Necromancer Academy’s Genius Summoner - Chapter 8

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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 Prodigy Episode 8
Bahil’s teaching assistants appeared and distributed one practice set to each student.
On the right side, a plant resembling a cactus sat in a sandbox; on the left, a Magical Circle Template lay waiting—a correction device for beginning necromancers.
“It’s a bit embarrassing for you to use a Correction Device, Kyzen, but since this is your first lesson, it can’t be helped.”
Bahil spoke.
“Getting the hang of it is fine, but relying too heavily on the Correction Device can foster bad habits, so please be mindful. Now then, shall we begin practicing the Exhaustion Curse—Exhaust?”
Bahil explained how to use the correction device kindly, and Simon followed his instructions precisely.
He grasped both handles attached to the device and squeezed out Pitch-Black Fluid, letting it flow through the handles.
The Pitch-Black Fluid streamed through the frame of the correction device, gradually forming the shape of a Magical Circle.
“The crux is how polished you can make the Main Rune Language.”
The Rune Language, in simple terms, was characters imbued with magical power; by drawing these characters using Pitch-Black Fluid, one could produce magical effects.
Simon focused intently as he inscribed the central Rune Language, then traced the Activation Formula along the circle’s perimeter.
Of course, since he was using a template, he could draw the Magical Circle without needing to fully understand its structure in his head.
“Now, students who have finished—lift your Magical Circles into the air.”
Simon swallowed hard and raised his completed Magical Circle. The dark blue Pitch-Black Fluid Magical Circle separated from the template and floated gently in the air.
‘Wow!’
A real Magical Circle. He had created the very technique his father Richard occasionally used!
He wondered whether dark magic would actually activate from this, but anticipation was unavoidable.
Glancing around, he saw roughly half the class had their Magical Circles suspended in the air.
‘Oh!’
While his attention wandered for a moment, one edge of Simon’s Magical Circle transformed like liquid and dripped away.
“I see several students whose Magical Circles are collapsing in form,” Bahil observed as if he’d been waiting for this.
He continued evenly.
“This happens when Pitch-Black Fluid isn’t properly refined, or when the Magical Circle’s cohesion fails. Try again.”
Simon gritted his teeth and started over from the beginning.
“And those students who can maintain their Magical Circles in the air—let’s move straight to live practice! Cast the curse toward the plant in front of your desk!”
The successful students drew in sharp breaths and simultaneously activated their Magical Circles.
Whoosh!
Black vapor shot from the Magical Circles toward the cactus-like plants.
Half of them showed no change whatsoever, while the other half wilted noticeably.
“Congratulations. If the plant shows meaningful change, your Magical Circle has functioned properly.”
“Yes!”
The boy next to Simon clenched his fist triumphantly.
Simon swallowed his envy and resumed work on his Magical Circle.
“The gap is already widening. Successful students should repeat and master to increase your Magical Circle completion speed, and those of you who feel your speed is sufficient—try creating Magical Circles directly in the air without the Correction Device.”
Time passed quickly, and Simon tasted his fourth failure.
Creating the Magical Circle itself was no problem, but when he lifted it into the air, it transformed into something mushy like porridge and fell to the ground.
‘What’s going wrong?’
As more students succeeded, Simon grew increasingly anxious.
Of course, Kyzen was where the continent’s greatest talents gathered, and most students had already done preliminary studies.
It was natural for Simon, who was only now encountering dark magic for the first time, to struggle—but Simon’s mind contained no such self-rationalization.
Why had he failed?
-The Pitch-Black Fluid still possesses the nature of Mana. The flickering like flames means it hasn’t escaped the gaseous state.
-I need to learn how to use the Core more effectively.
The moment the voices of Nephthys and Lorain—whom he’d met in Langerstin—echoed in his mind, Simon released his grip on the Correction Device’s handles. Then he closed his eyes and concentrated on the Mana within his body.
‘Back to basics.’
He drew Mana into his body through breath, then moved it down to the Core beneath his heart.
This much was the same. Instead of pouring the Mana into the Core, Simon gathered as large an amount as he could in front of it.
‘Ugh!’
