novelraw Chapter 615: Episode 615
Chapter 615: Episode 615
Simon raised the amplification crystal.
"I am Simon Polentia."
The mere mention of his name drew a massive roar from the crowd. The first-years, seated to the left, were particularly ecstatic.
"Student Council President—!"
"Over here!"
They were even waving a banner that said something about his "pretty porcelain skin." Their enthusiasm was so infectious that he couldn’t ignore it. He gave them a small wave, and a cheer several times louder than before exploded from their section. The spectators chuckled at the sight.
"The sky is clear," Simon began, his voice ringing out across the plaza. "It is an honor to speak before our excellent professors, my helpful peers, my respected seniors, my outstanding juniors, and all of you, the citizens of the Dark Alliance."
He offered a faint smile. "Above all, I am truly happy that the Dark Festival could be held safely this year."
As his speech began, the crowd was quickly drawn in. His sentences were compelling, his voice pleasant and magnetic. He was the very picture of a model student council president.
Standing behind him, the other council members felt a swell of pride. Meirin and Kamibarez exchanged a sweet smile, and Dick’s grin stretched from ear to ear when Simon read a line he had contributed to the speech.
It was a clear sky, the perfect start to the festival.
But not everyone was pleased.
"They’re just eating it up, aren’t they," Will Douglas, the 12th-ranked third-year, grumbled, his face twisted in a scowl. "First the entrance ceremony, now the Dark Festival. They’re hogging everything. All the spectators are asking why a second-year is president. ’Ugh,’ say something, Leonard!"
Leonard, standing at the front of the third-year Summoning students, smiled faintly. "Don’t look so grim on such a nice day, Will. For this festival, Simon Polentia is on our side."
"I don’t care if he’s on our side! The point is that a second-year is standing up there! What will people think of our class?!"
"The atmosphere will change when Aizel returns."
"Ugh, seriously! It’s always Aizel, Aizel, Aizel!" Will raked his hands through his hair, his expression hardening. "There’s a rumor going around that he’s dead."
The man who should have been student council president. Aizel’s return was long overdue. Kizen headquarters remained tight-lipped about the details of his mission, not even confirming whether he was alive or dead, which only fueled the rampant speculation among the students. Rumors flew that Aizel had died, gone missing, or been captured by the Holy Federation, with Kizen now negotiating a ransom.
"That bastard was biting off more than he could chew trying to imitate Phantastus!" Will spat.
Aizel was a talented student, undeniably the strongest in Kizen and a formidable figure by any standard. But his downfall began when he started measuring himself against Phantastus, one of the most powerful student council presidents in Kizen’s history. With Phantastus as his direct predecessor, comparisons were inevitable. To prove himself, Aizel had volunteered for a long-term mission of the same difficulty that Phantastus had undertaken a year prior. He had wanted to face the doubts surrounding him head-on.
“Don’t bite off more than you can chew,” a new voice drawled.
Leonard and Will turned. A young man with dark circles so pronounced they looked like panda markings stood there, his cloak fluttering around him. It was Sota Pshyke, the representative of the Necrology department and ranked 6th overall.
"It was a mission that even active-duty Crows barely survive, wasn’t it? How could he possibly handle something like that?"
"Sota," Leonard said, his voice firm. "What are you doing? There are outsiders everywhere. Go back to your department."
Sota gestured behind him. "I’m already there."
Sure enough, they could see Sota’s physical body standing blankly in the Necrology department’s section. The figure before them was hazy, a spectral form that seemed to have split off from his body.
’Incredible,’ Will thought, a cold sweat breaking out on his brow. He’d heard the record for spiritual projection was an hour. The department representatives of the third year were on a completely different level.
"If you ask me," Sota said, pulling at the corner of his eye, "Aizel is dead."
"Which means it’s time for us to act. The professors, the first-years, and now even the outsiders are all satisfied with Simon Polentia. We have to stop that second-year brat from serving another semester as president."
He slowly clenched his spectral fist.
Trusting Aizel now that he’s gone won’t get us anywhere.
"Sorry to interrupt this meeting of the minds, but look over there," Will said, pointing.
A short distance away, a man in an iron mask stood rigidly. It was Balak, the representative of the Poisonous Venom Department and the second-ranked third-year, who was known for his intense rivalry with Aizel.
Leonard and Sota each took a step closer.
"What’s the plan?" Leonard asked, his voice a low whisper.
"We’re going to tear the Dark Festival apart," Sota’s voice echoed in their minds. "The Student Council is in charge of managing it. If a slew of problems—big and small—erupt between the students, people will start to question Simon Polentia’s leadership. That’s where we begin."
"We’ll see," Leonard replied with a faint smile. "I don’t care if you wreck the festival or cause some major incident. But the Summoning Department is winning this year’s competition. I won’t compromise on that."
"That’s your problem, Leonard," Sota’s voice sighed as his form shimmered. "You care too much about your people. Now is the time to look at the bigger picture."
Leonard remained silent.
"Remember, we’ll be leaving Kizen at the end of this year."
His spiritual form slowly dissipated, his body growing fainter until it vanished completely.
"Find me if you change your mind."
---
The Dark Festival was in full swing at Boilstone Stadium.
A roar from thirty thousand spectators shook the colossal stadium. The air was thick with the heat of the packed crowd, every single person watching the match with bated breath.
