Chapter 9

　　The following classes were an ongoing trial. The second period was Divinity Defense, and the third was Hemomancy. In each class, without fail, the professors called Simon, Special Admission Number One, to the front for a demonstration.

　　It was an annual Kizen ritual. The competition here was fierce, not just among students, but among the faculty as well. Professors with poor results were fired mid-semester, their salaries tied directly to performance, their influence within the school rising and falling with their students’ success. Consequently, every professor vied for the most promising students, hoping to recruit them as direct disciples. Testing the top-ranked freshman on the first day was a natural part of this process.

　　In both classes, Simon was pitted against a girl named Meirin Villenne. She was the top-ranked student in Class A, and her entrance exam scores were among the highest in the entire first year. On paper, she was the undisputed number one.

　　Against a prodigy like her, Simon, who had just been introduced to black magic, stood no chance. While he’d managed to land a single blow against Hector, his bouts with Meirin weren’t even contests.

　　The professors were perplexed by this unexpected turn of events, and by now, the other students in Class A had realized the truth: Simon was a complete beginner.

　　Ugh….

　　He had been running on fumes through three consecutive classes. Fortunately, his last one ended a bit early, granting him a short reprieve. Simon collapsed at an empty table in the student lounge, burying his head in his arms. The classes are fun, but this is brutal. He’d never imagined school could be so exhausting. The duel with Hector had drained him completely. He let out a low groan.

　　"Hey."

　　A voice cut through his fatigue. He looked up to see a boy with short blond hair and sunglasses perched on his forehead, a friendly grin on his face.

　　"I’m in Class A with you. The name’s Dick Hayward."

　　"…Simon Polentia."

　　They shook hands.

　　"You’re already famous, you know," Dick said, leaning against the table. "Your name is making the rounds in the other classes, too."

　　Simon just shrugged.

　　"I suppose the hype around Special Admission No. 1 is already fizzling out."

　　"Hahaha!" Dick let out a roar of laughter and plopped into the seat across from him. "Honestly, you’re perfectly normal. It’s only the first day. I don’t know why everyone’s making such a big deal out of everything."

　　"Well, thanks for saying so."

　　Dick’s expression sobered as he laced his fingers together on the table. "Did you know? Hector is already forming his own faction."

　　"…A faction?"

　　"He made a hell of an impression in the first class. It’s only natural that people are flocking to him. He’s also the eldest son of an influential family, which has made him an instant favorite among the nobles."

　　Simon propped his chin on his hand, his expression sullen. "I’m not really interested."

　　"Hey, listen to me," Dick insisted. "Politics are important at Kizen! What do you think will happen if Hector takes over Class A? Anyone who gets on his bad side is done for. You’ll have a hard time even finding partners for group projects."

　　That got Simon’s attention. He sat up straighter.

　　"You seem to have a good grasp of the situation," Simon observed. "So why are you here with me instead of cozying up to Hector?"

　　The question hit its mark. Dick flinched. He looks naive, but he’s sharp, he thought, giving an awkward laugh and scratching the side of his head.

　　"Well, the thing is, I’m a commoner. From a merchant family." He then stood and bowed his head in a formal, almost theatrical manner. "I apologize if a mere commoner such as myself has been rude, my lord."

　　"…Cut it out. I heard we’re all just first-years here."

　　Dick sat back down, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "True, but some students just can’t resist showing off their noble status."

　　"Well, I’m not one of them."

　　"That’s a relief. Actually, I have a proposal for you." Dick held out his hand. "Join my faction, Simon."

　　"Huh…?"

　　"Whether you’re lacking in skill or people are calling you overhyped, the fact remains that you’re Special Admission No. 1. Being ahead in your studies might seem like a big deal now, but it all evens out eventually. Don’t you think Lady Nephthys had her reasons for bringing you here? You have value."

　　Simon offered a warm smile. "Instead of factions and all that…"

　　"Huh…?"

　　He extended his own hand toward Dick’s. "How about we just be friends? Equals?"

　　Dick let out a dry, incredulous laugh. "…Wow, that sounds incredibly awkward."

　　To think there was still someone at Kizen who would suggest being ‘friends’ instead of forming an ‘alliance’ or a ‘faction’. Honestly, it was cheesy. Almost embarrassingly so. And yet, surrounded by people driven by cold calculation, Simon’s approach felt… special.

　　Dick reached out and firmly grasped Simon’s hand. "I guess a little sentimentality now and then isn’t so bad."

　　"…Haha."

　　From Simon’s perspective, befriending a student so knowledgeable about Kizen and possessed of such a keen political sense was hardly a bad thing. After a firm handshake, the two rose to their feet. It was time to head to their next class.

　　"What’s next, anyway?"

　　"Hang on." Dick pulled a small notebook from his pocket and flipped it open. "Oh, Summoning."

　　At his words, a strange light flickered in Simon’s eyes.

* * *

　　Simon and Dick made it to the classroom just in time. The stiff formality of the first class had melted away, replaced by a much more relaxed atmosphere as students chatted with their newfound friends. And just as Dick had said, a group of four male students was gathered around Hector, laughing boisterously.

