Necromancer Academy’s Genius Summoner - Chapter 501

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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 Summoning Genius of the Necromancer School 501
Clatter—clatter—
Simon had arrived in Tarados and was now indulging in carriage travel to his heart’s content.
The sound of wagon wheels rolling had become familiar to his ears. Even the uncomfortable rattling and the precariously swaying cup of water had grown so ordinary that by now his mood had lifted entirely. It would be perfect if he only had one light book to read.
“Simon. Six o’clock position.”
“Understood.”
Of course, the journey was hardly peaceful.
A chimera made from the mixed forms of countless beasts was giving chase to the carriage. In Tarados, abandoned test subjects and chimeras ruled the land like a kingdom of their own.
Simon gave the chimera one long, measured look, then turned his eyes back to his book.
Thwack! Thud! Thud!
Black arrows poured down like sheets of rain upon the chimera. The creature, bristling with countless arrow shafts embedded in its body, finally toppled to the sand with a heavy thump and lay sprawled.
—Clack!
—Clack-clack-clack!
The skeleton archers atop the carriage cheered.
“My, these certainly are necromancers!”
The coachman steering the horses ahead spoke in admiration.
“I never dreamed we’d traverse Tarados so comfortably!”
“Yes, don’t mind the chimeras—just focus on driving the carriage.”
Skeleton archers stood ready atop the carriage, and farther back, Pier and Erzsebet followed behind, methodically clearing away chimeras before they could approach.
It was a reasonably pleasant journey. Risa, the younger sister of the client they’d agreed to travel with, was sleeping soundly, and Kassan was transcribing the information they’d gathered into his notebook.
A brief moment of peace before a great battle.
Simon leaned back against the cushions inside the carriage and turned the next page of his book.
‘It reads smoothly. I’ve made good progress already.’
His father Richard had taught him that whenever you arrived in an unfamiliar place on a mission or assignment, you had to understand that region’s culture and history before the solution would become clear.
Simon had asked the coachman to tell him stories of Tarados along the way, but the coachman said he’d better just look at this—and pulled a book from the storage compartment, calling it a real shortcut.
This book was the memoir of the Former Lord, from Tarados’s golden age.
The childhood stories had ended, and now came the highlight of the book.
The point where the Golden Dungeon appeared.
‘How intriguing.’
The dungeon that had emerged in Tarados supposedly dropped “golden ore” whenever a monster was slain.
This gold, which held a faint reddish tint, gleamed with a brilliance that surpassed any jewel on the continent, and its luster never faded even when taken outside the dungeon.
Adventurers sold the gold in the marketplace, and jewelry crafted from it sparked a craze among the high nobility, ushering Tarados into an age of great golden prosperity.
“I still remember that time vividly. News spread of a dungeon that dropped gold, and thousands upon thousands of adventurers flocked to Tarados, dreaming of sudden fortune.”
“A settlement formed around the dungeon, and people filled it. I saw this as an opportunity. I invested money to grow the town and promote it. Within a few years, it became the most prosperous city in the Kingdom.”
“But in those days, I did not know what despair and suffering that dungeon would bring upon us.”
“Mmm.”
Risa shifted restlessly, as if the carriage were too cramped. When Simon gently stroked her hair, she soon rested her head on his lap and fell back into peaceful sleep.
Simon returned his gaze to the book.
“The dungeon’s monsters were born from the dungeon’s walls and possessed a strange regenerative power. They could recover easily even if pierced by a spear, but once the golden ore embedded in their chests was removed, they could be destroyed. The adventurers would hand the ore to merchants waiting eagerly outside the dungeon, and heavy sums of money would pass into their hands.”
“Blinded by gold, people came to control the dungeon’s first level, where monsters did not appear. Within this dungeon, human wounds healed as quickly as a monster’s would. Hunger barely troubled them, and drinking left no hangover. It was as if time itself had stopped.”
“People spent all day eating, sleeping, and drinking on the first level. Since their bodies could not be harmed, even drugs flourished. They would do anything for pleasure, and the dungeon became a den of depravity born from human wickedness. We called those who lived this way in the dungeon ‘Dungeon Addicts.'”
