Necromancer Academy’s Genius Summoner - Chapter 172

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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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Summoning Genius at the Necromancer School — Episode 172
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Blood droplets fell from the Heretic Inquisitor Metin’s mace.
The burly man who had rushed at Metin lay sprawled on the ground, his face slicked with blood. As Metin released the mace with a metallic clatter, consciousness finally returned to him.
‘Ah, got carried away again.’
His eyes had rolled back for a moment—he’d nearly killed an innocent.
His target should have been heretics and necromancers, not ordinary civilians.
Metin climbed onto the fallen man and grabbed his blood-soaked face.

Whoooosh!
The blood covering the man’s face rapidly faded away. Metin pulled out a Communication Crystal with his free hand and held it to his mouth.
“This is Inquisitor Metin. I’d like all available personnel to mobilize immediately.”
Static crackled for a moment, then a tired-sounding man’s voice came through.
-What now? Today isn’t even a work day.
“There appears to be a necromancer in the area. I definitely caught the scent.”
-…….
More static, then the man replied.
-Five of them. I’m sending them your way.

* * *
Buried in the endless crowd of the Night Market, Simon remained completely oblivious to what was happening around him. The noise was overwhelming, and as it always was in places like this, there was no shortage of drunks causing trouble.
He assumed it was just another brawl breaking out somewhere.
‘I got the mask I needed, but I should pick up some travel clothes too.’
After purchasing a mask, Simon’s next target was a robe.
What he wore now was a nondescript brown robe pulled from his home—already showing signs of wear and tear.
So he decided to get a decent one while he was here. He wanted to spend all twenty million Blanc on this journey if he could, since it was currency he couldn’t use back home.
Simon looked around and entered not a street stall but a rather upscale boutique clothing shop. The proprietor greeted him with a broad smile.
“I need a Priest’s Robe. One with a hood.”
At those words, the proprietor asked for identification. In the Sacred Federation, which practiced a vertical class system, Priest’s Robes could only be purchased by actual priests.
‘Even buying clothes is controlled by social status here. Strange.’
After checking Simon’s forged identification, the proprietor asked for his measurements and promptly returned with a white robe from her wardrobe.
The design was clean and unadorned, and since he’d need to pose as a novice priest, having a white robe available seemed like a good idea.
“And here’s the greatest feature of this robe! You can wear it inside out like this!”
Flap!
As the proprietor flipped the robe inside out, it transformed into an elegant coat style. The color remained white.
“If you channel a bit of mana into it…”
She took a crystal orb in her hand and placed it on the coat, and the entire coat glowed blue.
“The color changes like this!”
“That’s impressive.”
A reversible robe that changed colors? This was useful.
The proprietor was enthusiastically explaining the fabric’s qualities when Simon subtly caught the edge of the coat and let a small amount of his Dark Element flow into it.
‘Hm.’
The coat’s color shifted to black. White robe on one side, black coat when worn inside out. He was quite pleased.
“I’ll take this one.”
It was pricey for a magical item, but Simon was satisfied with it.
After paying two million Blanc and wrapping the white robe around himself, Simon left the shop in high spirits. He still had eighteen million Blanc remaining.
Murmur, murmur, murmur.
But the atmosphere outside felt off. Simon quickly slipped into the crowd. If something had happened, there was only one possibility he could think of.
“The Heretic Inquisitors!”
“Move! Move out of the way!”
Through the unsettled atmosphere, a group of priests marched through the center of the Night Market, parting the crowds.
They carried or dragged horrifying implements—war hammers, spike crowns, torture wheels—strapped to their bodies or gripped in their hands.
Their eyes were hollow, as if possessed by dark spirits. Blood spattered their white robes, and bloodlust poured from every fiber of their being. Simply brushing against them seemed like it would tear a person to shreds.
‘……Are those the Heretic Inquisitors?’
To Simon’s eyes, they looked like nothing more than a pack of murderers drunk on blood.
They were already “questioning” several people. Right in front of the crowd, they were openly forcing people into torture devices. The interrogated screamed as if they were being torn apart.
“Are you a heretic? Are you?”
An inquisitor with a beak-like protruding mouth was torturing a resident with a spike crown as he spoke.
“Really? You’re not a heretic? You’re not?”

