Necromancer Academy Genius Summoner

**Necromancer Academy’s Genius Summoner - Chapter 1**

There’s no romance in the life of a baron’s heir.  
A rural territory on the fringes, so remote it’s questionable whether the central authorities even know it exists.  
Under a cloudless, clear sky, the windmills of the mill spin vigorously, and in the vast pastures, cows and goats graze contentedly.  

*Thwack. Thwack.*  
From the forest across the way, the sound of men felling trees echoes. A burst of hearty laughter follows—probably another one of Robert’s good-natured jests.  
Life in this small territory is the epitome of peaceful, slow living.  

And Simon, for his part, is quite satisfied with it.  
“Simon, what do you think is the most important virtue a lord must possess?”  
Lost in thought for a moment, Simon is startled by the question from his father, Richard, walking beside him.  

Caught off guard, Simon quickly racks his brain.  
“Um… tolerance, perhaps?”  
Richard gives a gentle smile.  

“Not a bad answer.”  
“Then what’s a *good* answer?”  
Richard slowly raises his hand and places it over his chest.  

“A passionate heart.”  
Simon blinks at the unexpected response.  
“…Pardon?”  

“Just as leaves change their garb with the seasons, the virtues a lord needs shift with the circumstances,” Richard explains, ruffling Simon’s hair with a warm smile.  
“A lord must sometimes be a friend, a parent, or even a villain. But a lord with a passionate heart can convey sincerity to their people in any situation. That’s the bond between lord and vassal.”  
“Milord!”  
Both Simon and Richard turn their heads. Several grown men are struggling under the weight of a massive log on their shoulders, their faces strained with effort.  

“Sorry to disturb your walk! If it’s not too much trouble, could you lend us *that*?”  
“With pleasure, Charles,” Richard replies.  
Simon glances at his father with a hint of tension.  

Richard Polentia may be an ordinary rural lord, but he has one extraordinary trait.  
“Step back, Simon.”  
Closing his eyes, Richard murmurs a few swift, quiet incantations and spreads his palm. A dark aura swirls upward, coalescing into the shape of a magic circle in the air.  

Simon scans his surroundings warily. As the magic circle activates, the trees ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) and bushes around them tremble.  
*It’s coming!*  
The ground ripples like a dark swamp, and skeletal arms rise from it, grasping toward the sun.  

Each arm is composed of stark white bones, devoid of flesh.  
*Undead.*  
Monsters driven by a blind, violent hostility toward the living.  

Yet, in this territory, something entirely contrary to common sense unfolds.  
*Clack.*  
*Clatter.*  

The skeletons rise, bracing themselves against the ground, and rush forward in a clattering horde. But instead of attacking, they support the log, lifting it alongside the men.  
“Thank you, milord!”  
Far from fearing the skeletons, the villagers beam with relief, their faces saying, *We’re saved!*  

“Keep up the good work,” Richard says calmly.  
That’s right.  
Simon’s father is a necromancer.  

---  
It’s been quite some time since necromancers came to dominate half the world.  
It all began with the Talhern Empire.  

When the emperor, seeking to curb the necromancers’ growing influence, sent an army of 50,000 to their stronghold in Kizen, the necromancers responded by dispatching a mere ten of their own.  
Just ten.  
What followed was a historic event known as the “Rose Campaign.” The 50,000-strong army, marching toward Kizen, turned back toward the imperial capital—every soldier transformed into an undead.  

The capital was reduced to rubble, and the emperor surrendered to Kizen.  
Thereafter, the throne of Talhern was occupied by the rotting corpse of the former emperor.  
The empire’s nobles and officials bowed before a decaying husk, and millions of subjects were manipulated for thirty years by the necromancers’ grotesque puppet show.  

This was a stark demonstration of the power and terror of necromancy.  
Rising to prominence, necromancers gradually expanded their influence, now holding sway over half the continent. The other half belongs to their sole adversaries: the priests.  
After a century-long war between these two bitterly opposed forces, decades have passed, and the continent now enjoys a fragile peace.  

*…Though that’s a story that feels far removed from our territory.*  
To Simon, tales of such wars seem like stories from a distant land.  
In the territory of Leshill, which he will one day rule, the most significant recent events include Charles’s long-silent cow giving birth to two healthy calves and Kallon, who slipped while mopping the floor with a broom handle, needing three stitches on his forehead.  

With a wry smile, Simon arrives at the lord’s manor.  
Of course, “manor” is just a courteous name the villagers use—it’s really just an ordinary wooden house.  
Compared to other impoverished lords who insist on maintaining at least a modest castle for their dignity, Richard, the lord of Leshill, is remarkably unpretentious.  

