Karnak, Monarch of Death

Delphiad swordsmanship—a legendary style passed down through the illustrious Strauss family, a martial lineage famed across the continent. It was said that Gellard Strauss, the family’s current head, mastered Delphiad swordsmanship to its ultimate form. It had earned him the title of Sword King.

”The Sword King’s technique...”

Randolph was momentarily thrown off. So were the other knights watching the duel. Not because Karnak had pulled out a legendary technique used by the Sword King.

Who wouldn’t know that?

But because everyone knew Delphiad swordsmanship. The style was so renowned that its basics were widely disseminated across the continent. But that was only the basics. It was precisely because of its fame that many tried to imitate it—and inevitably came to the same conclusion:

”This is useless for us.”

Delphiad swordsmanship’s true strength could only be manifested when combined with mastery of battle aura. Its techniques for manipulating aura were intricate and powerful, earning it widespread renown. But without aura? It was weaker than even third-rate swordsmanship.

However, the style was excellent for developing fundamentals, which is why many knights taught it to their squires as an introductory method.

So why was Karnak using it now?

What is this? Does he have some hidden trick up his sleeve?

Could it be that Karnak had uncovered a secret, unrecorded form of Delphiad swordsmanship? Perhaps an ultimate technique for using aura? And maybe, just maybe, that was why he had entered this duel with such confidence?

But with just three months of practice?

Three months wasn’t even enough time to properly learn the basics, let alone develop aura.

None of this makes any sense.

Randolph could only furrow his brow in utter confusion. Around them, the spectators began to murmur and buzz.

”What is that?”

”They say that’s the Sword King’s technique.”

”You mean the legendary Sword King?”

”Whelp, does that mean Sir Randolph is in serious trouble?”

Indeed. Just as laypeople could not comprehend the nuances of experts, experts often couldn’t fathom the misunderstandings of laypeople. There was a truth universal to every knight. Even mastering third-rate swordsmanship took years. As such, even a lifetime would not be enough to learn and master a first-class style like the Delphiad swordsmanship.

But to the untrained, it seems plausible to think: Surely, with a legendary swordsmanship like the Sword King’s, just a few months of practice should be enough to easily surpass years of training in third-rate techniques, right?

Their assumption wasn’t entirely unfounded either. Sometimes, even young heirs of the Strauss family—still far from their peak—effortlessly defeated seasoned knights. But that wasn’t because the Delphiad swordsmanship was a shortcut to mastery. Rather, it was because the Strauss heirs were geniuses among geniuses.

For anyone else, the Delphiad swordsmanship was not a miracle technique that could transform novices into elite warriors in mere months.

So...

Randolph let out a dry chuckle as he pieced things together.

So... this sheltered bookworm stumbled across the Sword King’s manual, thought he’d stumbled onto some extraordinary opportunity, and spent three months fumbling around before deciding to face me with it?

Everything finally made sense.

”Kuh, haha!”

Randolph laughed heartily while straightening his posture.

Well, it’s not entirely a bad thing.

The illustrious banner of Sword King’s technique lent the duel an air of gravitas. It gave Randolph the perfect backdrop for an honorable and resounding victory.

Pointing his sword at Karnak, Randolph declared boldly, ”New lord of Zestrad! By the name of Alium, I shall deliver justice!”

***

Karnak sighed in relief after gauging the reactions of the crowd.

Phew. That’s result enough from all my effort over the last three months.

Of course, Karnak didn’t know anything about the Delphiad swordsmanship. He could barely perform the opening stance, and that was it. But there was good reason he was putting on this act. It was to perform damage control. The Karnak of this timeline had made quite a mess, disappearing for months after a bold declaration. That meant he needed to back up his prior confidence with something.

If he had stuck to his usual wizard persona, he might’ve avoided trouble. But as a would-be knight, he needed an excuse that fit his current role. That was why he had turned to his ever-resourceful servant.

”Varos.”

”Yes, young master?”

”Do you know of any sword style that would make everyone gasp just by hearing the name? Something so legendary it’s instantly recognizable, yet simple enough that even I could mimic it?”

Even as he asked, Karnak felt ridiculous. A technique so legendary it awed everyone? Rare enough to astonish, yet common enough for even rural knights to recognize? And simple enough for someone as feeble as Karnak to imitate?

”Forget it. I wasn’t expecting anything. It was a dumb question anyway—”

”It exists.”

”...What?”

”I’m saying there is such a sword style.”

