Necromancer Academy’s Genius Summoner - Chapter 655

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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 655
Northern Region.
Banzdail Village.
“Emergency! Emergency! Everyone who can hold a weapon, get out here now!”
“The third line’s been breached!”
“Build a palisade, then!”
The Self-Defense Militia of Banzdail Village screamed in unison, blood splattered across their faces. Young and old alike, every villager hauled stones and stacked palisade logs higher. Some even swung axes at their own homes, tearing them apart for timber.
But the invaders granted them no respite.
“They’re coming!”
Beyond the palisade, a numberless tide of undead began to emerge.
Their vanguard was composed of Yeti Zombies—the creatures called Yetis, common in the Snowy Field, now rotted into undeath. Holes riddled their bodies; decayed organs and exposed joints protruded grotesquely as they shuffled forward, a sight of pure terror.
The fur that had once been white in life was either dried stiff and blood-red, or blackened and putrid—one or the other.
Alongside the Yeti Zombies, various monsters native to the Northern Region shambled toward them, transmuted into either Zombies or Skeletons. The horde crept ever closer, and the militia and villagers crouched behind the crude palisade, their faces tight with dread.
“Hear me out—don’t misunderstand!”
An elderly man spoke, his years evident in his voice.
“The disparity in numbers is too great! If we stay, even our young ones with bright futures ahead will die pointless deaths. We should fall back now, and when the Northern Duke returns, then we can—”
Thwack!
An axe suddenly flew through the air, embedding itself in the old man’s arm. He screamed and collapsed.
“A veteran warrior once legendary in his youth—”
A militia member with a rough face and a thick black beard stomped forward.
“—becomes nothing but an old fool smearing filth on walls once age takes its toll.”
“Ugh! You—!”
Crack!
The militia member trampled the old man’s face and bellowed.
“We northerners have pride!”
His voice rang out like a gong as he swept his gaze across the villagers around him.
“Mark my words—that pride is worth more than life itself! We’re all going to die someday, decrepit and broken on some wall, so what does it matter if we save this miserable body? But pride, once shattered, can never be restored! Never!”
He raised his axe high toward the sky.
“Fight! Let us all fight and die together! This is where we fall today!”
Roaaaaaaah!
The villagers roared in response, raising their weapons as one.
They shouted themselves hoarse to drown out their fear, their voices raw and desperate. Yet among them, some could not hide the terror that flickered across their faces.
“The undead are right on us!”
“Shoot! Fire at will!”
Arrows streaked beyond the palisade. Crude curses erupted from every corner: “Die! Die!” A few undead fell, pierced by arrows, but against their total numbers, the impact was barely noticeable.
“Shoot! Keep shooting! What’re you useless dogs doing!”
“Leslie, we’re out of arrows.”
The forward line had exhausted themselves firing indiscriminately, and the palisade position had managed only a handful of shots before their quiver ran dry.
“Damn it all!”
A militia member hefted his axe and vaulted over the palisade.
“There’s no choice now—everyone forward! We have to meet them head-on!”
The militia scrambled over the palisade with war cries, and the villagers followed hesitantly in their wake.
“They may take our lives, but they will never break the pride of the North! Charge!”
Roaaaaaaah!
The black-bearded leader and the remnants of the militia gripped their weapons and hurled themselves at the undead swarm.
Boom!
Boom!
Footfalls thundered like war drums.
A zombie was crushed flat beneath an enormous foot, and behind it loomed a massive undead form. The charging militia halted in their tracks without meaning to.
“That thing—!”
“Yes, it’s a Named! The Gourmet!”
A great bear monster, putrefied and rotted into undeath—the Gourmet. It had earned that grim epithet because whenever it raided settlements, it would choose and devour only the most handsome humans.
The warriors’ faces darkened with despair. Ever since it had first been assigned a name years ago, no one had succeeded in hunting it.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
Unlike the other Yetis, the Gourmet bounded forward on four legs, racing toward the village. Its massive jaws split into four gaping maws as it shrieked, its entrails hanging and swaying below its belly—a sight so hideous it could drive men mad.
“Damn it! Don’t you dare freeze! We are northerners!”
As all others stood paralyzed, the black-bearded man channeled mana into his legs and leaped with all his might. In the same instant, he brought his axe down hard against the Gourmet’s cheek.
Splurt!
Black blood sprayed upward. Clinging to his own axe as it bit into the flesh, he laughed wildly. “Ha ha ha! How does it taste! Such a mon—!”

