Necromancer Academy and the Genius Summoner

Chapter 671: Episode 671

After the Three Brothers were destroyed, the daily undead attacks on the North ceased.

—’It seems the Northern God is now gathering its remaining forces to prepare for a defensive battle.’

That was the Grand Duke’s analysis. Of course, the threat was not completely gone. After the hive-mind entities were destroyed, the undead under their command scattered across the North. Some had formed new packs. It was a dangerous situation, as they could attack humans at any moment. Most importantly, they had to be eliminated one by one before the Northern God could re-establish contact and absorb them into its forces.

This time, Simon toured the North with Akemus and Herseva.

’Screeeech!’

While the Skullwings flew through the sky, ravaging the undead, Simon commanded from the rear and watched Akemus.

’Akemus’s Geheim... I’m curious, but...’

Simon thought that Akemus was even harder to understand than Erzebet or Prince. Akemus was the most loyal undead in the legion, and the reason he followed Simon was simple: loyalty. That was it. Their wills and interests aligned, so if there was a Geheim, it should have manifested long ago.

"Akemus."

[Yes, Young Master.]

A lord-vassal relationship. There was no bond as simple as the one between Akemus and Simon. But what if there was something more? What if not all the conditions had been met yet?

"Akemus, why do you follow me?" he asked, starting with the most fundamental question.

At this, Akemus smiled. [Loyalty needs no reason.]

Blind loyalty. It was an answer befitting Akemus. But...

’It may not need a reason, but there must have been a catalyst for you to show me such blind loyalty.’

He already had an idea of what that catalyst was. Because he was the 7th Legion Commander? No. Because he showed the charisma of a lord worth serving? No.

"It’s because I’m my father’s son, isn’t it?"

Akemus did not call Simon ’my lord.’ He called him ’Young Master.’ Simon recalled their first meeting. Akemus had grabbed him, his expression one of deep emotion, and had examined his face from every angle.

—’You look just like Lord Richard.’

—’Forgive my disloyalty, Young Master! I, Akemus, have been far too late in rejoining the 7th Legion.’

Simon’s father, Richard, cast a long shadow that touched every corner of his son’s life. It was the inevitable legacy of a man who had been so extraordinary during his time as Legion Commander. Sometimes, it manifested as good fortune and new encounters; other times, as an obstacle. What about in Akemus’s case?

[Young Master, you are the son of the lord I once served. Furthermore, you are the heir who has inherited the 7th Legion.] Akemus knelt on one knee, bringing himself to Simon’s eye level. Simon could see the fierce light of devotion shimmering in his eyes. [You are more than worthy of the one I shall serve with my life and soul.]

Simon closed his eyes. Akemus’s loyalty was blind and immense. Once he pledged his allegiance, it would never change. If that was the case, was the loyalty Akemus professed—one born from Simon being his former lord’s son—truly directed at Simon? Or was it directed at his father?

’Kkiiieeeeeeek!’

[Young Master! An enemy on the right is trying to break through!]

Simon never got the chance to ask.

---

[The reason I stick with you?]

This time, he posed the question to Herseva as they were returning from dealing with the last of the undead using her mummy troops. Atop a staff floating in mid-air, the woman made of golden sand cackled.

[Well, duh! It’s because you made me, you little brat! Or should I say, revived me? That’s why I’m with you.]

"Hm."

[Why the sudden question?]

"Ah, no... It’s nothing." Simon awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

Thinking back on his encounter with Herseva, it had been a childish gamble he took in his first year. He had boasted to Professor Aaron of Summoning Studies that he would create a lich. He figured that if he was going to make one, he might as well do it right. The result of purchasing a heart worth a staggering 25,000 gold, putting it through the legionization process, and a series of overlapping coincidences and good fortune was the Herseva of today.

However, Herseva, despite being a leader in the legion, was not technically an Ancient Undead. Far from having existed for a century, she had not even been around for a full year.

’Can she even use a Geheim?’ Simon wondered, then asked, "Herseva, do you remember anything from before you became an undead?"

Herseva let out a snort of laughter.

[Well, kid, do you remember the moments right after you were born? How it happened, who was around you?]

"No."

[Same here.] She shrugged. [But I do have some fragmented memories.]

Simon leaned in, his focus absolute. Pleased by his reaction, Herseva spread her arms wide.

[I was a king! A king who led many people!]

"Oh?"

[But I have no idea how I became king, what I was before that, or why I was even there. I just ruled. Then, suddenly, my memory cuts off.] She frowned in concentration. [I think I must have died. When I opened my eyes, I was nothing but bones, and I saw your face. That’s all.]

Herseva had mentioned she was a dungeon master before she died, which explained why her heart and skull had been so outrageously expensive.

[Still, I like this life better!] she chuckled. [Ever since becoming undead and joining the legion, things have been so lively. Every day is a laugh, and my comrades are fun. It’s not so bad.]

"I see. Do you have any worries?"

[Nope!]

