Necromancer Academy’s Genius Summoner - Chapter 671

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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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Necromancer School’s Summoning Genius Episode 671
Since the destruction of the three brothers, the daily undead attacks that had ravaged the Northern Region ceased.
-It seems Boshin is now gathering his remaining forces and preparing a defensive campaign.
The Grand Duke analyzed it thus.
Of course, the threat had not entirely vanished.
The three brothers, as Hive entities, had been destroyed, and the undead under their command scattered across the Northern Region. Among them, some reformed into new groups.
A dangerous state—no telling when they might strike at humans. Above all, they had to be crushed piecemeal before Boshin could make contact and draw them into his full strength.
This time, Simon toured the Northern Region with Achemous and Herseba in tow.
-Shrieeeeek!
As Skull Wings scoured the sky, ravaging undead in their path, Simon observed Achemous from behind, directing the assault.
‘Achemous’s Geheim—I’m curious, but…….’
Simon thought that Achemous was even harder to fathom than Erzsebet or the Prince.
Achemous was the most loyal undead in the Legion, and the reason Achemous followed Simon was nothing but ‘devotion.’
That was all. The two wills aligned perfectly, and if Geheim existed, it should have manifested long ago.
“Achemous.”
[Yes, young master.]
A master-servant relationship.
There was no simpler bond than the one between Achemous and Simon.
But what if there was something more here?
What if not all the conditions had yet been satisfied?
“Why do you follow me?”
He started with the most fundamental question.
At this, Achemous laughed.
[Devotion needs no reason.]
Blind loyalty.
It was an answer worthy of Achemous. And yet.
‘Even if reason isn’t necessary, there must be a catalyst for such blind devotion toward me.’
In truth, he had already guessed at it.
Because he was the commander of the 7th Legion?
No.
Because he displayed the charisma of a lord worth serving?
No.
“Is it because I’m my father’s son?”
Achemous did not call Simon ‘lord.’
He called him ‘young master.’
Simon recalled his first meeting with Achemous. The undead had seized him with an expression of profound emotion, examining every inch of his face.
-You bear such a striking resemblance to Lord Richard.
-Forgive this one’s disloyalty, young master! I, Achemous, was unforgivably late in joining the 7th Legion.
The shadow of Simon’s father, Richard, fell darkly across every corner of Simon’s life.
He had been a remarkable man during his days as Legion Commander.
Sometimes it manifested as fortune and new encounters; sometimes as an obstacle.
But what of Achemous?
[You are the son of the lord I served, young master. And now, as the heir who has inherited the 7th Legion, you are more than worthy.]
Achemous knelt on one knee, bringing his eyes level with Simon’s. A fierce light burned in his gaze, trembling with loyalty.
[There is no one more fitting for me to serve with life and soul alike.]
“…….”
Simon closed his eyes.
Achemous’s loyalty was blind and vast. Once the object of his devotion was fixed, it never wavered.
Then was Achemous’s loyalty, spoken as it was for being his father’s son, truly directed toward Simon himself? Or toward his father?
-Shrieeeeek!
[Young master! Enemies on the right are attempting to slip through!]
Simon did not ask that question.

* * *
[Why do you travel with me?]
Later, as he was returning from a clash with undead remnants using Herseba’s mummy corps, he posed the same question to her.
Above him, on a floating staff wreathed in golden sand, the woman of sand laughed heartily.
[Why, of course it’s because you made me! Or brought me back to life, should I say? That’s why we travel together, little one.]
“Mm.”
[Why ask all of a sudden?]
“Ah, no, never mind.”
Simon scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
Thinking back on his meeting with Herseba, it had been a foolish wager from his first year.
He’d boasted to Aaron, the Summoning Studies professor, that he would create a Lich. Once he’d decided to make one, he figured he might as well do it properly.
He’d purchased a heart for a staggering 25,000 Gold, crafted it, put it through Legionization, and the result of countless coincidences and strokes of fortune was Herseba as she stood now.
Yet Herseba, despite being a Legion Commander, was not technically an Ancient Undead. She hadn’t existed for a hundred years—she hadn’t even been around for a full year.
‘Could someone like Herseba even use Geheim?’
Simon opened his mouth with that thought in mind.
“Herseba. Do you remember anything from before you became Undead?”
Herseba laughed with a soft huff.
[Do you remember things from right after you were born? How you came into the world, or who was around you?]
“…No.”
[I’m the same way.]
She shrugged her shoulders.
[But there are things I remember in fragments.]
“!”
Simon tilted his head forward intently, and sensing his interest, Herseba spread both arms wide.
[I was a king! A king who led many people!]
“Ah, I see.”
[But I can’t remember how I became a king, what I was before that, or why I held that position. I just ruled. And then my memory just cut off suddenly.]
She furrowed her brow as she thought it through, then continued.
[I must have died. When I opened my eyes, there was nothing but bone, and I saw your face. That’s all.]
Herseba had been a Dungeon Master before her death.
Which explained why the heart and skull had been so extraordinarily expensive.
[But I like it better now!]
She chuckled to herself.
[Now that I’m Undead and part of the Legion, things are lively and chaotic, every day is amusing, and my comrades are all fun. So there.]
“I see. Is there anything troubling you, then?”
[Not a thing!]
Simon scratched his head.
‘This is hard. I can’t even get a sense of it.’
Somehow, both Erzsebet and the Prince had resolved their issues far too easily.
Perhaps Achemous and Herseba, who had joined the Legion relatively recently, would need more time to understand themselves, he thought.

