Necromancer Academy’s Genius Summoner - Chapter 667

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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 Necromancer School’s Summoning Genius — Episode 667
It took a long time before Simon’s vision cleared properly.
As the smoke from the explosion dissipated, Simon stared ahead with a vacant expression.
Rumble, rumble, rumble, rumble—!
The body of the “Third” that took the direct hit from the Corpse Explosion came into view. The long legs of the lower half appeared first, and from above the hips, the entire upper body was still shrouded in black smoke.
‘No way.’
Simon’s lips trembled.
‘It’s still alive even after that?’
If it couldn’t be brought down even by Prince’s Corpse Explosion, then this enemy was beyond Simon’s current capacity to defeat.
Simon was about to send orders to the Legion to fall back when—
[Krehehehe! Look properly, boy.]
“Huh?”
Simon’s eyes went wide. As the wind blowing down from the Gorge swept away the thick smoke, the Third’s entire upper body came into view—blown clean away.
Only two legs remained, planted in the ground.
Wobble—
The legs, having lost their center of gravity, collapsed with a soft thud.
The explosion had been so powerful that the massive upper body left no trace behind.
The Third had been destroyed.
The effect was immediate. With the Hive Entity that controlled them gone, the Undead around them fell into chaos.
-Screeeee!
-Grrrowl!
Some froze in place as if broken down, others acted on their most primal instincts, some fled toward the mountains now freed from their bonds, and still others tore into nearby Undead.
The entire command structure had collapsed.
[This is our chance now that the Third is gone! Boy!]
Pier cried out.
[We must suppress them before Bukshin regains command of his forces!]
“Yes!”
Simon issued the order for the Legion to charge.
Stagger—
But this time, the world spun beneath Simon’s feet. His entire body felt drained of strength, quaking violently, and he became acutely aware that his Dark Element was completely depleted.
‘Ah, this.’
An exhaustion far greater than when he’d used the Chaos Durehan.
Simon’s consciousness grew hazy.
‘That’s not a technique to use recklessly.’
Thump!
[Boy! Are you all right? Boy!]

* * *
Simon didn’t regain consciousness until five hours had passed.
Because the enemy numbers had been so vast, the battle continued even after destroying the Third. Though Bukshin’s Undead had lost their tactical coordination with their command structure disabled, they still mounted counterattacks.
While Simon was unconscious, Pier took command.
Erzsebet, who had driven deep into enemy lines, manipulated her web to massacre countless Undead all at once, while Achemous and Herseba soared through the sky, neutralizing the Named Undead.
By the time Simon’s strength returned and he managed to stand—
[We were so worried! Commander!]
[Victory is yours, my lord.]
The battle was over.
The Third, one of Bukshin’s three axes, and the Undead forces under his command were annihilated.
Several useful Named Undead were collected by Pier and transferred into the Legion one by one.
“Strange—I slept through so much, there are all these new faces now.”
Some twenty Named Undead bowed their heads before Simon. Among them, the “Gourmet” he’d first acquired still looked perfectly intact.
[Kid, where’s Prince?]
Herseba landed on Simon’s shoulder and asked.
“He doesn’t have the strength to get here, I think. Looks like he’s completely drained, just like me.”
Simon laughed weakly and tapped his ring-adorned hand, but there was no response.
[Anyway, the results are excellent! The 7th Legion’s combat strength has increased dramatically!]
“Pier.”
Simon looked up at him with a meaningful smile.
“Father used Prince’s Corpse Explosion before, didn’t he?”
[Kehehehe! So you’ve caught on. As a condition for Prince returning to the 7th Legion, he made me promise never to tell you about his Corpse Explosion. That’s why I held my tongue.]
So Prince had gone to that extent.
But Prince, having lost ground to the third one again and again, seemed resolved that even if I fell, he would emerge victorious.
I hadn’t yet grasped all the conditions fully, but it was clear that Prince’s willpower was the crucial key to Corpse Explosion.
Pier chuckled softly.
[From what I can see, the expected firepower of Prince’s Corpse Explosion far exceeds what Richard managed.]
“Truly?”
[That’s right. It operates on a different trajectory than what Richard pulled off. I can still see room for even more violent detonations!]
Pier placed a hand on his own skull.
‘It’s premature speculation, but perhaps Corpse Explosion has manifested in the form of Geheim.’

