Necromancer Academy and the Genius Summoner

The second-years’ race for course registration was more ferocious than ever. Some desperate students took to the skies, but it was a poor choice; it made them an obvious target for flying monsters and left them exposed to Endolas’s floating cards.

’Alright.’

Simon finally reached the front of the Cursology building. He thought he’d made good time, but others had arrived before him.

"This way!"

"Check if there’s a path around back!"

But something was strange. They were all ignoring the perfectly good main entrance, instead circling the building in search of another way in.

’Is there something at the main entrance?’

Simon turned his head. Three students lay collapsed before the front doors, trapped inside coffin-like barriers and struggling feebly.

’A thirty-minute forced rest. Their Barrier Gauges must have hit zero.’

But what had defeated them? The answer was immediately obvious. A large card was embedded in the ground near the fallen students. It was, without a doubt, one of Endolas Bordeville’s traps.

’...I get it. The main entrance is the fastest route, but a powerful monster is waiting.’

He didn’t have time for detours. Without a bold move, he’d never get the classes he wanted. What he needed now was audacity and decisiveness.

While the other students searched for an alternate path, Simon walked calmly and confidently toward the main entrance.

’FWOOOOOSH!’

As he approached, the large card flashed, instantly isolating the space around him. This new dimension was far larger than the previous traps. Darkness pressed in from all sides as a hulking figure rose from the floor.

’A golem?’

It was a monster forged from black ore, its only features two glowing white eyes. And it was aggressive. The moment it spotted Simon, it threw a punch.

Simon dove aside. The golem’s fist shattered the floor tiles, obliterated a fountain, and tore through a nearby stall before finally stopping.

’Good thing this isn’t the real campus.’

This was a separate world, merely shaped like the school. Simon completed a magic circle and held it before his index finger, ready to fire the fastest and easiest curse he knew.

‘Exhaust.’

The curse shot out like a puff of smoke, striking the golem’s body.

’It landed!’

The curse had definitely taken effect, but the golem’s movements slowed by a barely perceptible margin. Simon had to throw himself to the ground again to dodge its next attack.

"Ugh!"

The unprepared dodge sent him rolling violently across the hard ground. His body ached, but even as he tumbled, he was already preparing his next spells.

‘Sickness.’

‘Weakness.’

He fired off a volley of familiar curses, but the golem’s onslaught didn’t relent in the slightest.

The creature’s massive arm demolished a nearby building. Simon scrambled to his feet, frantically dodging the debris that rained down from the sky. An entire classroom plummeted toward him, desks and chairs spilling out like toys.

’I’ve hit it with three curses, and it’s barely reacting. How am I supposed to beat this thing?’

He continued to evade and attack, gathering data with each exchange. After a few minutes, he’d learned two crucial facts. First, the golem didn’t ‘stack’ curses. The initial ‘Exhaust’ had landed, but the second had simply bounced off.

Second, after the duration of ‘Sickness’ ended, he tried casting it again. It worked, but the effect was drastically diminished. It seemed the golem developed an immunity to a curse after being hit by it once.

’Now I get it.’

Simon finally understood the creator’s intent. ’I’m not supposed to rely on stacking. I have to take it down with a single, powerful curse.’

Hiding behind the rubble of a collapsed building, he panted as he flipped through his Cursology textbook. If it wasn’t a curse he used regularly, he had only skimmed it in class and hadn’t fully committed it to memory.

’Found it!’

Locating the page he needed, Simon immediately began drawing a magic circle in the air.

"The runic word is Shading. The series formula is Expansion."

He hadn’t used it outside of class, but his mind and his Jet-Black remembered. He quickly completed the circle, placed it on his index finger, and aimed at the golem as if it were the barrel of a gun. It was a curse that obstructed an opponent’s vision.

‘Blind.’

’Fwoosh!’

The curse flew like a bullet and struck the golem’s face. Come to think of it, the only emphasized features on its entire body were those two white eyes. As the curse took effect, the golem’s glowing orbs faded to a hazy gray, and it could no longer track Simon with the same deadly precision.

’It worked, but this isn’t the final answer.’

‘Blind’ was just a stalling tactic. He had to finish this before it wore off.

Simon slowly rose to his feet and stepped out from behind the rubble. ’Time for the best single shot I can muster.’

He opened his palm and closed his eyes, drawing his focus inward.

He felt the sensation of his entire body sinking into silent water. Bubbles rose around him. Somewhere in the dark depths of the sea, a cry like a whale’s horn echoed in his ears.

