Necromancer Academy’s Genius Summoner - Chapter 294

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

Necromancer School’s Summoning Genius Chapter 294
Slash!
Slash!
The Sword of Ruin swept through the air again and again. Plant-type monsters cascading down and falling white apples were shredded into fragments with each flash of the blade.
‘Focus. Focus.’
Simon’s eyes fixed on a single point. At the very top of the tree, he could see Figaro’s startled face.
[This monster!]
As Figaro’s arm moved, thick wooden vines lashed out like whips.
[Impossible! This is outright sacrilege!!]
Simon pivoted swiftly, evading the attack.
“You’re the one committing sacrilege!”
Simon called to mind everything he had seen since arriving here.
The ruined village.
The townspeople drained of their vitality.
And Sasha, buried to her neck.
“Anyone can see the guilt is yours!”
A colossal slash erupted forward, sweeping away all the plant-type monsters and wooden vines in its path.
‘The remaining distance—pull out everything I have!’
As Simon opened the badge-shaped Subspace of Holiness, Akalion burst forth as though waiting for this very moment, racing on all fours.
Simon mounted him and channeled Holiness into Akalion’s body.
“Go! Akalion!”
-Roooaaarrr!
Akalion surged forward at full speed.
Simon locked his legs firmly around Akalion’s trunk, leaving evasion and charging to him, riding like a mounted cavalry as he prepared a new White Magic spell.
Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!
More white apples fell from above.
Simon lifted the corner of his mouth and deployed the White Magic Circle.
‘Thank you, Professor Parahan!’

Multiple Holy Spears shot skyward and collided with the descending white apples, triggering forced explosions.
Seeing the first white apple explode, Akalion quickly grasped the pattern and intelligently veered away from the blast radius as he ran.
[Grrk!]
Figaro crossed both arms, and once more wooden vines flew toward them.
Simon thrust both arms forward.

A massive shield from the school of protection unfurled, safely receiving the incoming wooden vines and deflecting them to the side, allowing Akalion to break through.
[Who—who exactly are you!]
Figaro’s eyes burned red. His skill was that of an active Priest—no exaggeration.
‘Eighty percent!’
Simon’s eyes widened.
They were almost there now. He could see Figaro’s face with the naked eye.
[Damn it!]
Watching Simon charge toward him, Figaro was seized by fear.
‘Why are the Paladins the Federation sent taking so long!’
According to the Federation’s system, they were obligated to descend and protect the Saint the moment one appeared.
And this was the crux of Figaro’s grand design.
They could not question that he—a man—had become a Saint. Because this was the Goddess’s choice.
The Goddess’s will could not be doubted; it had to be accepted as is.
He wanted to instill contradiction in them.
‘But…!’
To transcend religion’s limits, he had chosen science and research. Yet.
‘But what in the world is that thing!’
A monster that defied explanation by theology or doctrine alike.
Something that seemed to mock all truth stood before his eyes.
‘I cannot give up like this!’
Fortunately, the closer his opponent drew to the main body, the stronger and more varied Figaro’s available techniques became.
Figaro began to prepare White Magic.

White Magic Circles made of Sacred Fire unfurled across the trees’ bodies, and from those very spots, massive wooden vines rose up.
All of the wooden vines were dyed white with Holiness.
[Go!]
Wooden vines poured down like spear strikes. Simon maintained the Divine Barrier continuously.
Crack!
The first vine to reach him tore through the Divine Barrier like tissue paper in a single blow.
Simon jerked his head to the side, a thin line of blood blooming across his cheek.
‘The power—it’s nothing like before!’
Simon dropped the barrier at once and grabbed the Sword of Ruin from his back, swinging it in a wide arc. The pursuing vines split with sharp cracks.
[!]
Figaro’s expression hardened.
Though this entire tree was Sasha’s body—the vessel of the Saint—the vines cut by Simon would not heal.
Figaro understood.
If the blade of that greatsword touched her directly, even a Saint would die.
[Terrifyingly magnificent!]
A monster born, it seemed, for the very purpose of slaying Saints.
[From the first day she became a Saint, such an opponent is more than worthy—a match befitting her!]

