Chapter 778 Episode 778

Word that Simon had been forced to step down spread quickly among the students, and the brewing anger finally exploded during the joint opening ceremony—especially when the third-year professors stood up to give their greetings.

A chorus of boos erupted through the hall.

It was the first time students had ever openly booed Kizen professors at an official event.

The third-year professors, who had been kicking back and savoring their victory after installing Balak as president, froze stiff. Their smug expressions vanished, leaving the professor acting as the MC sweating bullets as he tried to calm the agitated crowd.

"Quiet down! Quiet!" he shouted.

Even after the highly controversial and chaotic opening ceremony concluded, the anger lingered.

Arthur, the Mercenary King, who was widely popular and friendly with students from every class, gathered his peers.

"This is tyranny! It’s an absolute outrage!"

Students swarmed the first-year dormitory lounge. Arthur clenched his fists.

"You all know what kind of person Simon is, and how hard he worked for us first-years! Are we just going to keep our mouths shut?"

The other first-years voiced their agreement in unison. Shouts of grabbing picket signs and organizing a demonstration filled the room. But as everyone excitedly exchanged ideas...

"That’s easy for you to say, considering you’re Special Admission Number Two," a short-haired male student blurted out, slouching in his chair.

Everyone’s eyes turned to him.

"What happened to Simon is sad, but survival is the priority for us first-years. Half the people here are going to be sent packing at the end of this semester. Do you really have the luxury to go protesting?"

At those words, several first-years groaned in realization.

"I’d rather read one more page of my textbook..." someone muttered.

"If you start making excuses like that, there’s no end to it."

Just then, a first-year female student stood up.

Heidi Ferris.

She was none other than the freshman Simon had saved during the entrance ceremony.

"We can’t in our first year because we have to survive. We can’t in our second year because we have to raise our ranks. We can’t in our third year because we have to find jobs. So when exactly are we going to step up?" she demanded.

"Well, that’s..." the short-haired boy stammered.

"First-years are always excluded from everything on campus because we’re too busy just surviving to speak up. I still don’t understand why our year wasn’t allowed to participate in the Dark Festival. If we don’t want to keep facing absurd situations like Simon being forced out, we need to make our voices heard."

She spread her arms wide.

"Honor students or failing students, it doesn’t matter. We are simply claiming our rightful privileges as current Kizen students!"

"Exactly!"

"She’s right!" the crowd roared.

The first-years resolved to rise up.

From the very first day of the semester, the ominous tension of an impending war hung heavy over the academy.

---

That afternoon, in the student city of Rochest.

"Hello, fellow students! I’m Tay from the Newspaper Club!"

Tay, the club’s president, raised his arms and shouted energetically.

A group of students gathered in front of him, holding cameras equipped with memorial crystals or clutching notebooks and memo pads.

They were his fellow club members.

"I hope you all had a great vacation! Joining me for this broadcast is my good friend and the club’s vice president, Silverberg!"

"Yep."

A young man briefly poked his head into the shot to give a nod before stepping back out of frame.

"I’m currently reporting live from the student city of Rochest!"

The camera panned past Tay to capture the scenery.

Large and small buildings rose up around the massive plaza fountain. Rochest was packed with students buying textbooks, stationery, and other class supplies for the new semester.

The air hummed with chatter and boisterous laughter.

Tay took a deep breath, savoring the lively atmosphere, before speaking again.

"The academy has been turned upside down over the last couple of days, hasn’t it? The student council president was suddenly replaced! From second-year Simon Polentia to third-year Balak! Let’s hear what our fellow Kizen students think about this!"

Scanning the area, he spotted a blonde female student fixing her makeup on a bench and jogged over.

"Excuse me! Could we get a quick interview...? Oh my, you’re a third-year!"

Tay and Silverberg immediately bowed at a perfect ninety-degree angle. The other club members followed suit, causing the camera to bob wildly up and down.

"What is it?"

