Necromancer Academy’s Genius Summoner - Chapter 601

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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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Summoning Genius of the Necromancer School, Episode 601
That dawn.
Simon had completely collapsed into sleep in the Club Basement.
His enthusiasm for creating Manus Durahane by the end of the day had been genuine enough, but throwing himself into the more difficult Durahane creation while his exhaustion accumulated from hours of earlier construction was reckless.
Before he realized it, Simon was sprawled on the floor, fast asleep.
…….
…….
Only an eerie silence filled the basement.
Scattered across the center of the table were Manus’s Skull that Simon had been studying, and all manner of Undead materials.
Floating in the air were Magic Circles, some still crackling as their effects continued to discharge.
Crackle!
The Magic Circles suspended in midair repeated their cycle of drawing in surrounding mana and expelling it.
Crackle!
Crackle!
After repeating this several times, the Magic Circle’s duration exhausted itself and it spontaneously decomposed.
A few of its fragments drifted into the eye sockets of Manus’s skeleton.
Whoom—
Surely with its magical power previously cut off, light ignited in Skeleton Manus’s pupils. Those crimson pinpoints gazed down at the sleeping Simon.
Ssssssss—
Manus’s head rocketed upward into the air, spewing Darkness in all directions. Scattered skeleton bones from all around converged toward Manus at the center.
Soon they began connecting to one another with crackling sounds.
Creak—
Creak-creak—
Manus gained a body.
Pieces were missing here and there, and the bones were arranged haphazardly, making its movements clumsy, but it managed to walk with difficulty.
Creak—
Creak—
With an eerie sound, the skeleton’s body creaked as it walked forward.
Slowly, limping with each step.
Deliberate, if halting.
It was closing in on Simon.
Swift—
As Manus walked, it seized the Work Knife lying on the table.
When the Darkness flowing from its skull made contact with the Work Knife, the blade surged upward and transformed into the shape of a pitch-black longsword.
Creak—
Creak—
That was when Simon woke.
A prickling sensation across his skin finally forced his eyes open.
‘Ah, I must have dozed off for a moment…….’
And the moment his eyes opened, the sight before him was—
a skeleton raising a sword directly at him.
“Whoa!”
Simon hastily spread his legs. With a whoosh, the sharp blade left a long line across the space between his legs.
Simon, startled, scrambled to his feet and stumbled backward.
[…….]
It should have connected cleanly.
Seemingly dissatisfied with its own clumsy arms, Manus gave them a displeased look before walking toward Simon again.
‘What is that thing! How is it even moving?’
Simon wiped cold sweat from his brow as he watched Manus’s skull and the skeleton’s bones.
‘It’s seized control of my skeleton.’
It wasn’t wielding proper Summoning control like a legitimate skeleton would—it was simply wrapping the Darkness around the bones, suspending them in the air, and forcibly adhering them to its own form.
A skeleton’s skull, stripped of its body, was moaning indignantly somewhere in the distance.
Whoosh!
Manus swung the sword again. Simon quickly dropped his stance, and several strands of his hair were sliced away, fluttering through the air.
Feeling his heart lurch, Simon reached out his arm.
“Wait, hold on! Why are you attacking me?”
Simon, accustomed to life among Ancient Undead, spoke those words—only to immediately realize how foolish the question sounded.
This was the true nature of the Undead.
Driven by the instinct of the deceased to hate all that lives. This wasn’t Manus anymore—it was a beast obeying base instinct.
Slash.
Manus lowered his stance and gripped the sword with both hands, drawing it back beneath his chin. Simon felt every hair on his body stand on end.
That was the posture of true Swordsmanship.
‘Fighting a Sword Master at this distance is suicide!’
Despite his vision blurring and his condition at its worst, the spike of danger jolted his mind awake, and focus blazed through him.

