Necromancer Academy’s Genius Summoner - Chapter 214

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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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The Necromancer School’s Summoning Genius — Episode 214
“We, as students of Kizen…”
Simon concentrated entirely on reading only the words visible before him.
He couldn’t stumble over his words, and he absolutely couldn’t mispronounce anything.
The oath’s content seemed to be the usual platitudes about honor, dignity, and giving one’s best in education, but concentrating so hard, even speaking aloud, the words barely penetrated his mind.
A minute passed in an instant, and the oath was finished.
‘Phew. Didn’t mess up.’
“Why were you shaking so much?”
At Serne’s teasing question, Simon answered with an embarrassed expression.
“I guess I was nervous, thinking I had to get it right.”
“You spoke so smoothly though~”
Following Aaron’s instructions, the two who’d finished the oath came down the stairs and returned to their seats.
“You did great, Simon!”
Kamibarez and Dick welcomed him back. Simon sat down and glanced sideways at Merin. She wore an expression of distinct displeasure.
“Did you like it?”
For some reason, he felt he should answer well here.
“Not really. I wasn’t thinking anything at all.”
Merin snorted.
With all the student representative oaths finished, the true highlight of the Opening Ceremony had arrived.
“Faculty members. Please enter.”
The moment that stirred the heart more than any other. As the Kizen professors—all of them celebrities—appeared in the hall, the students cheered louder than ever before.
‘They’re all doing well!’
Simon’s gaze lingered on familiar faces.
Jane, Class A’s instructor and Vice-Chancellor.
Hong Peng, the Combat Magic professor, and Bahil, the Curse Magic professor.
Among others, Erik, the Dark Reversal Magic professor, and Umbra, the Necromancy professor, stood out.
“And there’s one more announcement. This integrated second semester, we’ve welcomed new faculty members.”
The students murmured at Aaron’s words. Everyone had already been talking about who the new Poison Magic professor would be.
“Then allow me to introduce them. Three professors, please come forward.”
Three unfamiliar men and women stepped forward to the platform. Aaron introduced them in order from right to left.
“This may come as something of a surprise, but having received the recommendation of Professor Silaji, who is currently on assignment, Professor Walter Han will be taking over Blood Magic instruction.”
A man in brown business attire, wearing glasses, stepped forward.
Cheers erupted from all sides. The female students’ squeals were almost deafening.
“Who is that? Who is it?”
“Wow, his face is practically cheating.”
“I can already hear Blood Magic majors increasing.”
Merin, seeing Walter for the first time, was equally startled, and even the male students expressed admiration with genuine hearts.
It wasn’t jealousy at all—he was like a walking sculpture. Walter, having stepped forward, took the Amplification Crystal handed to him by an attendant.
“Pleased to meet you all. I’m Walter Han.”
At his soft, warm voice, female students in various spots complained of dizziness.
“I’m honored to take over Blood Magic instruction in place of Professor Silaji. While my skills fall far short of hers, I’ll do my very best.”
Thunderous applause poured down.
After saying a few more brief words, Walter finished his introduction and returned to his place. Aaron introduced the next professor.
“Next is the new instructor for Holy Defense Magic.”
Until now, Holy Defense Magic classes had been less about teaching methods of defending against Holiness than a kind of ideological education.
Particularly, Professor Hulut, who taught Holy Defense Magic last semester, was a Necromancer who’d spent his entire life guarding the Federation’s front lines. He was a soldier to his bones and harbored extreme hatred for Priests.
Why are Priests bad.
Why must we defeat the Sacred Federation.
He spoke of the Priests’ cruelty and duplicity, and as he recounted the terror acts perpetrated by zealots and his own experiences, he incited the students’ hatred and rage.
Because such ideological instruction was the mainstream, the actual important methods of defending against Holiness had been somewhat neglected.
Ultimately, following the Holy Maiden Incident, Neftis made a sweeping decision. One could only say this appointment was truly unprecedented.
“Hmm.”
This old man, dressed in white robes and fanning himself with one hand, was that incredibly strong Priest all the first-year students had encountered at least once at the entrance of Kizen.
“Before I introduce him, let me say this first.”
