Necromancer Academy’s Genius Summoner - Chapter 56

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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 Prodigy of the Necromancer School — Chapter 56
After the first period ended, the next class began.
Class A had four two-hour lessons scheduled for today, and the second was Spiritology.
“With spirit! Let’s go in with spirit today, everybody!”
The man bellowing from the middle of the classroom in that booming voice was named Umbra.
What was peculiar about him was that his body appeared hazy and indistinct compared to other people—his legs had even vanished like a ghost’s, drifting weightlessly through the air.
Rumor had it that from devoting himself so deeply to Spirit Incarnation Magic, constantly crossing the boundary between reality and the spirit realm, he’d ended up looking like this.
And across his face he wore a wolf mask that looked uncannily lifelike.
It looked so real that students whispered among themselves that it was actually his true face, or that Umbra was half-werewolf.
Spiritology, as taught by Umbra, was the study of dealing with spiritual entities called Spirits—something everyone assumed would be a meticulous, quiet class. They couldn’t have been more wrong.
“You lack grit! Your minds are rotting away! Why is everyone already convinced they can’t do it? Come on, lift your arms!”
Umbra was a fiery professor. Despite his limp, ghostly body, he overflowed with strength and energy.
Simon had been concentrating, trying to sense a Spirit, but he’d been jolted awake by Umbra’s booming voice more times than he could count.
Once, a student had asked him a question.
“Professor! No matter what I do, I can’t sense the Spirit. What should I do?”
Umbra had answered like this.
“Feel it! Don’t think you can’t—just feel it! Feel it unconditionally! You’re still not trying hard enough! Put your whole heart and soul into it! Pour everything out!”
It wasn’t particularly helpful advice, truth be told.
But there was something to what Umbra said—sensing a Spirit wasn’t something that could be solved through effort, knowledge, or technique.
Spiritual Affinity, the resonance with souls, differed from person to person, and whether someone could sense a Spirit with limited affinity depended on individual constitution.
And Simon, for whom talent never failed to emerge elsewhere, found himself struggling.
‘Why can’t I feel it…?’
Spiritology was his one weakness.
Simon sat with the other students gathered around a table, diligently turning the Ouija Board.
“It’s my turn to chant the incantation now, isn’t it?”
Jamie Victoria spoke in a hollow voice. Even she, the honored class representative and outstanding in every subject, had yet to sense a Spirit.
The foundation of Spiritology was sensing a Spirit. Without that, no lesson had any meaning.
So Umbra had divided the class into two teams.
The first was the Education Team, following Umbra’s lessons to learn how to operate Spirits.
The second was the Preparation Team. Since they hadn’t yet sensed Spirits, they spent the entire class repeatedly using various tools in an attempt to feel one.
For the duration of the lesson, they turned the Ouija Board, or performed rituals summoning spirits while executing strange dances with occult tools, or lay in coffins meditating like corpses (though falling asleep or dozing off earned them a scolding)—nothing but these bizarre activities repeated endlessly.
“No grit!”
Occasionally, Umbra would have the Education Team practice on their own and come over to check on the Preparation Team’s progress.
“Put more spirit into it!”
Five students had their hands together on the planchette, turning the Ouija Board, when Umbra grabbed it with his massive hand.
“Grip the planchette harder! Like this! Like this! Turn it with all your might and devotion!”
“Yes, sir!”
He was so strong that working alone, he overpowered the combined force of five teenage students.
“Louder!”
“Yes, sir!!”
Jamie Victoria shut her eyes tight and began reciting the incantation to summon the spirit in a loud voice.
Umbra nodded approvingly and turned his gaze elsewhere.
“Wait, you there! What are you doing?”
Umbra’s attention shifted to Kamibarez, who was perspiring heavily while clumsily performing the ritual dance.
She startled at his shout.
“I’m s-sorry, Professor!”
“Lift your legs higher! Kick them up! Yes, that’s it! Spirit summoning is no joke! Make your movements bigger!”
“Yes, sir!!”
As she thrust her knees up and executed a grotesque dance, small tears glistened at the corners of her eyes. Her entire body was drenched in sweat.
Honestly, it was no dance a girl should have to perform.
It wasn’t rhythmic at all—her head thrashing wildly, her shoulders swinging back and forth, her arms coiled like a cobra thrusting forward and back in jerking motions. How any of that was supposed to summon spirits was beyond comprehension.
The students had already taken to calling it the “chicken scratch dance” or the “squid courtship dance.”
‘Poor… poor Kamibarez…’
Simon was watching her with a pitying expression.
“Alright, assistants! Switch teams!”
“Yes, sir!”
The assistants approached Simon’s group, who were turning the Ouija Board.
“Leave all items exactly as they are and stand up. You’ll move to perform the ritual dance.”
His turn had come at last.
Simon sighed heavily to himself as he took his position in the back of the lecture hall where Kamibarez had been dancing, where a mat had been laid out.
There were positions for this too, so students had to stand facing each other at a slight distance. And standing directly in front of Simon happened to be a female student—Jamie Victoria.
“I’ll trust that you’ve all memorized the dance by now. Let’s begin.”
The teaching assistants began playing strange instruments adorned with skulls.
Pee-ree-ree~—an eerie piping sound echoed through the hall.
‘Just empty your mind.’
Honestly, this wasn’t a dance you could perform in a sane state of mind. Simon emptied himself completely and moved his body as instructed, stepping through the movements.
His legs shot forward, then his knees snapped up to touch his chest. His limbs undulated in a wave-like motion, flailing, while his torso stretched and his entire body writhed like a mollusk.
Students who had been sneaking glances at Umbra through half-closed eyes let out involuntary laughs at Simon’s passionate dancing.
‘Why does he… put so much effort into something like this?’
‘He’s just good at everything physical.’
Simon, thinking of nothing, began to dance with his body and mind unified into one.
In essence, he had achieved the state of Unity of Self and Movement.
Umbra watched this and chuckled with satisfaction.
“Excellent! Splendid! Even if you don’t sense a Spirit, that kind of dedication and effort is all that matters!”
Umbra decided he should bring Simon along to the Goliath Death Anniversary celebration scheduled for this coming weekend and have him work a Spirit dance side gig. The boy’s dancing was truly extraordinary.
‘…It seems like he’s praising me, but I feel nothing but dread.’
Simon kept dancing, then cracked open his eyes slightly.
Class representative Jamie Victoria was shuffling through an awkward chicken-scratch dance, her movements ungainly. The moment their eyes met, her face flushed crimson with embarrassment.
“P-please… don’t look at me….”
At her plea, Simon quickly turned his head away.
The students weren’t entirely without complaints about being made to do such a thing. But they didn’t dare protest to Umbra—instead, they meekly vented their frustrations to the teaching assistants.
The assistants’ responses were always similar.
‘If you don’t like it, go to the Education Team yourselves.’
That’s what they effectively said, wrapped up politely.
In truth, the Preparation Team students had nothing to complain about, since they were here because their own abilities fell short.
What was most surprising, though, was that one or two students per class would actually sense a real Spirit while doing the chicken-scratch dance and spinning the Ouija Board, raising their hands suddenly.
“Congratulations. You’ll be moving to the Education Team.”
Students who finally escaped this embarrassing hell to the Education Team cheered with the expression of people who owned the world.
By this point, rumors had spread among the students that the effectiveness of the occult ritual was less impressive than the fact that they gritted their teeth so hard not to be humiliated that they actually came to sense a Spirit.
And so the grueling Spiritology class finally ended.
‘Ugghhh….’
Having completed the entire Preparation Team course, Simon was now walking through the corridor with arms and legs flailing like a mollusk.
“Hey, are you really okay?”
Merin asked in alarm. Simon lifted his drooping arm and made a gesture indicating he was fine.
“What did you guys in the Education Team learn?”
“Obviously, offensive magic.”
Dick, walking on the left, replied while resting his head on his arm. Unbelievable as it was, Dick had also succeeded in sensing a Spirit on his first class.
“Because of the Duel Evaluation, all the professors are teaching practical offensive magic instead of theory—magic you can use right away. I’m sure the other classes are doing the same.”
“Hmm, what’s the next class?”
Dick grinned and answered.
“Hematology.”
That very class which had been repeatedly postponed due to Silaji’s mission schedule and personal circumstances overlapping.
For Class A, today was the first lesson.

