The Genesis Of A Necromancer - Chapter 52

Chapter 52: First war
Jack’s exhausted eyes flickered open as early sunlight crept into his room, illuminating the disarray around him. The pale glow filtered through the cracks in the window shutters, casting jagged shadows across the room. It was a new day—and not just any day, but his first day at the academy.

“Ahhh…” he muttered, stretching as he reluctantly forced himself to sit up. Every muscle in his body ached, and a sharp throb reminded him of last night’s encounter with the Drakorath. The mental strain from controlling that beast had left him feeling battered, like he’d been fighting for hours in his sleep. Yet, he knew he couldn’t let himself fall behind.

‘No excuses,’ he thought with a frown, rubbing a hand over his face. ‘Sleep is a sign of weakness.’

With that personal mantra echoing in his mind, he slapped his cheeks, banishing the last dregs of sleep. As he swung his legs over the side of the bed, he glanced toward the wardrobe, where his academy uniform hung neatly. He pushed himself up, crossed the room, and pulled it out to inspect it.

[Uniform]

[Grade 1 Equipment]

[Enchantment: Reform – cannot be worn out or torn!]

“Wow,” Jack murmured, his fingers tracing the fine stitching and the smooth, sleek fabric. He hadn’t expected much, so seeing a magical enchantment on a mere school uniform came as a shock. ‘These people don’t hold back on expenses,’ he thought, almost impressed. It took resources and skill to create enchanted clothing for hundreds of students.

The uniform was surprisingly light yet durable, and the subtle silver thread woven along the edges glinted in the light. It even came with a custom waistband designed to hold a blade. He adjusted it around his waist, tugging at the fabric to make sure it fit. Satisfied, he turned to face the wall mirror, his reflection staring back at him with a resolute gaze.

As he stepped out of his room, he found himself face-to-face with Kurt, who seemed to be leaving his room at the same time.

“Cool! What’s up, bro?” Kurt grinned, slinging an arm around Jack’s shoulders in his usual casual manner.

Jack winced slightly at the sudden contact, his expression unreadable. “Doing well,” he replied, his tone brisk. Social interaction wasn’t his forte, and talking to Kurt required more effort than he cared to exert. Still, he knew Kurt could be useful; their casual bond might serve him in the long run.

“I was just about to head for class,” Kurt said, still draped around Jack’s shoulder. “Figured you’d show me some of your moves.”

Jack nodded, muttering, “I’d be glad to…” Then, with a slight grimace, he added, “Now, would you mind letting go?”

Just then, the door across the hall opened, and Alisha stepped out, looking as stunning and composed as ever. The morning light seemed to catch her perfectly, accentuating her graceful features and the elegant uniform she wore.

Jack took a silent, calming breath. ‘Here’s my little devil,’ he thought as he watched her for a moment. He knew now what she was capable of, and the need to keep his distance pressed heavily on his mind. But perhaps, just this once, a friendly greeting wouldn’t hurt.

“Hey,” he said, managing a conflicted but polite smile.

Alisha’s eyes sparkled as she returned the greeting, “Good morning, Asriel. I hope you had a restful night.”

Jack’s smile felt plastered on his face as he replied, “Yes, thank you.” The tension between them was subtle but unmistakable.

Before they could exchange more, Kurt interjected impatiently. “Come on, let’s get going. We don’t have time for chit-chat!” Without warning, he took hold of Jack’s arm, practically dragging him down the hallway and out of the building.

‘What the…’ Jack bit back a glare, frustration simmering within him. His temper was at the edge, yet he held it in check. ‘Stay calm. He’s still useful.’

Once they reached the courtyard, Kurt’s demeanor shifted. He leaned closer, his face grim with urgency. “Jack, listen to me,” he said in a low voice. “Do not interact with any member of the church. Those people are cunning—always scouting, always manipulating. Keep your distance from them, or you’ll get sucked into their mess.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed as he processed Kurt’s warning. ‘Does he know something about the church’s true motives?’ He wondered if Kurt had knowledge of things that Asriel—his character—hadn’t been privy to in the original book.

“Why?” Jack asked with a slight tilt of his head, his voice guarded but curious.

Kurt’s expression darkened, a flash of resentment sparking in his eyes. “What do you know about the first war?” he asked, the question carrying a weight that hinted at years of buried anger.

Jack’s mind flickered to what he had read in the novel. The first war was portrayed as a time of chaos, with kingdoms fighting over control and power. The church had been depicted as the heroes, protectors of the people. But something in Kurt’s tone suggested there was more to it.

“Not much,” Jack replied, feigning ignorance. “Enlighten me.”

Kurt clenched his fists, his voice barely above a whisper. “Twenty years ago, the church was nothing more than a small faction. After the first ‘divine visit’ from the angels—the so-called Hubris Season—they started expanding, claiming they were here to bring blessings. They arrived in Avalonia, offering peace… but instead, they began taking children from villages, one by one. We later found out they’d been abducting our people under the guise of salvation.”

The story made Jack’s blood run cold. It was vastly different from the version he had read.

“When my father discovered this,” Kurt continued, his voice thick with anger, “he demanded answers. But instead of facing justice, the church accused us of opening the planes to the Abyss. They spread lies, claiming that we’d summoned monsters to our world.”

Kurt’s fists trembled as he spoke. “My father tried to drive them out of Avalonia, but the other kingdoms fell for the church’s deception. Ciriaus, the kingdom that worshipped the church fanatically, declared war on us. And then, the other kingdoms were dragged in, one by one. The result was the first war—bloodshed, destruction, and countless lives lost.”

The bitterness in Kurt’s voice was palpable. Jack sensed this wasn’t just history to him; it was personal.

“I see,” Jack muttered thoughtfully. ‘The planes first opened in Avalonia… which means there’s a chance the fourth key lies somewhere in those lands.’ He made a mental note to investigate further, but only when the time was right.

Kurt looked at him expectantly, as if seeking validation or perhaps some form of allegiance.

“Interesting story,” Jack replied, his tone deliberately dismissive. “But it’s all in the past now, isn’t it?”

Kurt’s face blanked at Jack’s indifference. It was clear he had expected more sympathy, perhaps even solidarity. But Jack was already moving ahead, his mind elsewhere. ‘The past is the past. I have my own goals to achieve.’

Kurt scrambled to catch up, casting one last, resigned glance toward Jack. “Maybe you’re right,” he muttered, though Jack could see a flicker of disappointment in his eyes.

By the time they reached the class building, Kurt was panting slightly from keeping up with Jack’s brisk pace. “You’re a fast walker,” he said, trying to catch his breath.

‘Because I’d rather be anywhere than stuck in a conversation with you,’ Jack thought, masking his irritation.

At that moment, he remembered his familiar. ‘Ah, Draco,’ he thought, realizing he hadn’t released his bonded servant yet.

He summoned the creature silently, feeling the familiar presence of the small yet powerful beast materialize beside him.

[Bonded Servant Released]

—

Jack’s stride toward the classroom door was firm, his expression calm yet calculating. As the faint whispers of the students filled the corridor, he could feel the weight of countless eyes watching him. The day had only just begun, yet there was no doubt that a storm was brewing—one that would set the tone for his journey ahead.

A smirk played at the corner of his lips as he took his first step into the classroom. His mission was clear: to rise above, not by playing nice, but by mastering the game better than anyone else.

And if that meant clashing with allies and enemies alike—then so be it.