Necromancer Academy Genius Summoner

**Necromancer Academy’s Genius Summoner**  
Chapter 8 – **“First Black Magic, First Defeat”**
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**Keyzen Academy, 8th Period – Practical Curse Studies**

Assistant Professor Bahl’s aides wheeled in two items for every student: on the right, a cactus-like plant set in a tray of sand; on the left, a stencil-like frame called a “magic-circle jig.”  
It °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° was a training aid for first-year necromancers who had never drawn a real array before.
“Using a jig is a bit embarrassing, but it’s your first class, so we’ll allow it.”  
Bahl’s tone was gentle, yet firm.  
“Get the feel, but don’t rely on it—bad habits form fast. All right! Let’s practice the exhaustion curse **‘Exhaust.’**”
Simon followed the instructions exactly.  
He gripped the twin handles of the jig, pulled **black mana**—the raw stuff of necromancy—from his core, and let it flow into the frame.  
The inky darkness crawled through the channels, slowly carving the shape of a spell circle.

“The key is how perfectly you can form the **main rune**,” Bahl reminded them.
Runes were, in short, letters that held magical force. Draw them with black mana and the effect manifested.
Simon focused, inscribing the central rune, then adding the trigger equations around the ring.  
Because the stencil guided the lines, he didn’t have to understand the structure yet.

“Once you finish, float the circle into the air.”
Simon swallowed and lifted his. A deep-blue-black array detached from the jig and hovered.
*Wow… an actual spell circle! Dad used these… and I just made one myself!*  
Doubt flickered—*will this really cast black magic?*—but excitement drowned it.

Around the room, roughly half the class had their circles aloft.
Suddenly the edge of Simon’s circle liquefied and dripped like syrup.
“Some of you are losing form,” Bahl called. “Either the mana wasn’t refined enough, or the binding is weak. Try again.”

Simon clenched his teeth and restarted.
“Students who can keep the circle stable—move to live practice! Cast *Exhaust* at the plant in front of you!”
The successful ones inhaled as one and triggered their arrays.

*Whoom!*  
Tendrils of grey-black gas shot toward the cactus-plants. Half the plants withered; the others stood unchanged.
“If your plant droops, the circle worked. Congratulations!”
“Yesss!” The boy beside Simon pumped a fist.  
Simon swallowed envy and restarted his own work.
Time flew; Simon tasted his fourth failure.  
He could *build* the circle, but the moment it left the jig it slumped like overcooked noodles.

*What am I doing wrong?*
More and more classmates succeeded. Anxiety gnawed at him.  
Most students had studied ahead—Keyzen *was* the continent’s top academy.  
Simon, who’d never touched black magic before today, had no such luxury.
He forced calm and recalled advice from Nephtys and Lorrain back in Langustein.

- *Your black mana still has the nature of raw mana—it’s flickering like fire, not condensed.*  
- *You need to use your core more efficiently.*
Simon let go of the jig handles, closed his eyes and focused inward.
*Back to basics.*  
Breathe in mana, draw it to the core beneath the heart—standard.  
But instead of letting it trickle out, he pooled **as much as possible** in front of the core.

*Ugh!*  
A stabbing pain under his heart; he bit down and endured. Then he **rammed** the entire mass into the core at once.
The black mana that emerged was denser, almost crystalline—a crude but effective refinement trick.
*Now!*  
Eyes snapping open, he seized the handles again.  
The upgraded mana filled the stencil in half the time. He finished the runes, lifted the circle—*it held!*
Aiming at the cactus-plant, he waited for the perfect moment.

“**Exhaust!**”
Grey smoke lanced out and struck.  
Simon watched, desperate.
*Slump.*  
The rigid plant sagged.

*Yes!*  
His first black magic ever.
---
**Post-Lesson Sparring**

“Enough,” Bahl clapped. “Those who didn’t succeed—practice in the dorms.”  
Groans rippled. Bahl opened the attendance book.
“Now, let’s have a live duel with today’s spell. When I call your name, come forward.”
Tension crackled. Students avoided Bahl’s eyes.

“Oh, we have Special Admission No.1 in this class?”
Everyone turned.
“Simon Polentia. Step up.”