Aaron spoke in a grave voice.
“I will not tolerate any disrespect toward the professor.”
At Aaron’s coldly severe words, the students’ expressions hardened. A few students of extreme inclinations had been preparing to boo at the word “Priest,” but Aaron’s warning made them swallow their voices.
“A person we’ve gone to great lengths to bring here. Professor Parahan, Chancellor of the Anti-Sacred Federation Association and former Bishop of Efnel.”
Clap, clap, clap.
Scattered applause sounded.
The applause for Walter was completely the opposite of what met him—those clapping quickly fell silent, conscious of the surrounding atmosphere.
Yet Parahan laughed quietly, nodding toward Aaron with a gesture of acknowledgment.
It was gratitude for his consideration. Aaron returned the gesture with a respectful bow.
In the silence that fell like frost, Parahan stepped forward and received an Amplification Crystal from an attendant.
“…….”
This was undoubtedly an unprecedented situation.
It was the first time a Priest had officially assumed authority over an institution, and the fact that it was Kizen—no provincial backwater—was shock enough to stun the entire student body.
They would now have no choice but to listen to the teachings of a Priest.
A considerable proportion of students regarded Priests as beings that ought to be eradicated, and hostility toward them had reached a fever pitch in the wake of the Holy Maiden Incident.
What would Parahan, sent from the Sacred Federation, have to say in such circumstances?
All eyes—Simon’s among them—converged on the stage. Even the professors seated in the hall stole glances, waiting for him to speak.
Parahan advanced with an otherworldly grace, his billowing white robes rippling like those of an immortal sage, and held the Amplification Crystal near his mouth.
“Efnel,” he began slowly,
opening his palm,
“seeks my death above all else in this world.”
Whoooooosh!
Holy flame blazed forth from his hand, surging toward the ceiling with such force that gasps and cries erupted from all sides. Even the professors in the back row flinched, their bodies recoiling.
“In Efnel, they teach that this Holy Power descends only to those chosen by the Goddess,” he said, extinguishing the flame.
“Yet my very existence stands as direct refutation of their logic. How could they not wish for my death? They must pray a hundred, a thousand times a day for divine punishment to strike me down.”
The old man’s voice resonated through the entire Great Hall. Even Simon, seated among the crowd, marveled at how completely he had seized control of the disordered assembly through the display of Holy Power.
“If Efnel truly represents the will of the Goddess, how can they explain the Holy Power of this old man who stands against them!”
His eyes held depths of darkness and sorrow.
“Hear me, young people. The method by which Efnel governs its people is deception. They blind the eyes and seal the ears. No thought, no knowledge is permitted to circulate. They place only a lantern and scriptures in a darkened room, forcing people to read nothing else, ossifying their minds, hearts, and values. That is their way.”
His voice, firm and compelling, spread like ripples across still water.
“In the Goddess’s name, the people must rejoice at having their wealth unjustly stripped away. In the Goddess’s name, they must reject all foreign knowledge as clouding the mind. Those who question are tortured by the Inquisitors and oppressed through terror. Tell me—”
The air had grown oppressively heavy.
“Who deserves the Goddess’s wrath!”
Clap.
One student began applauding, expression vacant.
Clap. Clap.
Two, three others nearby joined in.
Clap clap clap clap clap clap.
Scattered applause erupted throughout the hall—modest in volume, yet genuine. The old man smiled softly and bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment.
Parahan believed in the existence of divinity, yet he regarded Efnel as an organization that perverted and distorted the true will of the divine to consolidate its own power and satisfy its selfish desires.
The scriptures taught that the Goddess cherished and loved all creation and humanity equally. Then why did they teach the slaughter of half of humankind?
The scriptures commanded that all people remain awakened. Yet why did they blind eyes and seal ears?
As his faith deepened, these doubts had only grown, until at last he had cast off the robes of his ecclesiastical station.
His path led him to the Dark Alliance. Neftis had received him gladly and entrusted him with the task of rallying apostate Priests to their cause.