The third-year frowned at the interruption. When Silverberg subtly pointed to the camera with the memorial crystal, she cleared her throat and shifted to a clear, ringing voice.

"Sure, go ahead."

"Thank you for your cooperation!"

Tay quickly gestured, prompting Silverberg to hustle over and politely offer her an amplification crystal with both hands.

"What are your thoughts on the recent change in the student council presidency?"

"Oh, it’s only natural. It should have been this way from the start."

Holding the amplification crystal, the third-year girl shrugged.

"The student council president is chosen based on merit and skill, right? It’s obvious that Balak should be the one. You could say our academy has finally returned to its normal trajectory."

"But there are many underclassmen who are dissatisfied with this situation! They seem to think it’s an outrage that the former president, who was running the student council well, was forced out. Do you have any thoughts on that?"

"Crazy. I know the professors coddle them, but this year’s first-years are really...!"

She spent the next few moments spewing a string of curses.

Silverberg sensibly turned off the memorial crystal for a moment before turning it back on.

"Anyway, if Aizel left, Aizel’s substitute should leave too. I think it’s only right that someone more capable becomes president. How much longer are we supposed to be swayed by that guy Phantastus anyway? He left the academy ages ago."

"Thank you for your time!" Tay quickly wrapped up.

Tay immediately moved on to find the next person.

He needed to feature opinions from as many different years as possible in the newspaper.

"First-years, are there any first-years around?"

"The first-years are definitely going to be against it."

"She looks like a good candidate," someone pointed out.

They spotted a female student wearing thick, swirly glasses.

She had her hair tied in two tightly coiled braids and a face full of freckles. At a glance, she looked like a stereotypical honor student who cared about nothing but studying.

"Excuse us!"

Tay and his crew swarmed her. When they abruptly shoved the camera in her face, she panicked. Her face flushed bright red as she flailed before dropping her head low.

"Ah, h-hello..."

"We’re with the Newspaper Club. Could we get a quick interview?"

"Ah, would I really be okay? Um, I’ve never done an interview before..."

"Just relax and share your thoughts on the question we ask. Okay?"

She politely accepted the amplification crystal Silverberg handed her and looked at Tay with a stiff, frozen expression.

"Alright, just take it easy. Here’s the question! What are your thoughts on the recent change in the student council presidency?"

At that moment, something in the clumsy first-year girl completely snapped.

She shot up from her seat and shouted, "I think it was a highly absurd and unjust decision!"

’Oh boy, I picked the wrong one.’

Tay broke into a cold sweat.

"Uh, why do you think..."

"It would be one thing if the former president had done something wrong, but that wasn’t the case at all! Simon stepped up during a sudden vacancy and led the student council and the academy exceptionally well! But now the third-year professors and other adults are interfering to install a student who suits their tastes!"

"I think it’s a completely unfair action that tramples on everyone’s feelings! The student council president should be the representative of us students!"

The first-year had launched into a passionate, rambling speech.

When Silverberg urgently gestured to cut her off, Tay snapped back to his senses and interjected.

"But wait. Some people say it’s a natural change since Balak is more skilled than Simon Polentia..."

"That’s just their way of thinking."

The first-year girl ground her teeth.

"The student council president that the students truly want isn’t someone with high grades, someone who’s useful for external events, or someone who just listens well to adults. It’s someone who represents the students’ interests and takes action for us! Just like Simon Polentia, who risked his life to save our classmates during the entrance ceremony!"

She glared intensely into the memorial crystal.

"On the other hand, I have no idea what Balak has actually done for the academy. Skill is important, of course. But those with exceptional skills already receive plenty of merits and benefits, like making the Top 10, becoming class representatives, or getting scholarships."

"Ah, alright! I see! Let’s wrap it up there. Thank you for the interview!"

"I’m not finished yet! I think it’s pure prejudice to say a second-year can’t be student council president. Conversely, insisting that the president must be a third-year is narrow-minded...!"

