Necromancer Academy and the Genius Summoner-Chapter 185: Episode

Thanks to the combined efforts of Simon and Prince, the Divine Train had safely escaped the Blood Heaven Cult’s pursuit. With plenty of fuel, there was no danger of being overtaken; they had completely shaken them off.

Now, as planned, Simon and Lethe prepared to depart.

"So, you’re really going."

"Yes."

Having gathered their belongings, they stood before the gaping hole in the train’s wall. Metin, Ellen, the first-class girls, the third-class men, and the priests who had helped defend the train—many of the people they had come to know were there to see them off.

"This incident will be a major turning point in my life," Metin said, his voice heavy with conviction. "Even if I fall into a slump, I will not regret it. I will never forget either of you."

"I’ll be cheering for you, Priest," Simon replied earnestly.

"Live without regrets," Metin said, bidding them both a final farewell.

Ellen approached Simon, her voice thick with disappointment. "So we’re parting ways again. I thought we’d have more time together."

Seeing her genuine sadness, Simon offered a warm smile. "I’m sure I’ll have a reason to visit again someday. I’ll be in your care then."

"Of course! I’ll be your official guide next time!"

"And you," Lethe said, planting her hands on her hips and smirking at Ellen. "If I catch you impersonating me again, there will be no mercy."

"So I just have to make sure you don’t catch me, right?"

A few of those in on the joke let out a strained laugh. Simon bowed his head to the others he had grown fond of.

"Well then," he announced, "we’ll be on our way."

"Don’t act like you know me if you see me again," Lethe snapped over her shoulder as they prepared to jump.

As the train’s remaining passengers waved them off, Simon and Lethe channeled Jet-Black and Divinity into their legs, leaping from the carriage into the night. "They’re gone," Ellen murmured. "Will they really be okay?"

Metin nodded, his expression resolute. "Of course. I have faith that those two will stop the war."

---

Their dramatic leap from the train was followed by a less-than-graceful tumble through the grass, but they were unharmed. Under the cover of darkness, they moved slowly, muffling their footsteps. "You can come out now, Prince," Simon said, opening his Subspace. Prince shot out as if he had been waiting for the invitation. [Ugh, it’s so cramped in there!] he whined, dusting off his clothes. He then caught sight of Lethe, who was staring at him with a look of pure disgust. Prince bristled. [What! What is it now!] "Ugh, I just can’t get used to this," Lethe muttered. "An undead that talks and throws tantrums."

Simon shrugged. "Even the scholars of the Dark Alliance have learned nothing about the Ancient Undead. They’re a complete mystery."

[Are you talking about me like some research subject?] Prince puffed out his chest indignantly. [I am the great Zombie Prince!]

After a moment of fuming, he let out a sigh as if magnanimously reining in his temper. [Whatever. What do I have to do this time?] "I just thought you might be bored and cramped," Simon explained. "No one’s watching, so I figured you could get some fresh air."

[What? Bored?] Prince scoffed. [A great Ancient Undead feels no such emotion!]

"Then you can go back in."

[No! It’s dull in there!] Simon was left speechless. Listening to their nonsensical exchange, Lethe felt her mind go blank. He truly was a bizarre creature, one that even scholars would know nothing about. ’Still, he’s not as bizarre as this guy,’ she thought, glancing at Simon. As Simon placated the fuming Prince, he caught her eye and offered a small smile. Lethe whipped her head away. "We don’t have time for this. Let’s get going."

The trio walked through the night, keeping a safe distance from the railroad tracks. After an hour of brisk walking, they spotted the distant glow of torches and heard the low murmur of voices. It was the Blood Heaven Cult’s pursuit team, regrouping after their failed attack on the train. Lethe’s voice dropped to a whisper. "Since they failed to catch us, they’ll be returning to their base. Let’s follow them from a distance."

As she took a step forward, she suddenly flinched, her arms pinwheeling in surprise. A zombie that had been lying prone in the grass was crawling toward her, baring its teeth.

[Go away,] Prince commanded flatly. At his single command, the zombie scurried away like a well-behaved lamb. "Gods, my heart," Lethe huffed, glaring at the retreating zombie’s back. She had the overwhelming urge to riddle it with spears of Divinity. [Coward,] Prince snickered. "Alright, you’re first," Lethe shot back, rolling up her sleeves. Just as they were about to clash, Simon quickly stepped between them. "By the way," he said, turning to Lethe, "when is your acquaintance supposed to arrive?"

"Oh." She checked her watch. "They’re using a chain of teleportation magic circles—burning through Gold to get here—so they should arrive by dawn at the latest."

Simon’s eyes widened. "By dawn? That fast?"

"Yes. For that person to drop everything and rush here, the situation must be dire."

"Let me ask again, are you absolutely sure this person is trustworthy?"

She nodded firmly. "They’re the person I trust most after Ms. Anna. More importantly, they hold significant influence in the Holy Federation. Right now, we have no choice but to rely on them."

