Necromancer Academy and the Genius Summoner-Chapter 397: Episode

A lot had happened in the five days Simon was asleep.

The Blood Cult had infiltrated Kizen’s promotion exam. That they had targeted students was shocking enough, but the revelation that a high-ranking Archbishop had posed as a Kizen professor for nearly two decades sent shockwaves through the Dark Alliance.

At almost the same time, a mysterious energy wave was detected in the far east of the Shahed Kingdom. Agents dispatched to investigate discovered the Blood Cult’s headquarters at the epicenter. Its protective barrier had been torn apart by an unknown force, and the massive complex itself was split in two, engulfed in a sea of fire. Inside, they found a body presumed to be Silage’s.

The agents salvaged critical data from the inferno, uncovering the locations of Blood Cult branches across the continent. A massive, coordinated assault was launched, beginning an all-out war of eradication.

"...Ah."

Simon listened, completely stunned.

"But your story is the most important one, Simon."

Nephthys perched lightly on the edge of his bed, her smile sweet. "What happened in that dungeon?"

"Ah, well..."

A Kizen staff member now stood beside her, ready to take notes. Aware of the many listening ears, Simon carefully constructed his story.

He explained how the ring of blood had appeared, paralyzing the students. He had run to the dungeon lord’s chamber, where he confronted Silage. Using Herseva’s Third Authority, he dragged the Archbishop into a world of sand and raised an army of mummies to fight him. Silage had countered by summoning his own cultists, but the strain was too much. The combination of maintaining the blood ring, hunting the dungeon lord, constructing the Bloodstone Fortress, and battling an entire army had caused him to overuse his blood magic. His body gave out, and he fled through a portal just before self-destructing. Shortly after, Herseva’s dimension collapsed, and the remaining cultists were subdued by Lorraine and Serne.

’That should be enough, right?’

He had, of course, omitted any mention of his legion or the fusion of Jet-Black and Divinity. The staff member nodded, scribbling down the testimony.

"So, Student Simon, you were unaware of Silage’s death."

"Ah, yes. That’s correct," Simon replied, a nervous sweat beading on his brow.

Throughout his explanation, Nephthys had simply stared at him, and now, a knowing grin spread across her face.

"Thank you for your cooperation, student."

Soon, the staff and doctors filed out, leaving Simon and Nephthys alone.

"Uuuuugh! Hah!"

She stretched languidly, letting out a big yawn. A lazy smile played on her lips.

Simon spoke cautiously.

"Aren’t you going to ask?"

"Hm? About what?"

"About what really happened in there."

Nephthys giggled. "It’s fine. The result is what matters most."

Her tone made it clear she already knew everything. "Besides, don’t you have questions? You must be confused."

He had a ton of them. "Are the others really okay?"

"Yup. Perfectly fine. Not a single scratch on anyone."

Simon breathed a sigh of relief. "Then what about the promotion exam?"

"Ah, the exam."

According to Nephthys, the test had been suspended. The students were unharmed, their last memory being a red ring in the sky before waking up outside the dungeon. They were told that Blood Cult extremists had interrupted the exam, and a simpler, replacement test would be held. They were also promised generous compensation for the trouble.

Most students were actually thrilled; the dungeon had been grueling, and the exam could have lasted for months. Instead, they had passed out for a bit and were now being rewarded with an easier test.

The replacement was a virtual dungeon evaluation using the ’Avalon’ simulation system and the abilities of the Card Necromancer, ’Endless Bordeville’. Rather than making them live through a dungeon, the system would present them with key crisis scenarios, and their grades would be based on their responses. The first-years had already left for the testing site after a two-day rest.

"W-wait a minute!" Simon shot up. "Then I have to go take the test, too!"

"Oh, don’t worry." Nephthys grinned. "You’re already confirmed for first place."

"Wh-what?"

"While everyone else was paralyzed, you bravely faced the Blood Cult and held them off. Thanks to you, the other students were kept safe. They all agree that you deserve first place."

So, the exam wasn’t a complete replacement. It was now a test to determine the rankings from second place down. Simon finally relaxed.

"And!"

Nephthys put her hands on her hips, her brow furrowed in a mock scowl. "Your body is in this state, and you’re worried about a test? You need to rest!"

"Haha, alright. In that case..." Simon scratched his head. The students might be satisfied, but the political fallout was another matter. "Isn’t there a huge uproar outside? About the Blood Cult incident at Kizen..."