He lashed out with the Cloud like a whip, seized the table behind Manus, and yanked with all his strength.
[…….]
Manus spun and swung his blade backward.
Shwip!
The table split with a clean edge that made the skin crawl.
In that same breath, Simon bolted toward the exit.
He could fight—but what was the point if he ended up destroying Manus with his own hands while the corpse was still under study?
The priority was to trap Manus here and escape.
‘That body—Manus is only maintaining its form by sheer force. It can’t chase me……!’
Then.
A chill raced down Simon’s spine and he glanced back. Manus had taken the stance for a slash.
‘Dangerous!’
Snap!
Simon grabbed the coffin lid lying nearby while running, reinforced it with Darkness, and hoisted it up.
And.
Screeeeeeck!
The world splits in two.
The blade screams forward—a slash that defies physics and nature itself, and the reflected light from a nearby lamp blazes across the space in an instant before fading.
The coffin lid in Simon’s hands cleaves neatly apart.
Whoooosh!
A fountain of blood erupts from Simon’s shoulder in its wake.
‘He cut through the Kizen Uniform’s barrier in one stroke……!’
Behind that, the basement wall at Simon’s back tears open as if gasping, the sound ripping through the air.
Through the gap, a pale cross-section is exposed.
Thud.
Simon collapsed where he stood, clutching his shoulder.
The wound ran deep. Blood streamed down, soaking his uniform shirt crimson. His breath came ragged and shallow, his face draining of color.
Yet the backlash from that single strike had left its mark—Manus’s right arm was now a tattered ruin, twisted and disfigured.
Manus still wore that expression of incomprehension, and with his remaining left arm, he grasped the sword from the floor.
Creak.
Creak.
Then, moving slowly to finish the matter, he approached.
“What.”
Clutching his bleeding shoulder, Simon smiled faintly.
“I bought us time.”
Boom!
[Legion Commander!]
The seal on the door broke, and Erzsebet came hurtling into the basement.
The moment she saw blood pouring from Simon’s shoulder, her eyes flared wide.
[How dare you!]
She thrust her arm out roughly—not deploying her usual Web Technique, but simply releasing concentrated Darkness in a raw burst.
Yet the effect was devastating. The bones that Manus had held together with Darkness scattered violently under the crushing pressure, and in an instant Manus was reduced to nothing but a skull tumbling to the floor.
Boom!
Erzsebet immediately stomped on the skull that fell to the ground. Darkness rippled across her heel as she bore down with enough force to shatter it at any moment.
[I’m destroying this thing right now!]
“Stop!”
Simon cried out urgently.
“……I’m fine. You’re getting carried away, Erzsebet.”
[Legion Commander!]
Erzsebet wound Manus’s skull tightly with webbing as a precaution against any possibility, sealing it before rushing to Simon.
[Good timing, as always.]
Pier’s duplicate form spoke. Simon bowed his head.
“Did Pier call you?”
[Yes. You wouldn’t answer even while asleep, so I sent Erzsebet just in case.]
“I owe you my life.”
Erzsebet was restless, her eyes fixed on the sword wound across Simon’s shoulder and the blood trickling down his arm.
“I’m… all right. It could be dangerous, so would you step back for a moment?”
Erzsebet withdrew without protest, and Simon closed his eyes.
‘I can do anything.’
A low hum resonated through the air.
He felt the darkness that had flowed through his body drain away, replaced by a surge of holy energy. As a Priest now, Simon placed his hand over the wound.

A brilliant light burst forth.
He applied emergency treatment with Healing, the foundational spell of restoration magic, but it wasn’t enough.
He’d lost too much blood—his head spun with dizziness.
[No! Legion Commander! You mustn’t die and leave the Girl behind!]
When Simon didn’t respond, Erzsebet wailed. Simon managed a weak laugh.
“I’m… not dying. But… Professor Parahan.”
[Yes?]
“Take me to Professor Parahan’s house.”