“…Yes, sir.”  
*So this is why I felt uneasy.*
“For our excellent No.1’s opponent…” Bahl smiled as students flinched. “Hector Moore. Front and center.”
The huge boy Simon had noticed earlier rose and climbed onto the dais.  
Face to face, Hector looked even larger.

“The rules are simple,” Bahl said as aides placed lecterns between them. Each held the same *Exhaust* jig.
“Only *Exhaust* is allowed. Cast it at your opponent. First to touch a knee or seat to the floor loses.”
Simon steeled himself—he wanted to win.

“Professor,” Hector raised a hand. “I’ll fight without the jig.”
*Ooooh!*  
Whistles erupted. The mood flipped—Hector had read Bahl’s distaste for training wheels and scored points.
“Admirable mindset,” Bahl smiled, then turned to Simon. “Your choice?”

Every eye bored into him.  
Rejecting the offer would look cowardly, but accepting and failing spectacularly would be worse.
“I’ll use the jig.”
Bahl gave a wry chuckle. Hector shrugged.  
Momentum now belonged to Hector—the sturdy, confident prodigy versus the “cowardly” special admit.

“Begin!”
Simon slammed pre-prepared black mana into the jig. It spread slowly—nerves.  
Across from him, Hector traced symbols in empty air, no stencil.
*He’s already finished the first circle?!*

A wave of heaviness crashed over Simon; his legs shook.
Grey smoke hit him—*Exhaust.*  
Students roared.
Hector pressed, chaining a second cast. Simon’s teeth clattered; cold sweat ran.

*One hit and my body feels like lead… this is why curses are terrifying.*
Simon’s circle finally finished. He lifted it—one edge melted like jelly.
*Ahh!*  
Sympathetic groans. The cracked circle would fizzle even if triggered. He discarded it and began anew.

Hector’s second curse smashed in. Simon’s knees buckled.
*Worst-case scenario.*  
Standing took all his strength; focusing on spellwork was almost impossible.
The duel became a one-sided beating.  
Third, fourth, fifth *Exhaust*—each curse piled on. Simon’s knee quivered, about to fold.

“Give up. You’re pitiful,” Hector said, preparing the sixth.
Simon refused. His third attempt failed, then a fourth circle finally held.
*Got you!*  
He triggered it. Grey smoke slammed into Hector.

“—?!”  
Hector staggered, almost fell, caught himself on one hand.
*It landed!*  
For the first time, Hector looked rattled.
Score: 9–1, still overwhelmingly Hector’s lead, yet the single hit unnerved him.

*Why is one shot so heavy?*  
Hector had practiced *Exhaust* before, but it had never felt this crushing.
*Just fall already!*
He hurled the tenth curse.

*Thud.*  
After ten consecutive *Exhausts*, Simon’s knee finally touched the floor.
“That’s the match,” Bahl declared. “Winner: Hector Moore.”
Applause thundered.  
Hector wiped sweat, then looked at Simon—sprawled, panting, yet grinning faintly.

*…I don’t feel like I won.*  
He had realized Simon was a complete beginner at the first hit. The duel should have ended there.  
Yet Simon had endured nine curses, legs trembling like reeds, and still completed a spell that almost floored him.
*…Creepy bastard.*  
Better to crush him now, before he grows too big.
“Well fought, Simon. Off you go.”  
Bahl snapped his fingers; the stacked curses lifted. Fatigue crashed over Simon, but regret didn’t.

*That was fun.*  
Coming to Keyzen was the right choice.
---
**After-Class**

Students filed out. Bahl leaned back, eyes closed, savoring the aftertaste.
“Professor… may I ask a question about the lesson…?”  
A female student approached hesitantly.
“Not now,” Bahl said without opening his eyes. “Come to my lab after all classes. I’ll answer everything then.”

“R-really? Thank you!” She bounced away squealing.
Bahl watched her leave with half-lidded annoyance.
*Restrain yourself.*  
He wanted to savor the lingering mood, not waste it on trivialities.

His thoughts returned to one person.
*Simon Polentia.*
At first he’d thought the boy merely had stamina, but that wasn’t it.  
Everyone would remember a 10-1 defeat, yet to a professor’s eyes, Simon’s single successful *Exhaust* was worth ten of Hector’s.

*Magnificent!*  
Bahl’s lips stretched in a wolfish grin.
*I’ll have that prodigy in Curse Studies no matter what it takes.*