Necromancer Academy’s Genius Summoner - Chapter 668

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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, Chapter 668
Before her father’s blood had even dried.
The girl stepped beyond the City Gate, dressed in black mourning clothes.
It was the Northern Region’s darkest hour in its history.
The Legion Commander had fallen in battle against the North God, the administrator Hate had weakened, and the most powerful Ancient Undead that had sustained the Northern Region had been destroyed.
The 2nd Army Corps lost more than ninety percent of its forces, and the Northern army was obliterated.
That day was overcast.
It was a day of steady, unrelenting rain.
Before the tide of Undead pouring toward Bilkenos, the small girl in mourning clothes stood alone outside the city walls.
Whoooosh—
The rain fell harder.
In her hand was only a small kitchen knife, brought from the kitchen.
Rainwater trickled down the flat of the blade.
Her black hair, which her father had praised endlessly as beautiful, hung drenched and heavy, and her clothes clung to her like those of a drowned mouse.
Despair.
Before such overwhelming power, the Northern Region’s pride was worthless. Bilkenos stood empty, and now only she remained.
Her father, just before his death, had passed the Legion Commander’s mantle to her.
She had to see it through, somehow.
Somehow.
Whoooosh—
Yet the administrator had never acknowledged her, and there were no soldiers standing at the side of this infantile Legion Commander who could not control a single Undead.
Still, the girl did not flee.
She could not flee.
-You’re planning to fight alone?
But then, suddenly.
A voice came from behind her.
Patter. Patter.
The torrential rain that seemed ready to pierce through her body ceased, leaving only the soft tapping sound.
Her vision darkened, and the girl saw the man who had placed an umbrella over her.
A man who stood on the border between youth and young adulthood, one hand thrust into his trouser pocket, the other holding the umbrella.
Thin stubble on his chin, lips curving upward in a slight smile, and eyes full of curiosity—an odd impression altogether.
Her father had once said that Legion Commanders could recognize each other on sight. Now, the girl understood the truth of those words.
And she understood why he had come here.
-Are you going to kill me?
The girl spoke thus, raising the kitchen knife she held tightly in her hand.
The man replied with an offhand tone.
-That depends on your answer, doesn’t it?
The girl fell silent for a moment, then answered his question.
-I’m going to fight.
-Oh.
As if some switch had flipped, the man’s eyes suddenly gleamed with strange light, and he thrust his head forward intently.
-How exactly? Has it even been a day since you unlocked your Core? The administrator clearly hasn’t recognized you, yet you can sense the Shadow Element? A total catastrophe. That old man’s something else, though—really something. Making sure his inheritance passes down is priority number one, regardless of what happens to his daughter, eh?
-Don’t insult my father!
The girl cried out sharply.
She stumbled backward, stepping out from under the umbrella the man had raised, and gripped the kitchen knife firmly.
-Father died protecting the Northern Region! And I’ll die protecting it too! That’s—
A rough voice poured from the girl’s lips.
-Arscalt’s Destiny!
Whoooosh—
The rain intensified. The small, frail body, appearing no older than four or five, trembled violently in the downpour.
Here was a fragile form that had come out determined to hold back such vast armies, yet could not even bear the rain falling from the sky.
And yet.
The man did not mock her. Slowly, he placed his hand over his chest, where white breath emerged.
Step.
The man moved forward. The girl retreated.
He advanced; she fell back.
But the difference in stride was immense. The girl was soon overtaken. Feeling the threat, she let out a piercing shriek and lunged forward with the kitchen knife, but—
Tap.
It was blocked far too easily.
The man, crouching low, grasped the girl’s small wrist and spoke.
—Brash, but I like the spirit.
Then he snatched the kitchen knife from the girl’s hand.
Into her now-empty palm, he pressed the black umbrella.
—Let’s make a deal, little lady.
The girl looked up at him with vacant eyes.
—A… deal?
—Too complicated a word? Think of it as a trade.
The man scratched the back of his head with an exasperated expression.
—Truth is, I came here planning to recover the 2nd Army Corps before it fell apart. But if I take the 2nd Army Corps with me, Neftis will probably make me settle down in Kallos’ Northern Region to fulfill my duties.
He grinned, eyes twinkling with amusement.
—Don’t get me wrong, the northern women aren’t bad, but wouldn’t it be a shame for the continent’s women if I were stuck in this remote backwater?
—?
—Ah, I suppose you’re not old enough to appreciate such humor. The terms of the deal are simple.
By now, the North God’s undead forces had drawn close enough to see clearly. The two of them stood on the plain before Bilkenos, like a lantern before the wind.
Yet the man remained composed.
—I’m going to annihilate the North God’s entire force right now.
—!
—For the next five years, I’ll leave behind one of my Ancient Undead to keep him completely immobilized. But I can only protect you for those five years.
He spread his fingers wide.
—Within five years, you must unite the North on your own, gather the Legion, and grow strong enough to stand alone. Until then, I’ll announce to the world that I’m protecting the Northern Region. But if you fall short of expectations, I’ll have no choice but to recover the 2nd Army Corps.
He smiled wickedly and extended his hand.
—What do you say? Deal?
She gazed up at the man with those vacant eyes.
She didn’t fully understand what he was saying.
But that wicked smile.
It looked warm to her.
Slowly, she stepped forward and grasped his hand with her small, fern-like fingers.
—I agree. The deal is made. Youngest Legion Commander!
A roar.
The man rose to his feet. Then he stepped out from beneath the girl’s umbrella and strode into the falling rain.
Crack!
The man spread both arms wide like a bird, stretching them out in a grand arc.
—Wara!
Ku-ku-ku-ku-ku-ku-ku-ku!
Ku-ku-ku-ku-ku-ku-ku-ku-ku-ku!
The girl could scarcely believe her eyes. On both sides of the North God’s advancing army, a black wave came rolling in.
Every last one of them was undead from the 7th Legion.
Skeleton bones flew toward the man’s outstretched form from all directions, adhering to his body.
Soon, encased in flawless Bone Armor, he drew his sword and charged toward the enemy lines, his cloak of shadow and darkness billowing behind him.
—Wait, just a moment!
The girl ran after him, umbrella still in hand.
—Tell me your name! Please!
The man glanced back over his shoulder and smirked.
—Yona. Yona of the 7th Legion.
She squeezed her eyes shut and declared:
—I’ll be stronger in five years!
—Good.
—And then!
Find a strong man, her father had always said.
She cried out, remembering those words:
—After that, I will take you as my husband!
At that, Yona stopped in his tracks. For a moment he stood stunned, then burst into laughter. Puh-ha-ha-ha!
—Sounds like fifteen years is too soon! Well, fine. Fine.
He pressed the skull helmet firmly onto his head.
—Until we meet again, little Arscalt.
Boom!
The man surged toward the enemy lines, his cloak streaming behind him.
It was the last glimpse of him she would see.