Varos had spent over a century walking the path of martial mastery, and during that time, he had encountered countless sword techniques from across the continent.

”One such style is the Delphiad swordsmanship, as practiced by Sir Leven. Or, in this timeline, Sir Gellard would be the current Sword King.”

”Well, do you know it?”

”Well... kind of.”

Three of the Four Great Martial Kings had fallen to Varos’s blade. Along with their defeat came their techniques, passed down to him in full. Varos wasn’t some prodigy born once in a generation. He hadn’t learned their techniques just by trading blows with them.

”I just asked them to teach me and learned,” he said nonchalantly.

The warriors had been resurrected as death knights in their defeat. And as sworn servants of the Monarch of Death, as loyal underlings of Varos, the death knight lord, all it took was a command to have them obediently teach him their techniques.

”That’s how I managed to learn all but one of the Four Martial Kings’ styles.”

The sole exception was Lapicel. There was a reason Varos had failed to acquire her skills. Karnak had never turned Lapicel into a death knight. Lapicel Crotium was the only female among the Four Martial Kings. She had been a hero of unparalleled renown. She had been a champion of humanity.

Even when the other Martial Kings fell, even when the Three Archmages succumbed to Karnak’s will, Lapicel never gave up. She continued to fight to the bitter end, dealing tremendous damage to Karnak before finally being defeated. And in recognition of her heroic defiance, she suffered a fate crueller than death.

Karnak assigned her to guard the imperial palace of Necropia, Necropolis. But instead of guarding a single entrance, she was made to guard three—the east, west, and the south. It sounded absurd, guarding three gates simultaneously. But an impossible task as such became horrifyingly possible with necromancy.

Her bones were stripped and used to create a skeleton warrior stationed at the east gate. Her flesh was carved away to fashion a flesh golem for the west gate. Her soul was separated and bound to a suit of living armor that patrolled the south gate. It was truly a torment beyond death, one that robbed her of body, spirit, and freedom. Reflecting on that time, Karnak clicked his tongue.

”Wow, I was a real piece of work, wasn’t I? Why didn’t I feel bad about it back then?”

”It’s probably because you’ve returned to a human body.”

”Yeah, that makes sense. You should definitely live with a conscience. No question about it.”

Considering the casual nature of their conversation, the concept of living as ordinary humans seemed a distant goal for both master and servant. Neither appeared to have fully embraced their humanity just yet.

Still, the swordsmanship of the Sword King, with its storied legacy, was the perfect banner for a naive young lord to brandish, convincing himself he’d acquired true power. Even after the duel ended, Karnak doubted anyone would question it too deeply.

Now the only problem is...

Gripping his sword tightly, Karnak swallowed hard.

I just need to survive.

***

After discarding his shield, Karnak struck a dramatic pose in what vaguely resembled the opening stance of Delphiad swordsmanship. And as the price for his theatrics, he was promptly beaten to a pulp.

”Guh! Argh! Gaaah!”

With the shield, he could at least block attacks. Without it, he had to rely on his sword, and it wasn’t going well, not at all. Randolph swiftly closed the distance in the blink of an eye. His movements were a blur.

Then he did something. What exactly did he do? Karnak had no idea. All he noticed was something flashing—probably a swing of Randolph’s sword—but that was all Karnak could discern.

”Urgh!”

Sparks flew as Randolph’s strike slammed into Karnak’s armor. Luckily, the blow didn’t cut through. It merely struck with concussive force. The impact sent Karnak tumbling across the ground again.

”Hah! More of your rolling tricks—”

Randolph’s words faltered. This time, Karnak’s roll was different.

Huh?

Before, Karnak had simply flailed about in his cowardly move. He had been caught up in his desperate movements. But now?

”Not yet!” Karnak shouted after landing on one knee and immediately leveling his sword at Randolph. ”Come, knight of Deventor!”

He wasn’t fully standing. One knee was planted firmly on the ground, his body low, sword extended. But somehow, his posture looked rather passable. He was like an eagle poised to strike. He crouched, every fiber of his being focused on his opponent. To boot, his voice was boisterous.

”Do you think the bloodline of Zestrad will fall so easily?!” Karnak bellowed confidently.

He seemed so full of himself that even Randolph couldn’t help but momentarily doubt himself.

What is this brat talking about? I just made you fall!

No matter. If the brat wanted to act tough, he’d just hammer the point home. As the lord of his territory, the brat was wearing armor hammered from fine steel. Even if he went a bit overboard, the brat wouldn’t fall like a leaf.