* * *
The war had ended.
Simon, who had seized one of the Three Axes first and fastest, gathered the remaining forces and returned to Bilkenos, the capital of the Northern Region.
Achemous stayed behind to manage the Named Undead they’d captured and to complete the aftermath of battle.
‘Did the Grand Duke and the generals win?’
Simon had claimed the third one, but if either the first or second survived, it would severely hamper the conquest of Bukshin.
Simon waited with patience in the Inner Castle alongside Godric, his butler.
—Report, sir!
A messenger burst through the doors. Simon and Godric sprang to their feet simultaneously, and the castle servants leaned in to listen.
—A great victory! A great victory! After a fierce clash, the Grand Duke’s arrow pierced the first one’s brow, and the 2nd Legion’s undead knights severed the second one’s neck!
Waaaaaaaaa!
Everyone receiving the report threw their arms wide and cried out in jubilation. Godric sank to his knees right there, hot tears streaming down his weathered face.
“My lord! Do you hear? Our young mistress has done it! My loooooord!”
Simon’s fists clenched with joy, when one of the castle servants, unable to contain his excitement, bolted outside. In three great strides he climbed to the very peak of the Inner Castle and sounded the Horn Pipe.
Toot-tooooot tooot-toooo!
He blew the Horn Pipe in a deliberate, rhythmic pattern. Then, from all across the city of Bilkenos—
Toot-tooooot tooot-toooo!
Toot-tooooot tooot-toooo!
The same horn calls rang out. Jubilant roars erupted from afar. The people of the Northern Region kicked open their doors, poured into the streets, and embraced one another.
“The Three Axes are dead!”
“The Grand Duke has triumphed!”
News of the victory swept through the Northern Region like a fever.
In time, the Grand Duke and the commanding general’s forces returned home.
The people gathered thick as a crowd to welcome them, and petals scattered on the wind to settle on the ground.
At the front of the column rode the Grand Duke in black armor atop her command steed, waving to the throng.
Soon they arrived at the castle. She vaulted lightly from her mount.
“Grand Duke, Your Highness! I offer my congratulations on this splendid victory!”
“Congratulations!”
Half-acknowledging the salutes of soldiers and servants alike, she climbed the stairs with quick, purposeful strides.
Clink! Clink!
The joints of her armor chimed with each step. She pushed open the Office door.
Whoooosh—!
Wind swept through the many open windows of the Office, swirling about. And there, seated calmly on the sofa sipping a cold Ice Tea, sat a blue-haired boy.
“Ah.”
The boy set down his cup and rose to his feet.
“Welcome.”
Slip.
The Grand Duke removed her helmet. A cascade of lustrous black hair tumbled free, and her pale face emerged. A smile played at the corners of her lips.
“…Impudent thing.”
“I was merely smiling.”
“It’s too early yet to be pleased.”
“True enough. Now there’s just one step left.”
Simon extended his hand with a handsome smile.
“Before we return to the School, I swear to gift you the liberation of the Northern Region.”
She laughed and drew near.
“So impudent, so very impudent. Such an impertinent one.”
Then she grasped his hand with considerable strength.
Strong trust gleamed in the eyes of the two Legion Commanders as they regarded each other.

