Necromancer Academy’s Genius Summoner - Chapter 391

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

Summoning Genius of the Necromancer School, Episode 391
There was a boy.
Born into a wealthy, envied family in a time of chaos, he lacked for nothing.
But then.
-Senekta! Where are you!
His father was a demon.
His father’s name was Silaji Bisabar. A necromancer—the very kind of grave-robber that common folk spat upon.
When the boy was three years old, his father had forced a Core into the child’s heart, insisting it would do him good if he opened it so young.
But Silaji’s mediocre skill made Core implantation an agony for a three-year-old. The boy lived out his days with a shattered Core, tormented by the pain radiating from his heart.
The side effects were severe. The three-year-old’s body became wrinkled as an old man’s, his flesh bloated and splitting. Inflammation and tumors erupted across his skin, and he coughed up blood twice every hour.
The maidservants who used to wash him gently could not hide the disgust flickering across their faces.
His mother wept for a long time, cradling the boy who had become a monster through failed surgery. But Silaji himself, the one responsible, beat the boy instead, demanding he endure worse than this.
The boy’s father.
Silaji Bisabar was a beast.
He violated the mansion’s servants multiple times a day, caring nothing for their sex or race, not even sparing his own family. His sister, four years older than the boy, chose death by her own hand.
He bought slaves and war orphans indiscriminately, used their bodies, then impaled the ones he’d exhausted on stakes to watch them die.
The boy’s father—this demon who drank wine while watching his victims suffer—was hell incarnate.
A childhood of torment.
By age ten, the boy still endured the side effects of his father’s failed Core. Desperate to escape the pain in his chest, he threw himself into study. He consumed every Dark Magic text in the mansion’s library and hunted down books that couldn’t be found, reading them all.
Driven by a single obsession—to unlock the secrets of the Core and free himself from this unbearable agony—he labored without rest.
Some days he would slip into underground necromancer academic conferences to drink in forbidden knowledge.
It was then that someone appeared.
-An interesting theory, that.
A man who extended his hand to him.
-I’ll provide the funding. Research freely, however you wish.
While his father squandered the family fortune on drink and debauchery, this man’s offer of resources was nothing short of salvation to the boy.
The boy converted the warehouse into a hidden laboratory, staying hidden from his father’s eyes, and began conducting countless experiments on living subjects. The mansion overflowed with corpses—remnants of his father’s cruel games, along with the rare species and monsters his father had destroyed.
Five more years passed. The boy’s fifteenth birthday arrived.
He had finally perfected a forbidden Dark Magic technique.
The technique was called Consumption.
He’d gained the insight from monsters that shed their skins to change shape. It was a technique where one ingested another’s blood, flesh, and bone, then used Dark Magic to reassemble those components within one’s own body, shedding one’s former self and being reborn in the image of what had been consumed.
-Where is he! My son Senekta! It’s your birthday—I’ll have you myself today!
His father Silaji, drunk in the middle of the day and stumbling, burst through the door of the boy’s secret laboratory in the converted warehouse.
-What is this! What is this place!
The boy’s expression turned glacial.
He’d begged the servants to keep this laboratory secret. How could they betray him like this.
-Answer me, Senekta! What have you been hiding from me? What are you doing here!
The boy.
Smiled.
-Father.
-What, what is it?
-I’m about to eat.
From that day forward, the boy
became Silaji.
-…….
Walking through the mansion’s corridors, not a soul recognized him.
Not the maidservants who had bathed him, not even his own mother.
-Master. Dinner is ready.
A maidservant spoke respectfully. When the boy looked at her, she let out a reflexive gasp and trembled, hands clasped above her head.
Just how many times had she been beaten.
The boy extended his hand gently to her. The young maidservant, tears glistening in her eyes, slowly looked up at him.
Crack!
And the boy struck her across the face with full force.
-Worthless creature. Why do you resist.
-I—I’m sorry!
No one could know the truth.
-Master. What shall we do with the execution this afternoon?
-Proceed without delay.
If word spread that a son had murdered his father, the family would crumble.
-Dear, where is our son Senekta?
Forget.
The boy continued to treat those around him without mercy.
Part of it was to avoid his identity being discovered.
But there was also anger.
Even with Dark Magic Consumption, he couldn’t touch the heart and brain. He could recreate every fingernail and body blemish, yet the pain remained because of his shattered Core.
Just because I’ve become Silaji doesn’t mean those who betrayed me deserve release from suffering.
I can’t be the only one in pain.
The boy fulfilled the role of Silaji with unmatched devotion. As days passed, Silaji’s atrocities became widely known.
Is that man really Silaji?
A murderer.
They say he kills and experiments on slaves and orphans.
How ghastly.
When he attended a banquet, the nobility aired the boy’s misdeeds openly.
Silaji. Silaji. Silaji. Silaji.
It felt good hearing people curse and tear down his father.
Yes, more.
Curse him more.
More people needed to know of his father’s evil.
