Karnak, Monarch of Death

Karnak stood around awkwardly in his armor. Varos addressed him with a determined expression. ”Our first goal is simple. Building endurance.”

Without physical stamina, mastering even the greatest techniques would be pointless. In fact, it would be impossible to even learn such techniques.

”Now, run along the perimeter of the training ground.”

”That much I can handle...”

Since it was an indoor training ground, the space wasn’t particularly large. A lap took around twenty seconds, though his armor did slow him down a bit.

”Huff... huff... done, right? So, what’s next?”

Varos gave him a look of disbelief.

”You need to do forty-nine more laps.”

”Wait! Fifty laps?”

”Did you think you’d be done after just one?”

”How is anyone supposed to run fifty laps without resting?”

”Ah, you talk too much. Less talking, more running.”

”Ugh...”

With a pained look on his face, Karnak began to run again. He managed to grit his teeth and hold out for three laps, though he noticeably slowed down with each one. By the fifth lap, his vision began to blur, and his running devolved into something closer to walking. On his tenth lap, his blurred vision darkened, and he stumbled, collapsing to the ground with a loud clang of armor reverberating through the training ground.

Crash!

”Ugh...”

Varos covered his face, fighting back a wave of frustration. He was overcome with despair.

”I knew you were out of shape, but this...this is worse than I imagined.”

Their plan would have to be revised entirely.

”Strengthening your muscles will have to wait. First, we need to get you up to at least an ordinary person’s stamina.”

He pulled Karnak to his feet.

”All right, back up! Keep running!”

”I... I really don’t think I can...”

”You’re going to give up? Then should we start planning your midnight escape?”

”Fine.”

Grumbling, Karnak forced himself to move again. Varos was right—things were too good right now to give up.

”Fine! I’ll run! I’ll run!”

***

Ten days later, Karnak was overcome with tears of joy. ”I... I did it!”

He had finally succeeded in running fifty laps around the training grounds without stopping—a remarkable achievement. Of course, Varos was quick to deflate his triumph.

”But you didn’t really run the whole time, did you? The last ten laps were barely more than walking.”

”But I didn’t stop!”

”Well, I’ll give you that.”

Varos didn’t go on with his criticisms, though. Karnak had truly committed himself to the training. For someone who had avoided exercise all his life to gain this much stamina in just ten days was no small feat. Karnak’s effort had played a big role, but more than that, it was the benefits of wealth that allowed for a steady diet and plenty of rest.

”Turns out eating loads of meat and getting plenty of sleep is the key to gaining stamina. So this is why all those wealthy knights were so strong,” Varos mused.

”I’m surprised myself. I remember not having much of an appetite before.”

”Well, to us now, everything tastes amazing.”

Usually, pushing the body hard in such a short time killed one’s appetite, but Karnak’s seemingly insatiable hunger defied even his physical limits! No matter how exhausted he was, he never missed a meal, even taking digestive herbs when he felt bloated, determined to shovel food down. In terms of nutrition, his routine was almost exemplary. As a result, his body had improved. He was no longer merely a scarecrow but rather a stuffed scarecrow.

Varos looked him up and down before nodding. ”You’ve finally become passably human. Now we can start the real endurance training.”

Karnak’s expression shifted to a strange look. ”Then what was I doing until now?”

”Rehabilitation.”

”.....”

”You should at least be able to move at full speed in armor for five minutes.”

”I’m pretty sure I did that just now.”

He’d clearly just run for more than five minutes in full armor.

”Do you think it’s the same to run absent-mindedly as it is to fight with blades flashing before your eyes? At your current level, your legs would give out in thirty seconds.”

Feeling disheartened, Karnak protested. ”Well, then when do I start learning swordsmanship? We don’t have much time left.”

With the duel date just over twenty days away, they were running against the clock.

”All the more reason to pick up the pace,” Varos said, with a sly smile. ”Now, let’s begin some real endurance training!”

***

Karnak’s daily routine was simple: Wake up, eat breakfast, then head straight to the training grounds for push-ups, lifting a heavy iron rod, squats, and more exercises until he was completely exhausted. Then he’d rest, have lunch, and return to the training grounds for more. His life became a cycle of eating, resting, and training.

”Huff... huff...”

One day, as Karnak was fiercely swinging his iron rod, he glanced to the side. The blond youth in heavy armor was practicing with a greatsword, repeating the same movement over and over. Varos was in the same position as Karnak. He needed to build his strength, so he focused on his own training while guiding Karnak.

”Hey, Varos.”

”Yes, young master?”

”Do all knights go through this kind of bruttish training?”

Varos raised an eyebrow.

”That? That’s not even knight training.”

”What?!”

So he was the only one being put through such intense drills? Karnak was about to explode with indignation when Varos added, ”That’s just standard training for regular soldiers. There’s no way knights would train this softly.”

”Ugh...”

Karnak slumped in defeat. Come to think of it, despite being the Monarch of Death who once conquered the world, he couldn’t recall watching knights or soldiers train. Naturally, he wouldn’t—most of his soldiers were skeletons, rotting corpses, spirits, or death knights. Varos, on the other hand, had fought beside Karnak in a living body long before he became undead. He knew the basics of physical training.

”What I’m doing now is knight training.”

Varos’s body had also changed significantly. He ate twice as much as Karnak to bulk up, and his arms were now thick and powerful.

Squinting in envy, Karnak asked, ”You bulk up so easily. Why am I not building muscle like that?”

”It’s still mostly fat. There’s no way to gain real muscle in just a few days. It takes consistent training to convert it to muscle.”

