I Became The Academy Necromancer

“Did I really teach you this type of magic?”

Opening her mouth in amazement, the Dark Spiritualist marveled as I showed her some of the spells she would create in the future.

At some point, we stopped drinking coffee and started sipping wine.

Seeing her tipsy appearance, which was different and yet faintly familiar, put me at ease.

She always felt regretful that she couldn’t drink even when there was alcohol around because she was a ghost.

“Wow, I’m really amazing.”

Anyway, seeing this familiar goofy side of hers made me miss the original Dark Spiritualist.

“Most Dark Mages know about you. I also heard that Dante tried to recruit you, but failed.”

“That’s how it should be! There’s no way they wouldn’t have sent me an invitation!”

She bobbed her head smugly, showing that she was satisfied with the future. Since she was holed up in her lab during this period, her need for recognition was certainly exceptional.

Watching the Dark Spiritualist, who was now in a good mood, tilt her glass, I asked the same question again.

“So, what was the reason that made you so determined to learn Necromancy?”

“Ah.”

She dodged the question before, saying she forgot. This time, maybe because she had some drinks or just remembered, she answered me without much hesitation.

“Have you heard the story of the child who wished for Lemegeton?”

“Yes.”

It was the story of a girl who wished to meet her mother, who had died early. She then received Lemegeton from the Demon Lord Lehric.

“It is similar to that situation; my parents died when I was very young.”

“…”

Clink.

The Dark Spiritualist shook her glass slightly.

The emotion reflected in her eyes was different from that of mere longing.

“They told me not to worry and promised they’d always be by my side, even after death.”

“…”

“At first, I was curious. Are my parents’ souls really with me?”

The beginning of the girl’s path to becoming a Necromancer was quite both tragic and simple.

“Then, I learned about Lemegeton’s story, that there was a child just like me.”

Suddenly, a feeling of doubt arose within me. The Dark Spiritualist was talking as if she were referring to someone else, but wasn’t she the descendant of that girl?

Does she not know about it yet, at this point?

Thinking that might be the case, I propped my chin and focused on listening to her story again.

“So, while searching for Lemegeton, I started learning Necromancy.”

A slight blush, which was visible through the semi-transparent black veil, appeared on her face.

“But do you know what’s funny?”

“What is it?”

With a self-mocking smile, the Dark Spiritualist answered indifferently.

“I had forgotten about it until just now.”

“…”

“That’s right. Yes, I started learning Necromancy to see my parents. It’s really funny.”

However, despite her words, there was no great emotional upheaval.

It was not uncommon that when someone ran hard, they would start forgetting the direction they were actually headed. It was similar to the cliches where someone initially aimed to earn money for the sake of their family, only to have money become the sole purpose of their lives.

“The more I learned, the more I thought it was because I wasn’t good enough that I still couldn’t see my parents.”

“…”

“At some point, it no longer became important. I simply found learning Necromancy enjoyable. It was like getting addicted to a drug.”

“I see.”

The more I listened to her story, the more it felt like she was giving a confession. Was it the same for the Dark Spiritualist?

She rolled up her sleeves and showed her pale wrist.

There were scars from multiple needle marks on it.

“The blood of the child who received Lemegeton from Demon Lord Lehric flows within me.”

“I know. You are that child’s descendant.”

“Hehe, is that how the future me explained it?”

The drunk Dark Spiritualist shook her head.

“That child never married or had children.”

“…?”

I didn’t understand what she meant by that, but the Dark Spiritualist continued explaining.

“When I found the child’s corpse, it seemed she harbored a lot of resentment; she wandered around, wailing with intense sorrow. Her obsession with life was so strong that even after hundreds of years, her corpse hadn’t decayed because of her soul.”

Before entering the Dream Demon Manor, I remembered talking with the Dark Spiritualist about it. When I asked her if she was truly the descendant of the child who received Lemegeton, her expression turned quite dark at the time.

“I tried to control the child who had transformed into a vengeful evil spirit, but I failed. She was too powerful and left me with no choice but to annihilate her.”

“Then…”

Her gaze slowly moved from the wine glass to me.

“That’s right, I transplanted all of the child’s blood into myself. It took me about a year.”

I could hardly speak.

The extent of her obsession with Necromancy made my skin crawl.

“Why did you do such a thing?”

Why would the Dark Spiritualist, who was not even a Cadavermancer, inject the child’s blood into herself?

As if it was obvious, she forced a laugh.

“Because I didn’t know how Lemegeton recognizes its master, this was a foundation I laid so I could handle it better when I eventually obtained it.”

I couldn’t find any words.

I began to understand why the Dark Spiritualist hid her past from me so thoroughly.

“So, how is it? Do you find me repulsive now?”

There were times when people had asserted that the Dark Spiritualist was much more vile than I knew.

I didn’t receive any clear explanation back then, but hearing it directly from her now…

“My view of you has changed.”

Now, I fully realized that the Dark Spiritualist had walked a path completely opposite to mine.

“I feel sorry for my future self.”

Despite her words, she continued drinking her wine as if she felt refreshed after confessing everything.

Then, she glanced at me as if she had at least found some relief.

“But it’s a relief, right?”

“…”

“You noticed, didn’t you?”

It was a brief silence.

Suddenly, the Dark Spiritualist’s previously tranquil gaze as she stared at me sharpened like a blade honed on a whetstone.

We both slowly reached for our staves beside us.

The mana between us, like boiling water, was slowly but steadily heating up, clearly preparing to be directed at each other. However…

Crash!

The door to the dining hall burst open and Han So rolled in along with debris. Before a day had passed, the golden shield we gave him had already split in half; he embraced the Heavenly Oath Martial Staff tightly as if to protect it.

