Necromancer Academy’s Genius Summoner - Chapter 413

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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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Necromancer School’s Summoning Genius Episode 413
A severe cold had swept across the resort town.
Snow swirled through the streets, and the bone-deep chill made his body shiver involuntarily.
Rette, hugging her shoulders slightly while glancing about, finally spoke.
“It’s quite quiet, isn’t it?”
“Mm.”
Surely it was the cold—yet given this city’s size and reputation as a resort, the streets should have been teeming with people. Instead, every shop door was sealed shut, and only a handful of figures bundled against the chill made their way past.
‘Something’s definitely gone wrong here.’
Simon, who had been resting his chin in thought, suddenly lifted his head.
“Rette, this way!”
“?”
Simon broke through the bitter wind and began running down the street.
“Why are you suddenly running, you rascal?”
Rette grumbled but hurried after him.
After passing several buildings and threading through a maze of winding alleys, the view suddenly opened before them.
“Ah…!”
The sea was frozen solid.
The entire expanse of water visible to their eyes was ice, thick and unbroken. Rette’s expression hardened.
“The situation is far more dire than what we’d heard.”
She pulled out something resembling a guidebook from her travel satchel.
“This is how it was supposed to be.”
A dazzling beach and sandy shore, people in swimwear frolicking in the waves, and beyond them, snow-capped mountains.
It had all been in perfect harmony—but now, not a trace of that scene from the guidebook remained anywhere.
Simon raised his gaze.
The snow-covered mountains stretched before him, magnificent and awe-inspiring as a painted masterpiece, yet somehow they felt different now.
“Hey, what do you think? Will there be any chance of setting sail next week?”
Simon and Rette turned toward the voice.
A boatman was sitting at the dock, speaking to someone. His companion, a sailor, was tapping his knuckles against the thick ice beneath them, then shaking his head.
“Next week? More like a month, I’d wager.”
“This is a headache. If we can’t move this cargo, we’ll go under.”
“Excuse me. I’d like to ask you something.”
Rette shook her snowy white hair and approached the two men.
“How long has it been like this—with such harsh cold and the sea frozen over?”
“How long? Well, the weather’s been erratic lately, but the sea freezing over like this? About six months now.”
The boatman sighed heavily as he answered.
“Has anything like this happened before?”
“Kula’s harbor is an ice-free port. It’s a natural blessing—the waters never freeze even in winter. Everything happening in this city right now is unprecedented in Kula’s history.”
“You’re right about that.”
The dark-skinned sailor climbed up a ladder onto the dock.
“All the grain in the village has frozen to death. The only route we had—the sea lanes—is now cut off. We’re trapped in this city with nothing but starvation ahead.”
Now Simon spoke.
“Is there no other route for supplies to reach the city besides the sea?”
“Take a look at that treacherous mountain range.”
The sailor gestured with his hand.
The city was surrounded entirely by snow-covered mountains. Apart from this sole stretch of flat land, mountains hemmed in every direction, with the sea to the south.
“Even if you offered gold, there’s not a merchant company anywhere willing to cross those peaks and bring supplies back.”
“Right. Absolutely right.”
The boatman beside him added his voice.
“And that’s not even the worst of it. The mountain monsters that normally only appear in deep winter are now far more active because of the severe cold. Kula’s turned into a living hell.”
As he lamented, he studied Rette’s appearance, then asked her.
“Haven’t seen your face before. Tourist?”
Rette’s expression didn’t flicker as she deflected smoothly.
“What tourist would be wandering about in a situation like this? We’re adventurers.”
“I see.”
He waved his hand dismissively.
“If you’ve got the skill to avoid monster attacks and cross the mountains, I’d say leave Kula as soon as you can. It looks calm now on the surface, but it’s a powder keg. With food running short, this place could turn into a lawless wasteland any moment.”
“Thank you for the advice.”
Simon smiled pleasantly and inclined his head. The boatman nodded in acknowledgment.
“And thank you for listening to an old man’s complaints.”

