Necromancer Academy and the Genius Summoner-Chapter 59: Episode

At that same moment, in Bahil’s office, his eyes bloodshot, he was throwing everything within reach. Statues, trophies, and research equipment shattered against the floor.

"Hah! Hah...!"

In an instant, the room was a wreck. Bahil leaned a hand against the wall, panting heavily. His head assistant, Chehekle, seemed accustomed to such scenes. She stood with her back pressed flat against the wall, her eyes closed. A moment later, when the room fell silent, she opened them.

"Are you finished venting, Professor Bahil?"

Bahil strode over and collapsed onto the sofa. He reached for a pipe on the table, lit it with black magic, and took a long drag.

The smoke drifted out in a long plume.

Chehekle frowned. "Professor, no smoking indoors..."

"Please, just this once, pretend you did not see, Chehekle." But then, just as quickly, Bahil flung the pipe away. It shattered as it hit the wall. "...Why!" he shouted. "Why do you not understand my sincerity, Simon Polentia!"

He irritably swept his bangs back and exhaled a long, ragged breath. Still unable to quell his rage, he shot to his feet.

"You are a genius! A prodigy seen only once in centuries! Why are you letting that incredible talent rot in Summoning? I just can’t understand it! Summoning is an old, moldering discipline! No matter how well you do with it, you will only ever become a second Professor Aaron! Why don’t you see that?!"

Unable to bear the frustration, Bahil began to scratch at his body as if his entire skin was itching. "Your absolute peak! Is Professor Aaron! Think of how that man, once Kizen’s Special Admission No. 1 and a legendary talent, is treated at Kizen now!"

His arms trembled violently before he finally collapsed to the floor. His gaze shifted to a faded picture frame in the distance. In it, a boyish version of himself and Aaron, dressed in Kizen uniforms, stood with their arms slung around each other’s shoulders, smiling brightly without a care in the world. It was probably the most brilliant time of their lives. But Bahil knew better than anyone that he had come too far to return.

"They are all so pathetic, I cannot bear it," he whispered.

"...Professor."

"To see such shining talents throwing themselves into the abyss! I will not see such a thing happen a second time! Only I can save Simon. Only I can cut that raw gemstone and polish it into the most brilliant jewel in the world!"

"...Just be honest with yourself, Professor," Chehekle said, her voice flat.

"Honest? I like the sound of that." Bahil shot to his feet. "I want him."

A bizarre smile twisted his lips, and veins bulged on his clenched fists. "I want him like crazy. Simon Polentia. I must make him mine."

Here we go again. Chehekle’s face was a mask of resignation.

"For him, I am prepared to carve away my own soul!" Bahil spread his arms wide. "By any means necessary, I will make his supreme talent bloom and create the second Nephthys. My devotion, my effort, my sincerity, my very soul! In exchange for putting my life on the line to elevate him to the realm of the gods, I desire only one thing." He smiled, his expression contorted. "That he serves me as his one and only master."

"...Good grief."

"When someone asks Simon how he reached the top, he will answer, ’It is all thanks to my master, Professor Bahil.’ Ahhh...! Just the mere thought of it sends shivers down my spine...!"

As Bahil trembled in madness, Chehekle shook her head and turned away. "I’m leaving."

"Chehekle." Bahil approached her. "I am a man who must possess what he sets his sights on."

He grabbed her arm, pulling her forcefully into his grasp and tilting her chin up. "Just as I did you."

He looked at her as if admiring a beautiful work of art. In response, Chehekle stared back with pity before driving the heel of her shoe hard into his leg. Bahil grimaced and stepped back.

"That’s sexual harassment in the workplace, Professor Bahil."

"Just like when you were a student, you still have no charm," Bahil said, straightening his shirt collar. "The talent meant to succeed me cannot be so rigid."

"Wasn’t it decided that Simon Polentia would be your successor?"

"Oh, of course not." The corners of Bahil’s mouth rose. "Simon Polentia is not merely my successor; he is a talent who will one day surpass me. He will stand shoulder to shoulder with Lady Nephthys! As an educator, I am merely expressing a legitimate desire. It would be abnormal for an educator to see such a talent and not feel their blood boil. And yet, you insist on calling my possessiveness vulgar?"

"Trying to monopolize the right to teach a single student—what is that if not vulgar possessiveness?"

"My, my, you never lose an argument." Bahil put his hands in his pockets and tilted his head back. "I have had a good idea."

"...Now what."

"Right now, Simon Polentia is reasonably satisfied with his Summoning. He was even triumphant with it in Professor Jane’s Cyclops practical. That was the problem to begin with!" Bahil’s eyes once again gleamed with madness. "What Simon needs to experience right now is a bitter defeat. Only then will he reflect on himself, wonder what the problem was, where he went wrong, and reconsider which path to choose!"

"...There’s some logic to that," Chehekle conceded. "So, how do you intend to inflict a sense of defeat on such a genius?"

Bahil’s mouth split into a demonic grin. "Isn’t that the easiest thing in the world?"