“No, I’ve told you a hundred times—ahhhhhhhhh!”
People who had witnessed the gruesome spectacle tried to back away quietly. The Heretic Inquisitors reacted at once with keen interest.
“Hey, why are you running? Are you a heretic?”
“Grab them. Grab them. Grab them.”
The inquisitors summoned Sacred Flame and leapt skyward, landing hard among the thick crowd. Screams of chaos erupted from all directions.
“Don’t interfere. All of you, facedown on the ground.”
“Come here. Come here.”
An inquisitor with a protruding snout spotted a woman trying to flee through the crowd, grabbed her by the hair, and dragged her back.
“I—I’m not a heretic! I’m a believer from Rohen Village! I have an Identification Card right here!”
She thrust it forward with trembling hands. The inquisitor took it, glanced over it casually, then dropped it to the ground and stomped on it with his boot.
“That bit of paper? How could we possibly trust that? We interrogate our own way.”
“Ahhhhh! Someone please help!”
She cried out desperately, but the surrounding people deliberately averted their eyes, lying helplessly pressed against the pavement.
‘This is……’
Simon’s fists clenched.
‘This isn’t interrogation at all.’
An atmosphere of terror under the guise of heretic questioning. Now he understood why the people here trembled whenever they saw a Priest.
“Get her in. Get her in.”
“Please, no!”
The inquisitor retrieved a massive Torture Wheel from his Pocket Dimension and shoved the woman against it, securing her arms and legs in place.
When the wheel turned, the sharp spikes protruding from its rear would scrape across her entire body.
Terrified, she shrieked.
“Confess. You’re a heretic, aren’t you?”
“I’ve served only the great Goddess since birth! My parents were Clerics! Please!”
“We can’t believe that. You could’ve disguised yourself, you know.”
The inquisitor grasped the wheel.
“If your faith in the Goddess is truly genuine, you’ll be able to endure this, won’t you?”
“Ahhhhh, please……!”
Simon clenched his teeth.
He was no fool—he knew that if he revealed himself and left now, everything would be ruined.
‘Don’t get caught. This is my only chance.’
Just as Simon was carefully beginning to raise his hand to cast a spell—
“Ah—”
The crowd parted like a wave. Murmurs erupted from every corner like firecrackers.
“What the hell are you all doing?”
Simon’s eyes widened. A girl in an Efnel School Uniform was striding toward the inquisitors with purposeful steps.
‘Rette!’
She glanced at Simon, who was mixed in with the crowd, and gestured with her finger as if to say she had this under control.
The Heretic Inquisitors flinched, caught off guard by Efnel’s sudden appearance.
“You lot.”
She spoke in a low, menacing voice.
“Ignoring my words?”
“…….”
One of the five inquisitors—a man wielding a Spiked Chain Sickle—shuffled forward reluctantly. He stared down at her with obvious contempt.
“We are carrying out official duties, Priestess.”
When his lips parted, grotesque teeth protruded like a monster’s.
“No matter how prestigious Efnel may be, you cannot interfere in heretic interrogations. If you would be so kind as to step aside……”
Thwack!
Rette kicked at his leg. As he staggered and fell to one knee, she immediately brought her knee up to his face.
Crack!
In a place where nearly a thousand people had gathered, the sound of the slap rang out raw and unfiltered.
“Get up, you bastard.”
“…….”
The inquisitor’s face reddened as he glared at Rette savagely. The junior inquisitors behind him wore expressions of shock rather than anger, while the snout-faced man hesitated.
“That woman. She needs to be interrogated. Strip her, lock her up, flay her skin—”
“Shut your mouth!”
A fellow inquisitor, horrified, struck the back of his head.
The senior inquisitor, the one Rette had slapped, slowly pushed himself to his feet.
“As prestigious as Efnel may be, this seems to be stepping rather out of line, doesn’t it? Dragons and earthworms each have their role to play—why not let us do our job?”
“Why would I be stepping out of line?”
Rette let out a soft laugh and crossed her arms.
“You lot — you’re actually authorized to work this jurisdiction, and you’re conducting a heretic interrogation right now, aren’t you?”
……
The senior inquisitor’s expression hardened slightly. Rette tapped the watch on her wrist.
“If you came in here on your own without approval from above and are torturing the residents like this, well — we’re going to have quite a lot to discuss, aren’t we?”
……
“Want me to dig up your whole schedule, flip it inside out, and crack your supervisor’s skull? Or would you rather just back off right now?”
The senior inquisitor gritted his teeth.
‘If it weren’t for Efnel backing her, she’d just be a student priest with no real standing…….’
His gaze flickered. There were far too many witnesses here.
His pride stung, but provoking Efnel further with another move was worse than simply withdrawing.
“Let’s go.”
The senior inquisitor turned on his heel and spoke. His juniors mumbled something in bewilderment, but he silenced them and gave his order.
“Free them all. We’re pulling out.”
At last, the tortured men and women were released. The woman who had been bound to the torture wheel bowed her head to Rette again and again.
Rette told her to take care of herself, then moved to tend to the wounds the torture had inflicted.
‘But where is that bastard?’
At the same moment, the senior judge was thinking something similar.
‘But where the hell is that fool Metin who called us in?’

* * *
Hack!
Simon ducked sharply as he bolted through the market streets. Tooth-like projectiles flew past and embedded themselves in the wall in rapid succession.
“Found you! Source of that cursed stench!”
Some madman had suddenly started attacking, ranting about some foul smell.
Simon fled in haste, while the madman shoved people aside and hurled them out of his way, charging forward. Whatever sacred magic he was wielding, he was conjuring fangs in midair and flinging them about wildly.
‘If this keeps up, innocent people will get caught in the crossfire.’
Simon slipped out of the main street and ducked into a narrow alley where foot traffic was sparse.
“Ha! So you’ve given up running!”
Thud!
The priest landed in front of Simon, his feet striking the ground with force.
“I shall judge you now. Necromancer!”
Simon smiled and traced the sign of the cross, pressing his palms together.
“There seems to be a misunderstanding. I am an apprentice priest named Ska Seraphino. And you are a Heretic Inquisitor, are you not? Perhaps we should cease the violence and proceed with the interrogation instead…….”
“Interrogation, nothing!”
Metin threw both arms up high. Simon’s gaze rose with them.
A luminous magic circle had materialized in the sky above his head.
‘Damn!’
“In the presence of my nose, no interrogation is necessary!”

Rumble-rumble-rumble-rumble!
A single lance of sacred lightning descended from the magic circle and struck Simon’s body. Light engulfed his form in an instant, and detonation followed.
Gahahaha!
Exorcism — a sacred magic so devastating to necromancers that a direct hit would purify both core and body in sacred flame.
“One more job done today…….”
But Metin’s eyes betrayed disbelief.
“……What?”
A sudden gust roared through, and a shoe sole was suddenly looming before his eyes.
Crack-crackle-crackle-crackle!
Metin went flying, blood pouring from his nose.
Thump-thump-thud!
His body crashed into a pile of garbage in the alley. Simon, having landed gracefully on the ground, brushed off his robe with a pat-pat.
“I told you I wasn’t one.”

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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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