I Became The Academy Necromancer

“Hmm.”

Deia savors the warmth and aroma of her tea, letting it swirl on her tongue as one might do with fine wine.

In North Whedon, where even tea leaves are scarce, she indulges in this small luxury, savoring every drop.

Perhaps it’s the sense of stability that has recently settled in her life, but she finds herself feeling increasingly at ease.

Her eldest brother, Darius Verdi, has been relentless in his training since his loss to Finden Ai. If the lord is training, the local militia can hardly slack off, so the overall skill level of the military has been improving as well.

Moreover, members of Finden Ai’s group have been surprisingly cooperative in their leader’s absence. Rumors are even circulating about a burgeoning romance between a woman from North Whedon and a man from Finden Ai’s group—a sure sign of improving relations.

“How peaceful.”

Just as Deia allows herself to relish this moment of tranquility, she’s jolted back to reality.

“Ah, ah, my lady!”

A maid’s frantic voice reverberates from beyond the office door.

Deia senses that the peace is about to shatter; she can practically hear the noise of looming turmoil.

The maid bursts into the room, clutching a letter.

“Th-this just arrived! It’s from the Magic Tower!”

“Magic Tower?”

Deia’s brows furrow as she takes the letter. Infused with a soft blue glow of mana, it bears the unmistakable seal of the Magic Tower.

‘Could it be... Has something happened to him?’

Her thoughts race back to the shocking revelation about another personality possessing Deus.

‘He can’t have been discovered as a necromancer, can he?’

Almost forgetting to breathe, her hands tremble as she hastily opens the letter.

Reading its contents, her shoulders tense involuntarily.

“Confession? A necromancer?”

From Deia’s muttered words, the maid seems to grasp the gravity of the situation.

“Ex—execution? Mage Magistrates?”

Crumple.

She crushes the letter in her hand and takes a deep breath to regain her composure, her face managing a slight smile.

After nodding to herself, almost as if to cement her resolve, she quickly finishes her tea.

“Haah.”

Yes, let’s calm down...

Calm down...

“There’s no way! This bastard! A confession? Even hiding it thoroughly would be insufficient, and he confesses? What is he thinking will happen to our estate!”

Bam!

Kicking the desk with her foot, Deia feels a stinging pain radiate from her toes, but she only blinks away a tiny tear and feigns ignorance as she shouts.

“Prepare the carriage and fetch my coat! We’re leaving for Greyford immediately!”

“Ah, yes, ma’am!”

The maid rushes out, leaving Deia’s mind swirling with conflicting thoughts.

She had anticipated their next meeting would be no sooner than next year, given his responsibilities at Robern Academy.

To think they would meet so soon.

It will take time to reach Greyford, so their reunion will be roughly a month from their last encounter.

That is, if he’s still alive.

The revelation about the other soul inhabiting Deus’s body has left her unprepared for an immediate response, but for the moment—

“It’s a relief you’re alive, at least.”

She ought to be able to save him from the worst outcome, shouldn’t she?

***

It took Princess Eleanor about a week to travel back to Greyford from the Robern Academy. Unlike my arrest, her journey wasn’t accelerated by warp magic.

“Whew.”

So what had I been up to during this waiting period?

I had been taking lessons in necromancy from Dark Sage.

Up until now, my necromantic abilities were rudimentary, only allowing me to transform the mana residing in souls into basic spells.

Although the Grand Mage and his disciples kept a close watch on me, they had to exercise caution in how they treated me, given my impending meeting with the princess. Of course, I remained vigilant, but I was confident they couldn’t intervene, allowing me to give my all in learning.

“The spells are more aggressive than I anticipated.”

[Dark magic didn’t earn its name for nothing.]

The typical necromancer traps malevolent spirits, tapping into their mana and lingering grudges.

As a result, necromantic spells are inherently violent and mana-intensive.

This approach, however, didn’t align with my own views on how souls should be treated.

I didn’t wish to impose needless suffering upon the deceased or exert dominion over them as though they were mere assets.

My convictions weren’t set in stone, of course. I could adapt my stance if circumstances dictated.

However, my goal was to mitigate the spirits’ suffering as much as possible.

[Your learning speed is exceptionally quick.]