A tingling pain shot through the area below his heart, but he gritted his teeth and endured it. Then he forcefully shoved the massive cluster of Mana he’d compressed to its limit directly into the Core all at once.
As he fed a large quantity of Mana in violently and all at once, the Pitch-Black Fluid flowed out from the Core much more solidified. It was a makeshift solution dreamed up by Simon, who hadn’t yet learned proper Core utilization.
‘Now!’
Simon’s eyes flew wide open and he seized the Correction Device’s handles.
The higher-purity Pitch-Black Fluid settled into the template faster than before. Simon completed the Rune Language and Formula work swiftly, then lifted the Magical Circle into the air.
‘It’s working!’
This time it didn’t crumble.
Simon guided the Magical Circle toward the plant in the sandbox, aiming carefully. He wanted to succeed cleanly and decisively while the feeling was right.
‘Exhaust!’
As he activated the Magical Circle, gray smoke radiating from the center of the Rune Language struck the plant directly.
Simon watched the plant’s condition with desperate intensity.
Crack.
The plant’s rigid body sagged downward.
‘It worked!’
Simon clenched his fist, and a tingling sensation rippled down his spine. He was so delighted he nearly cried out in the middle of the classroom.
This was Simon’s first dark magic.
“Right then, that’s enough for now.”
Bahil clapped his hands.
“Students who didn’t succeed by the end should return to your dormitories and practice.”
Disappointed sighs echoed from various corners. Bahil returned to the podium and picked up the attendance register.
“Now, for the remaining time, we’ll conduct live practice with the magic you’ve learned today. When I call your name, please come forward.”
Sudden tension descended on the classroom. The students busied themselves avoiding Bahil’s gaze or feigning distraction.
Bahil smiled broadly as he examined the register.
“Oh, so we have a Special Admission 1 student in this class?”
The students turned around in unison.
“Simon. Come forward.”
“……Yes.”
So that uneasy feeling had reason after all.
Simon gathered his composure as he made his way to the podium.
He’d succeeded in the end—no reason to be nervous. Just do what he’d practiced.
“Now, who would make a suitable opponent for our excellent Special Admission 1 student?”
The students flinched, dodging Bahil’s gaze. He found their reaction amusing and grinned as he flipped through the register.
“I see there are two students with impressive entrance scores.”
Bahil deliberated between the two for a moment before finally speaking.
“Hector Muir. Come forward.”
“Yes.”
It was the large boy Bahil had mentioned remembering. Hector rose and climbed onto the podium.
Soon the two faced each other on the platform.
Simon swallowed hard. Now that they stood directly across from each other, Hector seemed far larger than before.
“I’ll now explain the rules.”
Teaching assistants brought a stand desk in front of Simon and Hector. On it lay the Correction Device from class.
“You’re only permitted to use the Correction Device. Complete the Correction Device and use it on your opponent! Whoever touches the ground with their knees or rear first loses.”
Simple rules.
Simon steeled himself. Since he was standing before everyone like this, he wanted to win.
“Professor.”
Hector raised his hand then.
“Yes, what is it?”
“I’ll compete without using the Correction Device.”
Ooh—
Whistles sounded throughout the room. The students’ tension dissolved, and they were now ready to properly enjoy the match.
“A commendable attitude.”
Bahil had conveyed early on his distaste for using such devices. Hector, having noticed this, was simultaneously demonstrating his own skill and confidence while making a proposal that would please Bahil—a clever move.
For all his bear-like, rough appearance, he was shrewd.
Bahil turned his head to look at Simon.
“And what will you do, Simon?”
Simon’s lips had gone dry. Everyone present was watching him with expectant eyes.
Honestly, it was hard to refuse the suggestion.
“I’ll use the Correction Device.”
It was better to face reality than indulge in childish arrogance.
If he’d accepted that proposal here and then failed to successfully activate the Correction Device even once, slinking away would have been far worse.
Bahil gave a bitter smile as he looked at Hector, who answered as if he’d been waiting for this.
“I have no intention of withdrawing my statement.”
“Very well.”
Hector had won over the atmosphere of the entire room.