Simon scratched his head. ’This is harder than I thought. I have no idea where to even start.’

It seemed that unlocking the Geheim for Erzebet and Prince had been deceptively easy. He figured that for Akemus and Herseva, who had joined the legion more recently, he would simply need more time to get to know them.

---

Simon quickly dealt with the last of the Northern God’s undead remnants and rendezvoused with the Grand Duke, who had been doing the same on the opposite flank. Once the urgent matters were settled, his lessons in being a Legion Commander resumed.

But something was off.

Throughout the entire lesson, the Grand Duke was acting strangely. In fact, she had been this way all morning.

Normally, when training began, she was a demon. The slightest mistake would earn him a blow to the back of the head with her scabbard or a kick to the shins that would send him sprawling. She employed a ruthless training style unimaginable at Kizen, where the students were primarily the children of nobility.

But today, she had not laid a single hand on him.

’Ah, I missed one!’

Seeing an undead slip through his formation, Simon’s heart sank. He spun around, bracing himself, fully expecting the flat of her scabbard to slam into his skull or a swift kick to his back, but nothing came.

The Grand Duke stood at a distance, her arms crossed over her plate armor, completely still. She simply sent a telepathic command to her Phantom Dullahans, who moved to cover his mistake without a word.

At this point, Simon was genuinely afraid. ’She must be really angry.’

She had not made eye contact with him since morning, had barely spoken, and had not even hit him. Whenever he looked her way, she would just whip her head around.

’It must be because I met with Count Boldmont, right? But I told her the truth about everything, and she said it was fine.’ Simon’s mind raced, but he could not pinpoint the problem.

While he was cautiously watching her, the remaining undead were annihilated by the 7th Legion’s zombie units. He approached her.

"Your Excellency. It’s done."

She merely nodded, her helmeted gaze turning away. Simon flinched, then bit his lip.

[Let us return.]

"Was there anything in my command that needed correcting?"

[There was not.]

"The mistake I made earlier..."

[Is one mistake among many anything new for you? Let us go.]

This icy tension was unbearable. Clenching his fists, Simon finally shouted, "If you’re going to be like this, I’d rather you just hit me like you usually do!"

The Grand Duke flinched and took a startled step back.

[W-What are you talking about!]

"You keep avoiding my gaze, acting so differently..."

But the Grand Duke did not hear the rest of his words.

’—hit me!’

Hit him?! What kind of demand was that to make out of the blue? First the comment about her bedchamber yesterday, and now this. He was undoubtedly Yona’s son.

’Ahem.’

Ever since she realized he was Yona’s son, she had found it nearly impossible to maintain her composure. Just looking at his face made her see Yona’s superimposed over it. Every little action, every word, was linked back to him.

She wanted to just ask him outright. ’Are you truly Yona’s son? Who is your mother? Is Yona still alive?’

But for some reason, the words would not come.

[I will say it again. You have done nothing wrong.]

"Then..."

[It is merely your imagination. Let us go.]

They mounted their horses and rode on. Normally, they would have chatted, but today, there was nothing to say. If she was not talking, the Grand Duke would usually be firing her Gale Bow, but with the Northern God having recalled all its undead, there were no targets.

The awkward silence stretched on.

[Ahem.]

Finally, the Grand Duke mustered her courage and spoke first.

[Who is your father?]

"Pardon?"

The question came out of nowhere, making Simon blink. Still, he was so happy she was finally speaking to him that he answered readily. "Richard Polentia. He’s a baron in the Baldwin Kingdom."

Behind her visor, the Grand Duke’s eyes glinted sharply. ’So that’s Yona’s real name. I thought ’Yona’ sounded a bit strange. Of course it was an alias.’

Richard Polentia. She etched the name into her mind.

[Then...]

"Your Excellency!"

A messenger on horseback galloped toward them as they were returning with the legion. The Grand Duke pulled on her reins, halting her horse.

[What is it?]

"It’s a disaster!"

The messenger’s face was ashen. After hearing his report, their faces, too, went pale. They spurred their horses, galloping toward Vilkenos at full speed.

---

The ground trembled with a rhythmic ’thud, thud, thud’.

The march of a massive army echoed through the sleet as spears clashed. Countless banners whipped in the wind above boots that stamped in unison, leaving innumerable footprints across the vast, snow-covered plains.

"So this is the North," a dark-skinned man in gleaming armor remarked from atop a large warhorse at the head of the column, his eyes scanning the surroundings. His name was Romario, Commander of the Kalos Kingdom’s Northeastern Front.

"Ugh, it’s freezing. Can people actually live in a place like this?" grumbled a man covered in tattoos and piercings, riding an undead mount. He was Kronos, the infamous war necromancer of the Kalos Kingdom.

The great army of the Kalos Kingdom, led by these two men, was marching on Vilkenos. The city gates stood wide open, and a figure was striding out to meet them.

"You’ve had a long journey," the Watcher of the North, Count Boldmont, said with a smirk, spreading his arms wide. "Welcome to the North."