Necromancer Academy and the Genius Summoner-Chapter 443: Episode

A roar of black flames engulfed the exhibition hall. Malcolm panted behind a pillar.

’Dammit!’

He’d been on the defensive ever since Skulldron appeared. A single blast from those skulls incinerated five or six doppelgangers at once, and any clone that so much as touched the lingering flames on the floor was instantly dispelled. Area-of-effect attacks were their greatest weakness. Simon’s Skulldrons were methodically torching the fourth floor, slowly tightening the net.

“It’s no use hiding, Malcolm.”

Simon’s voice cut through the roar of the fire. Gritting his teeth, Malcolm opened his subspace, took out four small vials, and rolled them across the floor.

’Blabber on all you want!’

Disembodied doppelganger arms sprouted from the floorboards, ferrying the potions. Hidden from Simon’s view by a curtain of black fire, the arms relayed the vials with silent efficiency.

’Throw them!’

At Malcolm’s signal, the arms flung the potions in unison. The vials shattered with a series of sharp clangs, splashing a vermilion liquid across the Skulldrons. Simon, who was controlling them, flinched and paused.

’How about that,’ Malcolm thought, peeking from behind the pillar. ’It’s an enhanced Kabara potion! It might not stop them completely, but it should at least interfere with his control...!’

But Simon just smiled calmly.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he dispelled the spell. The bones clattered to the floor, and the Skulldrons vanished.

’What’s his plan?’

“Found you, Malcolm.”

Malcolm whipped his head around in surprise. Simon was standing right behind him.

Malcolm quickly raised an elbow to block Simon’s descending hand, but it wasn’t a physical strike. The magic circle on Simon’s palm flared to life.

’A curse!’ Malcolm recoiled. ’What kind of curse was that?’

The thought had barely formed when his mind went numb and the strength drained from his limbs. A crushing wave of exhaustion washed over him.

’Sleep!’

Malcolm’s lips twisted into a sneer.

“You bastard...! Trying to play Phanteus now that you’re Student Council President?!”

Simon just smiled faintly.

“More importantly, Malcolm, I’m not going to say you didn’t try hard enough.”

“What?”

Malcolm quickly began forming a Cancellation curse behind his back, buying time.

“I... fucking told you not to pity me.”

“It’s not pity. At some point, you started creating doppelgangers with your own power, without relying on that staff you always carried.”

Malcolm said nothing.

“On top of that, there was that doppelganger cluster you used, the disembodied arms, and even a high-level concoction from Venomology.”

Simon shrugged.

“In my opinion, you’re working as hard as anyone.”

Malcolm swallowed hard. Blood rushed to his face, and he felt as if he’d been stripped bare.

“It’s just a matter of timing.”

“...What nonsense are you spouting?”

“Doppelgangers are powerful at the start of the semester, but they grow weaker as everyone’s skills level up. That’s an unavoidable problem with your specialization.”

Simon shrugged again.

“But you’re not going to stay weak forever, are you? Just as others have found ways to counter you, you’ll devise your own countermeasures. Kizen is a long road. Only one year has passed; we still have two more. If you just hold on.”

His voice resonated in the quiet hall.

“Your time to rise again will come.”

Malcolm felt a strange flutter in his chest. ’It’s not that I’m weak, not that I lack talent... just a matter of timing.’ He’d never heard such a foolishly optimistic take. He shook his head, trying to deny it.

“Fuck. What a load of bullshit. The only reason I was listening to your crap was—”

He opened his mouth wide and pressed the magic circle hidden behind his back against his own body.

“—to complete the Cancellation...!”

However.

“Huh?”

The Cancellation spell activated, but the curse remained.

’This can’t be happening.’ Malcolm’s head snapped up.

“I let you finish that Cancellation,” Simon said calmly. By now, he had completed a Sleep curse on both of his hands. “Because my Sleep can’t be lifted by it.”

“Kugh!”

