Necromancer Academy and the Genius Summoner-Chapter 366: Episode

[So, you are my creator?]

It was a historic moment. Gazing at the undead he had brought into existence, Simon felt an indescribable emotion swell within him.

It was talking. It was moving.

The lich, a being of crystal-encrusted bone with a plain skull for a face, tested its new body, then crossed its legs and swept back a lock of non-existent hair.

"[My creator is so young. How funny. How old are you?]"

’Is this a female lich?’

The lich uncrossed its legs and rose to its feet.

’Thump-thump. Thump-thump.’

The Life Vessel pulsed like a drum, drawing in ambient mana, converting it to Jet-Black, and supplying it to its body and magic circles.

’I made this!’

He was so thrilled he could barely contain himself. It was the first time since he began studying Summoning that he had felt such a profound sense of awe. If his Ancient Undead weren’t watching, he might have shouted for joy.

The lich drew closer and lifted Simon’s chin with its bony fingers.

"[You’re cute, but younger guys... aren’t quite my type. You’re a bit too young for my tastes.]"

He’d just been standing there, and he’d already been rejected by his own creation.

Erzebet, who had been watching with her arms crossed in disapproval, finally snapped.

"[How dare a fledgling creature like you! Take your hands off our Lord Commander!]"

The lich’s head swiveled around.

"[What’s with the spider? Why is a spider wearing a human school uniform? That’s hilarious.]"

A vein throbbed on Erzebet’s forehead. Akemus grabbed her shoulder, urging her to calm down, but she shrugged him off.

"[How dare a newly made undead speak to an Ancient Undead! Do you wish to be annihilated the moment you were created?]"

"[What a strange lady. Is there some kind of hierarchy among the undead based on who died first?]"

"That’s enough."

Simon clapped his hands, breaking the tension.

"My name is Simon Polentia. I created you. What should I call you?"

As he asked, he was secretly hoping he could give her a name himself, but...

"[Herseva.]"

The lich placed a hand on its own chest.

"[My name is Herseva.]"

Perhaps it was the expensive heart, but this was a lich with an incredibly strong sense of its own identity.

"Do you have any memories of your past life?"

"[Of course!]"

Herseva crossed her arms and smiled—or at least, Simon assumed she did. Unlike Pier, her skull showed no change in expression.

"[But I’m an undead now, right? So none of that really matters anymore! I’ve been reborn! I feel so liberated from my heavy, fleshy body! This feels amazing!]"

She began to sing, "La la la," twirling on the spot. The Ancient Undead backed away to give her space, and Simon scratched his head.

"[Hey, Simon!]"

Prince frowned at him.

"[Did you make this thing properly? It seems like you’ve created a lich with a screw loose!]"

"I-I’m sure I did everything right."

Perhaps Herseva had been a ballerina in her past life. The elegantly twirling skeleton tapped the wall with its finger.

"[Huh?]"

When nothing happened, she tapped it again, then began poking it repeatedly.

"[What! What!]" she cried out in a panic. "[Where did my ability go! Why isn’t it working?]"

"Ah, a lich’s magic is channeled through a staff. I’ll connect you to one soon."

"[You scared me! Hurry up and do it!]"

Simon took out the final component: a long, luxurious case. The moment he opened it, the autonomous staff, ‘Arelldelur’, shot into the air with a dry cackle.

"Please hold it."

Worried it would cause trouble, he asked Pier to grab the staff. Once in Pier’s grasp, Arelldelur became as quiet as a mouse.

’Alright. My best staff, as well.’

Simon drew the final magic circle.

---

As Simon worked on the finishing touches, he recalled his conversation with Benya Vanilla.

"A staff? Oh, just use the highest quality one you have."

’Simon had tilted his head.’

"Since I chose the Heart of Herseva, shouldn’t I find a staff that best matches it?"

"But how would we know if it matches the heart or not?"

’She had a point.’

"For the ‘three elements of a lich,’ you just have to combine the three best materials you have and hope for a good result. Between working alone and the low success rate of the Life Vessel... lich creation relies heavily on luck."

"So that’s how it was."

’In the end, Simon had decided on Arelldelur. It was his most expensive staff, a rare artifact embedded with its own black magic and curses. It was the natural choice, and Benya had agreed it was his best option.’

However...

"[KYAAAAAAA!]"

Watching the scene unfold before him, Simon was beginning to regret his decision.

"[H-How dare this thing try to take over my body? You’re dead!]"

—"Kikikiki!"

The moment their consciousnesses connected, the lich and the staff began to fight. With Herseva’s powerful sense of self and Arelldelur’s own embedded consciousness, the two entities battled furiously for control of a single body.

’Crackle! Crackle!’

Sparks flew as their Jet-Black energies clashed, twisting into a violent vortex. The ruins began to rumble and shake as if they were about to collapse.

"[Sh-Shouldn’t we stop them?]" Prince shouted in alarm, pressing himself against the far wall.

But Pier shook his head.

"[The consciousness link has begun. If we interfere now, both of them will be in danger.]"

It was absolute chaos. The staff and the lich were locked in a desperate struggle. The skull would scream, "Get lost!" then its head would go limp, only to snap back up with a manic cackle. Then it would slump again, and Herseva’s voice would cry out, "A mere staff!"

This went on for thirty minutes. Then...

’BOOM!’