His words died unfinished. The Gourmet had lashed out with his opposite arm, striking the bearded man’s body. It flew through the air for more than ten meters before slamming into the palisade where the villagers huddled.
“Kyaaaaaah!”
“Leslie!”
As the dust settled, the bearded man’s form became visible, impaled against the wooden stakes. Blood dripped from his mouth, and he coughed—yet chuckled weakly.
“Ah, don’t worry. Don’t worry. This much is…….”
His gaze drifted downward.
A sharp splinter of the palisade jutted clean through his chest.
“X-daaaamn…….”
Then his body went slack, and the light drained from his eyes.
Instant death.
“Gah!”
“This is madness!”
After the bearded man fell, the Self-Defense Militia members who had rushed forward faltered and began to retreat, their backs pressed against the palisade they themselves had raised.
Thud!
Thud!
The Gourmet, loping on four legs, began slowly rising onto two. It was like watching a vast mountain range thrust upward. The sun vanished behind its bulk, and shadow swallowed them whole. Behind it, endless hordes of Undead poured forward without pause.
A hopeless situation.
What meaning could pride hold before such absolute terror of death? The people gripped their weapons, yet despair consumed them. They could not flee; they could only steel themselves for the inevitable, trembling in dread.
As the Gourmet’s massive arm descended, cutting through the heavy air—
Clang!
A white flash erupted. The northerners, who had squeezed their eyes shut, opened them again to find the beast’s arm hurled skyward, its claws gleaming as they caught the sunlight.
Thud!
Then came a figure in Black Armor, striding purposefully from behind the palisade. A Red Cloak draped his shoulders, embroidered with the insignia of the Northern Region.
“Ah!”
Those who beheld him gasped or collapsed in relief, their strength suddenly returning.
“Aaaaaaah! Aaaaaaah!”
Cries of excitement, mixed with tears, echoed across the field.
“The Northern Duke! The Northern Duke has come!”
“We’re saved!”
Waaaaaaaaaaaah!
The roar shook the very mountain. The knight in black armor hefted his Greatsword as his voice rang out, rough and uncertain from within his helm.
‘Good—they don’t know.’
Of course, the figure beneath was not the Northern Duke, but Simon.
The tremendous cheers from behind made his ears ring. He could feel the full weight of what the Northern Duke meant to these people.
‘Then let’s go.’
The one-armed Gourmet fell back, and masses of Undead—Yeti Zombies and countless others—surged forward. Simon extended his arm without hesitation.
‘Forward!’
His telepathy rippled outward, and the Legion’s Undead poured over the palisade in a flood.
The villagers didn’t flinch—they cheered and leapt with joy.
“The Northern Duke’s Undead regiment!”
“They’re with us! We’re going to live!”
The main force consisted of Deathland Zombies, the most numerous of his forces. The smallest among them, wearing a Crown, sprinted ahead.
[Let’s go!]
Prince bounded upward and threw a punch, the impact tearing a hole through the formation of Yeti Zombies with a sharp crack.
The zombie regiment followed, charging like a lance and hammering into the enemy line. The formation shattered, and the Northern Undead began spilling sideways, seeking escape.
Simon maintained his composure, directing them through telepathy.
‘Pier! Evacuate the villagers to the rear with your Skeletons!’
[Understood, boy!]
‘Left and right flanks—I need you both! Erzsebet! Achemous!’
[Your command is my honor, Legion Commander!]
[I shall move at once, young master.]
The left flank was held by Erzsebet’s Corpse Spider unit. Yeti Zombies recklessly threw themselves at Erzsebet where she sat upon her web, only to be shredded by the silk.
On the right, Achemous and his Skull Wings descended. These flying Undead, born from Harpy stock, beat their Dark-Element Wings as they seized the Yeti Zombies by the shoulders, soared into the sky, and hurled them down, again and again.
Erzsebet and Achemous, commanding the left and right flanks, gradually compressed the enemy into the center.
‘Good.’
Once the villagers were safe, Simon advanced with his Legion, continuing to direct the battle.
The encircled Undead pressed tighter together at the center. Now that they were herded, a massive burst of force was needed.
‘Are you ready? Herseba.’
[I am!]
The Lich, now a Staff.
Herseba floated gently in the air, perched upon a staff in the shape of a woman formed from sand.
Snap!
As Simon gripped the staff, the sand that had formed the woman’s shape scattered and vanished.
‘Go!’

Simon struck the ground with his staff, transforming it to gold. Buildings rose from it, and mummies burst forth.
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
The mummies wrapped nearby zombies in bandages and hurled them into the heart of the enemy formation. Simon clenched his fist as he spotted the airborne zombies.