After barely managing to peel away from the hot-blooded first-year, Tay and the Newspaper Club diligently interviewed passersby.

Opinions were sharply divided by year.

The third-years mostly supported Balak’s ascension to the presidency, claiming that an abnormal situation had simply returned to normal.

On the other hand, the first-years, who adored Simon, were furious and unanimously protested the unfair treatment. They spoke as if there was no tomorrow, saying whatever they wanted to the camera without a single thought for the consequences.

The second-years, who were more entrenched in their department lives, seemed a bit more cautious and reserved with their words compared to the first-years, but they still generally appeared dissatisfied with the situation.

"Damn it, there’s way too much unusable material here."

Tay scowled as he flipped through his notebook filled with interview notes.

In truth, the Newspaper Club was one of the main clubs that had suffered from the funding reforms during Simon’s administration, so they naturally supported the new Balak student council.

It also helped that someone from Balak’s camp had approached them, offering to increase their second-semester activity budget if they wrote favorable articles.

"Tay, the interviews with the HSC kids are all set," Silverberg said, walking over.

Tay, who had been scanning his notebook with a grim expression, finally cracked a smile.

"That’s our vice president! You’re so good at your job, it’s almost a problem."

HSC. Also known as the ’Hate Simon Club’—an arbitrary name the Newspaper Club had given them. They had tracked down students they believed held a grudge against Simon and scheduled interviews.

The Newspaper Club had even prepared compensation, offering them "paid interviews." Since it had been difficult to secure their time, Tay headed to the meeting spot full of expectations.

"Then let’s begin!"

Without further ado, they started interviewing their selected students.

The first subject was the Lord of the Snowfield Castle, second-year Raheim Northfold.

He had been a Special Admission student the previous year, and rumors were widespread that he liked Meirin Villenne. He had challenged Simon over Meirin during the first-year BMAT exam, only to be completely crushed.

They expected emotional slander from him since his crush had been stolen away, but...

"What do I think? Ah, I mean, of course I hate Jumon Volendis, but unilaterally changing the student council president from above seems a bit wrong."

"Who is Jumon Volendis? It’s Simon Polentia."

"Right! Jemon Volentona!"

’This guy is a lost cause.’

They immediately moved on to the second guest, Jessica Kananor.

Jessica had suffered a humiliating defeat against Simon during the first-year duel evaluation. In a recent duel evaluation, she had even brought out her ’Chemical Factory’ and fought hard, but was utterly defeated by him once again.

They expected some jealousy-fueled trash talk fitting her history, but...

"It’s wrong. They should have just decided the presidency with a duel at the opening ceremony. Dragging Simon Polentia down unilaterally is definitely an issue that’s going to cause noise. Oh, by the way, did Simon say anything about me?"

She was brushing her hair back with a blush on her face. It seemed she had actually developed affectionate feelings for Simon because of the recent duel evaluation. ’Another lost cause.’

They moved straight to the third.

From the same second-year Summoning Department, White.

He was a transfer student from Moiran, one of the top three necromancer academies. They had heard rumors that Simon was secretly keeping an eye on him and that they bumped heads quite often.

However.

White just stared blankly at the birds flying in the sky.

"U-uh, so what do you think?" Tay prompted.

White continued to stare in silence.

They couldn’t get a single word out of him, so the interview was a failure.

"We’re doomed."

Tay leaned back heavily against a brick wall on the streets of Rochest.

They needed to write an article that would bolster Balak’s student council, but setting aside the third-years, there were almost no favorable opinions from the first and second-years.

Silverberg spoke up.

"I didn’t realize public opinion of Simon Polentia was this good."

Tay clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"He never really had any scandals, and his image was always spotless, right? Plus, this time he’s up against a formidable enemy in Balak. A tragic figure forced to step down from the presidency due to the academy’s tyranny."

"Sympathy definitely plays a part. The public has a strong tendency to over-identify with the underdog."

But wasn’t it a reporter’s duty to somehow squeeze out an article that suited the client’s tastes, even in such a difficult situation?

