Necromancer Academy’s Genius Summoner - Chapter 545

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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 – Episode 545
Merin and Seiwur began their duet, their rich voices filling the entire Central Plaza.
Serne watched in silence for a moment, her face curved with a smile.
“Look at her—shy as they come, yet she sings her heart out.”
Serne covered her mouth, chuckling softly.
“You really can’t hide talent, can you?”
“Speaking of which, Serne.”
Simon turned to face her.
“You like hearing Merin sing, don’t you? Every vacation you set a bet over the Successor Position just to send her to the Grand Theater. Why do you do that?”
“Oh, that?”
Serne’s eyelids dipped slightly.
“It hurts to see someone hated too much.”
“……?”
She turned her gaze toward the stage, where Merin sang with passionate intensity.
“When we were younger, we were inseparable—closer than anyone. Even when I first came to the Ivory Tower, she accepted me without prejudice.”
It was true. Regardless of what Merin thought of her now, Serne still cared for her deeply.
“So when I saw that girl taking on the darkness of ambition for the Successor Position, stressing herself out, growing obsessed, falling apart—I tried to redirect her attention a little. To give her a break. She’d always loved singing, so I had her do what she loved. But—”
Serne’s eyes softened at the corners.
“Beyond just the distraction I created with song, she seems much more emotionally stable now. Though I can’t say whose doing that is.”
“…….”
Simon closed his eyes slowly.
“I’ve said it before—if you don’t want Merin to hate you, you need to change your own attitude first.”
“That’s the strange part, though.”
A sticky emotion flickered across her eyes.
“Being hated is sad, yes, but when I see that girl desperately trying to catch up with me—there’s something about it. A perverse pleasure that runs down my spine, you know? When I trample her down a little, then leave her a thread of hope, watching her stumble after me with tears in her eyes… I can’t help but love that version of her too.”
‘……Her personality is absolutely rotten.’
Seeing Simon’s reaction, Serne laughed aloud.
“Trying to understand human emotion through only one lens is lazy convenience. If you don’t want Merin to hate you? Then reconcile with Merin. But interpreting it that way is far too simple. I’m a Necromancer who manipulates the human spirit—I know joy, anger, love better than anyone. Don’t understand emotion by its literal meaning—”
Serne stepped closer and placed her index finger on Simon’s lips.
“Interpret it from multiple angles instead.”
“……!”
Startled, Simon stepped backward, his ears flushed crimson, while Serne smiled like a mischievous little demon.
“That’s your homework for today.”
‘All of a sudden……?’
She left those words behind and departed, humming the melody.
Wow-wow-wow!
Just then applause and cheers erupted as Seiwur and Merin bowed to the audience.
The performance had been a tremendous success.
But noticing the unusual silence beside him, Simon turned to see Dio and Kamibarez staring at the sky with vacant eyes.
Sure enough, a white feather was lodged in the nape of each of their necks.
Serne must not have wanted anyone else to overhear the personal conversation they’d just had.
When Simon approached and removed the feathers, life returned to both their eyes.
“Huh, what?”
“Oh.”
The two blinked.
“Sorry! I was just spacing out for a moment.”
“Simon, what did you say?”
“Merin’s performance is over.”
“Oh really? Ha ha ha! Then shall we go tease Merin again? Kizen’s newest idol—the Cat Mask!”
Without even needing to see her reaction, Simon could picture her crimson face and the way she’d shriek in protest.
“I won’t be responsible if shame strangles you.”
“Oh, uh. That’s a bit…….”