* * *
The Hematology class was held inside a building called the Magical Bullet Shooting Practice Hall.
The instructor was the renowned Silaji Bisabar—the middle-aged professor who had transported Simon on the Yellow River Whale to Kizen.
His complexion was still pallid, as though ravaged by illness, his cheeks hollow. His white hair now outnumbered his black hair, and both his hands bore a sickly yellow tinge.
Simon thought his condition had deteriorated since their first meeting.
“*Cough, cough.* Hematology is the study of dark magic executed through blood as a medium.”
Seven students, including Simon, lined up at the firing line. Two hundred meters ahead of them stood a target board.
“It’s commonly known as a study that recreates the secret arts of vampires or blood kin, but *ahem!* that is untrue. Since blood—the caster’s own blood—is the substance with the best compatibility with the Dark Element throughout history, it boasts a long and distinguished legacy.”
The students at the firing line took their firing stance, while the rest sat down to listen to Silaji’s explanation.
“The Dark Element and the blood of its wielder form a perfect match in any configuration. A Necromancer can ‘artificially’ mix the Dark Element and blood to produce a wide variety of magical reactions.”
Silaji spread both hands. In one, a sphere formed entirely of the Dark Element; in the other, blood dripped freely.
The moment blood droplets and the Dark Element met in the air, they reacted violently, splattering about at tremendous speed.
The students gasped in awe.
“*Cough, cough!* Setting aside my role as a Hematology professor, I can say with conviction that for a Necromancer not to use blood is a waste of their full potential. There is the drawback that the caster’s own physical stamina is consumed, but Hematology can become the fastest and most powerful weapon a Necromancer possesses.”
Following the teaching assistant’s instructions, the students at the firing line clenched one fist and extended only their right index finger, aiming it toward the target board.
All of them were wearing some kind of Lingering Device on their arms, and as the teaching assistants activated the devices, magical circles unfurled in front of each student’s fingertip, staining deep red with blood.
This is the fundamental technique of Hematology: the Blood Bullet. The Lingering Device was, in simple terms, the Hematology version of the Magical Circle Corrector.
“Ahem. Since this is Class A’s first session, we’ve fallen rather far behind on the curriculum. Today’s lesson will have you identify what blood type you possess, understand what benefits it can provide, and finally, practice real-world application of Blood Bullets.”
No matter how far behind we are, how many things are we tackling simultaneously?
As Simon pondered this, he gazed toward the target range two hundred meters away. Rather than a single target, ten of them stood erected in succession.
Silaji Bisabar turned his head, arms folded behind his back.
“Then, let us begin with actual combat.”

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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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