Necromancer Academy and the Genius Summoner-Chapter 90: Episode

The fake Vickrum’s greatest asset was its ability to regenerate. According to Pier, the key to overcoming it lay in his greatsword, imbued as it was with the power of ruin. Any living creature touched by the blade would suffer wounds that could not be healed or regenerated, allowing for a true and permanent severance.

"Why are you only telling me this now?!" Simon demanded.

Pier clicked his tongue.

[Because I cannot emerge! Look! There are too many prying eyes.]

He was right. Given the state of emergency, more than ten observers were circling the Vickrum.

"Is there any chance I could borrow your sword, Pier?"

[This is the sword of a specter, forged from a part of my own body!] Pier scoffed. [No one but me can even lift it, let alone wield it.]

After a moment of thought, Simon snapped his fingers. A slow grin spread across his face.

"Then how about this?"

[Speak.]

After hearing Simon’s plan, Pier roared with laughter.

[That is an insane idea!]

"We’ve got nothing to lose, right? Let’s at least give it a try."

[Fine!]

When Simon opened the Subspace, Pier dropped the greatsword onto the ground. Simon gripped the hilt just to be sure, but the weapon wouldn’t budge an inch.

"Alright, let’s begin."

Simon opened the Subspace again, this time positioning the portal not over the ground, but directly on the flat of Pier’s greatsword.

A moment later, a skeletal arm snaked out of the shimmering void and gripped the sword’s hilt.

"It worked!" Simon exclaimed. "Now lift it straight up!"

With a grating sound, Pier’s arm, emerging from the Subspace, heaved the greatsword upright. Simon and Erzebet gasped in unison.

"You did it!"

"As expected! The Legion Commander’s strategic mind is amazing!" Erzebet gushed.

[Amazing, is it?!] Pier’s clone shouted in disbelief. [You want me to swing the sword like this? I can do nothing but hold it!]

"Just holding it is enough."

Simon stepped forward, placing his hands over Pier’s on the greatsword’s hilt. Using the clone’s eyes for perspective, Pier carefully applied his strength.

"Hold it straight!"

At Simon’s command, Pier adjusted the greatsword. The motion was so perfectly synchronized it looked as though Simon himself were wielding the blade. Of course, Simon was only feigning the grip; Pier was the one bearing the weapon’s immense weight and power.

"You’re a natural!" Simon praised.

[...This feels strange,] Pier grumbled. [In all my life and undeath, I have never held a sword like this.]

"It cannot be helped," Erzebet said. "This is far better than being discovered by Kizen and forced to live as a fugitive."

She pulled threads from her fingertips, weaving them into cloth before carefully wrapping the fabric around the point where the sword and Pier’s arm met, concealing them from view. A perfect disguise.

"...That said," Simon began, feeling a wave of dizziness as Jet-Black was continuously siphoned into the ring on his finger. "Keeping the Subspace open consumes a lot of energy."

"This will also strain the Subspace itself," Erzebet added. "Let’s keep it closed until we reach the Vickrum."

Simon closed the portal, stowing Pier’s greatsword, and broke into a run. He’d expected a long chase, but for better or worse, the Vickrum, after rampaging across the southern island, had changed course and was now lumbering toward the central Kera Island.

’I have to stop it from reaching Kera Island, no matter what.’

Today was the third day of the survival evaluation, and the vast majority of students were gathered there. If the Vickrum attacked, an official order to halt the exam would be unavoidable. In the worst-case scenario, the result would be catastrophic.

As he ran, Simon activated the communication device.

"Lorraine! Can you hear me?"

A burst of static followed before Lorraine’s voice came through, sharp and clear.

—’Loud and clear! More importantly, the situation is bad. The monster is heading for the central island again.’

"I see it, too. I have a way to defeat it, right now."

—’What is it?’

"I have a weapon that suppresses regeneration, but I have to use it myself. Can you restrain the monster’s arms for just five minutes? Tell Serne, too!"

The words hung in the air, and Simon worried he was being too demanding, issuing orders without any explanation. But then...

—’Got it.’

Lorraine replied coolly and ended the transmission. She turned her gaze to Serne, who was hovering nearby.

"You heard him?"

"Huh." Serne scoffed. "Who does he think he is, ordering us around?"

"He said he has a way to suppress its regeneration," Lorraine countered. "Do you have a better idea?"

"And you actually believe him?"

"Yes." Lorraine nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I trust him unconditionally."

"You take the left arm."

With that, Lorraine steered her skeletal horse away.

From Serne’s perspective, this was all utterly incomprehensible. She glanced down and saw Simon, true to his word, charging headlong toward the Vickrum.

[Your methods only create more enemies.]

"Ugh, seriously!" Serne muttered in annoyance, crossing her arms.

A storm of feathers erupted from her body, scattering into the wind.

Meanwhile, Simon had reached the very edge of the Vickrum’s massive foot. The giant’s stride was kicking up a veritable sandstorm.

"Erzebet! Are you ready?"

"Always!" 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

"Here I go!"

The moment the Vickrum’s sole hit the ground, Simon launched himself off a platform of Jet-Black, landing squarely on its instep.

The Subspace shimmered open, and he drove the greatsword deep into the monster’s flesh. As if feeling the sting, the giant’s eyes swiveled downward. The sheer weight of its gaze was enough to make a cold sweat slick his skin.

’Here we go.’

There was no time to hesitate. With the greatsword embedded in its foot, Simon activated the Jet-Black in his body and began to run—from the instep to the ankle, from the ankle to the leg.

"Haaaaaaaaah!"

He sprinted straight up, dragging the blade with him. Pier’s words had been true. A dark, irreparable gash trailed in the sword’s wake, the flesh refusing to close.

