Damn Necromancer - Chapter 76

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Profligate Necromancer (76)
Banshees.
Unlike Specters—ghost-form Undead that engaged in close combat—Banshees wielded magic. High-tier Undead, ranking nearly on par with Liches.
A Banshee Queen, specifically.
‘It would be a mage.’
A Banshee could only be created from a mage who had died and been revived.
The destination was the Magic Department.
Along the way, I noticed a lamp sitting at the roadside. Through the glass, I could see a face reflected back.
‘Just like with Baek So-cheon.’
My name was Kern, but the Skin was merely overlaid with my own.
‘Well, it’s only the name that changed to Kern, after all……’
I let it go at that.
I stopped one of the people cleaning outside.
“Pardon me.”
“……Yes, go ahead.”
“Where is the place where they teach mages here at the Academy?”
“That way, sir.”
The custodian hesitantly pointed out the direction. It seemed that seeing the Academy uniform made him cautious about his behavior. I pressed him with one more question.
“Thank you. By the way, what do you think of necromancers?”
“……Necromancers? What is that?”
The custodian tilted his head as if hearing the word for the first time.
I explained further, in simpler terms.
“Are there perhaps any mages here who summon Undead and such?”
“……Summon Undead? Is such a thing even possible? My education is limited, but I’ve never once heard tell of such a mage existing.”
Kim Min-woo tilted his head.
‘Is there no necromancer in this world?’
There was something odd about thinking it that way. This was the world where the Death Lord had run rampant, wasn’t it?
The Death Lord was a necromancer.
Then naturally, he would have summoned Undead without restraint.
No necromancer at all?
Two possibilities came to mind.
First: the practice had been suppressed so thoroughly in the past that it vanished from common memory.
I’d seen necromancers punished more than once or twice, so there was nothing strange about that.
‘The second possibility……’
That the magic of summoning Undead simply didn’t exist in this world.
If that were the case, perhaps the Death Lord was the origin of necromancy itself.
‘If it’s the first, then all my skills are sealed.’
I looked at the custodian.
“Then, is there perhaps no one who handles corpses, or in any case, practices gloomy schools of magic?”
“Ah…… The mages of the Death School do such things.”
“The Death School?”
“Yes. They use corpses, curses, bones, poisons—I’ve heard they practice that sort of magic.”
“Thank you. I’ll be going then.”
A building came into view in the distance.
Upon entering, I saw guards stationed inside. One of them, catching sight of the badge on my uniform, tilted his head and asked.
“Swordsmanship Department? It should be class time now—what brings you here?”
“Is there a student named Merhen here? Professor Charles asked me to bring something for him.”
I traded on Charles’s name.
The guard, having heard the name before, approached the counter without much suspicion and spoke with the female clerk.
A moment later.
“We do have a student by that name. However, he’s in class at the moment……”
“I’ll wait.”
I nodded and approached the female clerk at the counter.
“Excuse me.”
“Yes.”
“Do you happen to offer instruction in the Death School here?”
“We do.”
“Then is it possible to change departments?”
“……Change departments?”
“Yes. I want to become a mage specializing in that field.”
If Merhen is here, I’d better switch departments while I can.
Sticking close to him might at least let me figure out the clear conditions faster.
Asking the janitor earlier was also to see if there was any school of magic worth testing against.
At the very least, the Death School doesn’t overlap completely with Curse, does it.
It’ll be easier to change departments than trying to use a magic I have no idea how to cast.
“Your badge shows you’re still a second year. If you pass the exam, it’s entirely possible.”
“What kind of exam?”
“For a Death Magic practitioner… one moment, please.”
She glanced at the documents and looked back at me.
“You’ll need an evaluation from Professor Wellington. The exam will test your aptitude. The professor is on the third floor. You should be able to visit after classes end.”
“Thank you.”
A bell rang shortly after.
The entire building grew loud.
‘Classes are over?’
I went up to the third floor.
[Wellington’s Office]
I saw the nameplate and knocked on the door.
“Who is it?”
“A Swordsmanship Department student named Kern. May I come in?”
“…Come in.”
