Necromancer Academy and the Genius Summoner-Chapter 179: Episode

’Thud!’

With one hand, Prince seized the Hellhound’s massive forepaw and slammed it to the floor. He had the appearance of a small boy, but his strength was more than a match for the hulking chimera.

[And this thing... you told me to bring it, so I did,] Prince said, taking the crown from his head and dangling it from his fingertip. It wasn’t a replica; it was the real crown, the one his true body wore. [Are you really going to use this?]

"Woah!" The sight of it sent a jolt through Simon, and he felt his fingertips tremble. He’d hoped the time away would have lessened the addictive pull, but it was as strong as ever.

"I want to avoid it if I can," he replied with a bitter smile. "But just in case."

While Prince and the Hellhound were locked in their struggle, Blood Zombies swarmed into the car. Lethe immediately prepared to cast a spell, but Simon raised a hand to stop her.

"It’s fine."

"What?"

Prince placed the crown back on his head.

His eyes glowed gold. The charging zombies froze, their own eyes igniting with the same golden light. A moment later, they changed their target, swarming over the Hellhound’s body.

"What? Why are they doing that?" Lethe asked, lowering her arm, her expression one of utter disbelief.

"Prince is controlling them," Simon explained.

The Hellhound thrashed, swinging its free paw wildly, but the zombies clung to it tenaciously, biting and clawing at its neck and body. Simon extended his right hand. Zombies controlled by the legionized Prince could be detonated with Corpse Explosion.

’Corpse Explosion!’

’KABOOOOOM!’

A chain of massive explosions ripped through the horde. The Hellhound shrieked in agony, its body convulsing. Seizing the opening, Prince leaped into the air and slammed his fist into the chimera’s face.

The massive beast was sent flying backward, smashing through the tattered wall of the train car and plummeting out of sight. Simon and Lethe both gasped. Prince landed lightly on the floor, adjusting his crown.

[Oh? You can use Corpse Explosion without the crown now?]

"I had some intense training with my father over the break."

The two lightly bumped fists. It was only then that Prince noticed Lethe, who was pressed against a seat like a cornered cat.

[By the way, who’s this? A priest?]

’SMACK!’

The moment Prince took a step toward her, Lethe’s hand shot out, and she slapped him hard across the face.

"You psycho! Don’t come near me!"

[Ow!] Prince flared up, his eyes flashing with anger.

[What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Simon! Can I kill her?] "Rein it in. Try to get along."

Lethe scanned Prince from head to toe, her expression grave. "...The aura is unmistakably that of an undead, but how can it speak?"

"Prince is an Ancient Undead."

Startled by Simon’s explanation, Lethe whirled around to face him. "So you’re a Legion Commander, too..."

"Yes. I told you before."

Lethe had never met a Legion Commander in person, but she knew the rumors. They were among the greatest obstacles to the Dark Alliance’s conquest—monsters who commanded armies of hundreds of thousands of undead and wielded unknown beings called Ancient Undead. A competitive spark ignited in Lethe’s eyes. ’That bastard... he’s a step ahead of me, isn’t he? Ugh, I need to become a Saintess, and fast.’

Prince shot Lethe one last glare before turning his back. [Let’s go.]

The trio moved swiftly through the train cars. With Prince leading the way, it was almost too easy. He donned his crown and seized control of the zombies, turning them into his own soldiers. The unsuspecting cultists, caught completely off guard, were struck down from behind by the very undead they had summoned. But as they carved a path through the train, a new problem crashed in. A section of the train’s wall tore away, and the Hellhound that had been thrown out earlier lunged back into the cabin. It had caught up to the train on foot. [You’re persistent!]

Prince whipped off his crown and tossed it to Simon. [I’ll handle this beast. And a word of advice? For the sake of your sanity, it would be best if you avoided using this.] "Thanks for the warning." 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

Simon immediately stored the crown in his Subspace. As the two monsters—Prince and the Hellhound—clashed, a series of deafening roars erupted. In the chaos, Simon and Lethe slipped into the next car. "Ugh! Just how many of them are there?" Lethe grunted. The Blood Heaven cultists had erected a crude barricade with beds and were unleashing a volley of blood magic. Behind them, a fresh swarm of zombies waited to attack. "This is going to take a while, too," Simon noted grimly. "We can’t keep getting bogged down like this. Let’s split up."

She tilted her head at his suggestion. "Split up?"

"You keep pushing through the front and rescuing the hostages," he explained. "I’ll get on the roof and make a straight run for the engine room. Once I’ve cleared it out, I’ll hit them from behind."

Ultimately, they would meet in the middle after clearing their respective paths. Lethe nodded in agreement. "That’s not a bad idea. Better than both of us wasting time here."

With their new strategy set, Simon forced open a ceiling panel and hoisted himself up. The roar of the train on the tracks was deafening, and a fierce headwind tore at him. Shielding his face with his arm, Simon scanned his surroundings. Blood zombies were still pouring out of the fields, and more undead and cultists were continuously being summoned from the magic circles etched onto the train’s walls. ’I need to move. I’ll figure out what’s happening once I get to the engine room.’

Simon broke into a run. "Intruder!"