“The Dungeon Addicts never wished to leave the dungeon. They would eat and drink all day, and when their money ran out, they would descend to the second level to hunt dungeon monsters and hand the gold ore to merchants for payment. With that money, they would buy more drink, buy women, buy drugs.”
“When mankind loses the value of labor, tragedy must follow.”
Kassan suddenly spoke from the seat beside him.
“…Ah, how long have you been reading along?”
“From the first page straight through.”
Kassan scratched at the scar on his eye.
“Understanding a region’s history and culture is as important as understanding battle itself.”
“You sound just like my father.”
Simon smiled and turned his attention back to the book.
It began with the words: something had started to go wrong.
“Something had started to go wrong. The Dungeon Addicts grew in number, while conversely, the frequency with which dungeon monsters appeared began to decline. The Dungeon Addicts clashed with one another over the gold. Blood spattered and heads split open, yet within moments they would return to their original state. The Dungeon Addicts now killed people as casually as they might play a game to pass the time.”
“When no more gold appeared, the merchants withdrew. Dungeon Addicts who could no longer earn money found themselves unable to obtain drink, women, or drugs. At last they poured out of the dungeon and robbed the virtuous city dwellers of their valuables and food, and even their lives. They carried out the habits formed in the dungeon, killing people without a second thought.”
“I sent guards to control them. But the Dungeon Addicts who emerged showed no sign of death no matter how many were cut down. Their wounds regenerated and they rose again without end. Yes, by then they had already become ‘monsters’ of the dungeon themselves.”
Simon sat there in stunned disbelief.
“…People becoming monsters? Did this really happen?”
“Yes, it did.”
The coachman turned back from his seat to answer.
“When I was about five or six years old, my father was a Dungeon Addict. Because he never came home, my mother would always be sighing heavily.”
“Ah…”
“The calamity is about to unfold.”
Kassan urged him forward with the same tone.
“Turn the page, Simon. Quickly now.”
“Ah, yes.”
The city burned and crumbled to ruin. The great lords trembled at the thought of these immortal Dungeon Addicts pouring into their own lands. The Kingdom sent an edict demanding the crisis be resolved by any means necessary. Should we fail, Tarados would have to be sealed forever, they said.
I hired skilled adventurers—five of the continent’s most renowned, those who had never once failed to conquer a dungeon. This is my only remaining option. They will venture to the deepest reaches of the Golden Dungeon, slay the Dungeon Master, and obliterate the dungeon entirely.
Simon could feel the Former Lord’s mental state crumbling as he wrote. He turned the page with mounting dread.
They succeeded! The adventurers—no, our heroes have slain the Dungeon Master! The dungeon began to crumble, and at last, both those trapped within and those outside regained their senses! Our great adventurers have saved Tarados!
The Former Lord’s diary radiated profound relief.
But.
His mood shifted in a single page.
All of this feels like a nightmare. I have heard a terrible account. The awakened Dungeon Addicts, their minds returned to them, grew furious at the heroes who had freed them—demanding to know why we destroyed our paradise. They cut down the wounded adventurers mercilessly with their blades, desecrating their corpses. There are rumors that one survived, though I cannot verify it.
I have decided to step down as lord. I feel profound despair and disillusionment at the depths of human depravity. Can this truly be humanity? If so, I can lead them no longer. A new lord will be dispatched from Langoustin to take my place. May fortune favor him.
The memoir ended there.
“…….”
Simon closed the book, eyes shut. Wonder mingled with an unsettling unease—that such a history existed on this continent.
“Coachman.”
“Yes?”
“What happened after that?”
The Coachman let out a bitter laugh.
“What could those addicts have done—creatures who knew only indulgence and pleasure without labor within the dungeon? They starved to death, one by one.”
“…….”
“The economy of Tarados, which had maintained prices three to four times higher than other regions due to the Golden Dungeon’s activity, collapsed entirely. When the dungeon was destroyed, the precious ores the nobility had used for luxuries all lost their luster, becoming worthless stone. Tarados paid the full price. Capital and people drained away like a receding tide, and gangs poured in to strip anything of value.”
Simon nodded slowly.
