Necromancer Academy and the Genius Summoner-Chapter 430: Episode

Emerald waves lapped against the shore under a mild, slightly humid sky. This was the true Kula. Against this idyllic backdrop stood Simon and Israphel.

“Here you are,” she said, her voice like soft chimes as she handed him a set of reins, exquisitely crafted from white gold and shimmering with a faint divinity.

“I received Lethe’s report,” Israphel said, her eyes closed as always, a sweet smile playing on her lips. “The Objectification of a divine beast. A chariot of light and lightning. I’ve prepared a divine artifact befitting such a marvel.”

Simon accepted the artifact, his face filled with gratitude. It made a soft metallic sound but was surprisingly light. It felt as comfortable as woven fiber, yet possessed a resilience that suggested it would never tear.

“I put a great deal of thought into what kind of gift to prepare. This will help you control the divine beasts’ incredible speed.”

“Thank you so much, Lady Israphel!” Simon bowed his head deeply.

“I should be the one thanking you for successfully completing the mission.”

“Beyond the mission, it was a meaningful experience for me. I learned so much during my time in the Holy Federation.”

“Hohoho! I’m glad to hear that.”

As the two spoke warmly, Lethe, who had been pushed from the spotlight, stared at the sea with a sullen expression. Suddenly, she shot up and stomped hard on Simon’s foot.

“Lady Israphel, if you don’t mind... Ouch!”

Pain exploded over Simon’s instep. Lethe strolled past, feigning ignorance as she stretched her arms.

“Lethe!”

“Did something happen?”

Israphel covered her mouth, her laughter elegant. “You two seem to have grown closer since I last saw you.”

Lethe spun around, flustered. “Closer, my foot! And Lady Israphel! I will never forget what you did with the lodging!”

“Oh my, did something happen?”

“Don’t play dumb!”

Israphel simply brushed it off with a serene smile. She then promised Simon that the payment of ten thousand gold would be sent to Leshill through a broker, explaining that a currency exchange was necessary.

“Now, let’s leave the rest of the cleanup to the priests.” Israphel patted Simon’s shoulder lightly. “My dear nephew should return to the Dark Alliance tomorrow.”

Lethe looked stunned. “A-Already?!”

“Oh my, Lethe. Are you disappointed?”

“What are you talking about!” Lethe shrieked.

“Your sister Anna said she wanted to see your face for the New Year, at the very least. The New Year should be spent cozily with family. And most importantly,” Israphel turned to Lethe, “you must resume your duties as a Saintess.”

Lethe flinched, an expression of pure dread on her face, and took a step back.

“The most crucial period in a Saintess’s life is the year immediately following her awakening,” Israphel began to lecture, though her smile never faded. “Despite being a new Saintess, you’ve already been away for a fortnight. The higher-ups in Efnel are furious. You are to wear your Saintess robes and attend the event starting tomorrow evening. It is vital to make your name and face known to all and build your influence.”

With a dejected expression, Lethe mumbled, “...Okaaay.”

Simon grinned encouragingly. “Good luck, Saintess.”

An angry roundhouse kick immediately flew at his face.

---

“Farewell, Saintess! And Priest Sean!”

“Thank you for saving our town!”

After bidding farewell to the now-familiar people of Kula, Simon traveled via a teleportation circle. Upon reaching the border, he said his goodbyes to Lethe and Israphel. A short while later, inside a secret warehouse, he sighed.

“...This again.”

Simon smiled bitterly as he prepared to climb into a wooden crate on a cargo wagon.

“We will depart for the Dark Alliance in ten minutes!” the broker, disguised as a merchant, announced.

It was all too familiar now. Or perhaps he had simply resigned himself to it. He did some vigorous stretches, giving his soon-to-be-abused back time to adjust, when the rapid patter of footsteps announced a suspicious figure in a black robe darting into the warehouse.

“Wh-Who are you!” The broker spread his arms to block the way. “You can’t just come in here—!”

But the figure moved like a ghost, slipping under the broker’s arm and rushing toward Simon.

“Who—! Oof!”

His face was seized, and Simon was unceremoniously shoved into the wooden crate.

