Necromancer Academy’s Genius Summoner - Chapter 673

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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 — Episode 673
Still, she pressed him to take a seat, and rather than coldly refuse, Simon found himself sitting down.
A war Necromancer and a front-line Commander — these were not people Simon could deal with casually.
‘…Still, it’s curious.’
This was just an inn’s dining hall, yet the view beyond the window kept shifting.
A city center, a lake, the heart of a desert — it seemed to change continuously according to the war Necromancer Kronos’s tastes and moods.
The wind, the humidity, even the scent — all were rendered perfectly. A considerable level of Illusion Magic. Simon thought it was the finest illusion he’d seen, second only to Seiwir’s.
“How many years are you in, our junior?”
Kronos asked just then.
“Second year, sir.”
“Oh, really? So you’re halfway through already.”
Simon had suspected it the moment Kronos called him a junior, but surprisingly, Kronos turned out to be from Kizen. From what he’d heard, the man had dropped out early in the second year.
According to his own account, he’d been doing a Mission Evaluation in Kalos when he found the work so much to his liking that he simply quit school and went straight into employment.
“If you’re curious about anything from your time at Kizen, ask away!”
Kronos patted Simon’s shoulder cheerfully and laughed. Simon followed suit with an awkward smile.
‘My time at Kizen probably wasn’t all that different.’
“Let’s drop the small talk.”
Romario cleared his throat. His striking white eyebrows trembled slightly.
“Before we get to business, I’m curious — why is a Kizen student wandering alone through such a treacherous place?”
Simon’s mind spun.
Did they find it troublesome that a Kizen student had come into the Northern Region?
Even Earl Boldmont had tried to recruit him first.
Since he couldn’t divine their intentions, he decided to draw a line.
“I’m afraid I cannot speak of external assignments myself, as they are confidential. I hope you’ll understand.”
“Aw, aren’t you cold.”
Kronos beside him waved his wrist dismissively.
“Surely you can at least say whether you’re here for a Mission Evaluation or a Dispatch Evaluation? It’s not like you’ll get in trouble for saying that.”
“I’m a member of the Student Council, senior.”
Simon flashed a picture-perfect business smile.
“If the Student Council won’t uphold principles, who will?”
Kronos faltered at that, then let out a pleased laugh.
“Haha! Not a word wasted, and eloquent too! No wonder the Student Council President isn’t just anyone!”
Romario gave Kronos a pointed look suggesting he ought to keep quiet.
“Well then, I won’t press that point further. The reason I called you here is to ask for your cooperation.”
“Cooperation?”
“Yes, and in exchange—”
Romario swept his arm once, and runes spread across the walls of the inn as a Magic Circle activated.
It was a soundproofing spell for security.
“His Majesty the King shall cover the expense.”
As the scale grew ever larger, Simon felt cold sweat sliding down his spine.
‘I shouldn’t have sat down.’
He’d never expected them to invoke the King so readily and demand cooperation.
Even in this age of the Dark Alliance, the influence of one of the mere four ‘Kings’ on this continent remained formidable.
In truth, if he had been an ordinary noble, he wouldn’t have been able to express his own will before immediately bowing and saying he received the King’s command. As long as one was in Kalos, not even a foreign noble could escape the authority of the Kalos King.
‘One careless word could be interpreted as defiance of a royal order.’
There was nothing for it but to answer with strict principle.
“I am merely a student acting under Kizen’s instructions. If you wish to request cooperation with the mission, please submit a formal request through the school.”
He made Kizen his shield.
Kings or no, all paled before the name of Kizen and Neftis. What could anyone do about being Neftis’s student?
And his position as Student Council President was useful for dealing with adults precisely because it allowed him to hold fast to principle.
The stratagem seemed to work — a shadow crossed Romario’s expression.
“Well then. As a senior who left before graduating, might I offer you some advice?”
Kronos interjected abruptly.
“Right now, school seems like everything, doesn’t it? The professors look so impressive, you’re running around doing assignments, you rank drops a single position and the world feels like it’s ending. But once you get out here, it all turns to dust.”
There was something bittersweet in Kronos’s voice as he spoke.
“School lasts maybe three years at most. Whether you can’t hack it and flunk out, or you survive and graduate, the moment you step outside, you go right back to your true place. Right now you all look down on those bottom-ranking squads, yes? Later on you’ll be bowing and scraping to those same blockheads. Don’t get cocky just because some pretty young Duke’s daughter came in as a junior and calls you ‘senior’ — in three years she’ll use you as a footstool.”
He brushed his falling bangs back with a sweep of his hand.
“The point is, you have to find your own path. School is just a means to an end. Those three years at Kizen are worth exactly one thing — the chance to rub shoulders on friendly terms with people you’d never dare look in the eye otherwise. Build your networks, set up your life after graduation, do the groundwork well, and you won’t even need to see out all three years.”