　　As Simon walked past, their laughter died down into stifled snickers.

　　"Ooh, look, Special Admission No. 1 is gracing us with his presence."

　　"The biggest bust in Kizen’s history."

　　"How the hell did a guy like him beat out Serne, Chatel, and Lorraine?"

　　While his new cronies sneered, Hector, at the center of the group, remained silent. He merely glanced at Simon for a moment before turning away.

　　"Don’t mind them, Simon," Dick said quietly. "No need to listen to a bunch of lackeys."

　　Simon sat down, his expression unreadable, and pulled his Summoning textbook from his bag. "I’m looking forward to this."

　　"…Huh?"

　　"Summoning class."

　　Simon’s eyes were sparkling. He was so focused that he paid their taunts no mind at all.

　　Dick chuckled to himself. He really is different.

　　A moment later, the bell rang, signaling the start of class. The students hurried back to their seats.

　　The sound of dragging feet echoed from the hallway. Every professor they had seen so far, from Bahil Amagar of Cursology onward, had been jaw-droppingly impressive. The students waited in eager anticipation to see who would enter next.

　　The classroom door opened, and a man who looked to be in his early thirties shuffled in. His hair was a mess, as if he’d just rolled out of bed, his chin was covered in scruffy stubble, and he wore a baggy shirt, shorts, and a pair of worn-out slippers. Simon honestly wondered if some random guy from the neighborhood had wandered in by mistake. The other students were clearly thinking the same. After the impeccably dressed professors they had met so far, this man was a jarring sight.

　　The professor dragged his slippers to the lectern at the front of the classroom.

　　"I’m Aaron Deia," he announced, his languid voice echoing through the room. "I’ll be your Summoning instructor for the semester."

　　Aaron ambled over to the blackboard and slowly began to write the word ‘Summoning’. With one hand stuffed in his pocket, his posture radiated a world-weary indifference. Bizarrely, this seemed to be a point in his favor, as a few female students whispered among themselves with flushed faces.

　　"Summoning is the very root of necromancy. You could even say it’s our history itself," he began, setting the chalk down with a grim smile. "Scholars may not want to admit it, but it’s hard to deny that our origins lie with gravediggers, tomb raiders, and necrophiles."

　　He paused. "But enough of that. If you have ears, you’ve probably heard plenty about Summoning already. That it’s outdated. That it gets no respect. That it’s difficult to study and comes with too many disadvantages."

　　A few students nodded in agreement.

　　"All those countless prejudices you’ve picked up…"

　　Simon felt his heart begin to pound. The other students swallowed hard, leaning forward in anticipation of Aaron’s next words.

　　"They’re mostly true."

　　The room fell into a stunned silence.

　　Simon couldn’t believe his ears. What did this Summoning professor just say?

　　Aaron continued in his lazy drawl. "In your previous classes, I imagine you heard all about how great each major is and why you should take it. Personally, I think that’s a mistake. You need to be told all the pros and cons so you can make an informed choice."

　　He walked back to the blackboard and picked up the chalk. The students grabbed their quills, ready to take notes.

　　"First disadvantage of Summoning."

　　Simon gave a bitter smile. He’s starting with the disadvantages?

　　"Summoning is expensive." After writing the words on the board, Aaron turned to face them. "And I don’t say that lightly. Whatever figure you’re imagining, the material costs for Summoning are higher."

　　A sudden silence fell over the classroom.

　　"The cost for Summoning alone can be more than all your other subjects combined. It makes sense, doesn’t it? Are you going to kill the person next to you, raid a village, or hunt down and slaughter animals every time you want to make a skeleton or a zombie? No. Modern necromancers use skeleton kits or specially treated corpses that can be turned directly into zombies. Worse still, most of the undead you create this way are single-use."

　　Several students looked agonized. The commoners, in particular, looked noticeably pale.

　　"It’s not uncommon for the cost of materials used in a fight to exceed the mission’s reward. If you plan to major in Summoning, give up any thought of making money. And second…" Aaron wrote the next point. "Heavy reliance on summons. This one’s obvious. Summoning is the study of fighting with summoned creatures."

　　He raised the arm holding the chalk and drew several circles around the word ‘reliance’.

　　"If a summon is destroyed, the summoner’s combat power drops by more than eighty percent."

　　The students were shocked.

　　"These days, it’s common to use your own semi-permanent undead, modified over and over, rather than disposable ones. But what happens if that undead is destroyed in battle?" The corner of Aaron’s mouth lifted into a smirk. "Imagine it. You’re in a real battle, twiddling your thumbs after losing your summon, while your classmates are spreading out maps and earnestly discussing tactics."

　　Simon grew more and more dumbfounded. Is he serious? Is this man really a Summoning professor?

　　"And this reliance goes hand in hand with the first disadvantage." Aaron drew a line connecting the circled word ‘reliance’ to ‘expensive’. "Losing your main summon is a critical blow to a summoner, both in terms of combat power and finances. You’ll spend a long time just saving up enough money to restore your strength."

　　A heavy silence descended upon the classroom.

　　"And the third and final point." After writing on the board, Aaron grinned, showing his teeth. "This is the most important one."