Figaro doubled the magical circle and summoned countless fortified wooden vines.
He, too, fought with desperation.
Thud!
A vine erupting from the ground caught Akalion’s hind legs before he could dodge. The vine hurled him into the air.
“Fall back, Akalion!”
Simon bounded off Akalion and dove back toward the tree’s body.
Progress: 90%.
Distance remaining: 10%.
Now Simon ran alone, his white holy cloak streaming behind him as he swung the Sword of Ruin without restraint.
Slash!
Crack!
Slash! Slash! Slash! Slash!
Anything moving before his eyes—not a single thing was left uncut.
‘Haah!’
Now even his Holiness was running dry.
Holiness consumed mental stamina far more than the Dark Element. His head throbbed, and his vision swam.
[A monster!]
Figaro cried out in disgust.
“Whatever it takes!”
Simon stretched his free arm backward. Holiness flared brilliantly, transforming into a holy spear.
“I will bring Sasha!”
Multiple bands of Holiness spiraled around the spear, intertwining to form the shape of a drill.
“Back to safety!”

Boom!
With a deafening roar, the spinning holy spear launched forward.
He had taken the image he glimpsed once on the Train and made it reality.
[Ugh!]
Figaro raised wooden vines before him, forming a defensive wall.
Crash-crash-crash!
The reinforced holy spear tore through the vines and plunged deep, stopping mere inches before Figaro’s throat.
Figaro’s blood ran cold as he drew a sharp breath, his gaze fixed straight ahead.
Simon was now directly before him.
“Distance remaining!”
Simon charged forward, greatsword leading.
“Zero!”
[Futile!]
Just as Simon lunged at Figaro, he sensed something wrong.
On the tree’s crown—a place that should never be visible from below—white apples were rolling about.
[Total detonation!]
Every white apple erupted in blinding light, triggering a sacred fire explosion.
Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-crash—!
A Sacred Fire blast that purified all foreign matter save the Saint herself.
And yet.
Before long, Simon found himself suspended in the air.
‘As long as I don’t take a direct hit from the blast—’
Thud.
He descended to the ground.
‘I can endure this.’
Sacred Fire of this magnitude was nothing compared to what he’d faced from Phlema.
“Haaaaa!”
Figaro now stood just a few paces ahead.
As Simon shot forward like an arrow, raising the Sword of Ruin to strike—
[Boy!]
A single step away, and his body wouldn’t move. Dropping his gaze in alarm, he found wooden tendrils already coiled around his waist.
“Ah!”
Figaro was right before his eyes!
The distance was desperately close, but it seemed he might still manage to sever the vines by force.
Simon thrust his front leg forward and swung the greatsword with all his might.
Crack!
A burning pain seared through his right arm.
Simon’s vision reeled.
‘…!!’
A human arm flew high into the sky, and in that hand was the Sword of Ruin.
The moment he recognized it as his own limb, a brutal agony crashed over him so violently the world tilted.
‘Ugh—!’
Simon clenched his teeth against the pain as wooden tendrils wound around his entire body.
[I was careless at the final moment!]
Figaro clenched his fist.
[I’ll give you credit—you nearly killed me with that single step difference!]
The wooden vines began to crush Simon’s entire form with merciless force. Without Pier’s Bone Armor, he would have been flattened into pulp long ago.
[Boy! You won’t last much longer!]
Pier’s Bone Armor creaked and groaned, shattering on the verge of collapse. And now he had neither his right arm nor the Sword of Ruin.
‘Haa… haa…’
As his consciousness began to fade, Simon glimpsed Sasha ahead of Figaro—nothing but her face remaining.
She still lay with her eyes closed, as though lost in slumber.
‘Sasha…!’
Simon stretched his remaining left arm toward her.
‘!’
The instant he touched her.
The space transformed.
Not the wooden canopy of Figaro’s tree, but absolute nothingness—a space of perfect white emptiness. The vines binding his body vanished, and Simon was free.
[Hello—]
At the sound of a voice, Simon turned around.
A girl stood before him with hair half white, half crimson. She wore a colorless dress and sat upon a Throne.
[We’ve been entangled so deeply for so long—I thought we should meet at least once.]
“You are…”
Simon’s voice trembled.
“Who are you?”
Her mouth spread wide in a grin.
‘In your human terms, it’s best to call me the Purification Essence.’
So she was the Purification Essence?
She spoke like a person, moved like a person.
[This form is an avatar I’ve materialized, and this place too is a mental image I’ve brought into being. What do you think? Isn’t it splendid?]
“…There’s nothing here.”
[Purification’s final form—absolute nothingness—I interpreted it in my own way. Ah, never mind that.]
She rested her chin on her hand.
[How about striking a bargain with me, Simon?]
“A bargain?”
As she rose from the Throne, invisible white chains appeared and constrained her.
[As you can see, I’m caught in an unstable state because of that thing called Figaro.]
“…”
[Both Sasha and I have been tangled up in that marionette’s game. It’s unbearable. Abhorrent!]
Simon drew a shallow breath.
“What are the terms of this bargain?”
[Set me free. All you have to do is cut down Figaro.]
Simon’s gaze shifted to his right. Even within this mental image, his right arm hung severed, blood dripping steadily from the wound.
“That sounds difficult.”
She bared her teeth in a smile.
[I’ll lend you my strength. We’ll combine our power just long enough to survive this crisis. What do you say?]
Simon couldn’t make sense of her words.
“I’m a Necromancer. Even if the Saint’s Essence lends me power, how would that even—”
[An excellent question!]
She clapped her hands together, laughing.
[You’re a Necromancer, a Legion’s contract-holder, and a man no less! Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t even glance at you, but as fate would have it—]
She spread both arms wide, grinning wickedly.
[You have the ‘qualification’!]
“……?”
[You don’t realize how extraordinary this is, but it’s nothing short of a miracle, Simon!]
He didn’t understand what she meant.
“This isn’t the time to be choosy about methods.”
Simon raised his head to look at her.
“I accept your proposal, Purification Essence.”
Her lips curved upward.
[Take my hand.]
She was bound by chains and couldn’t move.
Simon strode forward and grasped her white hand.
[I’ll show you ultimate power.]