He pointed sharply at Simon’s forehead.
“That said, don’t waste this chance to connect with His Majesty the King. If the job goes well, I can even take you to meet His Majesty in person—”
“If that’s what you have to say to me.”
Creak—
Simon rose from his seat.
“I’ll take my leave.”
Then, his expression hardening, he turned and climbed the stairs toward the second floor where the guest rooms were.
Kronos and Romario watched his departing figure in silence until they heard the distant sound of a door closing with a soft thud.
“Didn’t he say he was confident handling Kizen students and ask us to leave it to him?”
Romario spoke as if reproaching him.
“Sometimes you get kids like that.”
Kronos scratched the back of his head.
“They won’t accept reality even when you tell them straight. I figure we just weren’t on the same wavelength, that’s all.”
Snap—
Kronos flicked his fingers.
The Soundproofing Magic expanded, and the inn room took on a vivid crimson hue. Simon’s chamber was now completely sealed off from the lobby. Now, no matter what they did, their voices wouldn’t carry across.
“Hey there, innkeeper. Another beer, would you?”
“Right away!”
“And bring us another plate of roasted quail.”
“Of course.”
The innkeeper and his wife, their eyes glazed as if under some sort of curse, shuffled toward the kitchen. Romario sighed.
“Are we not heading back to the barracks? Planning to eat more here first?”
“The food at this place is good. All they serve at the barracks is the same tiresome soup. I want to enjoy myself a little longer.”
Kronos tore into a quail leg and washed it down with a long gulp of beer.
“Ahh, that hits the spot.”
He set the glass down and grinned widely.
“So what do we do now?”
“I never had high hopes of making the Kizen Student Council President an ally anyway. We proceed with the original plan.”
Hearing Romario’s answer, Kronos shook his head in frustration.
“Why don’t we just sweep this whole place clean with our forces? We managed to take Bilkenos without spilling a drop of blood.”
“Don’t underestimate the Grand Duke. She’s the real hero—spent over twenty years holding the Northern Region together single-handedly. More than that, without her, who’s going to lead us to the Northern God?”
Kronos shrugged.
“But didn’t you say those ‘Three Siblings’ are already gone? Couldn’t we take the Northern God on our own now that it’s alone?”
“We still don’t know for certain where the path to the Northern God lies. Wait until the Grand Duke guides us.”
Tsk.
Kronos clicked his tongue in displeasure.
The food arrived shortly after, and the two ate at their leisure.
“Since we’re talking about Kizen anyway—right now I’m being praised as the Necromancer of Ten Thousand Legions, aren’t I?”
The Necromancer of Ten Thousand Legions—Kronos.
His specialty was the Wide-Range Curse, which he could cast simultaneously on up to ten thousand targets—he was a war necromancer par excellence.
By casting curses on his own soldiers rather than enemies, he could strip away fear and stray thoughts to transform them into pure instruments of slaughter, or forcibly awaken their bodies to grant them strength several times their normal capacity.
Every army he led as commander had never suffered a single defeat.
Of course, there had never been any friendly soldiers who returned with their minds and bodies intact.
“But honestly, during my time at Kizen, I was stuck. Whether it was duels or missions, Wide-Range Curses targeting allies proved useless.”
“I suppose they would be.”
He stretched his hand out before him.
“But I blossomed after joining the military. Now there’s only one stage left.”
He ran his tongue across his lips.
“To become a Legion Commander! If I take direct command of an infinite army and curse them, wouldn’t I birth an invincible undead legion? Can you even imagine how powerful that would be?”
Romario closed his eyes.
“Aren’t the summoned undead you control sufficient?”
“The heavens are truly indifferent. Despite being born with this power, Summoning Magic was always my weak point.”
Kronos laughed bitterly at himself.
“Maximum of three undead I can control at once. A pathetic number. Even now, it hasn’t budged.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“I think of it as a curse upon myself.”
He watched Romario with his tongue flickering slightly.
“Keep your promise, Romario. Keep it without fail.”
“Which promise?”
“If—just if, by some minute chance, the Grand Duke were to fall in this war―”
“The 2nd Legion becomes yours. Unlikely though the scenario may be.”
Gkk-gkk-gkk.
Kronos shook his shoulders with laughter.
Then his frame sagged.
“This is exhausting. If we just tracked down the 7th Legion Commander, everything would be solved in a heartbeat.”
“You mean the Legion of Betrayal’s commander who caused all that trouble in Kizen?”
“Right. My friends are also searching for him quietly. They want to become a legion commander themselves.”
Kronos leaned back and grumbled irritably.
“Damn it! Why won’t the 7th Legion Commander just drop out of the sky somewhere!”
At that moment, the barrier hummed and trembled.
Kronos didn’t even turn around—he simply snapped his fingers, and someone entered the inn’s crimson barrier.