”To me, it already looks absurdly thick. No wonder knights look so burly if they’re training like this.”

”This is nothing compared to a proper knight’s routine. It’s more like what a squire would go through.”

”Are all knights monsters?”

Varos responded dryly, ”And who’s calling them monsters? The guy who uses skeletons to behead people?”

Even after all this training, Varos had struggled against true warriors until Karnak transformed him into a death knight. That had enabled him to finally make his mark on the world.

”Don’t think you can slack off by chatting—keep moving! Rest only when I say so.”

”Who’s the master, and who’s the servant here?” Karnak grumbled. But he still obeyed Varos’s instructions.

Another week passed like this, and Karnak’s stamina finally improved to the point where he could move freely in armor. Varos nodded approvingly.

”It’s time to start sword training.”

There were only fifteen days left until the duel.

***

At last, Karnak was permitted to draw a sword. Feeling slightly excited, he unsheathed a practice longsword.

”Does this mean I finally get to swing a sword?”

”Not yet.”

Karnak was assigned a simple task once he held up his sword.

”I’m not asking for much. Just stand there, in proper form.”

”Just that?”

Puzzled, Karnak took a stance, sword raised to face an imaginary opponent. But soon, he realized it wasn’t just that at all. Even holding the simplest stance earned him an endless stream of corrections.

”Your arm’s shaking.”

”Bend your knees more.”

”Put your weight on your back foot.”

”Focus your gaze on the opponent’s center.”

”Relax your shoulders.”

”Add more strength to your sword arm.”

Frustrated, Karnak snapped, ”How am I supposed to put strength in my arm but keep my shoulder relaxed? Are your arms and shoulders attached separately?”

”Ugh. How do I even explain this?”

After half a day of practice, Karnak finally managed to hold the stance. But the moment his concentration wavered, it would immediately fall apart. At this rate, there was no way to expect a proper, effective strike from him. However, Varos moved on for now.

”With your current level, young master, swinging the sword correctly still wouldn’t save you from being cut down.”

After all, the purpose of this training wasn’t to defeat Sir Randolph.

”But at least if you hold your stance, you won’t lose your head in the first blow.”

Varos picked up a large wooden club and pointed it at Karnak.

”I’m going to attack. Prepare yourself.”

Karnak’s eyes sparkled as he gripped his sword tightly. ”Should I counterattack?”

”Counterattack?” Varos snorted with amusement. ”You’ll have to experience it first to understand.”

A heavy pain shot through Karnak’s stomach as Varos jabbed the club into his abdomen. ”Argh!”

Even with armor, the impact tore through and shook his insides. Karnak doubled over, clutching his stomach.

”It hurts, doesn’t it?”

”Of course it does!”

”But holding your stomach isn’t an option. Get back into position.”

Gritting his teeth, Karnak resumed his stance, a defiant gleam in his eye.

This time, I’ll strike the moment he swings that club!

There was no such moment.

Wham!

”Ugh!”

A blow to his shoulder sent Karnak stumbling backward. Varos said calmly, ”I told you to stay in position.”

The beatings continued without mercy. Varos struck Karnak over and over, leaving him unable to do anything but take the hits. Counterattack? Not a chance. Each time Karnak tried to make a move, Varos cut him off with the next blow, skillfully targeting his shoulder, waist, and knees—the core of every movement—leaving Karnak helpless.

”This is why knights can toy with untrained opponents,” Varos explained as he continued to pummel him. ”Being a knight isn’t just about incredible reflexes or eyesight. That’s not how they block or dodge all of their opponent’s attacks.”

Of course, that played a part, but that wasn’t all.

”It’s about completely controlling the flow of a fight, dictating when and how the enemy can even try to strike. The less experienced the opponent, the easier it is.”

Knights could disrupt their opponent’s moves and force them to attack in ways they could easily counter. Against someone inexperienced in combat, it was almost too easy.

”That’s why it’s crucial to return to your stance immediately, even if you’re thrown off. At least then, you can avoid the next blow. Your duel with Sir Randolph will likely play out in much the same way.”

”Understood,” Karnak said, nodding seriously as he readjusted his stance. As he braced himself for the next blow—wham! Another hit landed before he even had time to react.

”Hey! I can’t stop the next strike no matter how much I adjust my stance!”

”At your current level, of course not,” Varos replied.

”But you said that holding my stance would keep Randolph from taking my head!”

”How could that be? He can take it whenever he pleases.”

Varos grinned. ”This is about making sure he doesn’t want to.”

From his assessment, Randolph was someone who thrived on flaunting his superiority. Given his skills and the crowd that would be watching, it was unlikely he’d rush to behead Karnak right away.

”There’s solid evidence for it,” Varos said. Paralt had lost both his legs to show for it.

Even when he could have easily killed him, Randolph had deliberately chosen to sever both legs—a show of dominance when a single lethal blow would have sufficed.

”But if you appear to lose your will to fight, the situation changes.”

Toying with an opponent who had already given up would look like bullying the weak.

”That’s why Sir Randolph took off the former lord’s head in a single blow. He was weaker than young master Paralt.”

Unlike Paralt, Baron Kraput wasn’t skilled in swordsmanship. Thus, he had lost his will to fight almost immediately against Randolph.

”That was why Randolph ended it swiftly. He wanted to spare his own reputation rather than risking it by drawing out a battle with an unworthy foe.

Thus, Karnak’s goal in training was simple.

”You need to look like someone who won’t lose their resolve, someone who won’t give up until the very end. That way, he won’t kill you in a single stroke.”