---

On the fifth floor of the Blood Heaven Cult’s headquarters, pools of crimson blood covered the ground. Shriveled mummies were strewn about, and the walls and ceiling were lined with chained test subjects. This was the undead laboratory. Judah, a bishop of the cult, was focused on his research, carefully dropping a single bead of blood onto a subject strapped to an iron bed. The subject writhed in agony before its body went limp, spewing foul-smelling waste from every orifice. Droplets of blood spattered Judah’s white lab coat, but they slid smoothly off the pristine fabric, leaving him impeccably clean. "Failure number 531," he stated, nonchalantly picking up a clipboard to make a note. "Bishop," a cultist said, emerging from the shadows and bowing his head. "My apologies for interrupting your experiment, but we have a slight problem."

Without looking up from his journal, Judah asked, "You lost them?"

"Yes. My apologies."

"I told you, didn’t I? Sending a pursuit team was pointless." Judah selected a clean scalpel from his toolbox and began methodically slicing into the flesh of a new test subject on the adjacent bed. "A warrior strong enough to capture Aloken was on that train. They must have also found a way to restart the divine train."

He pinched a small piece of flesh between his thumb and forefinger, examining it closely. The cultist bowed his head lower. "Now that the passengers have escaped, we believe the full force of the Holy Federation will converge on our headquarters by morning."

"That’s to be expected." Judah stood. "Dispose of this test subject."

"Yes, sir."

"And we must accelerate our relocation to another headquarters. Prepare the teleportation magic circle."

"Bishop!" another cultist cried, rushing in and dropping to one knee. "We have a major problem! The teleportation magic circle...!"

After hearing the report, Judah left the laboratory and went to the headquarters’ teleportation room. The cultists there were in a state of panicked confusion. "You’re saying all the magic circles have been neutralized?" Judah asked calmly. "Yes."

"There’s only one group capable of pulling something like this off so easily." Judah pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and smiled. "Inquisitor-General Rate is coming."

Chaos erupted. "B-Bishop! Why are they here already?!"

"This isn’t part of the plan! We haven’t even released the information yet!"

"Well, now," Judah said, turning so his white coat fluttered behind him. "I suppose they gathered their own intelligence on us first." His voice remained remarkably composed. "This might be for the best. Prepare for a holy war. We will seize this opportunity to wipe out all the Heretic Inquisitors."

"Y-You mean..."

The corners of Judah’s mouth lifted into a smirk. "I will summon the Apostles of the Goddess."

"YAYYYYYY!"

A ferocious roar erupted from the cultists, their earlier fear of the Heretic Inquisitors completely gone. "Gather all personnel and assume defensive positions," Judah commanded. "If we can just hold out until the Apostles appear, victory is ours."

"Yes, sir!"

"Glory to the great Goddess!"

Leaving the fanatics to their frenzy, Judah ascended the stairs alone. He entered a private room, closing and locking the door behind him. Chanting an incantation, he bit his finger and let his blood drip to the floor. The crimson drops formed a magic circle that tore open the ground, creating an alien, blood-red portal. "I have to prepare for an interview, so I’ll be leaving now," he muttered to himself. "I pray your sacrifices will be meaningful."

With that, Judah threw himself into the portal, which sealed shut behind him.

---

"Inquisitor-General, the teleportation-nullification magic circle is complete."

"Good."

The massive man sitting on a rock rose to his feet. It was Rate, the warmonger who specialized in hunting necromancers, the current Inquisitor-General of the Holy Federation. "How wide is the range?"

"Within a six-mile radius of the Blood Heaven Cult’s headquarters, no form of teleportation is possible."

"Understood."

He had waited a long time for this. He turned, his gray cloak billowing behind him, to face the five hundred elite Heretic Inquisitors under his direct command. They carried an arsenal of weapons and torture devices, their faces obscured by metal masks. In their eyes gleamed the irrational hunger of blood-starved dogs. They were the Holy Federation’s instruments of slaughter, forged through hellish mental conditioning—fanatics prepared to shove a knife down their own throats if the Goddess or Rate commanded it. "The world is full of contradictions," Rate began, his voice booming. "In the world created by our great Goddess, there are those who brazenly deny her. We coexist with these maggots under the same sky, breathing the same air. They occupy half the world, poisoning the minds of the masses and birthing countless evils. Why must we," he snarled, a murderous intent rising in his eyes, "stand by and watch as these vermin live and breathe?"

The Inquisitors stomped their feet in perfect unison, raising their weapons to their chests. "Are we afraid of war? Because innocents will be sacrificed? Because we, too, will suffer losses? Bullshit! There is no victory without sacrifice! We are the disciples of the Goddess, and the Goddess will not abandon us! And I am certain," he roared, an aura of Divinity and raw power radiating from him, "the Goddess desires judgment!"

’STOMP!’

"Sacrifice is not an excuse!"

’STOMP!’

"Starting today, we will begin a war against this disgusting vermin!"

Veins bulging in his eyes, Rate stretched out his arm. Space tore open, and from the void emerged a massive, cross-shaped greatsword of pure light. The sword that cleaved the heavens: ‘Royal Cross’. It was so enormous that Rate, who stood over nine feet tall, could barely lift it above his head. He looked as if he were carrying a cross-shaped building on his back. "Let’s go! Tear every last one of these heretics to shreds!"

Rate and his warmongers began their march toward the Blood Heaven Cult’s headquarters.