Necromancer Academy Genius Summoner

**Necromancer Academy’s Genius Summoner - Chapter 3"
*Click.*
Raulri, revealing his true colors, drew a knife. Its well-honed blade glinted menacingly.

*Step. Step.*
At the same time, three rough-looking men approached—one from behind Simon, two from the front, sauntering casually.
“…Well, it doesn’t really matter who you are. What matters is you’ve walked right into our trap,” Raulri said, his expression relaxing as his allies joined him. He beckoned with a finger.

“Put everything on the ground. Your bag, your clothes—down to your underwear.”
“Even my underwear?” Simon asked.
“What’s there to be shy about? You can pick out new clothes at the market,” Raulri replied, pointing to a pile of garbage nearby. The other gang members snickered.

“Yeah, that’s Langerstine’s famous spot. If you’re lucky, you might even find a box to wear!”
“Just cover the important bits, and you’ll avoid the slammer.”
Simon responded with a bright smile.

“I’ll pass.”
“…”
Raulri and his crew’s faces darkened.

“…This punk.”
“Looks like this country bumpkin doesn’t get how this works. You think we’re joking?” 
The man to Raulri’s right strode toward Simon.

“Guys like this need a knife to the gut to wise up.”
“Hey, hold on!” Raulri called, but the man ignored him, drawing a dagger from his waist and lunging at Simon.
*Swish.*
Simon shifted his weight fluidly, dodging to the side. The dagger sliced through empty air. In a single motion, Simon grabbed the man’s wrist.

*Crack!*
With a twist, Simon bent the man’s hand in a direction it shouldn’t go.
“Gahhh!”

The man dropped the dagger, collapsing to the ground with a blood-curdling scream.
Simon kicked his face with a resounding *thwack* and spoke calmly.
“We get types like you in our territory too. Scum who blend in with honest folk, extorting ‘protection fees’ or whatever nonsense.”

“…You little—!” 
Simon dusted off his hands.
“Cleaning up trash like that is the duty of a lord’s heir. Seems this city has its share of filth, so as someone in the same line of work, I thought I’d tidy up a bit.”

“…A noble, huh?” 
Raulri raised his arm, signaling. Five more gang members emerged from the alley’s end.
“That makes it all the more reason we can’t let you go.”

“…”
Simon stretched, loosening his body. He’d expected two or three at most, but this group was larger and more organized than he’d thought.
Facing eight armed men barehanded was daunting, even for Simon.

*Sorry, Father. I might be late getting to Kizen.*
Simon lowered his stance, his expression serious. The gang tightened their grips on their daggers, tension crackling in the air.
A fight was about to erupt.

“I found you!”
A third voice, out of place in the alley, rang out. All eyes turned to its source.
*Step. Step.*

Someone emerged from the alley’s shadows.
Glossy black hair shimmered like the night sky, and a youthful face bore traces of innocence. A girl, wearing blood-red crescent moon earrings, approached. Simon guessed she was around his age, maybe a little older.
*What now?*

Raulri bit his lip at this new arrival.
What was the guy guarding the rear doing? He was nowhere in sight.
“…This doesn’t concern you. Get lost,” Raulri warned.

The dark-haired girl scoffed dismissively.
As she drew closer, the gang instinctively stepped back, their faces tense. An inexplicable, primal fear gripped them. They couldn’t pinpoint why, but this girl exuded danger.
“No need to panic,” Raulri said, steadying his shaken crew. 

“It’s eight against two. We finish this quick and get out before the guards show up.”
The girl smirked.
“Eight against two? I don’t think so.”

*Rustle. Rustle.*
As she moved, the scattered trash piles and bags in the alley twitched as if alive. From torn bags, bone fragments floated into the air.
“You know what’s in that building over there?” she asked.

*Clack. Clack.*
The bones began snapping together. Fragments of different sizes and types creaked, forming skeletal bodies.
“It’s a skeleton burial ground.”

Raulri and his crew paled.
In that moment, one word flashed through their minds:
*…Necromancer!*

*Clack! Clack!*
In an instant, over twenty skeletons surrounded the gang. Paralyzed by fear, they could barely breathe.
“Urk!”

“Gah!”
The undead seized the gang members, pinning their arms and legs. The skeletons’ bony hands caressed their faces or gripped their chins, forcing them upright.
“Oh, dear,” the girl said with a seductive smile.

“My children say they need new friends.”
*Clack! Clack!*
The skeletons chattered their jaws in agreement. Some gang members foamed at the mouth; others wet their pants.