The petty Special Admission 1 student, and Hector—steadfast and brimming with confidence, his impression now cemented in everyone’s mind.
It was obvious who everyone would root for.
“When I give the signal, you’ll begin. I hope both of you will show your fellow students an impressive match.”
Hector lowered his stance, and Simon gripped the Correction Device’s handle.
“Begin!”
Simon summoned the Pitch-Black Fluid he’d prepared and fed it into the Correction Device. The fluid spread rapidly, filling the Magical Circle Template.
‘I can do this!’
Perhaps it was the tension, but the Pitch-Black Fluid didn’t flow as smoothly as it did during practice. Still, Simon waited with patience for the Magical Circle to complete.
The Main Rune Language at the center of the Magical Circle took shape, and just as he was about to continue with the detailed formulae—
“……!”
His body suddenly grew heavy, and his legs trembled.
‘No way!’
Simon lifted his head. Hector had already finished his first incantation, his face alight with triumphant satisfaction.
“Ooooh!”
“Well done, Hector!”
“That was fast!”
Riding this momentum, Hector immediately began preparing his second incantation, while Simon gritted his teeth and fought to maintain his own pace.
‘I took just one hit and my body feels like lead!’
Cold sweat dripped down his face. His legs quivered uncontrollably.
Now Simon understood viscerally why curses were so threatening, why they were such an efficient weapon.
‘It’s done. Time to lift it.’
The moment Simon lifted the completed Magical Circle from the Correction Device into the air, one side of it crumbled like wet clay.
Ah—
Disappointed murmurs rose from scattered points in the crowd.
Even if he could activate it now, the formula was damaged—the effect would be useless. Simon abandoned it without hesitation and prepared a fresh Magical Circle.
‘Ugh!’
And Hector’s second curse detonated. Simon felt his vitality drain away; his body grew heavier still.
It was the worst possible situation. Even if he focused solely on spellcasting, simply staying upright was becoming an ordeal.
His concentration could only falter under such conditions.
The tide flowed entirely in one direction.
Hector showed no mercy, unleashing his third, fourth, and fifth curses in relentless succession. Simon’s knees buckled and shook, on the verge of giving way entirely.
The students had delighted in Hector’s aggressive onslaught at first, but now they watched Simon with pity.
‘It’s over. He’s no match.’
‘Hasn’t he landed a single hit?’
‘Is he really a Special Admission 1?’
With his condition and focus plummeting, Simon failed to construct a Magical Circle twice in succession.
Hector unleashed his sixth curse at Simon and spoke coldly.
“Surrender. This is painful to watch.”
Simon clenched his teeth and forced strength back into his legs.
No. Absolutely not like this. He would never retreat.
‘Again!’
The third attempt began immediately. Hector sighed and prepared his seventh curse.
‘……Hmm.’
Meanwhile, Bahil stood with his arms crossed, observing the two students’ match.
This boy Hector was clearly talented. His aptitude for curse studies was impressive enough, but what struck Bahil was his mindset as a student—already that of a true practitioner.
He’d survive to third year. Bahil had already decided: this one would be his.
‘But Special Admission 1…….’
To be honest, he was hopeless. Any student admitted to Kyzen had self-study as a prerequisite, and some had even engaged in field combat already.
Yet this Special Admission 1 showed none of those fundamentals.
Like someone learning dark magic for the first time.
‘Why did Director Nephthys select this boy as Special Admission 1?’
Those who bypassed the notorious entrance examination and received formal invitations to Kyzen as Special Admissions 1, 2, 3, and 4 were truly talents of the age.
Among them, the selection of Special Admission 1—the “top”—was Nephthys’s prerogative alone, as both the institution’s director and sovereign. Every such selectee had grown into a formidable figure.
Yet this student, handpicked by Nephthys herself, showed no such promise.
His only distinguishing trait was physical endurance.
Ordinary students would collapse after four curses. Yet Simon had withstood nine already and remained standing.
Exceptional natural constitution. Clear evidence of regular physical conditioning. And the way he still clung to his spellwork despite barely being able to stand suggested considerable willpower as well.
