Necromancer Academy’s Genius Summoner - Chapter 650

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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 650
No major surprises had emerged.
The highest-scoring groups were:
“Group 8, Group 10, and Group 11.”
“Yes!”
The teams holding Fitzgerald, Simon, and Aseraz respectively claimed the top marks. Those who’d secured their A+ grades cheered with joy, embracing one another or slapping palms together in celebration.
“Nice! Nice!”
“This A+ is huge!”
While Group 8’s members reveled in their happiness, Aseraz alone turned away with a sullen expression.
“Aseraz! Where are you going?”
…….
Simon watched Aseraz’s retreating figure while high-fiving Lorain.
She was barely holding back her anger.
‘She’s been oddly fixated on me. I don’t remember doing anything wrong to her.’
Whoosh—
There was one more person paying close attention.
Hector, who had landed a notch below with an A grade, was glaring at Simon with eyes burning savagely.
‘……Ha.’
Simon quickly ushered his teammates away.

* * *
After classes ended, Student Council duties awaited.
Now that the Dark Festival—which had kept everyone up countless nights—was over, regular duties had resumed with somewhat more breathing room.
Today meant managing the academic calendar and posting related handouts on the bulletin board—simple work.
<World Deadly Toxin Competition>
<Hosted by: Pentamonium>
Simon pinned the paper to the bulletin board in the hallway and stepped back with a satisfied expression.
‘The placement looks decent, doesn’t it?’
As he thought this, Simon found himself smiling without realizing it. It felt like just yesterday he’d been fighting Ever Kire and the false goddess, yet here he was, concentrating intensely on bulletin board layout.
“Cute.”
Merin, who had come with him, was grunting as she stood on tiptoes, trying to pin the paper to the board. Her stream-colored sky-blue hair swayed left and right.
Simon quietly stepped over and held the paper steady for her.
“Oh, thanks.”
Merin smiled briefly and finished the task.
“Should I paste this one next to it?”
“Yeah, yeah. But…….”
Merin’s eyes narrowed.
“Airhead! Why did you put the competition notice in the middle?”
“Isn’t it important, so you put it in the middle?”
“Then there’s no space to put the other stuff! And if you leave gaps on both sides, the visibility is terrible! Take it down, quick!”
Merin was the type to take even these minor design details seriously.
She tore down all the documents Simon had posted and rearranged them anew, then stepped back with satisfaction and crossed her arms proudly.
“Yeah, now it’s good.”
“……Okay.”
Though she seemed a bit fussy, the result she’d arranged really did look much cleaner, so there was nothing more to say.
Now he just needed to call Mojo and his direct subordinates to give them the same instructions for the bulletin boards in the other buildings.
That wrapped up today’s outside work.
Simon and Merin walked toward the Student Council Room, chatting idly.
“Say, Simon.”
“Hmm?”
Merin held up her index finger with a snap.
“You know the 7th Legion Commander everyone’s been talking about at school lately? I think I’ve figured out who it is.”
‘!’
Simon’s mouth went dry, but he laughed as if nothing was wrong.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Pion!”
She cried out with sparkling eyes. Simon felt his spine tingle but forced himself to respond playfully.
“Come on, Pion again?”
“No, really! I’m sure!”
She clapped her hands together sharply.
“After hearing Neftis’s speech, I’m certain now! The 7th Legion Commander was definitely involved in the Saint Incident, right? I saw it with my own eyes back in my first year.”
Her voice dropped.
“Pion fighting the Saint in the sky!”
Simon shrugged.
“But if you don’t know who Pion actually is, doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”
“How does it defeat the purpose!”
Merin squeaked.
“The Necromancer wearing that skull helmet who saved me is actually the 7th Legion Commander! No wonder he was so strong!”
……
Simon paused a moment, swallowing hard as he chose his words, then spoke quietly.
“Aren’t you afraid?”
“Of what?”
“He’s the Betrayal Legion Commander.”
Merin smiled gently.
“Not really. He saved my life and our entire school.”
……
“If you ask me, the Alliance people are way too rigid. They keep saying he’s not the same person who betrayed them back then—so what’s the problem?”
Simon laughed quietly.
Somehow.
“I suppose that’s one way to see it.”
He found comfort in her words.
As they continued talking, they arrived at the Student Council Room. Merin pushed the door open and called out.
