Karnak, Monarch of Death

A mage in his mid-forties swung his staff in the air, chanting an incantation. It was Ronchester, Elezar’s confidant and a ninth circle practitioner commanding the mages of the imperial magic tower. ”The wailing sky exhales its harsh breath, Wind of Akryde!”

A middle-aged man of the same age countered with his own magic. It was Jedtzen, Diogres’s confidant and a ninth circle practitioner commanding the mages of the Tower of Dawn. ”Light, pierce, shatter, and destroy! Arcane Blast!”

The whirlwind and the flash collided in the air, exploding upon impact. Neither side gained an advantage over the other. Both were confidants of archmages, and their true abilities were almost identical.

But what happened next was different for the two sides. Undead began swarming from every direction. In a hurry, Ronchester unleashed an explosive spell. Crimson flames engulfed the approaching monsters completely.

All the countless undead burned to ashes. Coughing in the drifting ash, Ronchester gasped for breath. Casting another spell immediately after using high-level magic had made him severely mana-sick.

In contrast, Jedtzen remained unruffled. The undead simply weren’t swarming toward his position.

Seeing this, Ronchester spat out his accusation. ”You filthy cultist! Using the vile power of darkness!”

He believed that Diogres had aligned himself with cultists and was employing necromancy. Likewise, his subordinates would also be making use of necromancy. And considering what was unfolding inside the dungeon, it certainly looked that way.

Jedtzen let out a snort. ”I’m not using the power of darkness. I’m merely taking advantage of it.”

Even now, the monsters and undead pouring in attacked indiscriminately, whether it was Diogres’s forces or the subjugation force. The problem was that Diogres’s forces had access to magic the subjugation force did not.

The mages and priests of both Diogres’s forces and the subjugation force fought desperately, and dozens of ghouls and skeletons charged toward them. Naturally, the subjugation force’s mages and priests had to unleash their spells and divine power against them. Otherwise, they would be killed.

But Diogres’s forces only needed to cast a single spell. It was Circumventer of Necromancy. One side could pause in the fight and hide, while the other had to remain exposed the entire time. There was no need to say which side held the advantage.

Thanks to this, the subjugation force, which had once been pushing forward, was now being overwhelmingly driven back by Diogres’s forces.

”You bastards!” Deflecting chains of aura with his fighting spirit blade, Magnus, the vice-commander of the Kretas Order, ground his teeth.

It was hard to tell in the chaos, but it was clear enough that Diogres’s forces were utilizing the monsters and undead. ”How dare you employ the vile power of darkness?”

Dangling his chain blade, Desteran let out a mocking laugh. ”To be precise, we’re not actually using the power of darkness.”

At the same time, his movements suddenly accelerated. ”You know it too, don’t you? That we’re not controlling these undead.”

His voice stretched out as chains of aura surged like snakes from every direction. It was one of Desteran’s specialties: ensnaring with words while striking with the blade. ”This is just like using flood tactics or fire attacks, nothing more.”

Blocking with a shield wrapped in silver fighting spirit, Magnus scowled. It was an unpleasant truth, but Desteran was right. Those monsters attacked both sides indiscriminately. Diogres’s forces were simply better at evading them.

And it wasn’t a lie. Even archliches couldn’t make those monsters and undead distinguish between friend and foe to attack only the subjugation force. They had merely released a horde of undead that hated the living, and even to Magnus, it was clear Diogres’s forces were not controlling them.

Glancing around at the chaotic battlefield, Magnus wrestled with the situation. What should I do...?

He had seen the archliches flying off toward Dreltein and Elezar, but there was no time to go and assist them. But ignoring the enemies in front of him would put his allies in danger.

Besides... They wouldn’t need my help anyway.

They had a legendary archmage and the Martial Kings of Kretas and Cyphras on their side. Even if four archliches, monsters of legend, had appeared, their forces could surely handle them.

Yes. Adjusting his grip on his sword, Magnus glared at Desteran before him. Focusing on the battle in front of me is what I need to do right now!

As Serati observed the situation, she inwardly clicked her tongue. It’s exactly as Lord Karnak predicted.

Karnak had said that if they could drag the situation into a chaotic melee, they would be able to isolate Dreltein and Elezar. It was because of a chronic issue those two possessed.

Karnak had put it best.

—They are a martial king and an archmage. Absolute powerhouses whom no one dares approach.

At first, Serati didn’t understand.

—And why is that a problem?

But Karnak had explained.

—Because it’s not only the enemies who don’t dare approach them.

Even their own allies did not dare to step in. After all, why would a great martial king and archmage need the help of insignificant others? Because of this, no one worried about Elezar and Dreltein. It wasn’t that their subordinates lacked loyalty.

Everyone really is just looking after themselves, aren’t they? thought Serati.

Thanks to that, those two had indeed slipped from everyone’s focus. But there was still work left to do.

”Lapicel, protect the mages!” She needed to divert Lapicel’s attention as well.

Who knew what kind of disaster would happen if she saw Karnak using necromancy?

”Yes,” responded Lapicel.

The moment she spoke, Lapicel threw herself toward the mages of the Tower of Dawn.

That should do it. Watching Lapicel’s back, Serati let out a quiet sigh. Now, hurry up and finish it, Lord Karnak.