But that was all. Professor Hong Peng of Combat Studies might have drooled, but Bahil was not impressed.
“Hgh!”
Simon’s eyes blazed wide as he lifted his fourth Magical Circle into the air on the Correction Device. This time it held solid, not crumbling as it floated.
Simon activated the spell immediately. A gray mist shot forth and struck Hector’s body directly.
“……!”
Hector, mid-incantation, staggered violently. His knees buckled and he nearly lost his balance, but he managed to catch himself on the ground with his hands.
‘Finally!’
Simon clenched his fist. When Hector lifted his head, his face bore an expression of genuine shock for the first time.
‘What is this? Why is it so heavy?’
Hector had experienced curses before through his preparatory studies.
But had this curse ever been this heavy? He’d nearly gone down in a single blow.
And yet the score read 9:1. He was undoubtedly dominating.
Still, having allowed that first hit, Hector felt an inexplicable unease. The way his opponent clung to him like a leech, refusing to fall away, grated on his nerves.
‘Collapse already, damn it!’
Hector drew every ounce of focus he possessed and triggered the tenth Magical Circle suspended in the air before him.
Thud.
At last, Simon—who had weathered no fewer than ten Exhausts—dropped to one knee.
“That’s enough. The match is decided.”
Bahil stepped forward and spoke.
“The victor is Hector Muir.”
Applause erupted from the students.
Hector wiped the sweat from his brow and turned his gaze away.
There sat Simon, drenched in sweat as though caught in a downpour, collapsed on the ground.
‘…….’
He didn’t feel victorious at all.
The moment he’d landed the first Exhaust, Hector recognized his opponent as a novice.
Someone who’d never studied black magic. The match should have ended there.
It should have.
But the man wouldn’t go down.
Even after taking nine Exhausts, even with his legs trembling precariously beneath him, he’d somehow completed his spell and landed a blow of his own.
‘……Disgusting creature.’
Before it could grow any larger.
Before it became so enormous that no one could stop it.
While there was still time to suppress it—wasn’t that the prudent move?
Hector considered the matter seriously.
“You’ve worked hard too, Simon. You may go.”
Bahil snapped his fingers, and the ten-layered Exhaust curse that had been pressing down on Simon dissolved.
The curse lifted, but the exhaustion from enduring it remained—every bit of it. His breath came sour and ragged.
Yet.
‘Whew.’
He harbored no regrets. Simon rose to his feet with a sense of lightness.
‘That was exhilarating.’
He found himself grateful he’d come to this academy.
“Well, that concludes today’s lesson.”
Bahil immediately declared the class over.
The students filed out like a receding tide, and Bahil settled into his chair, leaning back against it. He closed his eyes and sat in quiet meditation.
“P-Professor.”
A female student, who’d been watching for an opening, approached him.
“I had a question about the lesson…….”
“One moment.”
Bahil opened his palm while keeping his eyes shut.
“Come to my office once the day’s classes have finished. I’ll resolve all your questions then.”
“Really? Thank you so much!”
What luck this was.
The girl let out a soft squeal at the prospect of being invited to Bahil’s office and rushed from the classroom.
Bahil watched her departing figure through half-lidded eyes.
‘I must restrain myself.’
A curse nearly escaped his throat.
This sensation.
This lingering resonance.
He had no desire to waste this moment on some cheap trifle.
Bahil closed his eyes once more and savored the memory of the lesson, turning it over in his mind.
‘……Simon Polentia.’
It was Simon, of all people, who occupied his thoughts.
At first, he’d dismissed him as merely someone with good stamina, but that was wrong.
The other students likely believed the match had been a one-sided rout—10:1 in Hector’s favor.
But that single Exhaust Simon had delivered to Hector at the end.
To a professor trained to read a student’s talent and potential, that lone Exhaust from Simon’s hand shone orders of magnitude—no, dozens of times—more valuable than all ten of Hector’s.
In his mind, Simon’s Exhaust played back again and again.
‘Magnificent!’
Bahil’s mouth stretched into a grin.
‘A genius like that—I’ll find a way to make him major in Curse Studies, no matter what.’
The buried hunger within Bahil began to stir.

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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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