Necromancer Academy’s Genius Summoner - Chapter 656

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Summoning Genius of the Necromancer School, Chapter 656
The Grand Duke’s castle echoed with the thunder of skeletal hooves. In the blink of an eye, the entire fortress swelled with undead.
Clang—!
A massive iron door ground open, and the Grand Duke, armored head to toe in black steel, strode forth with purpose.
Servants and soldiers bowed in unison, offering their respects.
Clink—clink—
The Grand Duke’s armor rang out against the stairs as she climbed to the second floor, where her study lay.
Thud!
“Godrick!”
She wrenched open the study door, bellowing for her butler by name.
“What in damnation has transpired here?”
“Your—Your Grace!”
Godrick flinched where he stood. And at the study’s desk, a figure clad in armor identical to the Grand Duke’s own turned, facing the entrance.
……
Metal plates grated as the armored knight turned to face the Grand Duke. For a moment, the two figures in matching armor regarded each other in silence.
Then the knight by the window raised both arms, and slowly lifted the helmet from his head.
Blue hair tumbled free, and a youthful face emerged—one that still bore traces of boyish softness. A gentle smile played at his lips.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“……You.”
Behind her visor, the Grand Duke’s eyes blazed.
“The wretch I encountered this morning.”
“Yes.”
Two Legion Commanders of the Dark Alliance stood motionless, studying one another. Caught between them, Godrick felt his heart flutter with dread.
“Godrick.”
“Y-yes, Your Grace!”
“Leave us.”
Godrick cast one last uncertain glance at Simon before quietly closing the study door behind him. Silence settled over the room with a dull thud.
Creak—
Creak—
The Grand Duke walked toward the wall where the armor hung. She reached up with both hands, grasped her helmet, and slowly drew it away.
A cascade of lustrous hair tumbled free. From beneath the crude helm emerged a face of striking beauty—refined features and unblemished skin.
Simon’s mouth fell open without thinking.
Hidden within that helmet had been a face striking enough to steal one’s breath. Sharp, predatory eyes like those of a bird of prey, and beneath them, a small beauty mark.
‘The Northern Grand Duke is a woman?!’
“Do you have some objection?”
Her voice was ice. Simon quickly shook his head, denying it vehemently.
A soft exhale—
She set the helmet aside and unbuckled the sword at her waist, leaning it against the wall. Then she walked to her desk and sat, gesturing for Simon to take the chair opposite.
“Thank you.”
Simon settled into his seat, tense. She closed her eyes for a moment, lost in thought.
Tap. Tap.
Her metal-gauntleted fingers drummed twice against the armrest. Then she lifted her gaze.
“Explain yourself. Why did you impersonate me and save that village?”
Her speech was formal and antiquated, her voice a flawless alto.
Simon answered calmly, composing his words with care.
“While awaiting you at the castle, a messenger arrived with word that the village of Benzdail was under attack by the undead. Though I had not yet received formal authorization for combat, I could not in good conscience turn away as a necromancer of Kizen.”
Simon clasped his hands.
“However, the enemy forces proved far more numerous than anticipated. They fielded an army’s worth of strength, and I had no confidence I could protect all the villagers while fighting alone. So I chose to deploy my own forces.”
“More precisely—”
She rested her chin on her hand.
“Your ‘legion.'”
“Yes.”
Neftis had already warned Simon that the Grand Duke was aware of both her and the 7th Legion, so the revelation came as no shock.
He’d come to Northern Caloss to attend Legion Commander training, after all.
“Though the northerners seem either ignorant or indifferent, the legion under my command has been accused of the Crime of Betrayal. I could not risk revealing it openly.”
“So you disguised yourself as me—an active Legion Commander—and crushed the enemy with your own forces instead.”
“Yes.”
Simon bowed his head respectfully.
“I acted without authorization and overstepped my bounds. I accept whatever punishment you see fit to impose.”
……
The Grand Duke rose slowly from her seat.
Click. Click.
With each step, hesitation weighed upon her. She made her way to the desk in her office, clasped her hands behind her back, and gazed out the window.
“Cheeky little thing.”
Simon realized she was speaking to him and lifted his head.
“What sort of Legion Commander do you wish to become?”
Seven necromancers existed on the entire continent—those who could command Ancient Undead and lead boundless armies without constraint.
Yet necromancers, as was their wont, did not always walk the righteous path. Magnus was proof of that. He had slain his own teacher, dragged innocent people into his schemes for greater power, and waged battle against other Legion Commanders without hesitation.
“I wish to use this power I possess rightly, and for the sake of people,” Simon said.
He recalled the moment he had gone to save Benzdail—the fervent cheers and tears of the townspeople.
“Just as you do, Grand Duke.”
The woman at the window, hands clasped behind her back, let out a soft laugh.
“Smooth-tongued as a southerner, your flattery dripping like honey. Being a hero is not such easy fortune as that.”
Yet her voice had grown far gentler than when they first met. She walked toward a bottle resting near the windowsill and picked it up.
She uncorked it, floated ice within, poured the beverage into a cup, and set it down on the table before him.
“It is not wine—drink without worry.”
She settled back onto the sofa and took a sip herself. Simon savored the aroma and the taste.
Was it a northern tea? The tart flavor was exquisite.
“Neftis told me what transpired. Though I did cut off the communication midway.”
She tilted her head slightly, resting her chin at an angle.
“Your purpose is to attend Legion Commander lessons, I presume.”
“Yes.”
“But what I told you when we first met was truth nonetheless.”
—The north has no leisure to teach greenhorn recruits.
“Currently, the north faces an assault of unprecedented scale.”
The Grand Duke’s expression grew grave as she lifted her cup.
“That one grows impatient for a decisive blow, it seems.”
“That one?”
“Are you familiar with this turn of phrase?”
Her lips curled upward as she spoke.
“Like the Frost God raising a blizzard.”
“Ah, yes! Of course I am.”
It was a common idiom used not only in the Alliance, but across the entire continent.
“The Frost God is real. One of the oldest undead in existence, commanding Frost Field itself.”
‘Wait—it actually exists?’
The Frost God had become legendary enough to be enshrined in idiom.
Some scholars claimed it had existed since humanity was still ape-like, so ancient that even the category of Ancient Undead no longer sufficed—a monster that had lingered in the north for eons due to the nature of its abilities, accumulating power until it had become untouchable. No one dared lay hands upon it now.
Because their domains were adjacent, the Grand Dukes who ruled Northern Caloss had fought the Frost God in succession.
Even the current Grand Duke, regarded as the greatest 2nd Legion Commander in recorded history, had waged a long war against it—yet neither side had achieved victory.
“The Frost God had long devoted itself to converting wild monsters into undead, consolidating its power in the north. Now, however, it directs attacks from all directions. The final battle approaches.”
[Khkh! Just as I thought!]
Pier’s voice sounded in Simon’s mind.
[When we brought that ‘gourmet’ creature into the legion, its core nearly detonated. The Frost God must have laid a trap to keep it from being taken by the Grand Duke!]
‘That makes sense.’
Simon took another sip of the cool tea and sank into thought.
The simple truth was this: the north was at war, and the Grand Duke had no time to spare for him.
If that was the case—
“I propose a deal.”
At Simon’s words, her expression twisted.
“A deal? Not a request?”
“Yes. An equal exchange between Legion Commanders.”
Simon placed a hand over his heart.
“If you continue to permit my Disguise, then during my posting here, I and the 7th Legion will fight alongside the people of the north against this threat.”
……
“I came here to grow stronger. I will bear more of the burden in battle so that you gain time. In return, please guide me as that time and space become available.”
The Grand Duke, who had been listening in silence, broke into a grin.
‘So he means to carve out his own time for instruction.’
It was both absurd and audacious—yet oddly compelling.
“Cheeky flatterer. How long have you been a Necromancer?”
“About a year and a half.”
“Brief words. You say you’ve gained a Legion Commander’s power, yet you’re still just a student. Are you truly confident you’ll be of use in this ‘war’?”
“That answer depends.”
Simon’s lips curved upward.
“It will depend on how you teach me, Grand Duke. I’m prepared to follow whatever harsh instruction you provide.”
“What?”
The Grand Duke burst into laughter.
The audacity of it—claiming he’d earn the time for her to teach him, and furthermore suggesting that if she wanted him to excel on the battlefield, she should simply cultivate him herself.
To hear such a thing spoken so brazenly, without a shred of shame.
This boy was mad in every conceivable way.
“Somewhat impertinent, but I find myself pleased.”
She rose from her seat and extended her hand.
“The negotiation is concluded. Youngest Legion Commander.”
Simon stood as well and grasped her hand.
“Thank you for your time!”

