Karnak, Monarch of Death

Chapter 296: Worshippers of Twilight (3)

Beneath a clear blue sky, a single ship cut gracefully across the sea. It was the Osprey’s Roar, en route to Dragon Isle. Outwardly, the ship looked just as it had when it departed from Port Terrister, but the composition of its passengers had changed significantly. Now, its decks were filled with rugged-looking pirates lounging about in comfort.

”I was wondering how we’d get back after the ship broke...”

”Good thing we found a way.”

”Must be Lady Serakal’s blessing, wouldn’t you say?”

”Think there’s any rum left on this ship?”

Not only had they climbed aboard the vessel they’d once tried to plunder, they were now shamelessly asking for booze.

The crew cast wary glances at them and whispered to the captain, ”Captain... how did things end up like this?”

The captain had the look of a man who had achieved enlightenment. He gripped the wheel in silence, steering the ship with a vacant stare. ”I don’t know anymore. I don’t know anything at all...”

Meanwhile, Karnak and the others were asking the pirates about something that had been bothering them. ”What exactly did you mean earlier by righteous necromancy?”

The Cult of the Black God taught that necromancy was a sacred rite of the death god Tesranach. The Church of Twilight, however, did not. According to the doctrine Maloka had compiled, necromancy was considered a necessary evil.

So where the hell did they get all this talk about justice? Karnak wondered.

These pirates clearly claimed to be part of the Church of Twilight, but their beliefs diverged significantly from the actual teachings. Karnak needed to figure out what had happened.

But asking directly was risky. It would be the same as saying, ”The version of the Church of Twilight you believe in is wrong.” And that was the kind of thing that made zealots snap.

So he took a gentler approach. ”The Church of Twilight is, of course, righteous, but isn’t necromancy still a dangerous and questionable art?”

The answers were less than satisfactory.

”Is it?”

”Now that you mention it, I think I heard something like that...”

”What did the priest say back then?”

As it turned out, being pirates didn’t make them theologians. None of them had any proper understanding of doctrine. They were all more or less illiterate, just believing whatever the local priest told them.

And yes, the Church of Twilight did have priests. In truth, none of the priests could actually use divine magic. The four archliches, in the process of founding the Church of Twilight, had passed down necromancy and magic to trusted followers and spread the doctrine, appointing them as priests.

Putting together what the pirates had said, their logic seemed to go something like this. They didn’t deny that necromancy was evil. But did evil always mean injustice? Did good always mean righteousness?

The Church of Twilight, unlike the Cult of the Black God, didn’t claim evil to be good. Nor did it, like the Church of the Goddess, peddle hypocritical virtue. Necromancy was a necessary evil.

And if one must commit evil to uphold righteousness, then that was the justice of twilight.

”That’s what they said, anyway.”

”They said a lot of other things too...”

”But we couldn’t remember all of it...”

Indeed, they had simply picked out the parts of the sermons that suited their taste.

”Uh... well.” Karnak was momentarily at a loss for words.

But he also understood now why the pirates had fallen so hard for the Church of Twilight. They were used to committing wrongs. But now, someone was telling them they were actually righteous. Of course they’d be drawn to that.

Leven, who had been listening in, sent a worried message.

—Is this really okay? At this point, it’s just another Cult of the Black God.

—Not quite that bad yet...

But to say it wasn’t a cult would be a stretch too. If the Church of Twilight kept growing like this, it could very well throw the world into chaos.

Realizing this, Karnak clicked his tongue.

—The issue is the difference between the empire and the Seven Kingdoms.

In the Seven Kingdoms, the Church of Twilight was received fairly positively. They were seen as a useful hunting dog, since eliminating the Cult of the Black God was considered the top priority.

But in the Lacania Empire, things were different. The Cult had already sunk its teeth in deep. With Elezar and Dreltein sitting at the center of imperial power, the cult was being treated far too leniently in practice, even if not openly.