A handful of Blood Heaven cultists and zombies stood guard on the roof. As he sprinted forward, Simon extended his right arm. A Subspace gate snapped open, and skeletal bones shot out, seamlessly encasing his arm in armor. ’<Bone Armor - Handgun Mode>’

It was a new technique he had developed over the vacation. Simon aimed his armored limb at the approaching zombies. ’Whirrrr!’

The center of the handgun-like gauntlet spun like a wheel. From the muzzle above his wrist, shards of bone erupted like bullets. ’Thwack! Crack!’

Struck by the impossibly fast projectiles, the zombies were either thrown backward or knocked clean off the train. ’The first field test is promising. Reload!’

Using the skeleton’s regenerative properties, the ammunition could be recycled. The fired bone shards flew back, clicking neatly into place within the gauntlet’s spinning wheel. He ran on, unleashing a torrent of bone bullets on the swarming zombies. Shouts erupted from the cultists below. "That guy! He’s a necromancer!"

"Surround him!"

As the cultists closed in, Simon stomped his left foot hard on the roof. This time, the blades of the Overlord swept out, sending the cultists spiraling off the train. After a frantic battle, he finally neared the front of the divine train, close to the engine room. Moving like a shadow, Simon carefully descended the side of the car, shattered a window with both feet, and dropped inside. He rolled to his feet and surveyed the scene. "Ah..."

It was the crew’s break room. The train’s staff lay scattered across the floor, drenched in blood. Simon rushed past them into the engine room. ’I’m too late.’

The engineer, the only one who could control the train, was also a cold corpse. There was no way to stop the train now. Simon glanced around, desperate for any clue. He spotted a map on the floor. It was a standard route map, the kind found in every passenger cabin, but a section was marked with a red ‘C’. On the map, the area was just a forest, but someone had drawn a path straight through it in red ink.

’We’re on this C-route.’

His eyes traced the red line to its end, where a large ‘X’ was marked. He didn’t know what the location was, but one thing was certain: the mastermind behind this attack was taking the train and its passengers to that destination. They were using the cultists and zombies to eliminate all resistance on board before they arrived, ensuring the passengers would be trapped and easily captured.

’But still...’

Simon crumpled the map, shoved it into his pocket, and scowled.

’Where the hell have the Heretic Inquisitors been through all this?’

It was hard to imagine such powerful priests being defeated so easily, but since he hadn’t seen a single one, it was possible they had already been wiped out. Simon left the engine room, moving from the crew’s quarters to the Heretic Inquisitors’ private lounge. A gasp caught in Simon’s throat. Five inquisitors were slumped dead in their chairs, gaping holes torn through their chests. He recognized their faces from his interrogations. ’This was a betrayal. An inside job.’

Suddenly, a pained groan cut through the silence. Startled, Simon whipped his head around to see an inquisitor slumped against the far wall, dying in a pool of his own blood. It was Metin, the man who had relentlessly tormented him. ’He’s still alive!’

Simon rushed to his side and examined the wound. Placing his left hand over the worst of the damage, he channeled a healing spell while pulling a potion from his Subspace and pressing it to the man’s lips. Slowly, the internal and external injuries began to mend, and Metin’s breathing steadied. ’That should be enough to save him.’

His work done, Simon stood to leave. "Why..."

A faint voice stopped him as he reached for the door to the next car. "Why did you save me? After everything I did to you..."

Simon didn’t answer, his hand hovering over the handle. Metin spoke again, his voice raspy. "Be careful... of the tiny droplets of blood. They’re smaller than you think."

Simon froze. "...A Bishop of the Blood Heaven Cult is on this train."

Simon stared back at Metin, whose gaze was unblinking. Having said all he could, Metin’s head slumped to the floor, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Simon committed the warning to memory and proceeded to the next car. A fierce battle had clearly taken place here. A wall had been blown out, and wind howled through the gap, the sound of the rushing train filling the space. This car, too, was spattered with blood. ’No clues here, either.’

Simon moved cautiously toward the next car. He stopped short. There, hanging in the air, was a tiny red droplet of blood, so small it was almost invisible. Simon instantly kicked off the floor and threw himself backward. ’BOOOOOM!’

The droplet detonated with incredible force. As Simon scrambled back, he saw more droplets clinging to the floor and walls. Gritting his teeth, he rolled desperately across the floor. ’BOOM! BOOOOM!’

Dodging the blasts by a hair’s breadth, Simon pushed himself to his feet, gasping for air. "Impressive reflexes." A man emerged from the opposite cabin. He had reddish-brown hair and crimson eyes. Though his clothes were tattered, they were unmistakably the uniform of an inquisitor. "And what’s with the mask?"

The man smirked. Even without being told, Simon knew this was the Bishop of the Blood Heaven Cult. The sheer force of his presence was undeniable. "I am Aloken, a Bishop of the Blood Heaven Cult," the man announced. "You appear to be a necromancer. Why are you attacking us?"

Simon’s eyes hardened. "And I should help you just because I’m a necromancer?"

"I’m not saying you must, but for two of our kind to meet in such hostile territory... it would be wise for us to help one another, don’t you think?"

He raised an arm, gesturing around the car. "The inquisitors and priests we’ve eliminated here would all have been a burden on the Dark Alliance in a war. From a military perspective, we have achieved a great victory..."

"That’s only if we were at war."

Simon cut him off, his voice laced with fury as he lowered into a combat stance. "You’re nothing but a terrorist."