* * *
The 7th Legion and 2nd Legion formed a united front.
Several agreements had been reached with the Grand Duke.
First: when Simon wore the armor, he would act as her proxy, and his commands would carry the same weight as the Grand Duke’s own. All consequences arising from these orders would fall to the Grand Duke to bear.
Second: all battles in the north were authorized, and Simon would hold independent command authority. The ownership of undead and corpses would belong to whichever legion struck them down.
Third: the 7th Legion’s undead in the north would, outwardly, be the 2nd Legion’s undead, guaranteed by the Grand Duke herself.
In broad strokes, that was the extent of it. Simon placed the Grand Duke’s armor in his Subspace, deciding to use it whenever necessary.
For now, it was immediately after the battle and the hour was late, so the Grand Duke’s lessons as Legion Commander would begin tomorrow. He also remembered to give her the letter Neftis had sent.
-Report to the castle at dawn.
The castle had grown rather crowded with her undead, making it unsuitable for Simon to rest there, so he arranged to stay the night at an inn nearby instead.
Simon parted ways with the Grand Duke and stepped outside.
The murmur of countless voices filled the air.
True to being the most bustling city in Northern Caloss, crowds thronged even at night.
A place where diverse races and peoples mingled.
Because Northern Caloss was completely cut off from the outside world, criminals fleeing their pasts, escaped slaves, and persecuted races had flocked here. In such a place, one’s history or station mattered not; only strength and skill held worth.
Thus, mercenaries and young noblemen seeking to make names for themselves often came north to prove their mettle.
‘But then again…’
The clothing worn by the people here left something to be desired.
Especially the warriors who insisted that bitter cold could not break the spirit of the strong, strutting about in bizarre armor that bared nearly all their skin—a sight decidedly unpleasant to the eye.
One couldn’t tell if that was chest hair or actual armor.
“Which is to say, the young lady has also embraced Northern style!”
Erzsebet popped out of the Subspace, saying she wanted some fresh air. Without so much as a glance, Simon removed his robe and draped it over her shoulders.
“Please, try not to draw attention.”
“Oh, what a shame.”
Erzsebet wrapped herself in Simon’s robe and sniffed it contentedly, as if pleased.
“Say, now that we’re out of school, wouldn’t you like some wine at the lodging? I’d be delighted to pour for you!”
“…I have schoolwork to do at dawn.”
Erzsebet brushed aside his protest entirely, saying she’d be right back as she dashed off to buy wine and food on her own terms. Simon had no choice but to lean against a nearby wall and wait.
As he stood there, lost in thought for a moment—
“Well, well, fancy running into you again, beautiful lady.”
A rough-looking northerner with a thick beard approached Simon.

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————