“We’re here!”
Kamibarez, who had been busily organizing documents, broke into a wide smile at the sight of them.
“Welcome! Simon! Merin!”
On the opposite side sat Dick, surrounded by towering stacks of books, scribbling calculations into an empty notebook. He barely had time to greet them—just threw up one arm with a “Yup!”—before diving back into his work.
It seemed the paperwork still wasn’t finished.
“Wait a minute.”
Merin’s gaze shifted.
“Why do you keep showing up here?”
A boy sat casually on the guest sofa, sipping black tea.
He had an unusually long fringe on one side that obscured his eyes, and wore an armband on his arm.
“The tea here is all pretty good.”
It was Malcolm Randolph.
“Stop sneaking in and making yourself at home!”
After the Dark Festival, one change came to the Student Council.
It was this:
-Having judged the Discipline Committee’s work capacity during the Dark Festival trial period to be excellent, the faculty meeting has decided to officially promote the Discipline Committee to a recognized organization.
The Student Council hadn’t even moved—yet the school itself viewed the Discipline Committee favorably and promoted it to an official organization. Now they even received monthly funding.
Of course, their power was weaker compared to the Dark Festival period.
They could guide students while wearing the armband only after regular schedules ended.
They patrolled campus at night with their subordinates, watching for school violence and misconduct, and roamed places like the Forbidden Forest and Rochester hunting down rule-breakers—that was basically the extent of their duties.
“This whole grand scheme? He masterminded it,” Dick boasted with a laugh.
In truth, Dick had maintained the Discipline Committee even after the Dark Festival ended, specifically to strengthen the Student Council’s power.
“……Sigh. What a mess this all is.”
Merin pressed her forehead. She clearly wasn’t happy about Malcolm joining their ranks.
“Hey. If the kids are working, at least pretend to help?”
“I am helping.”
Malcolm gestured with his chin toward the back.
Indeed, while Malcolm sat still, his doppelgangers moved busily around the Student Council Room.
They wiped windows with cloths, watered potted plants, sorted documents into those needing signatures and those that didn’t, and filled out activity logs.
Handling four tasks simultaneously while his original body leisurely sipped tea—the sight made Simon smile faintly.
“That’s impressive.”
“It’s part of my training regimen.”
At Malcolm’s gesture, all the finished doppelgangers vanished with soft popping sounds.
There was no denying his competence when it came to administrative work.
“Dick alone is already a handful, and now we’ve got another troublemaker. Just don’t cause any incidents. Really.”
Merin muttered as she sat down and pulled out some documents.
“Since we’re all working together anyway, let’s do our best.”
Simon said.
“I’m counting on you, Malcolm!”
Kamibarez fluttered her wings and grinned alongside them.
“As head of the Discipline Committee, don’t you have something like ambitions or goals?”
Dick interjected suddenly.
“Ambitions, you say.”
Malcolm set down his teacup and opened his mouth.
“Since I’ve got the title of Discipline Committee head and we’re an official organization now, I should raise my game. I’m thinking of pulling one of the Top 10 down from their perch.”
Malcolm thrust his hand into his pocket and smirked.
“That should satisfy you, President?”
Simon chuckled as well.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“Hey, Malcolm. What about the Top 7 over there?”
Dick gestured toward Merin with a grin.
Merin, who ranked seventh overall, snorted dismissively.
“Go ahead and try if you think you can.”
Merin, the Vice President, was a proven master in her own right. Malcolm turned his head away.
“Well, the Necromancer from the Ivory Tower has bad elemental compatibility with me.”
“Ooh, so you’re acknowledging me as someone to consider? Now that’s some good social skills.”
Dick laughed and approached, offering his fist. Malcolm bumped it in return. The two of them seemed to have surprisingly good chemistry, likely because they were entangled in mutual interests.
“Why do you keep bringing me into this!”
Merin shrieked, and the rest of the members burst into cheerful laughter.

* * *
“Is this the right way to swing it, Senpai Simon?”
In the Mutation Club Basement.
Mercenary King Arthur was swinging a Flexible Blade made of bones from massive monsters beside Simon.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Arthur swung the blade’s handle with precision, yet the tip of the sword itself moved with an ungainly, wavering motion.
“Swinging hard isn’t everything.”