"This is your announcer, Conrad Hayabon, bringing you the second-year afternoon match live from Boilstone Stadium!"
Instead of solid ground, a tangled web of chains suspended in the air served as the only footholds, and students were already dashing frantically across them. Below, a river of crimson lava bubbled and churned. One misstep meant instant elimination.
As if that weren’t enough, a colossal Salamander Snake, submerged in the molten rock, let out a piercing shriek. It swung its massive tail, attacking the students indiscriminately and forcing them into a relentless sprint to dodge its attacks and the spewing lava.
"This event is Balloon Snatch!" the announcer declared. "The department that retrieves the most balloons floating around the stadium and places them in the basket at the summit wins! Which department will claim ultimate victory?"
The cheers from the crowd were deafening.
"Go, Curses Department!"
"Gleck Crow! Show them what you’ve got!"
"There! Grab that one! That’s it!"
Initially, it was the students from the Combat Magic Department who took an early lead, their quick adaptation to the battlefield giving them an edge. While some students struggled just to maintain their balance, those with superior physical prowess moved like fish in water.
With a grunt, a Combat Magic student launched himself from a chain, his hand outstretched toward a balloon floating in midair.
"This makes three...!"
Before he could touch it, a torrent of crimson flames engulfed his body. His barrier gauge plummeted to zero, and he was forcibly teleported out of the stadium.
"There he is again!" the announcer cried out.
A pitch-black dragon landed on a chain and let out a deafening roar. The area-of-effect curse, ’Dragon Fear’, washed over the arena, causing the students to flinch and freeze in place. In that brief moment of hesitation, the snake monster’s tail whipped out and swatted them away.
"The Summoning Department has sent out none other than their department representative for this match! The third-ranked second-year, Hector Moore! He’s as formidable as ever!"
Every time the Corpse Dragon breathed fire, students rained from the chains like autumn leaves. Meanwhile, Aseraz, tasked with retrieval, expertly maneuvered a set of skeletal arms to snatch balloons from the air.
"And on top of that, the fifth-ranked student overall, Aseraz Mikel! The Summoning Department has deployed two Top 10 students in a single match! They’re clearly determined to dominate this event! Personally, I think it’s a sound strategy. Focus is key!"
But Kizen’s students were not the type to stand by and watch one faction dominate. Other departments quickly moved to counter them.
"Stop that Moore bastard first!"
Students from the Curses Department slid down the opposing chains, relentlessly hurling curses at Hector. An allergic reaction broke out across his scales, causing him to grimace in pain, but just then, a large shadow loomed behind the Curses students.
"That summon is—!"
A flurry of sword strikes instantly zeroed out the Curses students’ barrier gauges. As the casters were eliminated from the field, the curses on Hector lifted.
The chain sagged heavily with a dull clank under the weight of the massive figure that had swung the sword. The hulking being held a greatsword in one hand and its own head in the other.
"A Dullahan! It’s a Dullahan!" the announcer shouted, leaping to his feet. "Six Dullahans are now racing across the chains, systematically eliminating students from other departments. I thought the Summoning students were holding back at the start, but it turns out they were preparing their Dullahans! How many are there? Incredible! Can all Summoning students do this?"
With the advanced tactics from their special Dullahan lecture and the stellar performance of two Top 10 students, the Summoning Department was pulling ahead.
1st Place, Summoning Department: 35 points.
2nd Place, Combat Magic Department: 20 points.
3rd Place, Curses Department: 18 points.
In the first event, Balloon Snatch, the Summoning Department had established a commanding lead, nearly doubling the score of the second-place Combat Magic Department.
"There’s no way we can lose this," Simon muttered with a smile, watching from the stands.
"Yeah, everyone’s doing great," Lorraine said beside him, clapping in support of her classmates.
Watching the match was thrilling, but Simon felt a familiar itch to be in the thick of it. He wanted to get out there and show what he could do.
"Go, Summoning Department!"
Leading the cheers was, of course, the ever-energetic Eshe. She waved her cheering props, whipping the crowd into a frenzy.
"Way to go, class rep!"
"Aseraz! Stay calm!"
Perhaps provoked by the volume of the Summoning students’ cheers, the Hemomancy students in the opposite section began to retaliate.
"Booooo!"
"Look who it is! The beggars! Stop picking wild berries in the park!"
"We wouldn’t take you even if you transferred to our department!"
The Hemomancy students roared with laughter.
A vein throbbed on Eshe’s forehead.
"Aaaaargh! How dare you! Don’t even think about donating blood, you anemic freaks!"
"Did you take your iron supplements? You’re all one bad day away from heart failure, arrhythmia, and baldness!"
"Your future is with the Blood Heaven Cult!"
The atmosphere grew dangerously heated as agitated students shot to their feet.
"The baldness and the cult stuff is going too far, you psychos!"
"You’re the ones who brought up transferring first!"
As the tension boiled over, teaching assistants and their minions finally had to intervene. It was a scene you could only witness during the Dark Festival.
"Simon." Fitzgerald, who was helping plan the second-year schedule, approached him. "Your match is up soon."
"Oh, really? Time flies." Simon shot up from his seat to get ready.
"I don’t want to put any pressure on you, but..." Fitzgerald adjusted his glasses. "It’s no exaggeration to say our department’s fate rests on this next match. What do you think our chances are?"
Simon met his gaze and grinned.
"One hundred percent. I’m going to win."