’I have to perfectly recreate the sensation from that day.’

He pictured the ruler of the sea, the colossal pupils that had approached, leading all of creation in its wake. And he remembered the only countermeasure he had dared to use against it.

A magic circle began to form on his palm. ’Increase the Jet-Black supply beyond its limit. Overload the magic circle!’

The circle tore, and a three-dimensional construct blossomed from it like a flower bud, drawing the thrilling power of dark magic into reality.

Finally, Simon’s eyes snapped open. He unleashed the very same curse he had used to subdue that colossal monster.

‘Simon Original – Sleeping Deimos.’

With a sound like a whale’s cry, a torrent of dark blue water surged forward and slammed into the golem.

’BOOOOM!’

The impact was like a tidal wave crashing against a cliff. The golem staggered, then toppled backward.

’Thwack—!’

A massive shockwave erupted, sending debris flying and making the very ground heave. Simon threw his arms over his head, bracing against the blast.

He cautiously opened his eyes. The monster was lying flat on its back, fast asleep. Beyond it, a door made of cards had materialized.

’I did it!’

Too afraid the monster might wake, he stifled his cheer and tiptoed through the door.

’Whoooosh!’

The barrier shattered completely. The moment he stepped through the door, he found himself standing on the third-floor hallway of the Cursology Department. A direct transfer. For all its difficulty, the trial offered an equally exceptional reward.

’Alright, let’s go!’

---

Second-year campus, Cursology Department building. Bahil’s new laboratory.

’Click.’

Chehekle, the head TA of Cursology, set a teacup down on a tray.

"Professor. Your coffee."

She then took a step back, clasped her hands, and waited.

It was the same coffee he usually drank like an addict, but the man in the pure white suit showed no interest. He was simply slumped in his chair, his breathing shallow. The room was cluttered with boxes and documents from the first-year campus, none of which had been unpacked, even though the semester had already begun. The same was true for the massive chalkboard that took up an entire wall.

Chehekle’s gaze fell upon it. She could still see the scarred traces where the name ‘Simon Polentia’ had been furiously scrawled, over and over again.

"Professor, today is course registration day."

"Hm..."

"The students are on their way. You should drink your coffee and prepare to greet them."

Bahil’s fingers twitched.

He was a man of peculiar fussiness, insisting on using only his own tableware. Even when dining out, he was the type to request his meal be served on a plate he’d brought from home.

Bahil’s fingers closed around the handle of the teacup. Chehekle watched with bated breath, but he remained motionless for a full minute, cup in hand. Eventually, the strength bled from his grip. He simply dipped his fingers into the steaming coffee, brought them to his lips, and sucked them clean before letting his arm fall limp again, like a patient on his deathbed.

’Is he a man or a zombie?’

"Professor!" Chehekle’s eyes flashed, her patience finally snapping. "What on earth are you doing? You vanished without a word, causing so much trouble for the other professors! Does the world end just because one student you wanted doesn’t enroll in your class?"

"Yes." Bahil’s lips parted, his voice a hollow whisper, utterly devoid of life. "My world has collapsed."

"What do you mean, collapsed?! What about your insane ambition to curse the entire world? You yourself said Simon was just a single piece in that grand design!"

"Chehekle." A weak, broken smile touched his lips. "He is a talent that appears once in ten thousand years. My lifespan, however, is not nearly so long. An exceptional necromancer might live for a hundred and fifty years, they say. Far too short a time to wait for the next ten millennia."

"...Professor, no!"

"It can’t be helped. It was my mistake. I was too hasty. I should have nurtured him for years, letting him blossom into a brilliant curse specialist in a positive environment before making my move. Instead, I tried to teach ‘Compellonia’ to a seventeen-year-old boy whose core had been open for less than a year. The clever Simon must have realized it instantly—what I was planning to do to him."

Chehekle fell silent as Bahil’s listless gaze drifted to her.

"You are far too talented to remain under my shadow, Chehekle. Do as you please. I will write a letter of recommendation to Lady Nephthys. Teaching students directly as a professor of Cursology would be a new and worthy challenge for you."

"Professor."

"If not that, you have always wished to be free of me. That is fine as well."

"Professor."

"And if it is not freedom but revenge you seek—"

"The man I want revenge on isn’t this half-dead husk of you!" she roared, cutting him off. "What is this pathetic display? Are you really the kind of man to crumble over something so trivial? Is this the Bahil Amagar who was hailed by all as the greatest of his time?"