He’d been completely outplayed. It was like Simon was living several moves ahead of him. On top of his mastery of Summoning, he could cast a high-level curse that even Cancellation couldn’t break. Just how much stronger was he going to get?

His Jet-Black depleted, Malcolm threw a desperate punch. Simon easily dodged it, brushed past his arm, then spun and struck his back with an open palm.

A pained grunt escaped Malcolm’s lips. He staggered, barely catching his balance. The drowsiness had taken over his central nervous system; he could hardly feel the pain.

Three stacks of Sleep.

“Dammit!”

He clasped his hands together, trying to summon another doppelganger, but his concentration was shot. Only three materialized, and they were instantly destroyed by Simon’s martial arts.

’Dammit! Dammit!’

He was ridiculously strong. He wasn’t using flashy techniques, just solid, fundamental combat, and Malcolm was utterly outmatched. This was the top student of Kizen’s second year, the Student Council President. Simon Polentia. He was a completely different person from the boy he’d fought last semester.

’Me too!’ Malcolm gritted his teeth and charged. ’I wanted to be strong!’

But his brain’s commands were lost in translation; his muscles, heavy and unresponsive, refused to obey. Flailing, he dropped to one knee. Simon’s hand slapped past his arm.

Four stacks.

“Kuaah!”

His eyelids had already fluttered shut three times.

’He’s holding on better than I thought.’ Even with four stacks of Sleep, sheer hostility was keeping Malcolm conscious.

Simon moved in to finish it.

“Kuaaaah!”

Malcolm spun into a kick, but Simon simply deflected it with the back of his hand, closed the distance, and placed his palm on his face.

“Cool your head for a bit.”

Five stacks of Sleep. With that, Malcolm’s world went dark.

---

On his thirteenth birthday, Malcolm learned two things:

His name was not ‘Malcolm Brown’ but ‘Malcolm Randolph.’ And his father, whom he’d been told was dead, was very much alive.

’”Your father is Margel Randolph. He’s a powerful man who leads an organization.”’

Malcolm went to meet him. He was a middle-aged man who reigned over a room of grim-faced adults in sharp suits. Malcolm, a country boy drowning in adolescent insecurity, was thrilled that his father was not only alive but the boss of an entire organization. Most importantly, his father, Margel, called him ‘son.’

’”Welcome, my son!”’

Naturally, some gang members objected, but Margel just smiled and stroked Malcolm’s hair.

’”A successor? He just appeared out of nowhere.”’

’”We cannot accept this!”’

’”Malcolm is my only successor.”’

Then, his eyes gleaming, he met Malcolm’s gaze and spoke in a whisper only he could hear.

’”Do not disappoint me, my son.”’

Fueled by insecurity and grit, Malcolm worked like a man possessed. He did everything his father asked. He underwent an illegal surgery to open his core, became a necromancer, and mastered the Randolph family’s unique black magic: the Doppelganger.

’”Father! Look!”’

The first time Malcolm successfully created a small doppelganger of himself, the ever-dignified Margel swept him up in a hug, laughing.

’”Did you all see that! He is my son, indeed!”’

Malcolm’s heart felt like it would burst. His father became his absolute idol. He forgot all about his quiet life in the countryside with his mother and threw himself into adapting to the organization. The men were wolves, and he quickly learned that to lead them, he had to become a wolf himself. He had to be cruel. More cruel than any of them.

He felt a great sense of accomplishment whenever his cruelty earned him the respect and bowed heads of the other members. His reputation grew. Rumors spread of the young boy who could use the Doppelganger with such skill.

’”Malcolm, go to Kizen.”’

’”What? I can become a great boss without going to some stupid school!”’

’”You’ll be going as a special admission student. It’s worth it.”’

The corners of Margel’s mouth lifted.

’”Represent the organization. Go and kick the asses of the continent’s high-and-mighty nobles.”’

Once again, Malcolm obeyed. But at Kizen, the noble students pointed and whispered when they heard the name ‘Randolph.’