---

The classes proceeded at a breakneck pace, all in preparation for the Duel Evaluation. Even Professor Eric Aura of Jet-Black Dynamics, who had seemed like a thorough theorist, had moved on to combat practice. The other professors followed suit. Whether it was to meet the students’ needs or because they didn’t want their prospective majors to be eliminated, most professors focused on combat-oriented black magic this week, greatly diversifying the students’ repertoires. Of course, this was the same for all first-year Kizen students.

After attending his morning classes and finishing an early lunch, Simon was on his way to his next class with Dick.

’The next two classes are both Hemomancy.’ The classes that had been postponed were now scheduled throughout the week. Because the professors were active necromancers, schedules were often extreme like this. At the same time...

"There isn’t a single Summoning class this week," Simon sighed.

Dick shrugged. "Professor Aaron is apparently on a business trip."

It was a pity. During the Duel Evaluation season, Aaron would have undoubtedly taught attack magic, which would have been a great help to Simon. At the very least, he would have had a chance to ask how he could fight on equal footing with other students using only Summoning.

"Huh?" Dick, who had been taking a bite of a sandwich, stopped walking. "Simon! Look over there!"

"Hm?"

"The Duel Evaluation brackets are up!"

In the direction Dick was pointing, a large bulletin board was already swarmed with students. The two of them quickly ran over.

My first opponent at Kizen.

With a pounding heart, Simon searched for his name. He should be fine as long as he avoided a few monsters. Nephthys’s daughter, Lorraine Archbold. The heir of the Ivory Tower, Serne Aindark. The half-giant, Chatel Maer. They were a trio to be avoided at all costs. He figured he could put up a fight against anyone else.

Ah, found it.

[Arena 2 - Round 1, Match 12]

Class A Simon Polentia vs. Class G Haren Cork

Who’s Haren Cork? It was a name he’d never heard. Dick seemed to be in the same boat, chuckling to himself.

"Rigang Chopra? Now that’s a unique name. Is he from Shahed?"

"Dick, you don’t know him either?"

Dick nodded and looked at Simon’s opponent on the board. "Haren Cork from Class G... Should I look into him for you? Find out his specialty or prospective major."

Simon scratched the side of his head. "I’d feel bad asking you to do that."

"Nah, Rigang is also in Class G, so I was going to look into him anyway. It’d be good for you to have some info on your opponent, right?"

"Yeah. If you could, I would appreciate it."

Simon turned his gaze back to the bulletin board. Haren Cork. What kind of black magic did this student fight with? The Duel Evaluation felt like more than a simple brawl. It was a stage where he could exchange spells with another student and definitively compare their achievements. It would be a lie to say there was no pressure, but at the same time, his heart pounded with excitement.

"I wish classes would end soon," Simon murmured.

Hearing him, Dick blinked. "Huh? Why all of a sudden? You like attending classes."

"I have some personal training to do this evening."

Dick chuckled. "This bastard’s trying to stomp some newbies again. What kind of training this time? Honestly, how many kids can handle your combat magic and killer kicks?"

"...Don’t call them killer kicks. And combat magic isn’t my main focus this time."

"Then?"

"I’m going to try fighting with Summoning."

Dick’s eyes widened in surprise before a wicked grin spread across his face. "Should I give you the Meirin reaction or the Kami reaction?"

"...What’s that?"

"Just pick one."

"Meirin?"

Dick crossed his arms with a prim expression and turned his head away sharply. Then, in a forced, high-pitched voice, he mimicked, "I’m telling you right now, you’d better fight with your combat magic."

"Pfft!" Simon burst out laughing, spitting a little.

Dick, smiling proudly at his friend’s reaction, was suddenly struck by a flying bag and sent sprawling.

"Just go to hell!" Meirin was fuming, her face bright red. Beside her, Kamibarez was covering her mouth, desperately trying to hold back her laughter.

"Hey, why?! Even you have to admit it sounded just like her—Uwaaah!"

"Go to hellll!"

---

As soon as his classes ended, Simon used Kevin’s stable route to get to Rochest. It’s been a while since I’ve been in Rochest at night. The streets, so vibrant on weekends, felt a bit unfamiliar—dark and quiet. He had even put on a robe to avoid attracting attention, but he saw many other boys and girls who looked just like him, with their hoods pulled low.

First, the necromancer shop.

He headed to the shop he had visited before.

"Welcome," a young man with a monocle at the counter greeted him.

This must be the shop owner. He had heard the gist of it from Dick. A necromancer who had made it to his second year at Kizen before being pushed out by the competition and had now settled in Rochest to run a shop.

Simon bowed his head politely. "Good evening, Senior."

The shop owner laughed awkwardly. "Haha, a senior? There’s no need for a current Kizen student to call me that."

Simon raised his head. "But I heard you made it to the second year..."

"I’m a failure. A current Kizen first-year is far more valuable than an old dropout." Still, he didn’t seem offended, as he was smiling. In fact, many of the business owners in Rochest were former Kizen students. Whether they couldn’t forget their shining school days or some lingering nostalgia kept them from leaving, they remained in the academy’s shadow. It was precisely because of people like them that Kizen students, most of whom were high nobles, couldn’t cause trouble recklessly in the city.

"Anyway, what are you looking for?" the shop owner asked.

Simon’s eyes lit up as he answered without a moment’s hesitation. "I want to build a Skeleton Archer."