Tay peered into his notebook.

"It can’t be helped. We’ll use the third-year interviews as they are, and for the first and second-years, we’ll just say ’anonymous sources who strongly requested their identities be hidden’ and roughly fabricate some opinions supporting Balak’s student council..."

"Uh, hey."

Silverberg pointed ahead.

"Isn’t that Hector?"

"What?"

Tay snapped his head up.

The core of the core of the Hate Simon Club. Simon Polentia’s rival and counterweight, who had fought and clashed with him over every little thing since the very first day of their first year.

Second-year Summoning Department Representative, Hector Moore.

He was a big shot who hadn’t even replied to their multiple letters proposing an interview.

"Everyone, follow me!"

Tay led the club members and rushed over to Hector. Hector was walking with his gang, likely having stopped by Rochest to buy class supplies.

"Hector! Hold on a second!"

Tay called out, but Hector didn’t even pretend to hear him. Left with no choice, Tay sprinted ahead and blocked Hector’s path.

"I’m Tay from the Newspaper Club! Two minutes! I just need two minutes! Please, just give me a little of your time!"

Silverberg, holding the camera himself, followed right behind, and the rest of the club members swarmed in. Hector’s expression contorted viciously.

"Get lost."

He turned to slip down a side street, but Tay shouted, "Simon Polentia!"

Hector’s footsteps halted.

A sly smile spread across Tay’s lips, having successfully grabbed his attention.

"Simon Polentia stepped down from the student council presidency, and Balak took his place! Don’t you have anything to say about this?"

Hector remained silent.

"Rumor has it that you only accepted the second-year class representative position to keep President Simon in check. Don’t you think this whole thing is—"

The Newspaper Club students gasped in shock.

Hector had spun around in a flash and grabbed Tay by the throat.

"You little insect."

He lifted Tay off the ground with one hand.

"Who the hell do you think you are, daring to speak to me?"

Tay choked and gasped for air.

Before anyone realized, one of Hector’s pupils had narrowed into a vertical slit, like a dragon’s eye.

"W-Wait! I can’t breathe...!"

Hector hoisted Tay high into the air before slamming him down into a nearby street stall. With a loud crash, the stall shattered, and the sauces and sugar inside splattered all over Tay’s face and uniform, leaving him a complete mess.

"Tay!"

"What the...!"

Hector swung his arm violently. Dragon scales flew like shuriken, wedging themselves right into the memorial crystal embedded in the center of the magic camera.

When Hector made a pulling motion with his arm, the memorial crystal was ripped out of the camera and flew straight into his hand.

"I have no more time to waste on garbage who scribble dogshit articles."

He crushed the memorial crystal using nothing but his grip strength. Mana sparked with a sharp crackle, and a cloud of hazy smoke seeped out.

"If you ever catch my eye again, I’ll kill you for real."

At the Dragon Fear unintentionally leaking from him, the first-year club members turned pale and backed away.

Clicking his tongue, Hector tossed a wad of cash at the stall owner, turned his back, and walked away.

"Let’s go."

As he moved, Hector’s faction followed behind him, snickering.

"You gotta know when to butt in. You just had to come when Hector’s in the worst mood possible."

"You Newspaper Club guys better watch yourselves. We’re keeping an eye on you."

After Hector’s group left, Tay crawled out on all fours, his face covered in sticky sauce.

Tay let out a heavy sigh. "Damn it."

Suddenly feeling pathetic about his situation, he quietly muttered to himself, "He should be happy his rival took a fall, so why the hell is he taking it out on me?"

---

It was unusually noisy outside. Simon, who happened to be down at a small cafe in Rochest, looked out the window.

"Did something happen?"

"I’m not sure."

A black-haired girl was elegantly sipping a strawberry drink across from him.

Lorraine opened her eyes and smiled warmly.

"Did you have a good vacation, Simon?"

Just a few yards away from the commotion, the two of them were quietly chatting.