She snatched the attendance book from the floor and hurled it at his face. It struck him with a solid thwack. A moment later, the book slid to the floor, revealing Bahil’s reddened cheek and a faint, powerless smile.

"It seems the students are here to register for your course, Professor." Hearing footsteps approaching, Chehekle forced her emotions down and straightened her tie. "Please, prepare yourself. It is disrespectful to let the students see you in this state."

"I really don’t care anymore..."

"Prepare yourself," she repeated, her voice like ice. She turned and walked away, the sharp clicks of her heels echoing in the tense silence. Just then, a knock sounded at the laboratory door. "Yes, one moment."

She cleared her throat and opened the door.

And her jaw dropped.

"Ah!" Chehekle’s rigid expression melted away, replaced by sheer, unadulterated joy. "Professor! Look! It’s the first student to come see you!"

Bahil pushed back his disheveled hair and sat up straight on the sofa. And then he saw him.

He froze, his eyes locked on the blue-haired boy entering the lab, a course registration form for Bahil’s Cursology class clutched in his hands.

"Oh, hello, Professor Bahil." Simon bowed his head respectfully.

Bahil remained as still and silent as a statue. The awkward quiet stretched on.

"Uhm..." Simon scratched the side of his head, looking flustered, before finding his resolve. "I believe my words in the infirmary were out of line. I wanted to apologize."

"Even if your intentions weren’t entirely pure, I would have died fighting Silage if not for the ‘Compellonia’ you taught me. You saved my life. Thank you for teaching me Cursology during my first year." He bowed deeply once more.

’Ah...!’

A tidal wave of emotion crashed through Bahil. ’How? How can a student like this possibly exist?’

"I chose Summoning as my major," Simon continued, "but... I still want to continue learning Cursology from you, Professor Bahil."

’I want to continue learning Cursology from you, Professor Bahil. I want to continue learning Cursology from you, Professor Bahil. I want to continue learning Cursology from you, Professor Bahil. I want to continue learning Cursology from you, Professor Bahil.’

"If it’s alright with you, I’d like to request your permission to enroll," Simon said, holding out the registration form with both hands.

Bahil accepted it, his own hands trembling. His chest constricted, and a lump formed in his throat. He tried to speak, to tell the boy that his own greed had gone too far, that he was the one who desperately wanted to keep teaching him, but the words wouldn’t come. His mouth refused to open.

With a shaking hand, Bahil took up a quill and signed the document.

"Thank you!" Simon beamed. After a few more words with Chehekle, he left the lab.

The moment the door closed behind him...

"Uheheh." A low chuckle escaped Bahil’s lips.

"Uheheheh! Heh! Hehehe! Hahahahahahahaha!"

He erupted into hysterical laughter, his body writhing like a boneless creature. The light flooded back into his eyes. Blood surged through his veins. His heart hammered against his ribs.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! YES! I was waiting for you, too, Simon Polentia!"

"Keep your voice down!" a horrified Chehekle hissed, pressing a finger to her lips and glancing nervously at the door. "Simon is gone, but the second student has just arrived."

"I have no time to waste this glorious elation on mere insects, Chehekle!" He threw his arms wide, cackling like a madman.

’Simon Polentia. The boy who has tasted the realm of the gods... He said he wants to continue learning Cursology from me.’

"Excellent! Yes, this is very good!" Fully revived, Bahil whipped his head toward Chehekle, a sly, scheming grin already plastered on his face. "Chehekle! Are you familiar with the student slang term, ‘department specialty’?"

"...N-No, I can’t say I am."

"Haha! That simply won’t do! As educators, we must take an interest in the culture and language of our teenage students!" His mood had shifted so drastically in mere minutes that she was utterly lost. "It’s short for ‘Department Characteristic’! And the most infamous specialty of the Summoning Department is this." Bahil ran a hand over his face, his eyes glinting with a manic light. "Department transfers."

"For the last fifty years, the Summoning Department has had the highest transfer rate of all seven departments. Mr. Aaron’s delight in having Simon Polentia will last for this semester only!" The corners of his mouth stretched into a predatory smile. "I will take Simon back. Mark my words."

’You never had him in the first place,’ Chehekle thought with a deep sigh. ’Did I just unseal a monster?’

She was a little worried, but...

"The second student. I’ll let them in."

For today, at least, she decided to simply be happy that Bahil was finally himself again.