Karnak, Monarch of Death

When Serati regained consciousness, she renewed her resolve. She was now bound as a vassal to a necromancer. It was a position that obligated her to obey any command, no matter how evil. What sort of orders would Karnak give her now that she was under his control? His first command was, to say the least, perplexing.

“...Excuse me?”

“Choose, Serati. What’s the right choice here?”

Was it because she was now his vassal? Karnak’s tone had shifted to a more casual one. After hesitating, Serati cautiously asked for clarification.

“Isn’t it obvious that we should save Alius and Riltaine?”

Why was this even a matter for debate? Did he really intend to abandon them?

“So you’re saying it’s acceptable to use evil methods if it’s to save our comrades?”

“It’s not an ideal choice, of course. But if there’s a way to save them, abandoning them isn’t an option, is it?”

After all, Serati had accepted necromancy herself to regain her lost arms. She wasn’t the kind of person to recoil from evil so stubbornly that she’d refuse to make compromises with the world.

“I understand that you’re wary of exposing yourself as a necromancer, and I get the risks involved... but wouldn’t it still be the right thing to save your comrades, even if it means taking that risk?”

Karnak and Varos exchanged a glance, nodding as if they had just come to a realization.

“I see.”

“So you’re saying the end justifies the means, even if those means are vile?”

“It’s okay to do bad things if it’s for a good cause? Hey, turns out we’ve been living pretty righteously after all.”

“Exactly!”

Serati was flustered. “No, that’s not what I meant...”

But it seemed the two of them had already reached their own conclusion. Karnak stood up with newfound enthusiasm.

“Alright, time to get serious with some necromancy again.”

“Sure, a lot of people might die, but it’s all for the sake of saving our comrades.”

“They’re bad people anyway, so it’s fine if a few of them die, right?”

“Absolutely. Makes it easier to stomach.”

Serati stammered, “Wa-wait, no, that’s not what I—”

What was this feeling? They were going to rescue their captured comrades, Alius and Riltaine. That was a good thing. It was undeniably a good thing.

So why does it feel like I’ve just made an irreversible mistake?

***

A powerful necromancer who ruled a city was holed up in a hideout, making all kinds of preparations. How were they supposed to take down an opponent like that?

The Karnak of old would have summoned a massive undead army with overwhelming power and swept through the city. Then, piece by piece, he would have dismantled the enemy’s defenses and eventually taken their head.

“But my necrotic power is far too meager for that now.”

Comparing his current power to Straph’s, Karnak frowned in contemplation. The gap between them was staggering. Even with his former prestige as the Monarch of Death, the difference was so severe that it left him grasping for solutions.

Leverage could allow one unit of force to move ten times the weight, but even then, at least one unit of force was still required.

Staring down at the dark expanse of Trist City, Karnak muttered, “For now, I’ll have to scrape together some death energy from the surroundings.”

Varos asked skeptically, “Is there really that much energy around here? This isn’t exactly a graveyard or a battlefield.”

“Funny thing is, there is.”

This city, known as the City of Sin or Hell on Earth, was infamous for its dangers. People died here daily, and violent confrontations were routine. The entire city was effectively a massive graveyard and a blood-soaked battlefield.

“Wow, is it really that bad? It really is unsuitable to live in.”

“Exactly. How do people even survive in a place like this?”

For Karnak, the former Monarch of Death, and Varos, a death knight lord, to make such remarks, the state of Trist City was clearly abysmal.

Even Serati nodded in agreement.

This place’s depravity is severe, even if it’s due to a necromancer.

However, the conversation that followed left her bewildered.

“Humans sure have impressive survival instincts.”

“Right? That’s why we’ve been through all this trouble.”

“.....?”

Why was that something to marvel at? She couldn’t understand it at all.

Meanwhile, the two men continued their discussion.

“So you think you can gather enough necrotic power to face him, young master?”

“It’ll be insufficient since it’s only a temporary measure, but it should meet the bare minimum requirements.”

“And after that? You can’t create an undead army without usable corpses.”

It was true that Trist City was crawling with vengeful spirits of those who had died unjustly. However, there weren’t as many buried corpses as one might expect. The river flowing by the city made disposal easy. Why bother with the effort of digging graves when you could simply toss the bodies in and let the fish handle the rest?

“But relying on vengeful spirits alone to build an army consumes too much necrotic power. I’m not exactly in a position to waste what little I have.”

It was clear—they needed corpses, and preferably fresh ones.

“No choice, then. Just this once, we’ll have to go back to the old ways.”

“Exactly. I’ve been trying to avoid that, but in this case, there’s no helping it.”

“There shouldn’t be a problem, right? Even Miss Serati said it was fine.”

“She did say that doing some bad things is okay if it’s for saving our comrades.”

Both men turned to Serati with broad, trusting smiles. She stared back at them, dumbfounded.

I definitely didn’t say it like that....

Yet she couldn’t refute them. Doing so might make them genuinely consider abandoning Alius and Riltaine and fleeing instead. She thought, surely no one would actually do that, right? Then again, there was something about these two that made her think they really might.

“Alright, the plan is set.”

Karnak grinned as he wriggled his fingers, an excited expression on his face as though relishing the return to his old work.

“First things first, we’ll need to produce a large number of corpses.”

Serati cautiously asked, “So... you’re planning to start killing off members of Ranpelt’s organization one by one?”

She desperately hoped the plan didn’t extend to harming innocent civilians. Karnak waved her concern away.

“There’s no need for you to get involved.”