*Creak.*  
“Mom, I’m home.”  
Stepping inside, Simon is greeted by the comforting scent of wood. The crackling of logs in the fireplace fills the air.  

“Simon! You’re back?”  
A woman with ash-white hair, wearing an apron, pokes her head out from the kitchen. It’s Simon’s mother, Anna Polentia.  
“Yeah, I just came from helping with the village’s logging.”  

“Have you eaten?”  
“…I ate lunch earlier, didn’t I?”  
“I baked some bread with the leftover dough, so spread some jam on it and eat.”  

It’s as if she’s possessed by the ghost of someone who starved to death. Anna is the kind of person who can’t rest until she’s fed everyone around her.  
Pretending not to hear, Simon points to a tray on the table.  
“Mom, what’s this?”  

“That’s water steeped with Lehark mushrooms.”  
Lehark mushrooms, commonly found in the southern mountains, are poisonous. Simply soaking them in water causes a green, oily film to float on the surface.  
Consuming them would mean a week of stomach pain or diarrhea, but in Anna’s hands, they’re transformed.  

Rolling up her sleeves, she approaches the tray and places her hand over the water.  
*Hummm!*  
“Wow!”  

Simon lets out a small gasp.  
A white light ripples from her hand, neutralizing the poison. The green impurities vanish like a painting being erased, leaving only the mushroom’s nutrients.  
The white aura emanating from her body as she purifies the poison—commonly called “divinity”—is the hallmark of a priest.  

That’s right.  
Simon was born to a necromancer and a priest.  
He’s never heard the full story of what happened between his parents.  

All he knows is that they shared a forbidden love straight out of a fairy tale, and he is the result.  
“Simon!”  
Anna’s voice calls from the kitchen, where she’s returned unnoticed.  

“I baked an apple pie, so come eat!”  
“…Alright, Mom.”  
---  

Another day passes as usual. Exhausted, Simon collapses onto his bed.  
Leshill was quiet today, and it will be quiet tomorrow.  
Believing this peaceful routine will never change, Simon drifts into sleep.  

But.  
*Flap!*  
Change has already begun.  

A letter flies through the window, sticking to Simon’s face.  
“Mmff!”  
Groaning, he pulls it off and opens his eyes.  

“Hello?”  
A unfamiliar voice makes Simon blink.  
At the window, bathed in soft moonlight, sits a figure.  

A girl with flowing silver hair that reaches her legs exudes an otherworldly, almost mystical aura. She seems like a forest fairy who stepped out of a storybook.  
“It’s time.”  
Her honey-sweet voice rouses him from sleep.  

For a moment, Simon stares, dazed, then quietly pulls the blanket over his head.  
“Don’t pretend you didn’t see me!”  
The girl’s face flushes with indignation as she hops down from the windowsill.  

“You saw me! Get up, now!”  
Relenting under her insistent clamor, Simon reluctantly pushes the blanket aside and sits up, rubbing his eyes.  
“…How did you get here? Are you lost? Where’s your mom?”  

The girl sighs softly, regaining her composure with a smile. Moonlight streams through the window, making her silver hair shimmer even more enchantingly.  
“I came here on purpose. I’m here for you, Simon Polentia.”  
Simon’s eyes widen.  

*She knows my name.*  
“…Me? Why?”  
“Read the letter.”  

Her voice carries an authority beyond her years.  
Cautiously, Simon breaks the seal and opens the envelope. A crisp, folded sheet of paper rustles inside.  
*Bang!*  

“Simon!”  
“Simon! What was that noise?”  
The door bursts open, and Richard and Anna rush in. Their eyes meet the silver-haired girl’s.  

“Oh…!”  
“Lady Nephthys!”  
Their faces light up as if greeting an old friend. The girl smiles and waves.  

“It’s been a while! Richard, Anna!”  
The three begin chatting excitedly. Simon, suddenly feeling left out, watches them.  
His father, Richard, looks as giddy as a boy, while his mother, Anna, is already fussing about preparing a meal.  

“Simon, show proper respect,” Richard says.  
“This is Lady Nephthys Archbold.”  
Wait, hold on.  

That name sounds familiar.  
Nephthys Archbold.  
Nephthys Archbold.  

No way…!  
*The Nephthys Archbold of Kizen?!*  
The supreme ruler of all necromancers in Kizen.  

The mastermind behind the “Talhern Incident,” who turned an emperor into a rotting puppet.  
The witch of death who has lived for 300 years.  
*That’s this girl?*  

“Then what’s this?”  
Trembling, Simon pulls out the letter.  
“I’m formally inviting you, Simon Polentia,” the girl’s voice sings in his ears as he reads.  

[Kizen Admission Notice - Simon Polentia]  
“Come to Kizen.”