Necromancer Academy and the Genius Summoner-Chapter 319: Episode

The door opened. Holding their breath, Kajan and Simon slipped into Professor Walter’s laboratory.

"It’s more ordinary than I expected."

"I agree."

Unlike Simon’s first visit, the room was now impeccably organized. A tidy desk, a coat rack and cabinet, a simple tea set, and a collection of books. It possessed the sterile, impersonal atmosphere of an administrator’s office.

But that was precisely what made Simon suspicious. Kizen professors were fanatical researchers first, educators second. He thought of Aaron’s swaying, living dragon bones; Bahil’s oversized blackboard, scrawled with intricate curse formulas; Byul’s furniture, permanently scorched by potent poisons.

A necromancer’s personal space always reflected their unique obsessions. Which was why Walter’s sterile, personality-devoid office felt so deeply unnatural.

Simon began with the desk, sliding open the drawers. They contained nothing more than ordinary transaction documents, supply purchase lists, and official stamps.

He checked every single one, but found nothing of interest. It was the very definition of unremarkable.

Just then, Kajan gave a tug on a locked cabinet.

"Simon. I think there’s something in here."

A sharp glint entered Simon’s eyes.

"Can you open it?"

"I’ll try."

As Kajan laid out his tools, Simon scoured the room. He checked under the desk, sifted through the trash, and even patted down the pockets of the clothes hanging in the wardrobe.

’How can a place be this empty of clues?’

Simon moved to the bookshelf and pulled out a few volumes. In one, he found a passage Walter had underlined.

’Creation begins with doubting the essence of things.’

Simon photographed the line with the mana-camera Kajan had given him before turning the page.

’I do not wish to believe that death leads me to another life. It is a door that, once closed, stays closed.’

’Just as the old speak to the young, it would be good if the dead tried to speak to the living.’ 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

The other passages were just as inscrutable. After taking the photos, Simon resumed his search.

His search finally yielded something. Tucked away in a storage compartment was a document bearing what appeared to be Walter’s signature.

He spread it open, trying to compare it to the memory of the Blood Cult bishop’s handwriting.

’I can’t tell.’

The two signatures were completely different, which was to be expected, given they were in different languages. Judas, the Blood Cult bishop, had signed in an ancient tongue, while Professor Walter had signed in the common continental language. He’d have to ask Dick to run a handwriting analysis.

’If they turn out to be from the same person, this will be crucial evidence.’

He snapped a picture of it with the camera.

At that moment, Kajan successfully unlocked the cabinet. Simon’s face lit up as he hurried over.

"You’re amazing, Kajan! What’s inside?"

"There’s something, but I don’t know what it is."

"Let me see."

The cabinet was filled with boxes of red vials. There were dozens of them. Simon knew instantly what they were.

’Blood-producing injections!’

He was certain. It was the same item he had seen in his Hemomancy class that very morning—the fluid said to rapidly generate blood.

"But this is still a new technology," Walter had said. "It’s difficult to mass-produce, and the quantity is extremely limited—you’d be lucky to get even one after grinding up a hundred blood slimes. Therefore, I plan to offer the opportunity to receive a blood-producing injection to the one student with the highest achievement in this class."

Simon’s expression hardened.

’Why did Walter lie?’

He’d claimed the supply was extremely limited, yet there was enough here to inject the students of several classes.

’After this class, everyone wants one of these injections.’

In Class A, a student named Sophie Santana had demonstrated a dramatic increase in her hemomancy after receiving the shot. Even students like Simon, who had been wary of the new substance, were now captivated by its potential after witnessing Sophie’s results.

Given its supposed rarity, everyone was desperate to be chosen next. Walter would administer the injections one by one, proving their efficacy and stoking the students’ desire even further.

’No matter how I look at it, this is suspicious.’

Simon photographed the vials before carefully taking one.

"Isn’t it risky to take one?" Kajan asked from beside him.

"I’m just going to swap it out."

Simon produced an empty vial and a bottle of blood potion. He carefully transferred a small amount of the injection fluid into the empty vial, then topped off the original with the blood potion.

"I’m going to have its components analyzed."

"Good idea."

Simon returned the altered vial to its place, then closed and relocked the cabinet. Kajan straightened up.

"So, did you find all the clues you needed?"

"Yes."

He had Walter’s signature and a sample of the injection. Still, none of it was decisive proof.

"Kajan."

"Hm?"

Simon’s expression darkened.

"Can we go to the basement? The one you said was dangerous?"

---

They descended the stairs to the foreboding basement. It felt as deep as the second or third sublevel of a normal building. They moved down a long corridor shrouded in a darkness so absolute it seemed to swallow the light, relying on mana-powered night-vision goggles.

"I agreed to this, but I’m starting to wonder if we really need to go this far," Kajan muttered, scratching the scar by his eye.

Simon pressed a hand to his throbbing forehead.

"...Honestly, I’m at the point where I just want to find proof of his innocence so I can wash my hands of this whole affair."

Suspecting others was taking its toll on him, too. But while he hadn’t found a smoking gun, everything pointed to Walter being involved in something sinister.

Countless factions wished for Kizen’s downfall. If Walter was truly a member of the Blood Cult, a catastrophe on the scale of the second Saintess Incident could occur.