A sly smile crept onto his face.

“This city handles its own law enforcement, doesn’t it?”

***

On a dimly lit street in the southern part of Trist City, two rough-looking men sat slouched on the pavement, taking a break. They were henchmen of the Ranpelt family, having spent the entire night scouring the city.

One of them, Erold, grumbled irritably. “Ugh, what the hell are we even doing out here at this hour?”

His legs ached, and he was exhausted. Just thinking about the higher-ups comfortably asleep while they did all the dirty work made his blood boil.

“Hey, Riman! Hand me that bottle of booze!”

The other man, Riman, responded with a sharp tone. “Why didn’t you bring your own damn bottle?”

“What, got a problem with it? If you’re so pissed, why didn’t you win?”

“Grr...”

Riman clenched his teeth, glaring at Erold, who was lording over him with arrogant ease. But there was nothing he could do about it. Right now, he was simply Erold’s lackey. Once, Riman had been a member of the Krell family, rivals to the Ranpelts. But after the Krells were crushed, he’d been forced to swear loyalty to their enemies.

Having to serve someone he used to fight against was humiliating beyond measure. But Erold, of course, didn’t care.

Hah! What’s he going to do about it? Pick a fight with me now?

With the Ranpelt family now controlling the city, Erold’s power and influence had soared. Riman had once stood above him in status, but now he was groveling at his feet. As the awkward tension simmered, a quiet voice suddenly reached Erold’s ears.

“You let your guard down.”

At the same moment, a blade nicked his shoulder. It was the sword Riman had been holding. Startled, Erold drew his weapon.

“You bastard!”

The wound wasn’t deep, but the sight of blood sent him into a frenzy.

“I knew it! I knew you’d show your true colors eventually!”

Erold began swinging his sword wildly. Riman stumbled backward, panicking.

“Wait, no, this isn’t what it looks like...!”

Even Riman didn’t fully understand what had just happened. He’d been standing idly when an invisible force seemed to nudge his sword, sending it toward Erold. But why was Erold making such a big deal out of a minor scratch?

“Damn it! Fine, whatever!”

By now, it was clear talking wouldn’t help. To be honest, Riman had always wanted to stab Erold anyway.

Clang! Clang! Clash!

The sharp sound of swords clashing echoed through the dark streets.

***

All across the city, unexpected clashes were breaking out. The Ranpelt organization members, who had been combing the city in groups of two or three, were now turning on each other.

“You bastard! So you were planning to stab me in the back all along!”

“W-What are you talking about?”

“Do you think I’d fall for that?”

“You’re the one using this as an excuse to get rid of me!”

The late-night mission to search the city, depriving them of sleep, was the kind of unpleasant task that higher-ranking members rarely involved themselves in. Most of the forces scouring the streets were either lower-ranking members of the Ranpelt organization or outsiders who had joined after their original factions were crushed.

Forced to work side by side with those they’d once fought to the death, camaraderie was non-existent. Even the smallest misunderstanding would light the fire of hostility, their eyes blazing with murderous intent. Screams and clashes were inevitable.

“Ahhhhhh!”

“Gah!”

Hidden in the shadows of an alley, Karnak smirked as he observed the chaos.

“It’s working like a charm.”

Serati, hiding beside him, was appalled.

“My god... Are they really drawing swords over something so trivial when their lives are on the line?”

“If this were a normal city, you’d be right to think it’s absurd.”

But this was Trist City—a place where law enforcement was entirely self-regulated.

“You’ve seen it yourself, haven’t you? It’s not unusual for people here to draw their swords at the drop of a hat. To them, this isn’t even out of the ordinary.”

Karnak had not expended much effort to sow discord. After all, he didn’t have the necrotic power for anything extravagant, nor did he need it.

“When you’ve got a mountain of tinder piled up, why waste energy throwing a fireball? A single spark is enough to start a blaze.”

All it took was a subtle nudge to their blades with his magic and a whispered suggestion at the edge of their hearing.

Only two of them left.

Revenge is yours.

This is the perfect opportunity.

That was all. Just these tiny provocations. It was enough. Distrust among the already suspicious men boiled over, and they drew their swords with ease, cutting each other down without hesitation.

“Ahhhhh!”

“Ugh... y-you bastard...!”

“Gahhhh!”

Serati shuddered at the grim spectacle.

My god...

It wasn’t some grand, elaborate method. Just faint whispers, enough to plant the seed of a minor misunderstanding.

And yet... dozens of people are dying because of it....

Still, she let out a small sigh of relief. Karnak’s methods were targeting only members of the Ranpelt organization. No harm had come to innocent civilians.

Does that mean... maybe he’s not entirely evil?

On the other hand, Varos looked thoroughly unimpressed.

“There are not nearly enough bodies.”

Despite dozens of deaths across the city, it wasn’t enough. A few dozen deaths were nothing in such a big city.

“How are we supposed to build an undead army with this?”

Even in a city as corrupt and violent as this one, not everyone fell for such simple tricks. In fact, more people resisted than succumbed.

“It’s magic!”

“There’s a mage trying to mess with us!”

Those who realized what was happening snapped out of it and began searching their surroundings for the culprit. Not all of the search teams were moving in pairs or trios, either. Many groups of ten or more were combing the streets together, making them immune to Karnak’s tricks.

“What about those groups?” Varos asked.

Karnak remained unfazed.

“Do you really think this is all I’ve got?”

This was merely the first step—planting the seeds.

“I have my ways.”