Chapter 601
That dawn.
Simon had completely knocked out in the club basement.
His enthusiasm to create the Manus Dullahan before the day was over was commendable, but diving into an even more difficult Dullahan project on top of exhaustion from working all morning and afternoon had been reckless.
Without even realizing it, Simon had collapsed on the floor and fallen asleep.
.......
.......
A deathly still silence hung in the basement.
At the center of the table lay the skull of Manus that Simon was studying, along with all sorts of undead materials scattered around.
In midair floated magic circles, some still sparking and crackling faintly, proof of residual effects continuing to flare.
Crackle!
The floating magic circles continued to draw in mana and discharge it in cycles.
Crackle!
Crackle!
After several repetitions, the magic circle’s duration expired, and it disintegrated on its own.
A few fragments slipped into the eye sockets of Manus’ skeleton.
Wuuuuum—
Though Simon had made sure the magical power source was cut off, red sparks of light ignited in Manus’ pupils. Those glowing, ember-like eyes stared at the sleeping Simon.
Sssssssss—
Manus’ skull shot into the air, gushing Darkness in every direction. Bones scattered all over the basement began rattling together, pulled toward Manus as their center.
Soon, they started connecting with clattering sounds.
Creak—
Crrrk—
Manus gained a body.
Parts were missing here and there, and the bones were connected out of order, making its movements clumsy. But it could at least stand and walk.
Creak—
Creak—
With eerie noises, the skeleton body lurched forward.
Limping.
Slow, but steady.
It was approaching Simon.
Shhk.
As it walked, Manus reached out and grabbed a work knife from the table.
When the Darkness flowing from its skull seeped into the knife, the blade swelled and warped, transforming into a pitch-black longsword.
Creak—
Creak—
By then, Simon had begun to stir.
A tingling sensation across his skin finally forced his eyes open.
‘Ah, I must’ve dozed off for a moment…’
But the first sight greeting his awakened eyes—
Was a skeleton lifting a sword against him.
“Uwaaaah!”
Simon instantly spread his legs apart, and—Sring!—the sharp blade carved a deep slash right between them.
Pale with fright, Simon scrambled to his feet and staggered back.
[...]
It should have cut properly.
As though displeased, Manus glanced at its unsteady arm, then lumbered back toward Simon.
‘What the hell? How is it moving?’
Cold sweat beaded Simon’s forehead as he looked at Manus’ skull and skeletal frame.
‘It stole control of my skeleton.’
This wasn’t proper skeletal animation. Manus was simply wrapping bones in Darkness and crudely fitting them into a body.
The skull of the dispossessed skeleton buzzed mournfully in the distance, as if protesting its stolen body.
Sring!
Manus swung again. Simon ducked low, strands of his hair sliced off and scattering into the air.
Heart pounding in his throat, Simon extended his hand.
“W-wait! Why are you attacking me?!”
Life with the ancient undead had conditioned him to speak first, but he quickly realized how foolish the question was.
This was the essence of the undead.
The instinctive hatred of the living. That thing wasn’t Manus anymore, but a beast driven purely by death’s hunger.
Thunk.
Manus lowered its posture, gripping the sword with both hands and drawing it to its chin. A stance.
Every hair on Simon’s body bristled.
That was proper swordsmanship.
‘Fighting a swordmaster at this range is suicide!’
Despite his worst condition—vision swimming, body sluggish—the sharp edge of crisis cut through his fog and ignited his focus.
<Cloud>
Simon unleashed Cloud like a whip, latching onto the table behind Manus, then yanked it hard.
[...]
Manus glanced back and swung.
Srring!
The table split into two with a surgically clean cut.
At that very instant, Simon was sprinting toward the exit.
He could fight, but doing so would only mean destroying his research subject with his own hands.
He needed to trap Manus inside and escape.
‘That body is being forcibly held together by Manus! It shouldn’t be able to run—’
Then it hit him.
A chill swept across his spine as he turned. Manus had drawn back, sword poised for a strike.
‘Danger!’
Thump!
While running, Simon grabbed a coffin lid nearby, infused it with Darkness, and lifted it as a shield.
And then—
SZZZZZRAAAAAAASH!
The world split apart.
A sword strike cleaved through, defying natural law and physics. The flash of reflected light seared the room bright for a fleeting instant before fading.
The coffin lid in Simon’s hands was sliced clean in half.
Splat!
Blood fountained from Simon’s shoulder.
‘One strike broke through Keyzen’s school uniform barrier…!’
Behind him, the basement wall split wide open as though a massive maw had torn it apart.
Through the crack, pale cross-sections were exposed.
Thud.
Simon collapsed to his knees, clutching his shoulder.
The wound was deep. Blood streamed, soaking his uniform shirt crimson. His breath came ragged, his face paling.
But the swing hadn’t been without risk. Manus’ right arm was mangled, reduced to a shredded wreck.
Yet unfazed, Manus stooped, picked up the fallen sword with its left hand, and resumed its approach.
Crrrk!
Crrrk!
Each step deliberate, as if to finish the job.
“…Heh.”
Pressing his bleeding shoulder, Simon let out a faint laugh.
“I bought enough time.”
BOOOOM!
[Legion Commandeeeer!]
The sealing magic on the door shattered, and Erzebet rushed into the basement.
When her eyes landed on Simon, bleeding heavily from his shoulder, her eyes flipped in rage.
[How dare you!]
She thrust out her arm. Not even her usual web techniques—just a burst of condensed Darkness.
But it was effective enough. The bones Manus had bound together with Darkness were blown away under her overwhelming pressure, and in an instant Manus was reduced to a skull clattering to the floor.
KWAANG!