The Vickrum did not remain idle. Living bandages tore themselves from its body, whipping through the air toward Simon. He narrowed his eyes, his focus absolute.

’...Focus!’

Once again, he recalled the mental state Bahil had taught him to achieve. The world seemed to slow to a crawl. His own speed, the velocity of the incoming bandages—it all unfolded in dreamlike slow motion. Keeping the greatsword buried deep, Simon twisted his body and head, dodging the fleshy tendrils.

"You must drive the sword deeper as you run!" shouted Erzebet, still in her Brad form, keeping pace beside him. "You have to keep inflicting pain to reduce its attacks!"

"Got it!"

He could feel the difference immediately. The deeper he cut, the less frequent the attacks became. But then, a lump of flesh on its abdomen swelled, and a third arm burst forth with a sickening ripping sound.

’It has an arm on its stomach, too?!’

The hand opened, descending to snatch him.

"I’ll get it!"

Erzebet surged past Simon, slamming into the third arm to intercept it. She grappled with the limb and shouted, "Go now!"

"Thanks!"

Leaving Erzebet behind, Simon reached the giant’s navel just as a shadow fell over him. Vickrum’s huge right hand was coming down to crush him. Erzebet screamed for him to dodge, but Simon bit his lip and ran, his path unwavering.

Suddenly, Vickrum’s massive hand tumbled away, severed at the wrist. Atop the cleanly cut stump stood Lorraine.

"Keep running, Simon!"

Two sharp, demonic horns now sprouted from her head.

Every time the ebony sword in her hand flashed, the monster’s arm was carved into chunks like a butcher handling meat. In an instant, she reached its shoulder, severed the entire right arm from its body, and leaped into the air to mount her waiting skeletal horse.

’That’s Lorraine for you!’

Having lost its right arm, the Vickrum now extended its left.

A cloud of Jet-Black feathers swarmed around the limb. Serne uncrossed her arms and swept them out gracefully.

’Chains of Ten Thousand Wings’

’Clank! Clank!’

The feathers dissolved into glowing sigils that erupted into chains of pure magic. Links and shackles fused together, forming a massive, twisted braid that bound the Vickrum’s left arm, locking it in mid-air.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!"

The Vickrum roared in fury, thrashing its arm, but the chains only rattled, refusing to break. Defeated, it tried to move its severed right arm. The seven chunks of flesh began to stretch toward each other, connected by viscous, gelatinous strands, slowly reforming.

Riding her skeletal horse, Lorraine flew in at high speed, her ebony sword a blur.

With a sound like shattering stone, she diced it. The center of the arm exploded into uniform cubes, scattering in all directions. But before they could disperse, the pieces reconnected, the sticky liquid pulling them back together faster than she could cut.

The only one landing an effective blow was Simon, still climbing, still carving a path of ruin up the Vickrum’s body with Pier’s greatsword.

"Argh!" He gasped

He had reached its chest, but his stamina was failing. He’d blown past his limits and was running on fumes. Pier was holding the sword, but Simon was the one running up a near-vertical slope, maintaining his Jet-Black Stepping, keeping the Subspace open, and dodging attacks. The conditions were hellish.

And yet.

’I will do this, no matter what!’

If he fell now, it was over. With the dizzying view swirling below, Simon forced his numb legs to keep moving.

’Ahh!’

His right foot, planted on the giant’s chest, suddenly gave out. He faltered, his body lurching sideways, about to fall.

—’Oh my, are you tired already?’

A single feather fluttered before his face.

’Serne?’

A cluster of feathers attached themselves to his back.

—’Let me give you a push.’

The feathers dissolved into magic circles, erupting with a burst of propulsive force. The blast slammed him forward, allowing him to plant his right foot firmly on the giant’s chest.

He ran again. With the feathers supporting him, the effort was halved. He was practically flying now.

"Haaaaaaaaah!"

With a final, guttural roar, he launched himself off the giant’s shoulder and soared into the air.

At last.

The open sky stretched out before him. There was nothing left above. To his side, he saw the giant’s shoulder and its thick neck. He landed on its shoulder and sprinted toward his final target.

’Pier!!’

[Ready when you are, boy!]

Simon ran. The observers watched from a distance. And beyond them, her expression, a complex mixture of emotions, was Serne.

’...Simon Polentia.’

Truthfully, she had planned to replace the Legion Commander. She didn’t need the boy; she needed his undead, his power. The Ivory Tower was filled with necromancers who could achieve limitless strength with the Legion at their command. Simon, one way or another, was fated to disappear.

But the image of the boy—dragging his exhausted legs, his face contorted by the wind, screaming in defiance as he charged relentlessly toward the monster’s neck—was seared into her mind.

An unbreakable will.

’Can something like that...’

Could anyone from the Ivory Tower do that? Could they even begin to comprehend such a thing?

Having overcome every obstacle to finally reach the giant’s neck, Simon swung the pure white greatsword with an explosive cry.

’SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!’

The world split in two.

The giant’s neck, dozens of times larger than Simon, separated with a pristine, clean cut. Serne felt a thrill course through her, sharp and undeniable.

This. She had no choice but to acknowledge it.

’Unparalleled.’

No one in the Ivory Tower could ever replace Simon Polentia.

[Bwahahahahaha! You did it! Boy! You actually did it!]

At Pier’s triumphant shout, Simon managed a weak grin. As the giant’s severed head tumbled through the air, his body lost its balance and began to fall.

High in the sky, with the cold wind rushing past, Simon felt a dizzying, exhilarating thrill.

And then.

"Simon!"

His world faded to black.