* * *
Before the Student Council members even arrived, Merin had already covered her face and fled.
Hearing the cries of first-year students calling for an encore, asking for signatures, she ran away shrieking that she wanted to die.
Fortunately, she was able to meet with Seiwur.
“Thank you so much for coming, Seiwur.”
“Ha ha ha! I’m the one who should thank you! Agent Simon!”
The two shook hands. Simon offered his thanks and made the payment.
Seiwur also said he was quite satisfied with the impromptu performance in Kizen. Still, with the next schedule approaching, his direct subordinates agreed to drive him to Langoustin before he was late.
Though the surprise performance had ended, the Central Plaza brimmed with tremendous vitality thanks to Seiwur and Merin’s efforts.
Simon, Dick, and Kamibarez wore Student Council armbands and patrolled the surroundings, ready for any emergency.
“Look at that idea—pretty good, right, Simon!”
“Yeah, really is.”
Many clubs had set up refreshingly original booths. Each displayed their club’s distinctive character well.
Especially around the punching machine operated by the Sports Club, first-year boys crowded thick. If you won a one-on-one match, they’d hang a tag reading “Victor” around your neck, and the loser got one saying “Defeated.”
Next door, the Art Club offered instant ten-minute portrait sketches.
They captured just the key features of students’ faces and rendered them cheerfully in Dark Magic, with surprisingly high quality that kept satisfaction levels up. You could see first-years laughing and snorting as they mocked each other’s portraits.
The Student Council members wandered about marveling at the various ideas.
“Oh my, are you a first-year?”
“Want to check out our club?”
With so many people about, some second-years mistook the short Kamibarez for a first-year. But when they caught sight of the Student Council armband at her shoulder, they gasped and apologized in embarrassment.
At Kamibarez’s sulking puffed cheeks, Simon and Dick burst into loud laughter. It was all good-natured fun.
‘Now that I think about it…’
By this point, Simon found himself curious about the Mutation Club’s situation.
He left the patrol to Dick and Kamibarez for a while, unfolded the booth layout map, and headed toward the Mutation Club’s spot.
He’d heard that last year, with too few members, they couldn’t even register for a booth and only handed out flyers, but this year they’d managed to secure one.
‘I really hope a lot of new first-years come to our club too.’
Being in the outer zone, the crowd thinned steadily the farther he went from the center.
And finally, when he arrived at the Mutation Club’s booth.
Whoooosh—
A desolate wind blew.
Above the shabby folding canopy hung the words “Mutation Club” scrawled in hasty, careless script.
Beside the tent, a Siren Chimera with bewildering proportions flailed six arms in bizarre gestures, and behind it, a Deathworm retched and belched while spitting bile from its mouth.
Inside the folding canopy, hung thick with incomprehensible occult ornaments, sat Fitzgerald and Toto side by side with expressionless faces.
“…….”
Before them lay stacks of flyers as if to say “take them, please,” but it seemed no one had.
Whiiiiiing—
The wind blew again, and a flyer flew at Simon’s face, slapping flat against it. He grabbed it and peeled it away, speaking.
“……What are you all doing?”
“As you can see.”
Fitzgerald adjusted his glasses and shot back.
“We’re promoting the club.”
‘By what standard!’
Already disadvantaged by location, they ought to outwork everyone else, yet Fitzgerald sat there like he was observing a vow of silence, staring straight ahead, while Toto seemed so ashamed to even be present that he anxiously gauged the eyes of passersby.
Simon looked at the flyer that had stuck to his face earlier.
<Special Undead Research Society “Mutation Club”>
-An Undead research club, but we welcome any distinctive summoned creature. -What is mutation? Philosophical interpretation and personal reflection are essential. Intellectual conversation skills required.
-Can you distinguish between act utilitarianism and rule utilitarianism, and regarding the claim that the sacrifice of happiness cannot exist, if one argues that everything that undermines happiness is bad, should we place higher value on passive happiness than the minimization of suffering?
-Regarding such questions……
Simon quietly crumpled the flyer and stuffed it in his pocket.
‘This is garbage.’
Being from a rural background, Simon himself boasted that his artistic sense and aesthetic taste fell short, but even he could see this was excessive.
“Toto, how many of these flyers did people actually take?”
“Uh, well.”
Toto held up two fingers while sweating profusely. Simon’s eyes lit up.
“Twenty people?”
“Two people…….”
“One. One person used it as a cupcake liner.”
Fitzgerald corrected him from beside, pointing with his fingertip. A sauce-covered flyer tumbled in the wind.
Simon pressed his forehead.
“……Are you all actually serious about doing this right?”
“Of course.”
Fitzgerald shot back as if to say, why ask such a thing.
“This year, the number of club members has become especially important. We need to try harder.”
‘And yet you do this!’
He didn’t know where to even start complaining.
As a member of the Mutation Club before being Student Council President, Simon’s head throbbed.
Letting Student Council work monopolize his time and neglect this side entirely had been a critical mistake.
“Come on, Fitzgerald, Toto. This is no time for that.”
Simon gathered up the stack of flyers piled on the table as he spoke.
“Everyone knows today is the last day of club season, right? If things go on like this, we might not recruit a single first-year! Get moving!”
Toto scrambled to his feet and approached Simon.
“Here, take these. Go around and hand them out to the first-years yourself.”
“Hand them out personally?! This many?”
Toto jumped back.
“I’m too embarrassed!”
“Well, we’re in a bind now, so you’ll have to tough it out! Fitzgerald! What are you just sitting there for?”
Fitzgerald adjusted his glasses.
“Are you giving that order as Student Council President?”
“Ah, no. I meant as just one member…”
“I’m the Mutation Club Vice-President. That’s a member’s job, not mine.”
This guy had a strange sense of hierarchy about the oddest things.
Simon sighed.
“Do the other third-years in the Mutation Club know how dire things are right now?”
Fitzgerald, usually so composed, looked caught off guard.
And almost as if his words had summoned them—
“…Hey.”
One of the only two third-years in the Mutation Club appeared.
His name was Dio, Benya’s closest friend. He shuffled in with dark circles under hollow eyes and a shambling gait like a zombie.
“Senior Dio!”
“…Just stopped by before heading out on a mission.”
Dio shook the envelope he’d brought.
“Club season’s going to be rough. Thought you could use some snacks…”
He trailed off.
Surveying the state of the club booth and the scattered flyers, his expression grew serious.
“…What happened here?”
Dio’s eyes swept over Fitzgerald and Toto before settling on Simon.
Simon scratched his head and explained the whole situation.
“…”
After hearing him out, Dio silently gestured Fitzgerald and Toto over to the side.
For a moment, the two stood at attention while the senior lectured them.
After Dio left,
“I’ll give you my full cooperation, Simon.”
Fitzgerald’s attitude had shifted.
“So what should we do? Just hand out the flyers?”
“Actually, the flyers themselves are part of the problem.”
Passing out these shabby flyers wouldn’t solve the core issue.
Simon pulled out a Communication Crystal from his pocket.
“This is the kind of thing that needs an expert.”
“?”
Shortly after, Dick arrived in response to Simon’s call.
“Hey, Simon! What’s the crisis this time?”
“Oh, it’s not an emergency. I’m sorry to bother you on a personal matter. I was wondering if you could help us out a bit, if you’re free?”
Simon smiled awkwardly and continued.
“Our Mutation Club hasn’t recruited a single member yet. Even some basic advice would help—is there anything you could consult us on?”
“Hmm.”
Dick’s gaze began to move.
He looked at the letters hanging above the tent, then at the occult decorations, then at the strange six-armed Chimera, then at Deswim still retching and spewing bile, and finally at the expressionless Fitzgerald and the unconfident-looking Toto.
“Uh…”
Dick scratched his head.
“This is apocalypse-level bad, isn’t it?”

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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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