If Tarados’s infrastructure depended entirely on dungeon revenues, it would have been impossible to abruptly transform the system and adapt the people to it.
The territory must have become the impoverished land it is now, and the new lord sent by the Kingdom’s order surely oppressed and exploited the inhabitants.
Then the Conspiracy—that group conducting body experiments—arrived, the Ganes Guild took root with their backing, and everything spiraled beyond recovery.
“Now, more than forty years later, even I harbor some resentment toward the previous generation,” the Coachman said.
He continued quietly.
“The catastrophe struck just as we were coming of age, and we had to bear the full weight of our elders’ mistakes and the Dungeon Addicts’ folly. In the end, I fled to Eprun and worked there after my mother passed.”
“……I see.”
Kassan turned his head sharply.
“Forgive the interruption, but we’ve arrived.”
Beyond the wilderness where failed Chimera experiments roamed, Simon’s party finally reached their destination—a ruined city.
Nothing remained but the outlines of houses; the surroundings lay desolate and barren.
“Is it……”
“Yes. This is the place from the story,” the Coachman said, his voice grave.
He spoke with quiet certainty.
“Where the Golden Dungeon once stood, the jewel of Tarados’s history, the pleasure city once known as Sogo.”
Sogo truly held nothing left.
A place where no human could live. A ruin, pure and simple. Only house foundations and pillars scattered thinly across the landscape.
“According to our information, the Ganes Guild and the lord’s soldiers are relocating all captured residents to these ruins,” Kassan said.
He continued thoughtfully.
“Could the Conspiracy’s headquarters be nearby? Why choose such an eerie place……”
“Because it’s shunned by the people of Tarados. It’s ideal for conducting illegal body experiments in secret. Or,” Kassan’s eyes sharpened, “there’s an entirely different reason they had to choose this place.”
His gaze grew piercing.
A reason yet unknown.
As they spoke, the carriage rolled on through the ruins of the city.
‘…….’
Behind a pillar, a pair of wide, bulging white eyes watched their passage.

* * *
“We’re here. Let’s get down, Risa.”
“Okay!”
At last, they reached their destination. Stepping from the carriage, they stood where the Golden Dungeon had once existed within Sogo.
“I never imagined I’d return to this place,” the Coachman murmured, his eyes clouded with regret as he surveyed the surroundings.
Simon opened his mouth to speak.
He asked gently.
“Coachman, you never entered the dungeon as a child?”
“……No. The adults kept all the children away from the dungeon’s vicinity. It was such a lawless place, and violence broke out so frequently. I only remember being chased away once when I went searching for my addicted father.”
Simon dropped to one knee and pressed his palm flat against the sand, then swept his gaze across the scattered stone debris and broken pillars around him.
Kassan crouched low too, sniffing the air intently.
“Faint, but there’s a lingering trace of people passing through. And it doesn’t seem very old.”
“There are marks on the pillars where sand’s been scraped away. Signs of someone moving through here.”
Simon’s eyes sharpened as he spoke.
“So it’s true—the Ganes Guild and the territorial forces did transport people here, just as we heard.”
Kassan’s expression grew grave as he continued his examination of the air.
“Simon.”
“Yes, Kassan?”
“Be careful.”
Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh—
Whoosh—whoosh—
The sand around the Ruins began erupting in jagged columns. Simon raised his Darkness aura at once and shouted, “Coachman! Risa! Get inside the carriage!”
“Yes, understood!”
The Coachman rushed Risa back to the carriage, while Simon positioned himself to shield it.
Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh—whoosh—
The sand continued its violent ascent, and finally, undead soldiers emerged—their bodies desiccated like jerky, wielding swords and shields as they advanced.
“Kassan!”
“I’m on it.”
Both of them launched forward simultaneously. Simon charged straight at the nearest soldier and snapped a vicious kick at its head.
Crack!
The soldier’s head shattered lightly. But then—
Squelch—squelch—
The destroyed portion bubbled up like mud, and the face began reconstructing itself.
It was the same no matter how many times he destroyed it.
‘Of all things.’
Simon’s face turned grave.
‘Undead soldiers that regenerate on this ground. How troublesome.’

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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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