In the empire, the Church of Twilight had effectively taken the place that the Cult of the Black God held in the Seven Kingdoms. To both the Church of the Goddesses and the empire’s version of the Church of Twilight, the two groups looked indistinguishable.

It truly represented one of the Church of Twilight’s tenets. To set the world right, one must be willing to step into hell.

Well... when you put it that way, it does kind of make sense... And now, Karnak also understood how the whole Saintess of Twilight thing had started.

Originally, even Maloka hadn’t included the concept of a saintess in the doctrine. But as the church expanded westward into the empire, specifically into the Grental Territory, problems began to arise.

Grental had once belonged to Count Hudel, and Karnak’s group had visited there several times.

It was the believers from that region who started asking the questions like.

—Hey! I saw a woman who looked just like the goddess!

—Me too!

Back then, Maloka hadn’t realized that the real Serati might become an issue. The problem was, she herself had been a lich for so long that she was more familiar with skulls than faces. She had assumed that the overly idealized portraits of Serati she had created looked nothing like the real woman. Besides, Maloka tended to generalize.

—Beautiful faces all kind of look the same, don’t they?

She had seriously underestimated just how much attention—and how strong an impression—a beautiful woman could leave, especially on young men. Serati had shown her face frequently while in Grental. And a beautiful woman in battle left an impression on anyone, regardless of gender.

More and more believers started reporting sightings of her. So Maloka was left with a dilemma. If it were someone completely unrelated, she could just say it was a coincidence. But Serati was one of Karnak’s vassals. She would inevitably appear alongside church members.

Thus, the idea was born: Serati was the incarnation of Serakal, the Saintess of Twilight. That much was Maloka’s doing. But the rest, the idolization of the saintess, was something the empire’s branch of the Church of Twilight had developed on its own.

So that’s why they’re so casual with the high priest. Their doctrine’s just a little different, thought Karnak.

To them, the high priest was merely the goddess’s first servant. He was someone who had stood in line first and got there first. He was someone important and someone above them, but not someone to be revered or worshipped. That devotion was reserved for the Saintess of Twilight.

Karnak remarked.

—Now that I think about it, it’s not even that surprising. This kind of thing always happens once a religion grows big enough.

Apparently, Maloka hadn’t seen much reason to intervene. If anything, it had only deepened the believers’ faith. And whether the highest authority in the Church of Twilight was the high priest or saintess, either way, they were still both in Karnak’s hands.

Only Serati let out a long, exhausted sigh.

—So... does this mean I have to play the role of a saintess from now on?

Karnak answered her.

—I don’t think that’s necessary, actually.

According to the empire’s version of the Church of Twilight doctrine, Serati was indeed the incarnation of Serakal, but only one who had yet to awaken. Until then, she was considered an ordinary human. That was why neither Desteran nor the other pirates found her reactions strange. They knew that the only one who would feel most out of place was the Saintess of Twilight herself.

This is insane. Serati pressed her hand to her forehead as dizziness washed over her.

Not long ago, she’d been quietly living her life as a well-known beauty and aura user in Derath City, so how on earth had it come to this?

Karnak tried to soothe her.

—You won’t need to worry much, Serati. It’s not like they expect anything in particular from the saintess.

He turned his gaze to the opposite side of the deck.

—If anything, he’s the one in trouble right now.

Varos and Desteran were leaning on the ship’s railing, locked in conversation. Desteran was asking something persistently, and Varos was sweating bullets trying to answer.

—What’s Varos going to say now?

***

Though Desteran had suffered grave injuries, he looked quite fine now. He wasn’t fully recovered, but his body had mended considerably thanks to Milia’s healing.

Upon seeing Milia, Desteran once again loudly praised the greatness of Lady Serakal.

—A priest of Latiel has devoted herself to the doctrine of twilight? Truly, this is cause to praise Lady Serakal! Wahahaha!

Naturally, Milia bristled. Even though she was now Karnak’s servant, her faith in Latiel had never wavered. And it shouldn’t waver, either. If it did, she’d lose her ability to cast divine magic.

