Necromancer Academy and the Genius Summoner-Chapter 85: Episode

Dawn was breaking. Meirin, still wrapped in Simon’s robe, groaned softly and sat up. She stared blankly for a moment before her eyes darted around the cave.

"...Simon?"

He was gone. All that remained were the dying embers of the campfire, a small pile of fruit, and some meat skewers ready to be grilled. Beside them lay a note. ’Sorry, I had to leave first for personal reasons.’

She made a sullen face as she read it. "...Whatever. It’s not like I was planning on teaming up with you anyway," she muttered, her lips forming a pout as she stoked the fire back to life. ’Be careful, Simon.’

---

"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!"

At that same moment, Haren Cork and his team were scouring the jungle. ’Where the hell did that bastard go?’

Haren had seen Simon cross the bridge to Kera Island and had given chase immediately, but the dense, confusing jungle and constant monster attacks had allowed his quarry to slip away. This was bad. He had been lucky enough to get this chance from ‘that person,’ but at this rate, he would be returning to Kizen having accomplished nothing. ’Tsk.’

Haren reached into his pocket, his fingers fiddling with the feathers. He had already used two of the five. He scratched his head in frustration and turned to his team. "Hey, you! What are you doing? Look harder, you piece of shit!"

"Y-Yes! I’ll look harder!" The student groveling on the ground, pretending to sniff for a trail, couldn’t even meet Haren’s gaze. The other team members watched, utterly bewildered.

It made no sense.

’...Why is Malcolm so scared of a loser like that?’

The student sniffing the ground was none other than Special Admission No. 10, Malcolm Randolph, the same one who had fought Hector to a standstill. Everyone here had joined the team because of Malcolm. Haren was just another hanger-on who had latched onto Malcolm’s power. But somewhere along the line, the power dynamic had completely flipped. What’s more, Haren wasn’t even leading them toward the center of the island. He was just dragging them in circles through the forest, obsessed with finding Special Admission No. 1, Simon Polentia. "Hold on, Haren."

Unable to watch any longer, a female student stepped forward. "How long are we going to keep wandering the outskirts? It’s already the third day. If we don’t head for the mansion now, we’ll be in trouble. The entire central island is about to become a warzone!"

Haren dug a finger in his ear. "You’ve been nagging me nonstop. If you don’t like it, get out of my team."

"’Your’ team? Since when was this your team? Malcolm is the leader!"

"Oh, is that so?" Haren shot a crooked smile over his shoulder. "What do you think, Malcolm?"

The instant Haren spoke, ’thud!’

Malcolm slammed his forehead into the dirt, throwing himself flat with his rear end stuck high in the air. "Of course you’re the leader, Haren! There’s no leader but you!"

"Ahaha!"

Seeing Malcolm act so out of character, the female student bit her lip hard. ’Something is definitely wrong.’

Her name was Amelie. She was in Class M with Malcolm and was also his group member. It was unimaginable for the proud, competitive Malcolm to act so subserviently. "Tell me the truth. What did you do to him?"

At her question, Haren just shrugged. "What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything. He’s the one acting like this because he likes me so much."

"Don’t lie!" she snapped, activating her core. A magic circle instantly flared to life on her open palm. "Change him back to normal right now!"

"Ah, this is ridiculous." Haren let out a dry laugh. "Hey, think logically for a second. Is there really some kind of black magic that can just make someone submit like that? Well, maybe there is. But could a first-year like us even use such powerful mental-type magic?"

No one, not just Amelie, could argue with that. The idea that he had used some trick or had some kind of blackmail on Malcolm was pure speculation. The most frustrating part was that Malcolm himself offered no explanation. ’But this girl... her constant nagging is getting on my nerves.’ A slight smile touched Haren’s lips. "Alright, fine. I’ll give you a hint."

She looked at him questioningly. "But you can’t tell the others, okay? Come closer."

Haren beckoned, and she eyed him warily. "Amelie! Don’t go," a male student behind her warned. "I don’t know what’s going on, but Malcolm’s a lost cause. We should get away from these guys while we still can..."

"No, I’m going."

Amelie strode toward Haren. She had to know what kind of curse he had placed on Malcolm. If he tried to use it on her, all the better. Amelie was one of the rare necromancers with a natural resistance to curses. If he tried something, she could analyze it. And if things went south, she had five comrades backing her up. As she stood before him, Haren grinned slyly. "Closer. I said the others can’t hear."

Though she was seething with irritation, she had to endure it for Malcolm’s sake. Amelie squeezed her eyes shut and stepped forward. Suddenly, Haren grabbed her shoulder and pulled her close. "Aah!"

"Amelie!"

The male student who had been watching drew his Jet-Black sword. But nothing happened. Haren simply whispered a few words in her ear. She nodded and stepped back. "Whew—I’m bored." Haren yawned, looking her over. "Hey, girl. Sit like a dog."

The rest of the team bristled with anger. "You bastard! You’ve crossed the line—!"

However. Amelie actually squatted down on the spot and stuck out her tongue like a dog. Everyone’s face went pale. "What? She’s doing what I told her to," Haren said with a shrug, snickering. "Alright, how about you dance next?"

"Amelie! Don’t do it!"

As Amelie started to rise, one of her teammates grabbed her from behind. "What’s gotten into you?! Please, snap out of it!"