Simon, who was overseeing Arthur’s training, shook his head. He withdrew an Overlord’s Tentacle from his Subspace and demonstrated directly.
“Like this.”
Shlurp-shlurp-shlurp!
The Overlord’s joints moved with exquisite precision as if alive, force coursing cleanly from one end of the limb to the other as it whipped through the air.
“Your Flexible Blade is undoubtedly a summoned creature, isn’t it? Rather than thinking of it as swinging a sword, try thinking of it as moving an undead being through mental communication.”
“Right!”
“Keep the sword handle still in your grip, and move only the Flexible Blade.”
Arthur closed his eyes.
Whether he was manipulating it through mental communication or not, the tip of the Flexible Blade began swishing up and down.
“Good. Now lift your sword-wielding hand without stopping.”
Arthur’s hand rose.
“As you strike downward, move the Flexible Blade at the same time!”
Whoom!
Arthur’s sword came down, the force traveling through the joints, and finally the Flexible Blade’s edge carved out a powerful arc as it descended.
“Yes! Yes yes yes! I got it! I got it! Did you see that just now, Senpai?”
Arthur bounced with delight. Simon smiled with satisfaction and gave his head a gentle pat.
“Don’t forget that feeling when it went right. Do thirty repetitions and come back up.”
“Yes sir!”
Thoom!
Thuoom!
Arthur began practicing the Flexible Blade earnestly, while Simon climbed the basement stairs back into the Club Room.
Three first-year juniors who were assembling skeletons greeted Simon warmly.
Simon blinked.
“Seems like we have fewer people than usual?”
“Sasha and Molly are both away!”
After the Ever Kire incident, Sasha had returned to Pentamonium for treatment. The impact on her body must have been severe—she was a Necromancer, after all, and the Essence of a Saint had entered her frame.
As for Molly, an emergency had been declared in the Dresden Kingdom due to the 7th Legion Commander affair. As a member of the royal family, she’d temporarily returned to the palace.
Knock knock—
Just then, a knock sounded at the Club Room door. The first-years sitting near the entrance called out, “Please come in!”
Creak—
As soon as the door opened, the first-years’ eyes went wide.
“Sasha’s here!”
“Sasha!”
Sasha’s face looked a bit fresher now; she smiled brightly as she exchanged greetings with her classmates before approaching Simon.
“How are you feeling? Everything all right?”
Simon asked, concern etched into his voice.
“Yeah. The doctor said there was some kind of backlash, but it seems fine. She told me not to push myself for a while though.”
“Thank goodness.”
Simon exhaled in genuine relief. At least they’d managed to extract the Essence of Harvest quickly—that much was fortunate.
“But Simon.”
“What?”
“Um, did you maybe…”
Sasha tilted her head up, staring directly at Simon’s face.
“…have white hair?”
The sudden, out-of-nowhere question made the 1st Years exchange puzzled glances.
But Simon felt cold sweat beginning to pour down his back.
‘Oh no—does she remember?’
As Simon quietly panicked, Sasha stood flushed, her mind drifting to the white-haired boy from her dream—the one who’d saved her.
The same one who’d rescued her back in the Neutral Zone, when she’d been trapped as a false saint.
This time was no different. The memory didn’t surface, but in her dream, the white-haired boy had saved her again. It felt far too vivid to be merely a dream.
Sasha was certain of it.
Simon had saved her this time too.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
Seeing Simon drenched in sweat, Sasha grinned and suddenly threw her arms around him.
“?!”
The watching classmates erupted in protest.
“Ugh, that’s so unfair! Why does he get all the hugs?”
“Just because you’re injured?”
Sasha stuck her tongue out at them playfully. Simon stammered and gently pried her away.
“Ahem.”
A deliberate cough came from behind them.
Fitzgerald sat in the chief’s seat, reading the newspaper.
He’d been so quiet they’d barely noticed him. Simon glanced at Sasha and gestured toward the chief; she quickly approached Fitzgerald and greeted him properly.
“Chief, I’ve returned to duty.”
“Ah, glad you’re safe.”
Fitzgerald adjusted his glasses and spoke with studied formality. Sasha quickly turned back to rejoin her classmates, while Simon walked over to Fitzgerald’s side.
“What are you reading?”
Fitzgerald silently turned the newspaper to show him the front page.
Simon couldn’t help but flinch.

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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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