* * *
Simon quickly cleaned up Boshin’s remaining Undead forces and linked up with the Grand Duke, who had similarly marched out from the opposite direction and swept away her own contingent.
After handling the urgent matters first, the Grand Duke’s Legion Commander training began.
However.
[…]
The Grand Duke’s demeanor was strange throughout the entire lesson.
In fact, it had been like that all morning.
Whenever the Grand Duke began instruction, she became a demon—at the slightest mistake, she’d lash out with her scabbard, kick legs out from under Simon, and employed brutally harsh teaching methods that would be unimaginable in Kizen, where she typically taught the children of nobles.
Yet today, she hadn’t laid a hand on him.
‘Ah, I slipped up!’
Simon panicked and looked back as he saw Undead slipping through because he hadn’t properly solidified the formation.
He expected the scabbard to come flying at the back of his head or a kick to slam into his back at any moment.
[…]
But the Grand Duke, standing at a distance in her plate armor with her arms crossed, simply sent her subordinate Phantom Durahan to cover his mistake using Telepathy, without any violence whatsoever.
At this point, Simon found himself actually frightened.
‘She must be genuinely angry.’
All morning she hadn’t met his eyes, barely spoken, and hadn’t struck him even once.
Whenever Simon looked back at her, she would simply turn her head away.
‘It must be because I met with Earl Boldmont. But I told her everything truthfully, and she said it was fine…’
Simon’s mind raced, but he couldn’t figure out what the problem was.
As he continued to feel her out, the remaining Undead were annihilated by the 7th Legion’s Zombie unit. Simon approached her.
“We’re finished, Grand Duke.”
She merely nodded, then turned her gaze away beneath her helmet. Simon flinched, then bit his lip slightly.
[Let’s go back.]
“Were there any aspects of my command today that needed improvement?”
[There were none.]
“I made a mistake back there…….”
[Your mistakes aren’t rare. Let’s go.]
I hated this thin-ice atmosphere, this awkward tension stretching between us.
Simon clenched his fists, then cried out.
“If you’re going to be like this, why don’t you just hit me like you usually do!”
The Grand Duke flinched.
But she stepped back with a soft sound, retreat evident in the gesture.
[What, what are you even saying!]
“You keep avoiding my eyes, doing things you normally wouldn’t do…….”
But the Grand Duke didn’t hear the rest of Simon’s words.
-Just hit me!
Asking to be struck!
What kind of demand was that, out of nowhere? And the business about yesterday’s bedroom, and all—this boy was definitely Yona’s son, no doubt about it.
‘Ahem.’
Since becoming aware he was Yona’s son, it had grown harder and harder to maintain composure.
Whenever I looked at this boy’s face, Yona’s features overlapped with his own. No, even the smallest gestures and words of his seemed to connect back to Yona somehow.
I simply wanted to ask him directly.
Whether he truly was Yona’s son, and who his mother was.
Whether Yona was still alive even now.
But why couldn’t the words leave my lips.
[I’ll say it again—you did nothing wrong.]
“Then…….”
[It’s only your misunderstanding. Let’s go.]
The Grand Duke and Simon mounted their horses again and rode on.
Normally we would have traded jokes and small talk, but now there was nothing to say.
The Grand Duke might have fired the Storm Wind Bow to pass the time with idle conversation, but now that Boshin had devoured all the Undead, there was no reason to draw it.
As the awkward silence persisted.
[Hmm.]
At last the Grand Duke found her courage. She spoke first.
[Who is your father.]
“Pardon?”
Simon blinked at the sudden question, but pleased that she’d finally spoken to him after so long, he answered readily.
“Richard Polentia. He’s a Baron of the Baldwin Kingdom.”
The Grand Duke’s eyes glinted sharply within her helmet.
‘Her real name, then. I thought the name was odd somehow, so Yona must have been an alias all along.’
Richard Polentia.
She etched that name into her mind, then spoke again.
[Then…….]
“Your Grace!”
A messenger rode up swiftly on horseback, galloping toward the Grand Duke and Simon as they led the Undead back. She pulled hard on the reins and halted.
[What is it?]
“An, an emergency!”
The messenger’s face had gone deadly pale.
Both the Grand Duke and Simon, upon hearing the news, turned ashen as well, and immediately spurred their horses forward at full gallop toward Bilkenose.

* * *
Boom!
The ground reverberates.
Boom! Boom!
Spears clash against one another.
The sky blooms with countless flags, and the earth drums with the rhythmic footfalls of military boots.
An enormous force was marching through sleet and snow.
Innumerable footprints scored the vast Snowy Field.
“So this is the Northern Region.”
At the head of the column, a man with dark skin astride a massive war horse surveyed the surroundings. His armor gleamed brilliant in the dim light.
His name was Romario. He was the commander of the northeastern front of the Kalos Kingdom Military.
“Phew, cold, so cold. How can anyone possibly live in a place like this?”
A man riding an Undead, his entire body covered in tattoos and piercings, muttered in complaint.
He was Kronos, the notorious war Necromancer of the Kalos Kingdom.
The vast army of the Kalos Kingdom, led by these two men, was advancing toward Bilkenose.
The gates of Bilkenose stood wide open, and someone was walking toward them with measured steps.
“You must be weary from such a long journey.”
The Watcher of the Northern Region.
Boldmont spread his arms wide to either side, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Welcome to the North.”

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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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