I entered the office.
A gaunt man wearing round glasses stared at me intently.
“What brings a Swordsmanship Department student here?”
“I want to become a Death Magic practitioner.”
“…You’re a swordsman?”
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
“Well, not exactly…”
Wellington tilted his head.
The Death School was one of the departments avoided even among mages.
By nature of the discipline, handling corpses all day was routine.
Naturally, the stench clung to your entire body, and the magic you practiced didn’t look appealing either.
But was it particularly strong compared to other schools?
Not really.
A prospective swordsman—not even a mage—showing up wanting to become a Death Magic practitioner. It was bound to be bewildering.
…Well, if he was going to do it, there wasn’t much to be done about it.
Professor Wellington produced a pure white Crystal Orb.
“This is an orb that tests your aptitude for death magic. If you have the aptitude, it will turn black. Place your hand on top of it.”
I placed my hand on the orb.
Until that moment, Professor Wellington had harbored no expectations whatsoever.
Very occasionally, there were people like this in the Swordsmanship Department.
Was becoming a swordsman ever easy?
You had to spend all day scraping bone through training, and swing a blade until your hands bled.
After a year of that, the urge to switch to another department became desperate. Especially for students without talent.
Usually, such students chose the Magic Department.
Every school of magic had its own aptitude, and if you were lucky enough to find one that matched, you could receive an education in becoming a mage.
It seemed like a much easier profession—sitting at a desk and studying.
Besides, it was an occupation as honored as knighthood. But aptitude wasn’t exactly easy to discover.
You might have to examine ten thousand people and still come up empty. And usually, even when found, it shone so faintly you couldn’t use them as a mage.
‘Must be escaping.’
It seemed he’d probably come all the way to the Death School because he had no matching aptitude elsewhere.
Then.
“…!”
Wellington, who had been staring at the Crystal Orb with listless eyes, suddenly widened them.
The white orb had changed.
Deep black—unmistakably black!
“Oh, it really turned black.”
“G-goodness!”
Wellington’s hand trembled as he held the Crystal Orb. He’d never seen—never even heard of—an aptitude this pronounced. He suddenly grabbed Kim Min-woo’s hand urgently.
“You’re… you’re going to become a mage, right?”
“Yes.”
“Yes! Brilliant thinking! A talent like yours wasted on a sword—it’s a tragedy for the whole continent! You need to study Death Magic!”
“You mean switching departments?”
“Of course! But tell me—what were your grades like?”
“Dead last, I heard.”
Wellington’s lips curled into a thin smile.
‘Extracting him shouldn’t be difficult at all.’
There were times when students switched departments and faced resistance from their current faculty—usually when the student had excellent grades worth keeping.
But this was different.
Dead last, no less.
‘Come to think of it, I heard the Swordsmanship Department has one notorious dunce.’
The son of a prestigious family, and not content with being the worst student, but notorious for his terrible conduct as well?
Rumor had it he’d used connections to get into the Imperial Academy.
His name started with Ke… something or other.
“By the way, your name is…?”
“Kern.”
“I see.”
“Why?”
“Nothing. Never mind. Just go back to the Dormitory, pack your things, and come back here. I’ll have a room assigned for you at once.”
Wellington answered quickly.
Such details were irrelevant.
What mattered was that the Death School had just gained a formidable heir—someone with unmistakable promise.
A notorious dunce would face little resistance in transferring out.
At least, that’s what he’d thought.
“I say this once more—Kern is our Swordsmanship Department’s greatest hope. Absolutely! We cannot allow his transfer under any circumstances!”
“…Pardon?”
“I said he cannot transfer!”
“I heard he was notorious, though?”
“Yes, notorious! He single-handedly put a professor in the infirmary!”
“…What?”
“You haven’t heard of this?”
“This is the first I’m hearing of it.”
The Swordsmanship Department head spoke while nodding his head.
“Just now he subdued Professor Charles in one stroke. Charles himself acknowledged it—Kern is undoubtedly a genius the likes of which comes once in a thousand years.”
Wellington’s expression hardened visibly.
Charles was indeed among the most renowned professors for his swordsmanship prowess within the department.