The Dark Spiritualist and I both turned our gaze to the entrance.

A moment ago, we resembled Wild West gunslingers ready to draw our revolvers towards each other, not tolerating any interference.

However, now, we pointed our staves towards the entrance, where a woman stood dragging six corpses.

“Luaneth?”

Among them, we could see a small corpse.

My eyes were drawn to Luaneth, whose once radiant blonde hair had been completely pulled out.

That boy was the one who nearly brought the Griffin Kingdom to its destruction as Heralhazard, who then formed the organization called Dante to save the continent with Black Magic.

As I took in the sight of his corpse, a faint disturbance arose within me, but my expression remained unchanged.

When I remembered Mul from Room 109, who mentioned we’d meet later before committing suicide, I started to question if this place—the Dream Demon Manor—was real.

“C-careful! Those corpses she has aren’t ordinary!”

Han So hurriedly pulled himself together and assumed a defensive stance.

However, the Dark Spiritualist voiced a question.

“What’s going on here? Isn’t everyone supposedly staying in their rooms? And yet, they were still all killed by this woman?”

The Cadavermancer giggled with a chilling laugh. However, upon seeing Mul’s corpse, I roughly understood the situation.

“So, you sent in those corpses.”

After all, the dead weren’t bound by rules.

24. When a guest dies, the room they occupied will be opened. However, until then, entry is forbidden even with permission from the room owner.

This meant corpses were simply regarded as objects.

It was easy to guess how she infiltrated the rooms and killed the other guests.

“Hi… Hihihi. So many quality corpses. This place must be heaven for real!”

As the woman laughed and looked around at us, her expression suddenly hardened.

Then.

“Six.”

She counted the number of corpses she was controlling.

Her thin fingers, which were marked by stitched scars, pointed at Han So.

“Seven.”

Then, at the Dark Spiritualist.

“Eight.”

Next, at me.

“Nine.”

She continued counting with herself.

“Ten.”

Finally.

“The stupid big guy.”

She even counted Jortu, who had already died on the fourth floor.

“Eleven.”

A chilling silence fell.

The Cadavermancer, who had been counting people with her finger, scratched her chin and posed a question.

“But there are only ten rooms?”

From Room 101 to Room 110.

There were a total of ten guests invited, yet when we counted, there were eleven people.

“Huh?”

Surprised, Han So also counted the present people himself before stepping back as a cold shiver ran down his spine.

“R-Rule No. 27. So, there’s an uninvited intruder here?”

27. Guest rooms only go up to number 110. There is no Room 111. If you find Room 111 and someone is staying in it, kill them immediately. They are an uninvited intruder.

“W-who is it?”

Bewildered, Han So began to back away, warily eyeing us.

This was why I didn’t say anything earlier.

Because if I had spoken earlier, our newly formed group would have quickly fallen apart.

I met the Dark Spiritualist’s gaze.

She shrugged, but her expectant eyes made me open my mouth.

“When we listed out all the rules, there were several confusing points.”

The Dream Demon Manor had many rules. They seemed sloppy, and yet, held an air of absolute authority.

The ambiguously written rules seemed to urge us to somehow use them as if they were keys to solving a mystery.

Well, actually, the rules of the Dream Demon Manor had indeed become the key to solving this case.

“I, Deus Verdi, am staying in Room 110.”

I came from the farthest future.

“Mul was staying in Room 109.”

Mul came from a time period right before mine.

“The Cadavermancer is staying in Room 108.”

I saw her crawling towards Room 108 after being beaten by Jortu.

“Jortu, who has died, was staying in Room 107.”

“W-what does that matter?”

Han So asked hesitantly, but I calmly recalled Han So and Jortu’s first meeting.

“Jortu, upon seeing you, War God Han So, said that you were a middle-aged person.”

- The Han So I know of is quite a middle-aged man.

From Jortu’s time, Han So must have been middle-aged.

“So, if we assume that Han So, who lives in Jortu’s time, is at most forty-nine years old…”

“……”

Suddenly realizing his age and trying to figure out each room’s time, Han So stood there with his mouth agape.

He seemed to follow the conversation well enough.

“Me, who is staying in Room 110, Han So died at the age of eighty-five in my time.”

“Heeeeeh?!“

Han So’s reaction to learning about his death was quite amusing, but that wasn’t the important part.

“Thus, there is a gap of about 36 years between Room 107 and Room 110.”

Considering that middle age was around 40-49 years old, even if there were an error, the difference would not be extremely significant.

“Here comes the question.”

I glanced slightly at the Dark Spiritualist and saw that she was actually enjoying my explanation.

“The Dark Spiritualist I know of is at most thirty years old. Yet, there is at least a 36-year gap between me and Jortu in Room 107.”

Han So seemed to have been overwhelmed, trying to catch up; however, the Cadavermancer’s eyes gleamed as if she had found the answer.

While I didn’t know her exact age in my time, the Dark Spiritualist was either my age or a year or two older.

A year later, I would be 29 years old.

However, the Dark Spiritualist in front of me was eighteen years old.

“Jortu in Room 107.”

I spoke like…

“The Cadavermancer in Room 108.”

A judge delivering a verdict,

“Mul in Room 109.”

Who was calmly tapping the gavel,

“Deus Verdi in Room 110.”

And delivering the final judgment.

“According to Rule No. 11 of the Dream Demon Manor.”

11. Guests with higher room numbers come from later time periods.

The uninvited intruder in this Manor was…

“If you are truly an invited guest, you would have been assigned a room between Room 107 and Room 110.”

The 18-year-old Dark Spiritualist.

It was you!