Erzebet stomped down on the fallen skull. Darkness surged under the heel of her shoe as if she might crush it to powder that very moment.
[This abomination must be destroyed at once!]
“Stop!”
Simon cried out urgently.
“...I—I’m fine. You’re too worked up, Erze.”
[Legion Commander!!]
Erzebet, still wary, tightly bound Manus’ skull in webs to seal it, then darted to Simon’s side.
[Khuhuhu! Right on time.]
It was Feer’s clone speaking. Simon turned his head.
“Feer, you called her here?”
[Indeed. You weren’t responding in your sleep, so I sent Erzebet just in case.]
“Thanks… you saved me.”
Erzebet fidgeted, distraught at the sight of Simon’s wounded, bleeding shoulder.
“I… I’m fine. But it might be dangerous, so could you step back a bit?”
Erzebet obediently withdrew, and Simon closed his eyes.
‘I can do anything.’
Wuuuuuuum—!
He felt the Darkness draining from his body, replaced with swelling holy energy. Simon, as a priest, placed his hand over the wound.
<Heal>
Flaaash!
A basic technique of Healing Studies, emergency treatment at best. But it wasn’t enough.
He had lost too much blood. His head was swimming.
[Uhhh! Legion Commander! Legion Commandeeeer! You cannot leave this lady behind to die!!]
As Simon’s condition failed to improve, Erzebet wailed in grief. Simon let out a weak chuckle.
“I’m… not dying. But… Professor Farahan…”
[Eh?]
“Take me… to Professor Farahan.”
* * *
As ordered, Erzebet carried Simon on her back and rushed to Farahan’s home.
Farahan himself was already waiting outside, as if he had known.
Erzebet quickly transformed into her cover identity—a pink-haired schoolgirl named Elizabeth Weffer—and explained the situation.
Simon was immediately moved to Farahan’s bedroom, where the professor’s holy magic enveloped him. That was the last Simon remembered.
The next day.
—Meow, meow!
—Nya nya nya!
Simon stirred awake, feeling furry little bodies squirming across his chest and face.
“Ah.”
This was Farahan’s house.
Whitey was tumbling playfully across his chest, while Blackey delivered tiny cat punches to his face.
When Simon opened his eyes, the divine cats purred happily and rubbed their faces against his cheeks.
“Haha.”
Their affection brought a soft smile to his lips. A fresh breeze drifted in through the window, carrying the cheerful chirping of birds.
“Do not move yet.”
Professor Farahan of Defense Against Holiness entered, stroking his white beard.
“Your wound may reopen.”
“…Ah.”
Simon lowered his gaze. His torso was tightly wrapped in bandages where Manus’s sword had struck.
“Thank you… for saving me, Professor.”
“Hoho! Think nothing of it. You’re a cherished student, after all.”
—Uwoooh!
From below came the bear divine beast, Akallion, carrying a tray with fresh water and towels. Farahan replaced the compress on Simon’s forehead and sat by his bed.
“So, what happened?”
Simon explained:
He had dozed off during an undead experiment, and the undead had awakened and attacked him.
Such accidents weren’t unheard of at Keyzen, so Farahan simply nodded gravely.
“What kind of undead were you making that could injure a student of your level so badly?”
“…Hahaha.”
Simon scratched his head sheepishly.
“I guess I let my guard down.”
Farahan rose quietly.
“As it’s the weekend, focus less on exams and more on rest. That’s what matters most. Stay here as long as you need.”
“Thank you!”
* * *
Simon spent the whole morning resting at Farahan’s home, lost in thought.
‘It never budged no matter what I tried…’
So why had Manus suddenly risen at dawn?
It wasn’t just that. Manus, though no longer an Ancient Undead, had retained its swordsmanship.
The image of that final strike, the one that cut him down, refused to leave Simon’s mind.
‘Haha, maybe I’m still not thinking straight.’
The fact that, even after such an ordeal, he burned with the urge to revise his formulas and try again… it made him laugh at himself. He really was becoming a necromancer.
That afternoon, after recuperating, Simon returned to the dormitory.
Rest had cleared his head and lightened his spirit. For now, he decided to prioritize midterm prep and written study over working on Manus.
He was scheduled to study with student council members in their room that evening, so Simon grabbed his books and set off.
Click.
“I’m here.”
Simon stepped into the council room.
“Hey, you made it!”
“Hello, Simon!”
“Yo! What took you so lo—”
The students greeted him in their own ways, but froze when they noticed the bandages wrapped around his body. Maelyn shot up from her seat.
“What happened to you?!”
Simon stiffened and averted his eyes.
“It’s nothing. Already healed.”
“Let me check!”
Kamibarez dashed over and examined his wound. She sighed in relief, remarking it had healed cleanly.
It was only natural—after all, he’d been treated by Professor Farahan, a former bishop of the Holy Federation.
And unlike most necromancers, Simon’s body responded unusually well to white magic’s restorative effects, strange enough to be worth research in itself.
“Hey! So why aren’t you telling us how you got hurt?”
Maelyn pestered him with concern until Simon finally gave in.
“…I was trying to make a Dullahan…”
“And it attacked you?!”
Kamibarez and Maelyn both stared blankly in shock.
“Hahaaa! Even you still make those mistakes? Makes you more human, I like it!”
Dick chuckled, giving Simon’s shoulder a playful tap.
Everyone assumed it was just the ‘afterlife instinct’ of an undead lashing out at the living upon creation.
But Simon knew the truth.
‘…Manus.’
He had survived an attack from a former Ancient Undead.
‘How can I control it…?’
He felt he needed a more fundamental breakthrough.
Superb.
When are we getting more free chapters?
Thanks for the new chapters