"Hahahahahaha!" Haren clutched his stomach, roaring with laughter. "This is fucking comical! Hilarious!"

"Haaaaareeeeen!"

Finally snapping, the male student gripped his Jet-Black sword and charged. A staff member shot in from the side, crushing the student’s face and sending him flying. The others stumbled back in fear. "Oops, did you forget who’s standing next to me?" Haren taunted. Beside him, Malcolm stood in a combat stance, his staff radiating a murderous aura. "Tch, it’s a waste to use more feathers on these guys. And it’s not like they’ll listen." Haren gestured with his hand. "Just take care of them all, Malcolm."

At that single command, Malcolm charged like a demon. It didn’t take long for the remaining students to be beaten to the ground.

---

At the same time, Simon had returned to the spot where he had fought Meirin, searching for clues. But he was coming up empty. ’Why did the Vickrum appear at that exact moment?’

He replayed the battle in his mind. Had the noise from their intense fight provoked it? That seemed unlikely; battles were raging all over the island. Did it react only to fire? That also felt like a stretch. ’Pier. Does anything come to mind?’

Pier, who normally loved to chat, had become unusually quiet ever since the encounter with the Vickrum. "Is something wrong?"

[Hmm. No, it is nothing. If I were to hazard a guess, the primary reason for a Vickrum to grow larger is rage. In other words.] ’You’re saying it might hold a grudge against me?’

Simon crossed his arms. For a moment, he considered it might be a situation like Erzebet’s, where she held a grudge against the Legion. But that didn’t make sense. The Vickrum he knew of was so loyal it would sacrifice itself without hesitation. [But here is the thing,] Pier’s clone spoke up. [I would have to leave this Subspace to be certain, but the creature’s aura... it was slightly different from the Vickrum I knew.]

’Hmm.’

[You should be careful, boy. I have a bad feeling about this.] ’Understood. I’ll keep a sharp eye out as I head toward the center.’

Simon pressed forward. The closer he got to the center, the fewer monsters he encountered, but the more traces of Kizen students he found. It was now the third day. With everyone’s Tonguepad points running high, hunting fellow students was far more profitable than hunting monsters. Simon froze. The surrounding forest had suddenly gone silent. He scanned the area, his body tense, and saw someone hiding behind a tree.

’...What is this?’

Someone was hiding, but their hands were in plain sight, wrapped around the trunk. ’If you’re going to hide, why do it so poorly?’ he wondered. "If you have business with me, come out."

The figure behind the tree obediently stepped into view. The color drained from Simon’s face, leaving it deathly white. The person wore a Kizen uniform, but their face was one that couldn’t possibly be here—no, a face that ’shouldn’t’ be here. "Why are you... here...?"

It was Ellen Zile, the dropout from Efnel, whom he had met on his mission. She was waving and smiling. As Simon took a step toward her, she spun around and fled into the trees. "Wait!"

Simon sprinted after her. He chased her deep into the forest until his lungs burned, finally finding her squatting down, admiring a flower. When she saw him approach, she gave him a sweet smile and took off again. ’What kind of sick prank is this?!’

His head was spinning. He knew at a glance it wasn’t the real Ellen, but he couldn’t stop himself from giving chase. The phantom Ellen climbed a tree, danced like a ballerina, and even clasped her hands in prayer. No matter how fast he ran, he couldn’t catch her. Panting, he then finally burst into a wide clearing in the forest. Before him was a scene of utter carnage. Nearly twenty Kizen students were crawling on the ground, screaming in agony. "H-Help me...!"

A blood-red spear descended from the canopy, impaling the student. He shrieked as if he had truly been run through before his body went limp. A moment later, a forced teleportation activated, leaving behind only the orb of magic ejected from his Tonguepad. A hellish tableau unfolded all around him. Screams echoed in a grotesque harmony as nearly twenty students were cut down, unable to even defend themselves. One by one, they vanished, leaving only the glowing orbs from their Tonguepads. "Stop! Stop it!" one student screamed at the sky. "Why are you doing this to us?! What did we do wrong?!"

In that instant, his body was ensnared by heavy chains and bound to a frame. It was a blood-stained cross. During the Hundred Years’ War, Efnel would execute captured necromancers by crucifying them on red crosses. A symbol of death. The cross rose into the air, where sharp spears waited, their points aimed at him. The student, wild with terror, shrieked, tears and snot streaming down his face. "Stooooooop!"

The spears struck him countless times, and his body went slack. His protective suit’s barrier failed, and the forced teleportation kicked in. In the final moment, Simon saw a single feather drift down and touch the student’s forehead. On the ground, the remaining survivors scrambled in terror. But they, too, were caught by chains, their necks locked into a giant guillotine. "Stop! Stop! Please!"

"I’ll do anything! Save me...!"

The blade fell without mercy, and they were silenced. Simon watched the massacre with an icy expression. Then he raised his head. Perched comfortably on a branch above, a figure was enjoying the spectacle as if it were mere entertainment. The shadows were too deep to make out any details, leaving only a silhouette. "Everyone is being so dramatic," a melodious voice drifted down from the darkness. "They’re wearing protective suits; it’s not like they’re actually dying. Their memories will be wiped clean when they get back, anyway."

Simon’s fists clenched at his sides. "Why are you doing this?"

From within the shadows, the girl with ivory hair smiled, a chilling sight.

"...For fun?"