Necromancer Academy and the Genius Summoner-Chapter 175: Episode

"The third verse of the prayer."

"Let all of creation embrace the great Deva as their mother."

"The Tenth Penance."

"It is the penance of abstinence—of not eating, not drinking, and not sleeping."

"The Book of Malaogi, Chapter eight, verse thirty, onward."

"Against the invasion of the Mamonites, Priest Raven built a sturdy wall and constructed an altar. On top of the wall, he placed scarecrows. The Goddess found this pleasing and transformed the scarecrows into soldiers of heaven. Seeing this, the Mamonites were filled with fear and departed."

"Ooh—"

Even the surrounding inquisitors were genuinely impressed by Simon’s ability to answer without a single hitch. A furious Metin bombarded him with questions for nearly twenty minutes, but Simon remained completely unshaken. "Wow, Malaogi Chapter eight? I don’t even remember details like that."

"That’s amazing."

"Newbie, let’s just go," another inquisitor grumbled. "Why are you so determined to pick on this devout fellow?"

Metin ground his teeth. ’Impossible. This is absurd.’ A man reeking of a necromancer was right in front of him, and he was supposed to just let him go? His teeth clenched so hard they might crack. He should have just cut his throat instead of interrogating him. If Simon passed the interrogation legitimately, wouldn’t that just make Metin a witness to his piety? "Hey." Senior Inquisitor Baccarat’s expression hardened, his patience wearing thin. "We don’t have time to be held up here."

"Just one. One last question," Metin shot back, then leaned toward Simon. "The Eighth Penance."

"It is the penance of enduring four days while rolling one’s body on boiling sand."

"No, not that." Metin grinned. "You said you were an apprentice priest, right? Tell me everything that happened in the two hours right after the Eighth Penance ended, down to the tiniest detail. It wasn’t that long ago, so you should remember it clearly. If you hesitate, you’re finished. Now, begin."

A detailed explanation of a past memory. If it was an experience one hadn’t actually had, the more one talked, the more likely mistakes or lies would slip in. However, Simon took a deep breath without a hint of panic. "When I finally rose after completing the Eighth Penance, my throat was parched and my skin, raw and peeling, burned with an excruciating pain. At that moment, an elderly man who had been watching my penance for several days from a mat a short distance away..."

"Are you trying to die? Describe his appearance!" Metin snarled. "That man, in his fifties with dark skin, thick eyebrows, and full lips, creased his forehead and handed me a water bottle. He said I reminded him of his dead son. His firstborn, whose immune system had collapsed due to excessive penance at the young age of sixteen, and who had returned to the Goddess’s embrace after falling ill that year. The elder said he had once resented the Goddess for taking his son so early. But upon seeing me..."

"Enough! Enough! That’s enough!" Baccarat shouted, cutting Simon off. Metin and the other inquisitors stared at him, their expressions a mix of protest—Metin for ending the interrogation, the others for interrupting the story at a crucial moment. Baccarat ignored them all. "We express our gratitude for the cooperation of our faithful brother!" he declared. "It was a great discourtesy to have doubted your faith even for a moment. Now, let’s go!"

Baccarat and the inquisitors moved on to the second-class cabin. Metin struggled, insisting they had to continue, but he was grabbed by the scruff of his neck by his seniors and dragged away. With a thud, the door to the train car closed, and the tension finally dissipated. Simon let out a sigh of relief. "Is it over?"

Just then, Lethe walked into the hallway, her pure white hair fluttering. "Yeah, I managed to get through it somehow."

"Did he give you any trouble?"

"That Metin guy was relentless, but it was all within the scenarios we prepared."

"Good to know making you memorize all that paid off," she said, entering the compartment and slumping against the backrest, looking exhausted. Simon spoke up. "I get why I was held up, but why were you so late?"

Lethe waved her hand dismissively. "Don’t even ask. They did everything by the book from start to finish. That crazy woman made me take off everything, even my underwear! Who does that these days, even with security so high? So annoying." She rested her elbow on the windowsill and vented her anger. Simon forced a smile. "The hard part is all over now, right?"

"Yes. It’s over. We’re going straight to the Tree of Life, so conserve your strength."

Of course, that was just wishful thinking. Metin persistently scheduled additional interrogations and spent most of his allotted time grilling Simon. And Simon, who would square his shoulders and answer smoothly as if to say, ‘ask whatever you want,’ was just as persistent. They engaged in a war of nerves, repeating the cycle of interrogation and answers, which always ended with Baccarat or the senior inquisitors telling Metin to knock it off and dragging him away. And so, on the second day of the train journey, Simon, exhausted from another day of dealing with Metin, rested his head against the window. He remained silent. Eventually, as Metin was about to move on with no results, Lethe, who had been staring at his back, called out. "Inquisitor."

"What is it?" Metin said, turning to face her. Lethe rested her chin on her hand and replied flatly, "See me for a moment when you’re finished here."

A short while later, Metin, having finished his duties in the other compartments, walked up to Lethe. He stood crookedly, brushing his hair back. "You called for me."

Metin had intended to ask one more question, but Simon had gone to the bathroom. Lethe stood up and gestured with her finger for him to follow her into the hallway. "Ellen, you come too."

"Ah, yes!"

Lethe took Ellen with her and continued walking, passing through several cars until they reached the cargo hold at the tail end of the train. "What is it, Priestess?" Metin asked, his voice full of annoyance. "I have official duties this afternoon, so please make it quick."

