole in their strategy.

　　Stay calm. Simon pushed down the rising panic and calmly analyzed the situation. It’s still early. No group of four is complete yet. This isn’t a scouting phase; the time limit is making everyone rush. They’re pairing up as long as their scores are similar or their majors are different. The mid-tier students are forming groups quickly, while the top-tier students are observing.

　　So, what can I do here?

　　Finally, Simon set his target and began to move. He walked steadily through the chaotic mix of students. A few tried to talk to him, but he politely declined, saying he’d talk to them later.

　　He had only one person in his sights.

　　Found her.

　　His target came into view. Unlike the other students rushing around, she seemed to exist in a different world. With her arms crossed and legs elegantly poised, she sat at her desk, calmly observing the chaos. Other students glanced her way, but no one dared approach her. After all, trying to persuade her to join a team with mediocre scores in the 60s and 70s was next to impossible.

　　Simon decisively cut through their hesitation and came to a stop in front of her.

　　"Meirin Villenne."

　　He was addressing Class A’s top student—the number one scorer on the entrance exam for the entire school, and the only one in this test to average over 90 across all subjects.

　　"I want you to join our group."

　　Simon was aiming for the top from the very beginning. The students who had been watching from the sidelines began to murmur.

　　"Hey, hey, Simon!" Dick pushed through the crowd, mouthing the word ‘reckless’.

　　The reason Meirin hadn’t been their first choice was because Dick had deemed recruiting her impossible. Simon raised a hand slightly, as if to say, Leave this to me.

　　"…How amusing." Her eyes, reminiscent of a cold glacier, swept over Simon’s face. "Do you think being a Special Admission makes you special?"

　　"Special Admission is just a fancy term for nepotism. I only trust what I can see with my own eyes—clear, hard numbers." Her tone was firm, defensive. "And I’m sorry, but an average-30-something like you just doesn’t make the cut."

　　The final blow was a cold dose of reality. But Simon took it without flinching. The negotiation for the top student was just beginning.

　　First, the bait.

　　"You’re a little weak in Summoning. 85 points."

　　Her eyebrow twitched. Summoning was Meirin’s only score in the 80s, a sore spot for her. But she didn’t budge, firing back, "Are you in any position to say that? My Summoning score is still higher than yours, you know."

　　He knew. Simon took a deep breath.

　　"I’ll make you a promise."

　　"One month. In just one month, I will surpass you in Summoning."

　　A wave of murmurs rippled through the onlookers, and her eyes widened.

　　"Are you insane? Anyone can make empty boasts like that—!"

　　"If I can’t do it," Simon said, cutting her off, "I’ll quit Kizen."

　　A shocking declaration from Special Admission No. 1. Gasps could be heard around the room. In the entire history of Kizen, a Special Admission No. 1 had never once left the school of their own accord.

　　Meirin let out a dry, disbelieving laugh, but the corner of her mouth trembled slightly.

　　"You really are crazy. Take it back now if you don’t want to be humiliated!"

　　"I only said what I know I can do," Simon stated, his voice perfectly calm.

　　Meirin bit her lip. Simon had completely seized the initiative, and the atmosphere in the room had shifted. Surpass me? How arrogant, she thought, her gaze flicking toward Hector, who was mixed in with the crowd of onlookers. But…

　　Her standoff with Simon was one thing, but she had her own calculations to consider. No matter what, Meirin had to maintain her position as the top student in Class A for the entire semester.

　　The greatest threat to her ambition was Hector. His test scores were excellent, but more importantly, his talent for practical application far outstripped his grasp of theory. She knew she risked losing her top spot in Class A once the upcoming duel evaluations and performance assessments were factored into their grades. I have to absolutely crush him in the group class, Meirin resolved. The one thing that gnawed at her was Hector’s strength in Summoning; he had scored an eighty-eight on the last test, the only one of the eight subjects where Meirin had been outscored on paper.

　　But Hector, ever the strategist, had already outmaneuvered her. He had successfully recruited Pierre Berkeley, the only student in Class A with a Summoning score in the nineties. The other Summoning majors were all painfully average, their scores barely differing from her own. In that case… Simon Polentia.

　　He was a novice, yet he had decisively defeated Hector in their very first Summoning class. Like many of her classmates, Simon’s performance had left a powerful impression on Meirin.

　　She found herself at a crossroads. Should she play it safe and find another Summoning aspirant with a score in the eighties? Or take a gamble on Simon, the wildcard who had already proven he could beat Hector head-on?

　　From that perspective, Simon’s bold declaration that he would surpass her wasn’t just a provocation or a bluff. It was a direct appeal to the very gamble she was contemplating, a statement that seemed to lay her thoughts bare.

　　"…Hah."

　　Finally, after a long, silent debate, Meirin organized her thoughts, uncrossed her legs, and rose from her seat.

　　"Can you really stand by those words?"

　　Simon offered a warm smile and extended his hand.

　　"I will. No matter what."

　　Feigning reluctance, she took his hand. And just like that, Meirin—the top student of Class A, the one everyone wanted, the only one with a score in the nineties—had joined Simon’s group.