’”Dirty criminal!”’

’I am here to represent the gang,’ he told himself. ’Insulting me is insulting my father.’

And so, he acted with the same cruelty he’d learned in the organization, until no one dared defy him. He forged connections with second-year students, even with royalty, all with the goal of bringing his father’s organization out of the shadows.

But then...

’”The winner! Simon Polentia of Class A!”’

The infamy and charisma he had so carefully built shattered in an instant. Then came the liquid bomb incident. At the end of the semester, too ashamed to face Margel, he returned to his mother’s rural home for the first time in years. And there, he found a problem.

’”Who are you!”’

A strange man was living in his mother’s house.

’”I asked who you are!”’

’”Who are you... Huk!”’

The moment Malcolm slammed the man to the floor...

’”Stop it, Malcolm!”’

His mother rushed out. He heard the whole story. She had remarried.

’”Wh-Why?”’

His body trembled.

’”Then what about me and our father...!”’

His mother sighed deeply and told him the truth.

’”I’m so sorry, Malcolm.”’

He watched his world crumble.

’”I never loved your father for a single moment.”’

She beat around the bush, but knowing the nature of the organization, Malcolm understood. In his youth, Margel had plundered cities and raped countless women. His mother was one of those victims, and Malcolm was just one of the many seeds Margel had sown. She couldn’t bring herself to abandon the baby she’d carried, so she’d raised him. When Margel had come to claim him, she had simply handed him over.

It all clicked into place. He shuddered, remembering his mother’s strange reactions when he was a child. The day he’d gotten into a fight and beaten the other kids, he finally understood the look she had given him.

’”Father!”’

He returned to the organization and grabbed Margel by the collar.

’”You deceived me! Was everything you told me about my mother a lie? You called me your proud son!”’

And for the first time, Malcolm saw the true expression behind his father’s mask.

’”You’ll have to do well for your mother’s sake, won’t you?”’

With that one sentence, the wildfire of his rage was extinguished as if doused by a bucket of water. He returned to Kizen, his spirit shattered, and his grades plummeted. His father had only used him. His mother had only raised him out of obligation.

’I am...’

He agonized in his dream.

’What am I?’

Then, his eyelids fluttered open.

’He saw a clear sky.’

’A familiar face. A neighborhood kid, crying his eyes out. He was just as small. This was the past. The crying boy was covered in scrapes and bruises. Malcolm had put them there.’

’“Waaaaah! Huuuuh! Sob! Hic!”’

’“Malcolm!”’

’Malcolm’s eyes widened. M-Mother?’

’A younger version of his mother ran toward them, breathless. She bowed over and over to the other boy’s parents, begging for forgiveness. After they left, she turned to him.’

’...Kugh.’

’He couldn’t meet her eyes. The unwanted son of a criminal had hurt someone. She must be looking at him like a monster, thinking, like father, like son.’

’“Malcolm. Look at me.”’

’He said nothing.’

’He painfully lifted his head. Ah.’

’Her expression was stern. But...’

’“Promise me you won’t hit your friends again.”’

’She was crying.’ 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

’“Come here, Malcolm.”’

’She pulled him into a warm hug. A profound peace washed over him. This was a real memory. Seeing it again, he knew.’

’His father had abandoned him. But his mother... never. Not once.’

---

A sharp clap startled Malcolm, and his eyelids shot open. Simon Polentia was crouching before him, clapping his hands together with a placid expression.

“What the—!”

He grunted as he tried to move. He was tied to a pillar. A magic circle glowed faintly on the rope, nullifying his Jet-Black.

“You looked like you were having a happy dream,” Simon remarked.

Malcolm flinched, his face flushing as he belatedly realized his cheeks were wet with tears.

“Y-You bastard!”

“I wanted to let you sleep, but I’m short on time.”

Simon lowered his hands, his expression turning serious.

“Malcolm, tell me how to stop the Nagas.”