“I do not impose my convictions upon others,” he said. “Yet I am certain that Efnel is the common enemy of us all. This old man will likely not live to see the day of liberation. But I can sow seeds. With my knowledge and experience, I will teach you how to stand against Holy Power. I hope that someday, you will drive out evil and save the innocent people from its grip.”
Parahan withdrew the Amplification Crystal from his mouth and nodded toward Aaron. It was finished.
Aaron gestured to the students and spoke.
“Now, applaud.”
The students clapped their hands.
The hostility and deep-rooted prejudice had not vanished with mere words, yet the applause was noticeably louder than when Parahan had first taken the stage.
Parahan returned to the faculty section and took a seat beside Walter.
“And finally, the professor who has recently joined Kizen. We were quite fortunate to bring her on board.”
Tap-tap-tap-tap.
A woman in her late twenties walked toward the podium, her reddish-brown hair bound neatly in a rope-tied ponytail, swaying with each step.
The entire assembly suddenly erupted into excited murmurs.
“W-who is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Doesn’t her face remind you a bit of Professor Hong Peng?”
“Yeah, I thought the same thing.”
Murmur, murmur, murmur.
Byeol-Ya came to a stop before the assembled students. Simon, seated in the hall, let out a stifled laugh.
‘She must have been extremely nervous.’
She had shed her usual bizarre, tattered getup and dressed herself properly in a black suit. Her face was clean, evidently made up. Dressed like this—looking almost normal—she was genuinely beautiful.
Yet Byeol-Ya herself seemed unaccustomed to this appearance, standing somewhat dazed. An attendant placed the Amplification Crystal in her hand, and Aaron began to explain.

“In Professor Rang’s stead, I present your new instructor for Poison Magic—Professor Byeol-Ya Toon Sokuem Malarat. She’s the twin sister of Professor Hong Peng, whom you all know well.”
Ohhhhh!
The students’ eyes gleamed with anticipation, and this time a surge of reaction erupted from the male students in particular. Those specializing in Poison Magic were positively trembling with excitement.
“…….”
Yet something appeared distinctly wrong with Byeol-Ya.
Her eyes were stretched wide open, her shoulders hunched up to her ears, and her spine curved forward. She flinched and twitched at irregular intervals, clearly uncomfortable.
It was as though someone had forcibly dressed a cat in clothes it despised, leaving it broken and helpless.
For several minutes, Byeol-Ya remained frozen in that posture, saying nothing. The students began to notice the oddness and whisper among themselves. Aaron, who was conducting the ceremony, cleared his throat and spoke up.
“Professor? Perhaps a word for the students?”
Byeol-Ya stayed locked in her rigid stance, utterly motionless.
The whispers grew louder. The broadcast attendants grimaced, silently screaming for her to say something—anything.
“……Uh…….”
At last, the first syllable fell.
Then silence again.
Simon’s gaze drifted to the faculty seating at the rear, where Hong Peng sat with her hand pressed to her forehead, exhaling deeply and repeatedly.
“……Ugh.”
Byeol-Ya’s shoulders began to convulse violently.
“Uhhh…… Uh…… Uaahhhhh…….”
Aaron spoke up in alarm.
“Professor. Is something the matter?”
“Screw it! This! Is! SUFFOCATING!!!!”
She seized the formal suit she was wearing and tore at it viciously, ripping fabric with sharp, aggressive jerks. Kizen erupted into chaos at this outrageous display.
Shreds of the suit scattered in all directions. The skirt split cleanly down its length, and she gouged holes through her stockings.
Her ragged clothing beneath the formal suit was now exposed. She kicked off her high heels one after another, going barefoot. As she tore away the hair tie, her reddish-brown locks fell free and tumbled around her shoulders.
“Ahhhh! Yesssss! Now I can actually breathe!”
She let out a ringing shout.
The broadcast attendant was on the verge of tears, desperately signaling Aaron to stop her. But Aaron himself wore the satisfied smile of someone who’d found a kindred spirit.
“Ever try to stuff me in that suffocating garbage again and I’ll end you!!”
Having issued this warning at full volume to the coordinators, she picked up an Amplification Crystal that had fallen to the floor.
“Nice to meet you, you little rascals! I’m Byeol-Ya!”

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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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