*…Incredible.*
Simon was stunned too. Though less refined than his father’s skeletons, assembling over twenty instant undead from scattered bones was an extraordinary feat.
“We didn’t know you were a necromancer! Please, show mercy just this once!” Raulri pleaded, trembling.

The girl uncrossed her arms, her expression turning serious.
“Who do you work for?”
A skeleton’s bony fingers began scratching Raulri’s neck, drawing five streaks of blood. He squeezed his eyes shut and shouted, “Cleaven! Cleaven Faction!”

“Oh, I’ve heard of them. Pretty big for a group that preys on poor outsiders’ pockets.”
She placed a hand ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) on her hip, her voice icy.
“Tell Cleaven himself: crawl to the guard station from your hideout, head to the ground, hands behind your back.”

Raulri’s face drained of color.
“Please, have mercy…! Turn me into an undead instead!”
Her expression twisted with fury.

[*Are you giving me orders?*]
Her voice, otherworldly and chilling, froze Raulri with terror.
She exhaled softly, returning to her normal tone.

“No tricks with a fake. If I check and his face isn’t ground to a pulp, I’ll erase your entire faction from existence in Kizen’s name.”
At the mention of Kizen, the gang members’ heads dropped in despair. Raulri, resigned, muttered, “…Understood.”
“Scram.”

The skeletons released them, and the gang fled like rats. Watching their retreating backs, the girl clicked her tongue.
“Thank you for the help,” Simon said, bowing.
She turned, as if just remembering him, and smiled. “Simon Polentia, right?”

Her tone carried no hostility, to his relief. He nodded quickly. “Yes, that’s me. If I may ask, who are you…?”
“Who do you think? I’m the real guide.”
Simon’s eyes widened to saucers.

*Her?*
She grabbed his wrist. “Let’s go. Mom’s waiting.”
“…Mom?”

---
“Mommm!”
Behind Langerstine’s grand plaza, the girl crouched, wiping cream from a child’s mouth.

The child squirmed, making an “ugh” sound, but her hands were firm.
“I told you to wait quietly! You’re always getting lost!”
“But they were giving out free ice cream samples over there!”

The child whining as her mouth was cleaned was none other than Nephthys Archbold—the supreme ruler of Kizen and all necromancers.
The Witch of Death with ice cream smeared on her face? Simon was baffled.
Even more shocking was that this girl, who saved him, called Nephthys “Mom.”

Were they mother and daughter? They looked more like sisters. If anyone seemed like the mother, it was the girl, not the ten-year-old-looking Nephthys…
“Simon?”
The girl was staring at him.

“You just thought something weird, didn’t you?”
“N-No, not at all.”
She shot him a suspicious look before turning away with a huff.

*Her intuition is uncanny.*
“Long journey, Simon! Good work!” Nephthys chirped, scampering over.
Despite her childlike appearance, she was a 300-year-old monster who’d plunged the world into terror. Simon bowed respectfully. “I greet the master of Kizen.”

“Wow, no need to be so formal,” she giggled, waving a hand.
“It’s been a while since Leshill. Learned anything from Richard?”
“Yes, a little…”

Simon extended his palm, activating his Core to channel mana and produce Jet-Black.
*Swish.*
His distinctive azure-tinged Jet-Black flickered like flames.

Nephthys and the girl leaned in, eyes wide, as if admiring a work of art. They did seem like mother and daughter in that moment.
“Wow,” they said in unison.
“A blue-tinged Jet-Black. It’s been a while,” Nephthys remarked.

“But it still has mana’s properties. Flickering like fire means it hasn’t fully transitioned from a gaseous state,” the girl added.
“He needs to learn to use his Core more efficiently.”
They nodded in agreement.

“That’s enough, Simon,” Nephthys said.
Simon dispelled the Jet-Black and stood straight.
“No need to rush. Kizen is a school, so you’ll learn plenty more,” she reassured.

“Yes, I’ll keep that in mind!”
“Now, Lorain?” Nephthys said, smacking the girl’s backside. “Take care of our new student.”
“…You always make me do everything, Mom,” the girl grumbled, but Nephthys ignored her, turning away.

“I’m gonna grab one more ice cream and head back to Kizen! See you!” 
“Hey, Mom, seriously!”
Nephthys scampered off, leaving the two alone in the plaza.

Sighing, the girl turned to Simon. “No choice, then. Let’s do this properly. I’m Lorain Archbold, a Kizen student like you.”
“I’m Simon Polentia from Leshill. Nice to meet you!”
“Good. We’ve wasted enough time, so let’s move.”

“Where are we going?”
She brushed back her hair. “It’s the new semester, isn’t it? Shopping.”