* * *
As the bitter cold deepened, the Grand Duke and her human forces withdrew, while the Ancient Undead Hate and the Phantom Durehan remained stationed on Frost Field.
The undead required neither food nor supply. Now they would scour the empty Frost Field, devoid of the Three Axes, and locate the passage leading to the Abyss where Bukshin dwelled.
The moment they found the way, all forces would advance toward Bukshin.
But first.
“Let’s drink! Today, we drink and die happy!”
“Ooooooh!”
A victory celebration erupted in the Grand Duke’s castle. Renowned generals from the Northern Region, veteran knights, and influential figures who sustained the North in every field had all gathered to revel.
Ha ha ha ha!
True to the Northern Region’s nature, not a shred of decorum was in sight.
Tables groaned under heaps of food, warriors poured beer over their own heads, others gnawed chicken bones as they walked, and at the slightest excuse everyone sang and danced, swinging their hips in unison.
Warriors, their faces flushed with drink, rolled across the floor, and those who’d dropped their trousers struck ridiculous poses—yet no one reproached them. Tomatoes flew through the air, food splattered across faces, and still everyone bellowed with laughter.
“Today we settle the score!”
“Ha ha! Seven wins, seven losses—perfectly matched, aren’t we?”
Outside, duels were in full swing. Drinking before a duel was forbidden, but the Grand Duke had permitted unarmed combat for this single day.
Winners returned to the castle amid thunderous cheers, while losers—noses bleeding, teeth knocked loose—laughed with delight at their own defeat.
‘…I’d rather not join in, honestly.’
Simon sat slightly apart, nursing beer in silence. He’d hoped to keep to himself, but as the subject of the hour’s gossip, countless people sought him out for conversation.
The only apprentice the famously aloof Grand Duke had ever taken.
The boy who, on his first day in the Northern Region, had beaten a knight candidate senseless, then on the second day had bested a full knight before a flag struck him—and then survived a direct hit from the Grand Duke’s arrow.
Of course, no one knew that in secret he’d also defeated a third; that knowledge would only complicate matters.
“A smooth, unblemished face without whiskers isn’t bad at all.”
“He’s cute. Want to go to the inn with your big sister?”
Female warriors occasionally cast interested looks his way. Northern people were remarkably direct in their advances, so Simon struggled with the unfamiliar culture, his face reddening more than once.
“But why hasn’t our guest of honor appeared?”
“I wish she’d ditch that stuffy armor and wear a proper dress.”
“Ha ha ha ha ha! Fat chance—she’ll show up in armor for sure!”
The warriors tittered, glancing toward the office.
Just then.
Bang!
The office door swung open, and the Grand Duke appeared.
“Ooooh!”
Though not in a dress, she descended in an immaculate black uniform.
Every warrior’s gaze snapped to her at once.
Thud, thud.
Her descent down the stairs was precise, expressionless, economical—each step stripped of all unnecessary motion.
Reaching the bottom, she swept her eyes across her assembled soldiers, then raised her hand.
Snap!
Godric, waiting on cue, handed her a wine glass.
“Proud warriors of the North!”
She lifted the glass. All the soldiers, their drunken haze suddenly scattered, held their cups aloft with military precision.
“Honored allies!”
Her eyes found Simon. He smiled and raised his cup as well.
“A victory worthy of celebration! We stand but one step from Bukshin’s annihilation. We shall liberate our homeland—the Northern Region!”
Ooooh!
“In our next sortie, we shall spill yet more blood. But we will advance!”
Waaaaaaah!
“In our lifetime, we will break this chain of hatred, and gift our children a peaceful Northern homeland! Such has been the long-cherished wish of our countless ancestors who came before!”
She raised her glass to its highest point.
“To victory.”
To victory!
Everyone drained their cups. The Grand Duke did the same.
“G-Grand Duke!”
Godric trembled visibly as he watched her down the wine in one gulp. Simon looked on with bewilderment.
And moments later.
“Hic. Hee hee.”
Simon was guiding the flushed Grand Duke back toward the office, her arm hooked through his.
‘So the famous Grand Duke of the North can’t hold her liquor.’
“Let go of me! Impudent boy! I can drink more!”
All she’d had was that single glass of wine. Now she hiccupped as Simon hauled her into the office and settled her on the sofa.
“Here, just rest for a moment.”
This was exhausting. Simon wiped the sweat from his brow, then belatedly noticed the desk.
“?”
Neftis’s letter sat untouched on the shelf. Simon exclaimed in surprise.
“What? You still haven’t read it?”
“Fool. The contents are transparent enough.”
She waved her hand dismissively, her face flushed from wine.
“And how many times do you think I’ve fallen victim to that witch’s sharp tongue?”
“No, but—regardless, Neftis sent it to you. You should at least read it!”
“Fine. I understand.”
Godric had once told Simon that the Grand Duke performed her daily obligations with mechanical precision, but was fundamentally a lazy person.
At first he hadn’t believed it, but the longer he knew her, the more he understood it was true.
Simon draped a blanket over her as her eyes were closing on the sofa, then set the letter down on top of it.
“Make sure you read it!”
Before closing the door, Simon poked his head back in to say that, then shut it behind him and left. She turned her body, staring ahead with vacant eyes.
Thump—
As she shifted position, Neftis’s letter fell to the floor. She was about to collapse into sleep when everything felt tedious, but—
—”You should at least read it!”—
She let out a deep sigh of resignation, picked up the letter, and tore open the seal somewhat carelessly before unfolding it.
“…….”
She jerked upright, her sleepy eyes suddenly alert as she read.
Her expression hardened gradually, then grew grave. By the time she finished the letter, she was staring blankly at the door Simon had exited through, all color drained from her face.
Her arms trembled visibly.
“Surely not…….”
She gripped the letter with such force her eyes widened, then read it through once more to confirm.
“That presumptuous wretch, that little—!”
Neftis’s letter contained only a single line.
「Simon is Yona’s son.」

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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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