* * *
Without hesitation, Erzsebet hoisted Simon onto her back and made for Parahan’s House.
Parahan was already waiting outside his front door, as if he’d somehow known they were coming.
Erzsebet quickly shapeshifted into a pink-haired female student with the persona of “Elizabeth Wepper” and explained everything to him.
Simon was carried to Parahan’s bedroom, and as the professor’s Holy Magic unfolded, consciousness slipped away.
By the next day.
—Meow! Meow!
—Mew, mew, mew!
Simon’s eyes opened to the sensation of something soft and furry brushing against his face.
‘Ah.’
He was in Parahan’s House.
Hayangyi was perched on his chest, playing, while Kkamangi was on his face, delivering playful swats.
The moment Simon’s eyes opened, both Divine Beast cats let out a chorus of “meows” and nuzzled their faces against his cheeks.
“Ha ha.”
Their affection melted away his tension. A fresh breeze drifted through the window, carrying the peaceful chirping of birds.
“Don’t move just yet.”
Parahan, the Professor of Holy Defense Magic, stroked his white beard as he entered the room.
“Your wounds could reopen.”
“…Ah.”
Simon lowered his gaze and, for the first time, saw his own body. The injured area from Manus’s attack was wrapped tightly with bandages.
“Thank you for helping me, Professor.”
“Ha ha! Not at all. You’re a student I value—this much is only natural.”
—Grrrgh!
Below, Akalion, the Divine Beast bear, stood holding a tray and wet cloth in his head. Parahan replaced the cloth on Simon’s forehead and took a seat beside the bed.
“So, what happened?”
Simon recounted the entire story.
He’d been conducting undead experiments when he dozed off for a moment, and during that time, an undead that had awakened attacked him.
Such accidents weren’t rare at Kizen, so Parahan nodded knowingly.
“What sort of undead were you creating that a student of your caliber would end up in such a state?”
“…Ha ha.”
Simon scratched his head awkwardly.
“I suppose I was too careless.”
Parahan rose wordlessly from his seat.
“It’s the weekend. While exam preparation is fine, rest is most important. Stay as long as you need and recover well.”
“Thank you so much!”

* * *
Simon spent the morning recuperating at Parahan’s House, lost in thought.
‘Even after all my effort, it didn’t budge….’
How had Manus awakened at dawn?
More than that—though Manus was now entirely different from when he was an Ancient Undead, the swordsmanship that dwelt within him remained unchanged.
The sword stroke Manus had delivered at the end, the one that cut him down, wouldn’t leave his mind.
‘Ha ha, I haven’t even recovered my senses yet.’
The fact that, despite suffering such a wound, he still burned with the desire to revise his formulas and challenge Manus again made him laugh—and he knew then that he’d truly become a Necromancer.
So Simon spent his mornings recuperating at Parahan’s house, then returned to the Dormitory in the afternoons.
With rest, his mind cleared somewhat and a sense of ease settled over him.
He decided to focus on the Midterm Examination and his studies rather than constructing Manus for now. Since he’d arranged to study together with the Student Council members in the Student Council Room on Saturday evening, Simon gathered his books and headed out.
Click.
“I’m here.”
Simon stepped into the Student Council Room.
“Hey, you made it!”
“Welcome, Simon!”
“You! Why are you so late……!”
The Student Council members greeted him each in their own way, then fell silent when they spotted the bandages wrapped around Simon’s body. Merin jumped to her feet.
“Why is your body like that?”
Simon turned his head with a sheepish expression.
“It’s nothing. It’s already healed.”
“Let me take a look!”
Kamibarez came bounding over and examined Simon’s wounds.
She let out a large sigh of relief and said they’d healed remarkably well.
It was only natural, given that he’d received healing magic from Parahan, who was formerly a bishop of the Sacred Federation.
Moreover, unlike most Necromancers, Simon’s body responded exceptionally well to the restorative effects of White Magic—a peculiar constitution worthy of research.
“So why didn’t you tell us how you got hurt?”
Merin fussed with concern, and Simon had no choice but to reveal the truth.
“I was constructing a Dullahan when……”
“It attacked you?”
Kamibarez and Merin’s expressions went blank.
“Ahaha! So you still make mistakes like that! It’s endearingly human, isn’t it?”
Dic chuckled and lightly patted Simon’s shoulder.
They all assumed he’d been caught by the Post-Mortem Instinct—the reflex attack that newly created Undead launch at living creatures—but the reality was somewhat different.
‘……Manus.’
Simon had survived an attack from the Ancient Undead.
‘How can I control it?’
He felt the need for a deeper understanding, a more fundamental insight.

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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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