And at Kizen, the only person who suspected Walter—the only one who had fought the Blood Cult on the Holy Train and knew the danger they posed—was Simon. Caution was not a luxury; it was a necessity. With that thought, Simon steeled his resolve.

"It’s deep," Kajan observed. "This doesn’t feel like the basement I remember."

The space resembled an underground bunker. As they advanced cautiously, Kajan, who was in the lead, suddenly stopped and raised a clenched fist. The signal to halt.

A stench so foul it threatened to turn his stomach filled the air, sickeningly similar to the one from the warehouse piled high with hearts.

Kajan scanned a nearby wall, then gestured for Simon to look. It was covered in horrific bloodstains, the splatters as graphic and telling as any murder scene.

They fell silent, moving forward while suppressing their presence as much as possible.

A sudden, piercing chill shot up his spine. In the oppressive darkness, something was opening its eyes.

It had four of them.

"Kajan, get back!"

A massive hand lunged from the darkness. They threw themselves aside as the floor boomed with the force of the impact.

Scrambling back, Simon poured more mana into his night-vision goggles and stared ahead.

’What is that?’

It was a hideous creature. Its skin was a tattered, mottled brown, crisscrossed with what looked like crude stitches. On closer inspection, its body appeared to be two giants sewn together, but it possessed only a single, furiously beating heart, visible through the flesh of its chest. Its form was split down the middle—one half male, the other female.

"A chimera," Kajan growled, preparing for battle. "It has no intention of letting us pass."

The monster leaped, planting its feet on the ceiling. It stared down at them, its two upside-down faces tilting with a sickening curiosity. The doll-like, creaking way it moved its heads made the hair on the back of Simon’s neck stand on end.

’It’s coming!’

Clinging to the ceiling, the creature scuttled toward them like a spider, its four pairs of limbs waving menacingly. The ear-splitting screech of its claws scraping against the stone walls was agonizing.

"Stand back," Kajan commanded, stepping forward.

Like a seasoned veteran, he launched himself into the air without a shred of hesitation, his fist clenched. Jet-Black coiled around it.

A punch carrying the force of a sledgehammer slammed squarely into the center of the monster’s male head. The entire basement shook from the shockwave as the creature’s head snapped back.

"Tch!" Kajan’s expression twisted in frustration. "It didn’t go through."

"What?"

The counterattack was immediate. The female half’s fist smashed down toward Kajan’s head.

Kajan was driven into the floor with a crash. He let out a choked groan.

"Open!"

Six tentacle blades shot out, aiming for the monster’s eyes and heart, but the creature nimbly leaped back to evade them.

"Tch."

Staggering to his feet, Kajan coughed and wiped his mouth.

"This is a dangerous one. We might not be able to take it on our own."

The monster moved like a spider, using its four pairs of limbs to effortlessly traverse the floor, walls, and ceiling as it circled them, expertly exploiting the confined space.

"Kajan!" Simon yelled, holding up his hands. "I’m preparing a curse! Buy me five minutes!"

"Got it."

Without a word of protest, Kajan threw himself at the monster. As they clashed in a flurry of brutal blows, Simon took a deep breath and honed his focus.

Kajan’s elbow connected squarely with the back of the monster’s head. The female head slammed into the floor, but an instant later, the opposite arm swung down, striking Kajan and sending him flying into a wall.

"It’s almost immune to physical attacks...!" he grunted, stumbling back to his feet. He glanced down at his fingernail.

’Should I use ‘Fang’ here?’

The male half’s fist scraped along the floor as it hurtled toward him. Kajan’s eyes widened.

"Black Garment!"

A wave of Jet-Black enveloped him just as the chimera’s punch arrived. He took the blow head-on, sliding back but holding his ground before swinging the right arm he’d held in reserve.

’Kajan Original - Fang’

A massive, gray slash mark tore across the monster’s heart and torso. However...

The nail hadn’t penetrated deeply, and the wound was already sealing itself.

’I can cut the skin and muscle, but the blood inside is like steel.’

He’d never imagined a liquid could possess such durability. The creature’s blood was granting it an absolute resistance to all attacks.

"Kajan! It’s ready!"

Simon charged forward, a curse’s magic circle glowing on each palm. The wound from ’Fang’, though shallow, must have been significant, as the monster’s movements were sluggish while it focused on regenerating. Simon leaped up, slapping one magic circle onto the male head.

’Next!’

He scrambled across the monster’s shoulder toward the female half. As it raised an arm to block him, Kajan intercepted, knocking the attack aside with a punch. Simon seized the opening, successfully planting the second magic circle on the female head before jumping clear. Spinning in mid-air, he faced the monster and extended his arms, completing the curse.

’Hostile’

The curse took effect instantly. The male fist, which had been aimed at Simon, swerved and smashed into the female’s face.

Attacked by its own body, the female half retaliated, swinging its fist at the male half.

The chimera turned on itself, its limbs flailing in a grotesque civil war.

"...That’s an incredible curse. Where did you learn it?"

"From Professor Bahil!"

They scrambled past the distracted monster and finally reached the far end of the corridor. And then they stopped.

They couldn’t believe their eyes.

"Wh-What is all this?"