* * *
“…….”
The Grand Duke, who had been lost in thought, slowly opened her eyes and turned her head.
One corner of the Office held a shelf.
On it sat an old Black Umbrella.
‘That boy was Yona’s son?’
She hadn’t imagined it.
After all, she’d always believed Yona was dead.
He had kept his first promise. Yona had truly decimated the North God’s forces, and the North God spent years recovering from the damage, unable to mount a proper invasion of the Northern Region.
But Yona had failed to keep his second promise.
—See you again, little Arscalt.
He never appeared in the Northern Region a second time.
The last news she’d heard was of “that incident”—the one that mattered.
To save the Priest, an enemy soldier, he had betrayed the Dark Alliance and his comrades, turning his legion’s blades against his own side.
As a result, the 7th Legion was dissolved, and Yona himself—branded the Legion of Betrayal—was announced as executed by the Dark Alliance.
When the young Grand Duke heard he was dead, her eyes swelled from weeping. The shock surpassed even the news of her father’s death. Had there ever been a time of such despair?
But then.
‘He had a son.’
The Grand Duke stared blankly at the ceiling.
His voice echoed in her mind.
—Of course the northern women aren’t bad, but for a man to be trapped in such a backwater village—isn’t it too great a loss for the women of the continent?
Now that she thought about it, given Yona’s words and deeds, whether dead or alive, he was the type who would scatter his seed far and wide.
‘That boy…… Yona’s son…….’
When she heard there was a new 7th Legion Commander, the Grand Duke had assumed Neftis had sealed away the previous administrator and bound the contract to one of her most exceptional students.
Once the sin of betrayal was erased, she would put that Legion Commander to use as an important piece for the Dark Alliance.
Because she disliked the thought of Yona’s legion being used that way, the Grand Duke had been lukewarm to Neftis’s suggestion that she teach the Legion Commander.
‘But then.’
The truth was different.
Neftis had waited patiently until Yona’s son grew old enough to enroll in the school, then elevated him as the 7th Legion Commander.
The Grand Duke, who had been standing frozen, suddenly leaped to her feet and tried to rush out of the Office. But her footsteps halted at the door.
‘Yona had a son…… Simon is Yona’s son. Yona’s son.’
She wanted to dash out immediately to confirm the truth.
But somehow.
For some reason, her feet wouldn’t move.
Knock, knock.
A knock sounded from outside the door. She started violently and scrambled backward.
“It’s Simon. I’m coming in.”
“What, wait!”
Simon opened the door and poked his head inside.
“How are you feeling?”
She was already doing push-ups one-handed, her other arm behind her back.
Simon laughed, as if to say there was no stopping her.
“Training again, even now?”
“Why, why are you laughing!”
She sprang up and stood at attention.
“Godric asked if you’d be willing to give the next speech. Would that be alright?”
“……!”
The Grand Duke stared hard at Simon.
‘How didn’t I see it?’
She felt like gouging out her own eyes.
‘He looks so much like him! How could I not have noticed!’
Perhaps because she’d thought Yona was already dead. Perhaps she’d tried her hardest not to think about him, to spare herself the pain.
Now that she knew Simon was Yona’s son, it was blindingly obvious.
She couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed at once.
“You shouldn’t overexert yourself with exercise after drinking. It’s not good for you.”
The boy who bore Yona’s features smiled softly, then closed the door and withdrew.
“I’ll speak to Godric about it. Rest.”
“Wait, hold on!”
She quickly raised her arm, and Simon stopped in his tracks.
“Is there something you wanted to say?”
“I…….”
Are you truly Yona’s son?
Is Yona alive?
And.
Whom did he marry?
‘Why can’t I just ask?’
She had never felt this way before.
Never experienced anything like it.
She couldn’t begin to understand her own turbulent emotions, or the impulses driving her actions.
Then.
“Pardon me. I’ll just have a quick look.”
Simon strode over and pressed his hand to her forehead.
“It’s not the drink—you’re running a fever.”
!!
The Grand Duke’s body went rigid as stone.
This boy.
‘He’s definitely Yona’s son.’
Simon withdrew his hand with a worried expression and let out a long sigh.
“I think you should retire to your chambers.”
Her frame stiffened like iron ore.
“……What?”

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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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