“Move aside, quickly!”

The wind billowed the robe, revealing the face of a girl with white hair and golden eyes. Simon’s jaw dropped.

“Le-Lethe?”

“Shh! Shh! Lady Israphel will hear! Hurry up and move aside!”

Before Simon could react, Lethe roughly pushed her way inside.

’Aargh!’

How could a Saintess be so reckless? As she forcefully squeezed into the cramped space, their bodies were pressed tightly together. Simon froze like a statue. Her flushed, panting face was inches from his.

“Here’s a tip!”

Ignoring him completely, the frantic Lethe tossed a coin to the broker, who caught it with a look of awe.

“I’m closing the lid,” Lethe announced, grabbing the top of the crate.

“W-Wait a minute, Lethe! What about your Saintess lessons and your schedule?”

“Who cares!” she shot back, utterly unreasonable. “Since it’s come to this, I’m going to the Dark Alliance with you to see Teacher Anna—!”

’Swoosh.’

A white cord wrapped around Lethe’s waist and, with a scream, yanked her into the air.

“You shouldn’t be stubborn like a child, Lethe.”

The distinct click-clack of high heels echoed through the warehouse. The broker immediately prostrated himself, and Simon climbed out of the wagon.

“Lady Israphel!”

Israphel approached, while a captured Lethe struggled in the air above.

“L-Let me go! Lady Israphel!”

“I thought you were being unusually compliant. Didn’t I tell you no?” Israphel sighed, pressing her fingers to her forehead. “What am I to do with this tomboy?”

Lethe, her face beet red, shouted, “I said let me go!”

’SNAP!’

Israphel snapped her fingers, and the cord binding Lethe vanished. Caught off guard, she tumbled ungracefully to the floor.

“Lethe.”

The sound of Israphel’s heels clicked across the floor. Lethe, wincing as she sat up, looked to see Israphel’s eyes open, her black pupils visible.

Lethe was too shocked to speak.

Revealing her eyes meant Israphel was truly angry, and Lethe instinctively shrank back. But...

“Do not create a lifelong regret out of a moment’s impulse,” Israphel said, her voice gentle and coaxing. “If you leave without a word again, your position as a Saintess might be in jeopardy.”

“I don’t need that damn position—!”

“Without the power of a Saintess—” Israphel’s gaze shifted to Simon. “Can you defeat our nephew, Lethe?”

Lethe fell silent. Israphel smiled sweetly, her eyes closing once more as she turned to the broker.

“How much time until departure?”

The broker bowed even deeper. “Five minutes left!”

“Good.” Israphel gestured for the broker to rise. “Say your final goodbyes.”

With that, Israphel and the broker walked out of the warehouse.

The broker spoke tentatively. “I-It’s not my place to interfere, but will she be alright? It seems she hasn’t given up yet...”

“It’s fine.” Israphel’s eyes curved into crescents. “She’ll understand after I’ve said this much. Lethe is a smart girl.”

---

“Haaaah.” The door closed, and Lethe sighed. Simon climbed out of the box.

“I knew you’d get scolded.”

“...Shut up,” Lethe grumbled, her face flushing.

Simon crossed his arms with a slight smile. “I want to take your side, but this time, Lady Israphel is right. You can’t just abandon your duties during the most important period of your career as a Saintess.”

“...Well.” Lethe lifted her head haughtily. “I know that much.”

“As long as you know.”

An awkward silence fell. The five minutes they had been given was short, but the words wouldn’t come.

“If a war ever breaks out between the Holy Federation and the Dark Alliance,” she began, her eyes fixed on Simon, “we’ll have to fight, won’t we?”

“...Probably.”

Lethe smirked. “When that time comes, I’ll defeat you with my own hands.”

“I won’t be holding back, either.”

They faced each other and shared a quiet smile.

“Well, aside from that,” Lethe said, her tone shifting, “as a Saintess representing the Federation, I thank you for your cooperation in this matter.”

“Then you should come to the Dark Alliance next time.”

“Huh?”