“It is an honor to meet you again, Commander Romario and Duke Kronos.”
Kronos grinned and waved his hand.
“You came?”
Romario nodded in acknowledgment.
“Come in.”
The one who had entered was none other than Earl Boldmont.
“I have an urgent proposal to present.”

* * *
The morning of the next day.
The Northern Region was enveloped in taut tension.
A sharp atmosphere hung in the air everywhere. The northern warriors, accustomed to drinking rowdily and settling disputes through duels, had ceased all activity and now cast cold stares at the Kingdom Army encamped in the outlying territories.
The Grand Duke had issued orders to her warriors beforehand to leave the Kingdom soldiers untouched, apparently to prevent any disturbance. Romario likewise instructed his men to avoid unnecessary movement and remain in the barracks.
Yet every so often, some northern warrior would lose composure and provoke the soldiers. Had others not restrained them, several conflicts would have erupted into open warfare.
Despite this unsettled atmosphere, Simon reported for duty at the Grand Duke’s Castle and devoted himself to the Legion Commander lessons.
After the death of the Three Siblings and the elimination of their remnants, she no longer had use for the Windstorm Bow. Instead, she threw herself into teaching Simon.
“Begin.”
Today Simon practiced controlling a distant legion-type undead with complete freedom.
‘Feel it. You need not be directly connected to the undead—just as fragrance drifts on the wind, you can issue commands through mental will.’
Simon distributed his skeletons throughout the city and gave them the task of purchasing items.
The residents, accustomed to the Grand Duke’s undead, readily handed over goods to the skeleton couriers who carried notes and bundles of money.
But the marketplace was impossibly labyrinthine, crowded with people and full of unforeseen complications.
“……I told you to buy arrows.”
He’d instructed the skeleton to purchase arrows from the blacksmith, yet what it held in its bony hand was a hefty fish freshly caught from the northern lake.
The Grand Duke laughed softly.
“All the better. Tonight we shall have fish for supper.”
Trial and error marked his progress. At first, the mental connection to the skeletons would often falter or break, but with time he adapted to this as well.
Eventually Simon even demonstrated the feat of reassembling a skeleton shattered by the press of the crowd using a Restoration Device from a great distance away.
After gathering the purchased items, he paused to rest for a moment.
‘Ah.’
He spotted Kingdom Army soldiers in the marketplace.
Their morale appeared low. They all had hollow eyes, sunken cheeks, and their bodies seemed drained of vigor.
The Grand Duke noticed it too.
“That is the work of Kronos’s curse.”
Kronos was a thorough war necromancer who cast Wide-Range Curses upon entire armies. All the soldiers became extraordinarily strong, but since they grew powerful through curse rather than priestly blessing, side effects were inevitable.
“No different from a necromancer who deals in undead.”
The Grand Duke spoke. Watching the soldiers—their bodies withered and their spirits broken—Simon too nodded in agreement.
“Are you truly certain this conquest of the Northern God will succeed?”
“I am certain.”
The Grand Duke spoke with perfect calm.
“No matter what occurs, I am here. Should I detect any suspicious maneuvering on their part, I will erase them without a trace. If they assist us faithfully, then we simply grant them a portion of the Frost Field’s rights in exchange.”
She closed her eyes.
“What matters now is the Northern God alone. Do not concern yourself with other matters—focus on cultivating your own strength.”
“Yes!”
Simon smiled brightly.
“And when you speak with your disciple, would you mind making eye contact?”
“……Did we not look at each other just a moment ago?”
Her peculiar condition persisted still.
At that moment.
“Grand Duke.”
The steward Godric came running directly. He acknowledged Simon with a glance, then leaned close to the Grand Duke’s ear and whispered softly.
The Grand Duke’s expression grew serious.
“So that’s how it is, Hate.”
“?”
Simon blinked, his gaze shifting between the two of them.

* * *
Whiiiiiiing!
The Northern Region’s mountain range.
Between the motionless undead corpses of the Northern God, a faceless knight stood watch over the expanse ahead.
Click.
It was Hate, the administrator of the 2nd Legion.
From where he stood, far beyond the mountain range lay another place entirely.
There, a gaping maw of pure darkness was visible—the Abyss.
[Abyss location confirmed. Returning now.]
Hate issued the command and wheeled his mount around. The phantom duraghans of the 2nd Legion began their descent down the snowy slope alongside him.
[…….]
From a tree branch, a ghoul watched the retreating 2nd Legion.
The ghoul’s mental communication stirred to life.
Sssssssssss—
Through narrow, tunnel-like passages of bewildering complexity.
From the depths of an endless psychic connection.
[Let them be. They will find their own way here soon enough.]
The voice of the one who commanded all undead in the Northern Region echoed through the void.
Sssssss—
In the darkness, eyes blazed with brilliant light.
[I will wait. Son of Yona.]

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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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