Dark Sage couldn’t help but express her genuine admiration. It wasn’t surprising, given my innate affinity for souls.

In some respects, this was expected.

I didn’t even require a separate spirit as a training aid, as Dark Sage played that role for me. She was both a mentor and a magical conduit, steadfastly facilitating my learning.

“...”

I abstained from using Lemegeton for the time being. Its power had been evident during my time in the execution chamber, but my primary goal was to develop my inherent abilities.

“It’s about time to prepare.”

Princess Eleanor returned yesterday, and our meeting was scheduled for this afternoon, post-lunch. My guide should be arriving shortly.

I donned the black jacket provided by the royal family, its design elegant and adorned with gold embroidery.

[You look more refined in tailor-made attire. Have you considered a haircut?]

“...”

[Your hair has grown somewhat. A ponytail might not be a bad idea.]

She had a point; my bangs were becoming an obstruction to my vision. The original Deus had opted for a gel-based hairstyle, making it a non-issue for him.

But I chose to keep it in its natural state.

“Let’s not dwell on that.”

I can’t afford to be sidetracked by such minutiae. Eleanor’s nightmares remain an enigma to me.

And given that even the saintess had failed, caution and focus were paramount.

[You’re lucky my disciple is no longer alive. She would have been scheming over your good looks by now.]

“Enough, already.”

Dark Sage tends to go off on tangents if you give her the slightest opening.

Upon hearing my words, Dark Sage was lowering her head in a somber mood when the door opened, admitting the Grand Mage’s disciples.

“Follow me; the princess is waiting.”

Without hesitation, I stepped out of the room, Dark Sage trailing behind, floating lightly as she grasped my shoulder.

[Would you like some tea?]

[Hehe, hehehe.]

[......]

Spirits drifted through the royal corridor, spectral presences floating in the ether.

Surveying them, Dark Sage let out a disdainful click of her tongue, her expression chilly.

[You’d expect a royal palace to be teeming with spirits, especially significant ones, given all the noble rivalries, hidden conflicts, and secret wars that occur here.]

“......”

[And yet, none of that here?]

She finally fell silent after receiving a subtle shake of the head from me in response to her speculative monologue.

We came to a stop before a door at the end of the elongated hallway. The disciples fixed their gaze on me, their eyes sharp as they issued a warning.

“This is the princess’s private chamber. Choose your words and actions carefully.”

“Make a single misstep, and we won’t hesitate to intervene. We’re watching you.”

“Haah.”

I sighed, my breath tinged with contempt for their superfluous caution.

“To you, she may just be a princess, but—”

*Creak*

I entered without bothering to knock. If Princess Eleanor was true to her nature, such formalities would likely be counterproductive.

“—To me, she is also a student.”

Eleanor appeared to be waiting for me, seated and staring vacantly in my direction. Her disheveled golden hair, the lifeless look in her eyes, and the pronounced dark circles beneath them all indicated that the situation was more severe than I had initially suspected.

“Deus Verdi.”

She uttered my name, her voice tinged with an inexplicable fragility. The Grand Mage’s disciples sighed, turning away from the scene.

“Tch.”

A click of my tongue escaped involuntarily. It was evident she hadn’t slept in days, plagued by relentless nightmares.

“Princess Eleanor, can you hear me?”

“...Huh? Ah, yes, I’m fine.”

Even after calling her name, she couldn’t fully focus. It wasn’t just sleep deprivation; she was emotionally depleted as well.

‘Her state is far worse than I had imagined.’

This was not the Eleanor I knew. She was someone who had always been self-assured, confident, and proud of her royal lineage. She would go to great lengths to maintain her dignity, fearing the loss of her family’s nobility more than her own life.

For example, the mere thought of her golden hair becoming tarnished or failing to adhere to royal decorum was anathema to her.

Her fervor was such that, even at the point of her death, she managed to uphold her royal dignity.

Proud and unyielding to the very end, even if others viewed her path as heretical, she herself walked it believing it to be the righteous way, without a shred of regret.

Eleanor Luden Griffin.

Also known as the Fallen Princess, the Insomniac Rebel, the Dignified Monster.

Much like Finden Ai...

She was the boss who symbolized the conclusion of a chapter.

A figure who was to die at the hands of Aria someday.

--- End of The Chapter ---

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