"Oh, that?" Nephthys smiled brightly. "I buried it."

A chill ran down Simon’s spine. "...Buried it?"

"Ah! Not the truth, just the topic. Right now, everyone’s attention is on the war."

She began to explain. For months, tensions with the Holy Federation had been escalating. Nephthys had taken all the border incursions and military buildups that had been kept quiet for the sake of peace and thrown them into the public eye. The media ran wild with stories of Saints invading their territory and the Federation preparing for war, each report more exaggerated than the last. Soon, the entire Dark Alliance believed war was imminent.

And on top of it all...

"By the way, have you ever heard of ’Inquisitor General Leit’, the head of the Heretic Inquisitors?"

"Ah, yes. I’ve heard the name."

He’d done more than hear it; he’d seen the man in person. Leit was an infamous war hawk, the political rival of Simon’s own aunt, the moderate Saint Israphel. He was the priest said to have killed more necromancers than anyone else in history.

"I managed to acquire a recording of his voice," Nephthys said, dangling a small artifact. "I linked him to the Blood Cult. The narrative is that he was the secret mastermind behind them all."

"Ah..."

"The war we’re fighting now is based on that premise. We’re bombing every Blood Cult base we can find, whether it’s in the Dark Alliance or the Holy Federation."

As she swung her legs back and forth, her eyes grew cold and calm.

"When the world is on the brink of war, who cares about a minor incident at a school? This will be remembered as just one of the Blood Cult’s many atrocities. In fact, the story might even become: ’As expected of Kizen! They repelled a Blood Cult attack on their students without a single casualty!"

"B-but what if that starts a real war with the Holy Federation?"

Nephthys shook her head.

"Nuh-uh, don’t worry. I know the Efnel Pope’s tendencies inside and out. It’s not like Leit actually conspired with the cult. We’ll just engage in a little political tug-of-war before things cool down."

’Ah.’

He felt a slight chill. The anti-Kizen factions, the ones who argued the school was obsolete, only ever fell silent when war with the Holy Federation seemed likely. Everyone knew that Kizen was the only power capable of facing Efnel’s seven Saints. By launching an immediate, brutal retaliation against the cult, she had fanned the flames of war just enough to silence her domestic critics, all without crossing the line into true conflict. It was a swift, brilliant move.

’To rule half the continent, one needed not only power but also a terrifying grasp of world affairs.’

"Hehe, are you disappointed?" Nephthys asked, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on them. "That I’m just as petty and despicable as the other adults."

"Ah, no."

Simon shook his head.

"As the leader of an organization, I believe you made the best possible choice."

She hadn’t hidden the truth, and the victims were safe and satisfied. Still, he saw her in a new light now. He had glimpsed the ruthless strategist beneath the innocent smile.

"Well, regardless, the most important person here is you," Nephthys said, her smile softening. "You performed a great service, and for that, you deserve a reward. Ask for anything. If it’s within my power, I will grant it."

"Ah...!"

’A chance to ask anything of the ruler of the Dark Alliance.’ It was an impossibly rare opportunity. ’No, this might be the chance of a lifetime.’

"How about this?" Nephthys suggested, her eyes sparkling with childlike excitement.

"Free ice cream for life throughout the Dark Alliance! An ice cream bomb!"

’That just sounds like your own personal wish, Lady Nephthys,’ Simon mused. He offered a troubled smile and took a sip of water.

"If not that... then..."

A sly grin crept across Nephthys’s face.

"How about, ‘Give me your daughter!’?"

’Pfft!’

Simon choked, spraying a mouthful of water. His face turned beet red as he broke into a fit of coughing.

"La-Lady Nephthys!"

"Isn’t my Lorraine good enough for you? Hmm? She’s cute, just like me! Talented! A good fighter, too!" she chirped, bouncing excitedly on the bed. "She’s the child I had late in life and raised with such care, but if you want her that badly, I suppose it can’t be helped. ’Hehe!"

That mischievous grin was unmistakably that of an adult teasing a child. A cold sweat trickled down Simon’s back.

"W-Would a request like this be impossible?"

"You mean there’s something you want more than my Lorraine? Tell me!"

"Ahem."

He wished she would stop bringing Lorraine up; his face was already burning.

"The reason we’re called the Legion of Betrayal. The sin of the 7th Legion for killing their comrades."

Having regained his composure, Simon looked directly at Nephthys.

"A pardon for that sin. Would that be possible?"