I’ll tire him out first.

Randolph strode forward while swinging his sword relentlessly. His strikes lashed at Karnak’s armor like a whip, the sound of steel pounding against steel ringing across the arena. Karnak continued to roll.

”Gah! Ngh! Ugh!”

Though Karnak grunted with every blow, he never took a fatal hit. Each time, he threw himself to the ground at the last moment, the impact transferring through his armor but never breaching it. Then, once again, he’d rise halfway up, kneeling and pointing his sword dramatically at Randolph.

”The sword of Zestrad will never break!” he roared.

Randolph’s eyes gleamed with intrigue.

Impressive defense. Could it be... the deflection technique of Delphiad swordsmanship?

Karnak stifled a scoff.

What a clown. As if I could actually do that!

Varos had been right all along. Randolph lacked discernment as a backwater knight. Buoyed by the realization, Karnak straightened and shouted with renewed vigor.

”Hyaaah!”

***

Varos observed the scene with satisfaction.

He’s doing quite well with the deflection technique. Guess I did teach him quite well.

Unbeknownst to Karnak himself, he truly was using his armor to deflect Randolph’s strikes. There was no other explanation for how he’d managed to endure for this long. Otherwise, no matter how sturdy his armor, it would have shattered long ago.

It was all thanks to Varos’s relentless training, during which he’d carefully conditioned Karnak to react instinctively. Varos hadn’t told Karnak what he was doing, knowing that conscious effort would only complicate things for a beginner.

And the bluffing? Even better than I expected.

Karnak was still getting beaten—still rolling across the dirt with every blow—but his expression remained imperious, his eyes blazing with defiance.

”The sword of Zestrad will never break!” he shouted yet again.

Varos chuckled quietly.

Well, bluffing has always been his specialty. It’s no wonder he’s good at it.

Being a necromancer was, at its core, a profession reliant on bravado. The atmosphere of dread, the ominous posturing—it was all a critical part of the craft. Necromancy fed off the fear in the hearts of the opponents.

Old habits die hard. Karnak, who once wielded fear like a weapon, had seamlessly transitioned his theatrics to this duel.

”Come at me, Sir Randolph!” he shouted, dropping to one knee and extending his sword with dramatic flair. To the untrained eye, it looked like a calculated stance—deadly and deliberate.

With every movement, he proclaimed.

I have not fallen! I am fighting you head-to-head!

And the audience was awestruck by his bravery.

”Ooooh!”

”To think our lord was this strong!”

The knights were impressed as well, but for different reasons. The Deventor knights watched in respectful silence.

”That young brat is quite something.”

”He knows he’s outmatched, yet he’s still fighting to preserve his family’s honor.”

”Skill aside, he carries himself with noble dignity.”

The Zestrad knights were on the verge of tears.

To think we once dismissed him as a wastrel...

How wrong we were. Even without skill, he possesses a spirit worthy of a true lord.

What did it matter if he lacked prowess? His noble spirit, his unyielding resolve—those were the marks of a knight.

***

But unknown to the raucous spectators, Karnak was utterly miserable.

How much longer do I have to keep this up?

Randolph was indeed behaving as Varos had predicted. Thanks to that, Karnak had managed to hold out as planned. But even that had its limits. Karnak was already nearing his breaking point. After all, he had barely a month of hasty training.

When is the opening going to come, Varos?

Fortunately, Varos had accounted for Randolph’s lack of patience in his plan.

Good. This match is ripe for the taking.

Randolph made up his mind before adjusting his grip on his sword. He prepared to deliver the finishing blow. At that very moment, Varos’s voice thundered across the arena.

”Now, young master!”

Ah, right now?

Karnak’s eyes lit up, and he surged forward. Simultaneously, Randolph’s towering frame advanced to close the distance. As Randolph made his move—whatever it was, Karnak couldn’t tell—he did the only thing he could: count in his head.

One, two, three!

Then he drove his blade into the ground.

Clang!

Steel clashed against steel, and sparks erupted from the impact.

Randolph’s eyes widened in disbelief.

He blocked it?

He had feinted to disrupt Karnak’s focus before aiming to slice his legs. Yet somehow, this novice—this total amateur—had managed to parry his low slash perfectly.

What... how?

Randolph faltered, caught off guard.

This is my chance!

Karnak seized the moment. His movements turned swift and precise.

”Hyah!”

The two-step rising slash. Overkill.The ultimate technique of the future Sword King, Leven Strauss, illuminated the air with brilliant arcs of light.