With a massive explosion, the swirling vortex of Jet-Black erupted outward. The ruins fell silent. Everyone, huddled against the walls, looked around in bewilderment.

Prince spoke, his voice laced with irritation.

"[Promise me, Simon. Promise me this is the last lich you will ever make.]"

"[Could the problem be that we used too many expensive materials?]"

Simon coughed, waving dust from his face as he raised his head.

’Who won?’

In the center of the devastation, he saw the limp lich and the staff lying on the floor. Fortunately, the Life Vessel was still beating steadily. It seemed to be fine.

"[Ha!]"

Just then, Herseva’s voice rang out.

"[I won! I won! I defeated that insufferable staff! Hahaha!]" cried the staff, hopping up and down. Then, a moment too late, it froze, realizing something was wrong.

"[What! What! What! What is thiiis!]"

Herseva’s consciousness had been forced into Arelldelur. The staff wailed and shot into the air.

"[How did this happen?! Why am I in this thing’s body?!]"

Arelldelur’s own consciousness seemed to have been extinguished in the fight, as the lich’s body remained motionless. Simon quickly ran over to check its condition. It was fine. The Life Vessel was beating normally.

"[Wake up! Wake up, my body!]" Herseva sobbed, trying to command the lich’s body, but only the Life Vessel pulsed; its limbs hung limp and unresponsive. "[I’m ruined! I’m ruined! What is this mess?]"

Panicked, she zipped through the air, but unfamiliar with her new form, she bumped into a wall.

Simon’s eyes shot wide open. The section of wall the staff had just touched had turned to solid gold.

"[Sob! Waaah!]"

’Thump! Thump!’

Every time the tip of the staff touched the wall, it transmuted to gold. Even the stone debris falling from the ceiling turned to gold the instant it touched the staff.

Simon’s expression grew intensely serious.

’This is Herseva’s...!’

He remembered what Benya had told him. The Heart of Herseva was so abnormally expensive because it had belonged to a creature that wielded a unique power in its dungeon. And because it had been so well-preserved after its death, that power had manifested in its skull and heart.

Benya had predicted two outcomes: it would either become a lich that used ordinary black magic by consuming Jet-Black...

’or it would become a lich that uses its unique power with Jet-Black...’

A shiver of pure thrill ran down his spine. Simon quickly checked his own energy levels. The ruins were turning to gold, but his own Jet-Black was untouched. He glanced back and saw that the lich’s Life Vessel was the one consuming energy.

’I knew it!’

His mind raced, forming a dozen new hypotheses. A necromancer with a unique power, like Serne or Lorraine, would consume their own Jet-Black to use it. But just now, his summon had used its power, and it was the lich’s Life Vessel—not Simon—that paid the cost.

’This is a jackpot.’

Her consciousness was now in the staff, but she was still functioning perfectly as a lich.

’Isn’t this actually better?’

A lich’s greatest weakness was its Life Vessel. If it was destroyed, the power and financial loss were enormous. That was why summoners only deployed them at crucial moments, or after encasing them in layers of defensive magic, which severely limited their offensive capabilities.

But what if that chronic weakness was gone? A slow, cunning smile spread across Simon’s lips.

"[Sniffle! I’m ruined! I’m leaving!]"

Herseva, now a staff, was still lost in despair. She tried to fly away.

"W-Wait a minute!"

Simon leaped and grabbed the staff. Still sobbing, Herseva shot toward the sky.

’Whoa!’

Simon clung to the staff with both hands. They burst through the moonlit hole in the ceiling, leaving Pier’s Ruins behind as they ascended endlessly into the night.

’It’s high!’

Looking down was dizzying. Simon urgently tapped the staff’s body.

"Calm down, Herseva!"

"[How can I be calm?! My beautiful body is...!]"

’That skeleton wasn’t that beautiful, though.’

The moment he had the thought, the Jet-Black in the staff ’flickered’ out.

’Oops!’

They had gotten too far from the main body, cutting off the energy supply.

Simon and Herseva tilted precariously before gravity took hold, and they began to plummet.

Simon hugged the staff to his chest, squeezed his eyes shut, and turned his back to the ground. He felt the sting of branches scratching and slapping against him. He drew his Jet-Black into a protective layer over his back.

A large cloud of dust and debris erupted from their point of impact.

"Ugh’."

Simon winced and pushed himself up. Herseva was silent, likely in shock. He now noticed that the staff, with Arelldelur as its base, had eyes and a mouth.

’Where am I now?’

The Forbidden Forest was much larger than he’d realized. And making such a loud noise was dangerous. They could run into patrolling sentinels, and more importantly...

’Grrrrr.’

’Grrr.’

The Forbidden Forest was teeming with monsters. Drawn by the commotion, werewolves were gathering from all directions.

"[Eek! W-Wolves!]"

Herseva leaped up and snuggled into Simon’s arms. He stroked her wooden body reassuringly.

"Don’t worry, Herseva."

"[Wh-What are you doing? Hurry up and chase them away!]"

The moment he gripped Herseva, Simon felt a strange sense of exhilaration. More importantly, Jet-Black was flowing from her once again.

’We must be close enough to her body again.’

Simon calmly held Herseva in one hand, lifting her like a sword. The werewolves lowered their stances, growling warily.

"Herseva, we’re going to fight with your power."

"[W-What?]"

Simon grinned.

"Explain your abilities to me. In detail."