Simon smiled. “Next time, we’ll be the ones requesting your help. To be honest, we in the Dark Alliance have a lot of trouble without priests.”

In fields like healing, recovery, and purifying the undead, priests were superior. Places filled with curses and miasma, like the Deathlands, would have been cleansed long ago if they had priests.

Hearing the proposal, Lethe lowered her gaze. “...The Dark Alliance.”

Back when she crossed the border with Anna’s medicine, it had felt like willingly crawling into hell. But...

“I’ll think about it.” Her perspective had shifted.

“Well then,” Simon said.

“Yeah.”

Lethe smiled brightly. “Goodbye, Simon.”

---

Though the bitter cold had lifted from Kula, a natural blizzard still raged at the peak of the snowy mountain. Paladins and scholars from the Holy Federation were investigating a cave at the entrance of the now-vanished dungeon.

“Who would have thought a dungeon would be here,” one Paladin grumbled, bundled in furs over his armor.

“Tell me about it.”

Another turned his head. “Scholar, find anything?”

“Yes,” the scholar replied, removing his magnifying glasses. “...I’ve discovered a very interesting trace.”

“Interesting?”

“This dungeon’s barrier. Is it true that the mages of the Mizenasi family created it artificially?”

“That’s right.”

“But it would have been impossible for them to create this barrier with their power.”

The Paladin spun around. “What do you mean?”

“Surprisingly, the structure of this barrier is a composite magic circle made of both divinity and jet-black magic. You would need to possess both attributes to dispel it.”

The Paladins’ mouths fell open. “Did you just say jet-black? A jet-black barrier in this northern mountain valley...!”

“I can hardly believe it myself, but it’s true.”

The Paladin captain’s face grew pale. “We’ll have to re-interrogate the Mizenasi who were taken to the capital. And we should contact the Saintess of the Stars to find out how she broke the barrier...”

A Paladin who had been listening quietly turned his head. “Captain, why did you stop talking?”

But the captain who had just been speaking was gone.

“C-Captain?!”

The bodies of the Paladins guarding the cave swirled as if space itself was distorting, then vanished without a trace. In the blink of an eye, they were all erased.

“H-Heok!”

The terrified scholar collapsed. Someone was entering the cave. A robed figure. No, it wasn’t just wearing a robe; it was completely shrouded in one, the hem dragging on the floor. Within the darkness of the hood, two points of light gleamed.

[I created that barrier.]

It wasn’t human. A dreadful fear, the likes of which the scholar had never known, made his lips tremble. “Wh-Who are you!”

“Curious?” a new voice chirped beside him.

The scholar whipped his head around in fright. A woman with disheveled hair stood there, but her face was obscured, as if a black shadow clung to it.

“Not gonna tell ya,” she cooed.

With a sickening thwack and crunch, blood splattered. The scholar’s neck twisted at an impossible angle, and he collapsed.

“What are you going to do now, Elder?” the woman asked, looking back at the robed figure. “First the Blood Cult, and now the Dungeon Lord Karisa. The pieces you’ve laid out are being shattered one by one.”

The lights gleamed from within the robe. [...There are still many pieces. But.]

A withered arm emerged from the pitch-black robe. [Kizen and Efnel.]

A dark blue light flickered in its palm before vanishing. [It seems I must destroy those two places first.]

---

After promising Lethe would visit him next time, Simon crossed the border. Humans are creatures of adaptation, and Simon, now a veteran of uncomfortable travel, calmly dozed off in the cargo wagon. The terrible ride quality had become so familiar it was almost comforting. After crossing into the Neutral Zone, he used a teleportation circle to reach the Dark Alliance, then took a wagon to Leshill. From there, he ran through the mountains on his own two feet, arriving home before sunset.

“Simon! Welcome home!”

“Good work, Simon! I heard the story from your aunt.”

Simon embraced Anna and Richard. Anna immediately tied on an apron.

“Son, you must be starving.”

“Ah, no! I had a snack on the way...”

“I’ll make you something delicious, just wait a little.”

Naturally, Simon had no say in the matter. While Anna prepared the meal, he went up to his room.

“...Ah.”

There were quite a few letters piled on his desk.