The boy conducted research and corpse experiments with visible determination, and eventually developed a method to repair his shattered Core.
The Blood Core.
Different from existing Cores.
Anyone could easily receive the procedure, but it came with countless handicaps and shortened the lifespan of the implanted.
Yet it specialized in Blood Magic Dark Magic and boasted exceptional output.
“Truly a foundational technique,” the man said.
He was the man the boy had met in childhood, who decades later still provided funding, and whom he now met again after a long time. He hadn’t aged a day.
“Won’t you join hands with me? For the truth of this world.”
The boy was deeply moved by the man’s words.
Everything he spoke of was the world the boy desired. He felt it worth staking his life upon.
And so the man and boy clasped hands.
The Blood Heavenly Cult was born.
Under the name of the Blood Heavenly Cult, Silaji committed countless atrocities and experiments.
Until this unbearable heart pain ended, until more people trampled the name Silaji, and to reach the truth.
And when Silaji’s body grew old, the boy established a new rule for the Bisabar Family.
The head of the Bisabar Family is only Silaji Bisabar.
When the family head dies, his successor receives the name Silaji.
This was, of course, a measure to maintain the name Silaji Bisabar.
The boy fathered many sons, and consumed the one in the best condition to become Silaji once more.
Son, grandson, and on through their descendants.
The boy and Silaji Bisabar continued on.
Immortality.
Only the boy knew all this truth.
Unaware of when it had happened.
“Kill them all.”
“Bring the next corpse.”
He had become the very man he despised—his father, Silaji Bisabar.
That itself was what he had turned into.
After such long centuries had passed, the age of Necromancers and Priests arrived. Silaji Bisabar the Sixth held a position as a Blood Magic professor in Kizen.
With the times changed, the image of a terrible experimenter had transformed into the renown of a great family of Blood Magic practitioners.
“I need a heart and core full of youthful vigor and vitality as an offering.”
To offer the finest heart as a sacrifice.
To execute the Apostle Resurrection Project he had awaited for so long.
He had served in Kizen for twenty years.
Just as he was about to begin his plan to sacrifice 600 first-year students, Kizen suddenly dispatched Silaji on a mission to release the Blood Ring.
An unforeseen situation, but Silaji moved with swift precision. He consumed the body of Walter Han, the successor professor he himself had recommended, and returned to Kizen.
Though a mere stripling named Simon caused interference midway, he escaped through centuries of accumulated cunning and Blood Heavenly Cult secrets that even Neftis didn’t know.
And so, just as his long-held bitter wish was finally coming to light.
“I don’t care much for binary notions of good and evil.”
It was Simon Folentia, the boy who had constantly interfered, who came to stop him at the end. And he possessed the power of a Legion Commander.
“You are the most terrible evil on this continent, Silaji Bisabar.”
Silaji laughed quietly as he answered.
“I’d say the same.”
Simon’s lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at Silaji with cold intensity.
He looked pleased.
How twisted must a mind be for such words to sound like praise to a villain? Was depravity truly that rewarding?
But beyond such questions, there was something fundamentally warped at the core of that man.
‘I agree entirely.’
Simon squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them to face Silaji again.
“You’ve cycled through bodies across a span of time I can’t even fathom.”
“……?”
“I’m not speaking to that shell.”
Simon’s eyes flew wide open.
“I’m speaking to you. Have you truly forgotten how to hold a real conversation? How to speak as one human to another? Phantom.”
At those words alone, Silaji felt a shiver run through the depths of his chest.
‘An insight that pierces the very nature of all things. Extraordinary.’
It had been ages since his heart had jolted like this. His arm fell slack at his side.
“But first—I haven’t yet heard your answer to my proposal, Simon Folentia.”
“Rejected.”
Simon bit the word out like chewing through bone, stepping Herseba forward.
“Whatever it takes, I will stop you.”
“I see.”
Silaji’s expression turned glacial as he spread both arms wide.
“Then die here.”
<Silaji Original – Blood Stone Fortress>
Crackle-crackle-crackle-crackle-crackle!
Behind Silaji, a fortress began to rise—constructed entirely of blood, ruby-red ore gleaming like precious gemstones.
“I’ll break you down so thoroughly they won’t find even a scrap of corpse.”
Dark Magic required preparation time.
The moment that fortress completed, Simon knew it would be the end.
“Herseba! Now—only the Third Authority left! Please!”
[Ah, really!]
She herself convulsed with what sounded like anguish.
[I don’t even know anymore!]
Whoooosh!
Golden sand poured forth from her form, and Simon wielded his staff to direct the torrent.
‘That sand is no ordinary thing.’
‘I have to complete the dungeon before the fortress finishes!’
Both men glared at each other while preparing their Dark Magic. In moments, Silaji’s Blood Stone Fortress reached completion, and the entire space flushed a deep crimson.
A mass-annihilation spell that would evaporate all blood within its radius and obliterate every living thing.
And then.
Whoooosh!
Herseba’s vast golden sand spread outward, engulfing both Simon and Silaji’s bodies.
<Herseba Original – World of Sand>
As the Blood Stone Fortress scattered its crimson brilliance in all directions, both men’s forms vanished beneath the sand.

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