***

A silver and a purple flash swept swiftly across the ruined courtyard before the fortress. Beyond them, a golden trail extended, unleashing a cleaving strike.

An aura blade, several meters long, aimed for the back of Leven’s head. Leven leapt sideways in desperation, countering at the same time. Trying to match a golden blade with mere purple aura was tantamount to suicide. So Leven did not attempt to block Dreltein’s strike directly.

Instead, he struck from the side in an attempt to divert the blow. The golden aura’s trajectory shifted slightly as a result, cutting a deep line across the courtyard instead of Leven.

A massive stone wall crumbled and collapsed with a deafening roar, and in that brief opening, Dreltein was already blocking Leven’s path. ”You made a mistake.”

Redirecting a powerful attack by striking it from the side had the advantage of allowing one to evade a stronger opponent’s blow with minimal force. But this method had a flaw: it did not truly block the attack, merely deflected it.

”Deflecting an attack is not enough. You should have followed up immediately,” said Dreltein.

Of course, it wasn’t as if Leven didn’t know that. I know, but I don’t have the strength!

It was, after all, a strike from a golden blade. Even deflecting it required everything a purple knight had. Leven simply had no strength left for a follow-up strike. And he didn’t need to force himself to counter. He simply needed to avoid the immediate danger. Leven was not facing Dreltein alone.

Varos was already aiming for Dreltein’s back. If Leven couldn’t deliver the follow-up, his companion would do it for him.

”Damn it.” With a short curse, Dreltein twisted.

The two clashed, their aura blades colliding. In an instant, they exchanged several blows. Varos, though a silver knight, moved with uncanny skill. Even against the Martial King Dreltein, he could hold his ground, if only briefly.

Of course, there were moments when he was inevitably overpowered, but he compensated for it like this.

—Kretas Swordsmanship: Snowflake Storm!

A dazzling flurry of silver aura blades filled Dreltein’s vision, throwing him into confusion.

Dreltein roared, ”How do you know that sword technique?!”

Varos responded as if it was nothing. ”Doesn’t every Kretas knight use it?”

No, but you’re not a Kretas knight!

And it wasn’t just the Kretas sword techniques he used. At times, he would unleash chains of brilliant aura... That’s Desteran’s technique, isn’t it?

At other times, he wielded the sword of Delphiad... That’s Martial King Gellard’s swordsmanship?!

At times, he even displayed sword techniques that defied all common sense. That’s Malican Thun’s technique! That shouldn’t even exist in this era!

But upon close examination, it was clear that Varos wasn’t simply making use of existing techniques either. There were subtle differences, including the Kretas swordsmanship he had utilized earlier.

Is he just one of those geniuses? Someone who learned all sorts of sword styles?

But when it actually came down to crossing blades, Varos didn’t feel like a genius at all. Those with little experience but overwhelming natural talent didn’t fight like this. Dreltein could say so with certainty, having been that type himself in his youth.

This young brat, green as grass, was displaying the kind of combat that only someone with at least decades of continuous battle experience could show. It was completely absurd.

Damn it, what the hell is he? Even in confusion, Dreltein kept pressing Varos hard.

No matter how exhausted he was, he was still the martial king. It was inevitable that Varos would begin to falter as time went on. Yet Dreltein’s hardened expression did not ease. Because the mere passage of time was already putting him at a disadvantage.

It meant that Diogres Kolon, who had been worn down and nearly collapsed, would have a chance to catch his breath. In the midst of his frenzied fighting, Dreltein suddenly felt a chilling concentration of magical power gathering behind him.

”Thou spear of the thunder god’s wrath, bring the fury of lightning upon this earth!” With a clear, ringing voice, the archmage’s authority descended upon the land.

Dozens of lightning strikes poured down like a waterfall, converging toward Dreltein. Even for ㅁ martial king, a direct hit would be dangerously fatal.

Swearing, Dreltein twisted his blade. ”Damn it!”

The golden aura blade and the waterfall of lightning clashed in midair. Flashes of lightning filled the dungeon’s interior, and the vibrations shook the air. Even after successfully crushing Diogres’s spell, Dreltein’s expression did not ease.

Diogres had already approached, aiming his wand at him. In that stance, he spoke briefly to Varos. ”Catch your breath.”

”Thank you,” answered Varos.

Dreltein clicked his tongue. ”Look here, Master Diogres. Weren’t you just complaining earlier when you saw us taking turns?”

And yet here he was, eagerly taking turns himself now that the chance had come.

”I was.” Diogres had no intention of denying it. ”So, you can curse me out too. Let’s keep cursing each other while we fight to the death.”

With him speaking like that, Dreltein found himself at a loss for words. Was he always this shameless?

In any case, it was troublesome. Until now, they had only fought one-on-one, so it didn’t matter if they both ended up exhausted. But now, in this fight between an exhausted martial king and an exhausted archmage, others had begun to intervene.

It was Dreltein who was now in danger. And it’s not like I can call for my subordinates to come help at this point.

He glanced toward the dungeon plaza on the other side of the fortress, where the chaotic melee raged.

There were so many monsters and undead, and the air was so thick with dark energy, he couldn’t clearly see what was happening. Damn it all....

In the end, Diogres was using the exact strategy they had anticipated. He had trapped them, then was defeating them one by one. And wasn’t that precisely the situation they were in now?

I knew this was what he was aiming for, so how did it end up like this?