Had Karnak’s mental message not arrived at just the right moment, she would have lashed out immediately.

—Sorry. Just hold it in for now. I didn’t think it’d go this far either.

In any case, once Desteran had pulled himself together, he started pressing Varos with questions. In particular, there was one burning curiosity. ”How exactly did you learn my chain blade technique?”

If Karnak’s group had truly been from the Cult of the Black God, there would have been no reason to question it. In Search Black alone, there were several aura users who had learned the chain blade from Desteran.

And there had been frequent clashes between Search Black and the cult. Know thy enemy, know thyself. One could never be too informed. The Cult of the Black God had even captured Desteran’s subordinates to forcibly extract his sword techniques.

That was why Desteran had exploded in rage the moment he saw Varos using it. ”But you aren’t with the cult, so how do you know my chain blade?”

Varos had a prepared excuse. ”Your technique is certainly formidable. But it didn’t fall from the heavens, did it?”

The practice of forming aura chains and using them in combat had existed before. Even Desteran’s own master, the purple knight Blando, had used an aura chain blade.

”But your swordsmanship isn’t of the Blando school,” Desteran pointed out.

To any eye, it was unmistakably Desteran-style.

”Well, if it began from the same origin, wouldn’t the result be similar?” Varos countered.

”I suppose?” Though still doubtful, Desteran let it go.

Varos’s expression was just too confident. There wasn’t the slightest trace of guilt in it. He met Desteran’s gaze with the pure dignity of a man with nothing to hide.

But the next question shattered that composure. ”Then what exactly was that technique you used at the end?”

He was referring to the secret art of the Desteran-style chain blade: Chain of Apocalypse. It was a technique Desteran had created himself. He had never taught it to anyone, not even once. In fact, it wasn’t even finished yet. Who would go around teaching an unfinished technique?

”So how is it that you were able to use it so perfectly, when I haven’t even completed it yet?” Desteran asked with a frown.

This was the moment when Karnak turned to look at Varos. Oh no. This is bad. What do we do now?

The chain blade style, he could’ve explained that away. But Chain of Apocalypse? That was one of the moves I wasn’t supposed to use.

But in the heat of the moment, temptation had won out.

—Whoa! This would be so fun to use right now!

And this was the result. He hadn’t even come up with a fake explanation in advance, so what could he say now?

—What do we do, young master?

—How would I know? I’m not the one swinging the sword!

Varos, visibly flustered, caught sight of the red-haired beauty. Serati was staring at him with an expression that was half pity, half disappointment.

In that moment, a brilliant idea struck him. ”That technique was actually one I created.”

”What?” Desteran was about to snap, incredulous at the absurd claim.

But Varos cut him off. ”I was just as surprised when I saw your technique. It was exactly the same as mine. That’s why I showed you the completed version.”

Desteran stared at him, dumbfounded. ”You expect me to believe such an impossible coincidence?”

”Exactly! It is impossible!” Varos suddenly threw his arms in the air dramatically. ”And yet it happened. Doesn’t that prove that the Goddess of Twilight is watching over us?”

”What?”

That was it. If something made no sense, then you just needed a reason that made no sense either.

And Desteran bought it. ”So it was the will of the goddess!”

Rationality and logic were irrelevant. Belief was all that mattered. In fact, the less sense it made, the deeper the faith became.

”Truly, what else could this miracle be but divine providence?” Convinced, Desteran began to pray. ”Praise be to Lady Serakal.”

Varos quickly clasped his hands and joined in. ”May she continue to watch over her faithful servants.”

Serati, watching the scene unfold, was utterly speechless. Were these the two men truly those who had reached the realm of the silver knight? Are they really something she had dreamed of her entire life?

What a waste of skill. Ugh.

Meanwhile, the ship continued cutting through the sea. How much time had passed? At last, land came into view in the distance. It was the Tepial Archipelago, where Dragon Isle was located. Twilight had already begun to fall, and the view of the island came into focus.