The zombies that had flown across the distance exploded the moment they landed in the enemy’s midst. A single blast obliterated roughly a dozen Yeti Zombies without mercy.
The tide of battle shifted in an instant.
The townspeople watching from a distance cheered.
“Of course! These are the Northern Duke’s legions!”
“Didn’t he bring his celebrated knights?”
“Bah, there’s no need for knights at this level! Looks like he’s testing out some new forces.”
The people had no doubt whatsoever that Simon’s troops were the Northern Duke’s legion. Setting everything else aside, there was no necromancer but the Northern Duke himself who could command such a massive undead force.
A smile played at Simon’s lips.
‘If it’s here…’
This was different from Rocksum.
Perhaps he could grow considerably as a Legion Commander in this place.
—Kuuuuaaaargh!
Of course, the tide had turned, but there remained one entity that still dealt heavy casualties to his forces and ranged freely across the field.
In the Northern Region where threat ratings were meaningless, a Named Undead that the northerners had given a name to: ‘the Gourmet’.
Though one of its arms had been severed by Simon and Pier, it had instead concentrated Dark Element in the remaining arm, swelling it grotesquely as it swept through the zombies indiscriminately.
At this rate, their losses would accumulate.
‘Prince, I need your help. Leave the Core intact.’
[What? I can’t destroy it?]
‘No.’
Prince clicked his tongue and charged through the zombies. His small frame shot forward like an arrow—right in front of the ‘Gourmet’, which had been sweeping away zombies as easily as swatting flies.
[Take this!]
His fist clenched tight.
[Hidden Card Punch!]
With a thunderous crack that shook the very air, Prince’s fist drove straight into the ‘Gourmet’s’ jaw.
Crash!
The Gourmet staggered from the impact, falling on its backside, and Prince’s mouth twisted into a grin.
[You little brat! How long has it been since you became a corpse—a hundred years? Huh?]
Before Prince could even land, the Gourmet swung its bloated left arm. With a thunderous crack, the airborne Prince went flying.
‘Oh.’
Simon felt genuine admiration. To fight an Ancient Undead of the legion without losing ground.
The Gourmet grew even more frenzied. Caught in the spider-silk of the Corpse Spiders, it thrashed and crushed the legion’s undead soldiers, finally tearing through the webbing itself.
Click!
Pier shuffled over to Simon’s side.
[Should I step in, boy?]
“No, there’s no need for that.”
Simon gestured.
“No matter how strong, nothing stands against numbers.”
Mummy wrappings flew from all directions, binding the Gourmet’s limbs. Skull Wings wheeled overhead, raining Curse Feathers, and Corpse Spiders darted in, sinking their fangs.
Its movements grew steadily slower.
‘Now.’
Simon detonated the zombies clinging to the Gourmet in a Corpse Explosion. The Gourmet staggered, crashing to one knee, and through the blast came a small zombie descending toward its head.
[No mercy now!]
Prince appeared unscathed, his fists clasped together and raised overhead.
Boom!
This blow it could not endure. The Gourmet’s head drove deep into the ground.
“Good work, everyone.”
All the other undead had fallen as well.
With the area secured, Simon walked toward the Gourmet.
[You’re going to make this one yours?]
“Yep.”
Since it was a naturally-occurring Undead rather than a summoned one, Legionization seemed possible.
Prince pinned the Gourmet down properly and laid it out. Then, peeling away the skin around its chest, a Core emerged—pulsing like a frantic heartbeat.
Simon placed his palm against the Core for Legionization.
Whiiiiiine!
‘!’
The moment Simon’s hand made contact, the Core—which had been beating steadily moments before—suddenly began to Rampage. The Dark Element surging through its entire form was exceeding the Core’s limit and threatening to explode.
‘What—!’
[Dangerous! Stand back, boy!]
Pier stepped forward and placed his hand on the Core. With mastery of Dark Element far beyond ordinary measure, he deftly suppressed the explosion.
[Krhkrh! How interesting things are becoming.]
Pier laughed. He began channeling his own Dark Element to stabilize the Core.
‘Why are you doing this? Pier.’
[I’ll explain shortly. But first, I think we should meet with the Northern Duke and have a word with him!]
When Pier withdrew his hand, the Gourmet—its Core now stabilized—rose to its feet with a lurch.
Simon felt a kinship toward the Gourmet. A faint azure smoke curled from its body. Simon smirked.
“Welcome to my Legion.”
Growl.
The Gourmet lowered its head toward Simon in a gesture of submission. Simon ran his hand across the creature’s head.

* * *
Meanwhile, at that same moment.
Kalos Northern Territory, Dondra.
Neigh!
Thrash!
Undead cavalry lay scattered across the landscape, with motionless corpses strewn among them.
[……Strange. Far too easy.]
The Northern Duke, clad in Black Armor, muttered to himself.
“Your Grace! Your Grace! Dire news!”
[?]
A messenger came running and dropped to one knee before the Northern Duke.
“I bring report! Banzdail Village has come under massive assault from an Undead horde! A Named creature, the Gourmet, is reportedly among them.”
The Northern Duke ground his teeth.
[We’ve been outmaneuvered. What is the state of the battle?]
“Shortly after I departed, the village came under attack! I must confess, my lord, we may have arrived too late!”
Without a word, the Northern Duke mounted his horse.
[We ride for Banzdail at once.]
“Understood, my lord!”
Then another messenger on horseback burst through the gates.
Snow had caked even onto his hair from the urgency of the ride.
“Just arrived—joyous news! Banzdail……!”
The messenger who spoke faltered, his face bewildered.
[What is it? Speak your report.]
“Ah. Y-yes! My lord, the report is that Your Grace has safely defended Banzdail!”
[…….]
A moment of silence fell.
[……Who defended what, exactly?]

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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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