‘This won’t be easy.’
Only now did Wellington understand why the department head was so vehemently opposed.
And yet.
“This is a problem. We absolutely must secure this student’s transfer to the Magic Department.”
“What exactly are you trying to recruit a knight candidate for in the Magic Department? Did you discover some aptitude?”
Wellington nodded with a grave expression.
“He is a confirmed prospect for the next master of the Death School.”
“…What?”
The department head’s face stiffened.
A confirmed heir to the Death School.
Now Wellington understood why he was so desperate.
A talent of that caliber was something he would never willingly release.
“Kern himself is also very strongly interested in the transfer. Surely you’re aware that the student’s wishes are paramount, aren’t you?”
“Hmm… In any case, I’m curious why Kern wants to transfer in the first place. I think we should hear his reasons.”
“Very well. Shall we call Kern in?”
Wellington spoke with barely concealed satisfaction.
There could be any number of reasons, after all.
But one thing was certain: Kern had come to the Magic Department of his own volition.
That gave Wellington every advantage.
Soon Kern entered the department head’s office.
“Hello.”
“Yes. Kern, I hear you wish to transfer departments.”
“I do.”
“What’s your reason?”
“Does it matter?”
“A student like Kern leaving the Swordsmanship Department represents an enormous loss for the entire Empire. I need to understand why.”
The department head spoke gravely.
“There’s nothing left to learn.”
“Nothing left to… learn?”
“I’m already beating the professors. What else is there to study here? I’ve no intention of wasting more time. Send me off.”
“……I think you’re under some misapprehension.”
The department head’s voice swelled with gathering authority.
“The Swordsmanship Department is vast and deep, Kern. There are still many people who can teach you.”
“Then call them all.”
Kern spoke indifferently, his ears already half-shut to the plea.
“That’s not quite so simple, I’m afraid.”
* * *
Every student in the Swordsmanship Department crowded into a single space. The reason was simple: a colossal event had erupted.
The legendary fool Kern taking on the entire faculty of the Swordsmanship Department!
Classes halted entirely as the professors rushed to the arena, allowing the students to witness the spectacle from a distance.
“Good heavens.”
“How many have fallen so far?”
Starting with Professor Charles, who’d stepped forward for a rematch, then Professor Hemington and Professor Milanol…….
Renowned professors, every one of them, found steel at their throats before fifty exchanges had passed. The department head Arnold fared no better.
He’d managed nearly a hundred exchanges in fierce combat, but even he couldn’t escape the blade at his neck.
“You see? Nothing to learn.”
“Ha, ha-ha…….”
Arnold laughed hollowly.
In his youth, he’d served as vice-commander of the Imperial Guard Knights.
He’d watched the earlier duels unfold and continued studying Kern’s swordplay throughout.
And still he’d lost.
There was nothing left to say in his defense.
‘To match him…….’
It would take at least an active commander of the Knights to stand a chance.
A man who’d already retired, grown old in the back room of life, simply couldn’t contend with this youth.
“Truly, you must leave us?”
“Truly, I must.”
“I’d give you everything, if it would keep you here with us.”
Until moments ago, Arnold had merely thought it a shame to lose a talented student. Now it was different.
The thought of losing a genius swordsman standing before him was unbearably, achingly cruel.
Arnold’s eyes grew tender with longing.
“You can’t take Magic Department classes anyway.”
“Can’t take them?”
“Aren’t you required to take only Swordsmanship Department classes?”
In that moment.
Arnold’s eyes blazed with sudden fire.
“So what you want is to attend classes from other departments?”
“Precisely—to attend only the classes I choose.”
He’d take the same courses Merhen did. If that were possible, the department designation meant nothing. Magic or Swordsmanship—either way, he’d gain nothing from the standard curriculum.
“Ah. So that’s what this is about…….”
Arnold’s shrewd gaze turned toward the distant figure of Professor Wellington.
‘A competition, then.’
Should the two of them clash over this, something worthwhile might come of it.
That had been the whole point of opening this door in the first place.
Kim Min-woo smiled quietly to himself.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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