"Ellen," Lethe said, turning her head. "Keep watch."

"Why?"

’SMACK!’

Ellen’s eyes widened. Metin staggered, clutching his abdomen. This time, she drove her knee into his nose. He stumbled back, blood pouring from his nostrils, and leaned against the wall. Lethe immediately grabbed his hair, yanked him forward, and slapped his cheek with a loud smack. "Ah, ah...!" Ellen covered her mouth, trembling in fear. "Ellen," Lethe’s voice was a low, chilling whisper. "I said, keep watch!"

"Ah, o-okay!"

’THWACK! CRACK! CRUNCH! THUD!’

The cargo hold was splattered with blood. Despite the one-sided assault, with blood streaming from his nose and mouth, Metin neither blocked nor fought back. Only his murderous glare remained. "Hey." Lethe grabbed Metin by the collar. "You know you’re really pathetic, right? Why do you keep messing with him? Are you trying to get us both locked up?"

Metin spat on the floor. A single tooth, soaked in blood, rolled across the ground. "I am simply doing my job."

"But you have no grasp of the situation at all, do you?"

’SMACK!’

She slapped him across the face again, and for the first time, Metin collapsed to the floor. "Are you pissed off?" Lethe said, grabbing her Efnel uniform top and flinging it into the air. "Then let’s settle this without the ranks, you punk."

At those words, Metin ripped the inquisitor’s badge from his clothes and slammed it onto the floor. Summoning his Divinity, he pulled a spiked mace from his Subspace. "You’re dead now—!"

Before Metin could even register it, the sole of Lethe’s shoe was crushing his face, dragging him across the floor and into the wall. "Ugh, Argh...!"

He couldn’t even react to the speed. The overwhelming power. Metin’s trembling pupils stared straight ahead. In the dim cargo hold, two golden eyes glinted murderously. A snake-like creature was now coiled around her arm. Metin swallowed involuntarily. He was completely outmatched. ’Is this really a freshman?’

"Ugh!" Metin grabbed Lethe’s white leg to hold it in place and swung his other fist, intending to break it. But her left leg, which had been planted on the floor, lifted off and kicked him square in the head. Metin flew backward, smashing through a wooden crate. Buried in grain flour, he coughed violently. "Aaaah!" He immediately extended his right fist and clenched it. Ten divine fangs materialized around her and flew at her simultaneously, but Lethe blocked them by casting a protective barrier. She clasped her hands and prayed. A blessing activated, and a gale of wind erupted from her body. Her white hair grew long enough to touch the floor, and her golden eyes shone with brilliant light. ’Lethe Original - La Venue’

Metin swallowed hard at the overwhelming wave of power. Lethe extended her right arm, and the white dragon coiled around it opened its mouth wide, spitting out a sword of dazzling, prismatic light. "I’ll slice you up until you’re on the brink of death."

Just as she stomped the floor and was about to charge—

"Lethe! Priestess Lethe!" Ellen screamed in terror. "S-Someone’s coming! They’re heading this way!"

Lethe clicked her tongue in frustration. They had made too much noise, and a passenger must have reported it. She dispelled the blessing on her body. "Ran."

The dragon coiled around Metin’s body and brought him before her. Squatting down, she placed a hand on his face. "Ah! What are you doing?!"

"Shut up."

’Great Heal’

Metin’s body began to heal rapidly. He was shocked. This woman’s healing arts were also at a considerable level. Before he could say anything coherent, his face was fully restored. "This is the least I can do to clean up," she said coolly. "Go ahead and tattle to your seniors that you got beat up by someone from Efnel. I don’t care."

Metin said nothing. She recalled Ran into her Subspace and left the cargo hold with Ellen. Metin remained on the floor in a daze. For a moment, he heard Lethe and Baccarat arguing, then she left, and Baccarat came inside. "Good grief." Looking at the wrecked cargo hold and Metin sitting there with a blank expression, Baccarat let out a dry laugh. "I knew this would happen. Didn’t I tell you to stop provoking her?"

Metin remained silent. "Did you get hit? Tell me honestly. No matter how absolute Efnel’s authority is, I can still report it to the professors and get some internal disciplinary action."

Metin staggered to his feet. He picked up his fallen hat from the floor, dusted it off, and put it back on his head. "Nothing happened."

"Ha, you little punk."

"And I will continue the interrogations as scheduled," Metin declared, staggering out of the cargo hold. Baccarat watched his retreating back and shook his head.

---

Returning to the compartment, Simon was worried about Lethe. She had disappeared without a word and hadn’t returned for quite some time. If she had gone to the bathroom, he should have run into her. Wondering if something had happened, he was about to get up and look for her. "What are you doing, standing there all awkwardly?"

Lethe was walking calmly down the hallway. Behind her, Ellen was constantly glancing around nervously. "I was worried since you disappeared without a word."

"I’m not weak enough to need your worry." Lethe gestured toward Ellen, who scurried back to her own compartment. Lethe also returned and sat across from Simon, letting out a long sigh. "Did something happen?"

"I’m not going to tell you," she said firmly. "And really, it was nothing."

Simon stared at her for a moment before averting his gaze. "If you say so, I’ll believe you."

With a faint smile, Simon turned his attention back to the scripture on the desk. Lethe was quiet. Trust. He wasn’t so sure. Could trust even exist between a priest and a necromancer? Lethe opened a new bottle of wine.