* * *
The void receded, and the world returned to normal.
Simon was still constricted by the wooden vines, and Figaro held victory in hand, his fingers closing around Simon’s throat.
Nothing had changed.
Or so it seemed.
[!]
Figaro’s pupils quivered.
[No, this, how is this—what?]
In confusion, as if he’d forgotten something crucial, he ran his hands frantically over his own body, touching and patting it desperately.
‘……Ah.’
Simon understood at last. The identity of this power surging through his chest.
And what came next was simple.
To release this overwhelming force.
‘Just a little of it.’
Whoooosh!
A blaze of pure white fire, vast as a mountain, erupted from Simon’s entire body. The wooden vines that had bound him crumbled to ash in an instant, scattering on the wind.
[Why does he have the Saint’s power!]
Figaro screamed in anguish.
Simon’s hair turned white, lengthening like long strands, flickering like flames. His eyes blazed with brilliant golden light, and a veil of Sacred Fire wrapped around him protectively.
Whoooosh!
Flames ignited at the severed wound of Simon’s right arm, and the limb regenerated whole.
It was the regenerative power of Sacred Fire.
[Khahahahahaha!]
Pier laughed with resonant delight.
[Now you make sport of the very laws of the world itself! Boy!!!]
Simon extended his newly restored right arm backward. In his grip, a mass of Sacred Fire the size of a building ignited, its form hardening and solidifying.
It was a blade.
A substance that did not exist in this world—an alien made of pure light. The white blade was beautiful and smooth, its edge curved like dancing flames.
This was the power Simon wielded through the Essence—a divine authority.
Shhh.
The Legion Commander who was also a Saint lifted the blade.
That brilliant white, burning sword stretched so high it seemed to pierce the sky.
And then.
A miracle in the form of a blade descended.
<Simon Original – Terminus>
Screeeeeeeeeech!
The blade of Sacred Fire bisected all things in its path, and everything along that diagonal trajectory was swallowed into a vast fissure of light and consumed by flame.
That single stroke alone—
Crack!
—severed Figaro’s fixed body cleanly in two.
Ha, haha! Ahahaha!
Figaro’s upper half tilted and tumbled through the air, his mouth spilling hollow laughter.
His torso struck branches as it fell, and with a crackling sound his body began to decompose.
As he descended, he stretched his arm toward Simon.
The boy with hair like white flame gazed down at him with expressionless eyes.
I—
The blueprint he had dreamed of his entire life, the ideal he had imagined, now manifested before his eyes in perfect form. Figaro could not seem to regain his senses.
I was not wrong!
A man accepting the Purification Essence of a Saint?
Absurd.
Please, come to your senses.
How many people had mocked his vision when they heard it.
But look now.
In the most perfect form and shape.
That boy—he had manifested the power of a Saint.
I offer my respect, Legion Commander. No.
His lips moved one final time.
The first Saint.

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