* * *
As Simon gathered information by exploring the city, what he learned largely matched what he’d heard at the Dock.
“From what I know, Kula survives on tourism and its specialty goods.”
Rette spoke up, walking with her hands thrust into her pockets.
“What kind of specialty?”
“Holy Leaves.”
Simon’s expression betrayed that this was new to him, and Rette continued in her unhurried tone.
“It’s a plant used in major religious ceremonies and worship services. When you wash it clean and let it float on water, it purifies impurities, and the leaf composition especially turns the water white—it’s the mark of the highest-grade blessed water. Great cathedrals always use it.”
“That must fetch a high price.”
“Exactly. But in weather like this, the Holy Leaves harvest is bound to be ruined.”
The more they learned, the more hopeless Kula’s situation became.
Then warm breath escaped from Simon’s lips.
“I’m starting to feel the cold. We should throw something on.”
“That would be wise.”
The two opened a Subspace portal simultaneously and drew out Robes.
They’d come dressed according to the wardrobe Israphil had prepared, but truly, the completion of any adventurer’s fashion was the Robe. Without one, even an adventurer looked out of place.
Simon pulled on a white Robe and was fastening it when—
“Hm?”
Rette was pulling on a white Robe of identical design. Simon’s face broke into a delighted smile.
“Oh, that Robe! That’s the one I bought you in the Sacred Federation, isn’t it?”
“!!”
Rette spun toward him with a flustered expression, her face flushing bright red as she hurriedly hid the Robe behind her back.
“Wh-wh-what are you talking about! I just happened to pull this one at random from among all my Robes!”
“Really?”
When Simon smiled knowingly, Rette stammered out her next words.
“Flip it inside out!”
“What?”
“Flip it to the black side, I said! I’ll wear the white one!”
“Why? I can wear my own clothes however I please.”
“No! If we’re like this, then—!”
Just then.
Two women passing by caught sight of them and giggled.
“Hey, look at those two. They’re totally wearing couple’s outfits.”
“Ugh, so annoyingly cute.”
Though it was barely a whisper, Rette heard it with preternatural clarity, and even her earlobes flushed crimson.
She lunged at Simon and tried to tear his clothes off.
“W-wait, why are you suddenly—?”
“Change into the black one right now!”
When Simon continued to resist, Rette drove her forehead hard into his chest with a thunk. He staggered back with a grunt.
“Look, if you’re bothered by wearing the same outfit, just pull on a different one from all those Robes you have!”
“N-no! Don’t order me around! You Necromancer!”
“But you’re the one ordering—ack!”
The two bickered heatedly in the street for some time.
“Hah. Hah.”
After a fierce scuffle, Rette pinned Simon against the wall and succeeded in stripping his Robe away.
The struggle had been so violent that Simon now sat sprawled against the wall with his legs apart, while Rette knelt between them, clutching Simon’s seized Robe firmly in her hands.
Their rough breathing came fast and close.
“You’ll freeze to death doing weird stuff outside in this cold!”
Guffaw-guffaw-guffaw!
Some drunk men stumbled past, cackling.
Rette’s neck and face were now as red as a beet, and she scrambled backward.
“Ugh! So immature! Just change your clothes like a normal person!”
Simon tidied up his disheveled hair.
“You startled me charging at me like that. And what’s a Saint doing forcibly undressing someone in the street?”
“Shut your mouth! Don’t you dare call me a Saint!”
Rette flipped Simon’s Robe to its black side and thrust it hard against his chest.
“P-put it on, quickly. We don’t have time to play around.”
She then sprang to her feet and strode briskly ahead without him.
Simon had no choice but to don the black-sided Robe.
He’d been planning to travel in a white Robe—he was meant to pose as a Priest in the Sacred Federation, after all.
“Ah, you’re not going to investigate? Stop dawdling and follow me.”
Still, there was a hint of apology in the way Rette glanced back at Simon as she spoke, and he followed her quietly, a small smile playing at his lips.

* * *
-There’s no food in the village. It’s a real crisis.
-Last night I saw monsters moving in herds down from the Mountain Range! It feels like a bad omen.
The two of them organized the information they’d gathered into a notebook.
As they continued their rounds, gathering what they could, they came upon—
Cough, cough, cough!
An elderly woman, sitting on a woven mat with a burlap sack draped across her shoulders, came into view. A crystal ball rested before her mat.
It looked like a fortune-telling stall catering to tourists, but with no tourists around, there’d be little business to speak of.
The sight of her haggard face trembling in the cold, waiting for customers, stirred an unexpected pang of sympathy.
“Wait here for a moment.”
Rette strode purposefully toward a nearby shop with an open door.
She spoke with someone inside, paid for something, and returned with bread and dried meat in hand.
“Forgive me—”
Rette knelt beside the old woman’s mat with a bright smile.
“We’re short on money, but would you accept food instead?”
As Rette tore open the package and laid out the bread and dried meat, tears welled up in the old woman’s eyes.
“Thank you! Thank you so much!”
She immediately began eating ravenously, her hunger evident.
“Please, have some too.”
Rette said this while chewing the dried meat thoughtfully.
It was a belated lunch.
Simon, sitting beside her with a piece of bread, spoke in a small voice.
“I see it again. You really do have the bearing of a saint after all…….”
Smack!
Rette’s fist drove into Simon’s forearm. The genuine force behind the blow made it hurt terribly.
Simon clutched his arm and suffered in silent agony.
After the meal ended, the old woman, her expression noticeably improved, picked up her crystal ball to resume work.
“Heheheh! So what sort of reading should I give you…….”
“Actually, no. I was hoping to ask you something instead.”
Rette inquired about the strange weather and severe cold afflicting Kula.
She received an answer different from what others had offered—something fresher, something new.
“All of this is because of Escail’s Curse.”
At the mention of Escail, both Simon and Rette’s eyes lit up. Escail was the very village they would soon be visiting as tutors.
The old woman’s gnarled fingers pointed toward the heart of the snow-capped peaks.
“The resentment of Escail’s people toward those of Kula has become a Curse, dragging Kula into a frozen hell.”
“Resentment?”
“The people of Escail originally lived in Kula too. It was more than several decades ago now.”
But the rest of her story was merely gossip, offering them little of real value.
“Well then, since you’ve paid for the reading, I should give you one.”
The old woman’s eyes flicked between Simon and Rette’s faces, and she smiled knowingly. As a professional fortune-teller, she had her ways with visitors.
“How about a couple’s reading…….”
“If you must give us a reading, I’d prefer separate ones.”
Rette cut her off flatly.

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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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