Karnak, Monarch of Death

The current martial kings on the continent were all human. Even in the future, with the new generation of martial kings, this fact itself remained the same. Did this mean that fae warriors found it harder than humans to reach the ultimate level of mastery?

The answer was both yes and no. There were instances of martial king-level warriors among the fairy race. In fact, the existence of elven and dwarven martial kings was well documented in history. The problem was that this instances translated, by human standards, to extremely rare.

Given their long lifespans and low population, it took about the time it took for three human generations to pass before a martial king would emerge among the fae.

”On the other hand, they consistently produce archmages.” Then Karnak corrected himself with a chuckle. ”To be precise, once an archmage appears, they simply don’t retire for centuries.”

Unlike warriors, whose power diminished as their bodies aged, mages retained their strength even as they grew older. Upon reaching a certain level, they could even slow their aging with magic, like Elezar had.

Because of this, elven archmages could maintain their positions for long periods and raise disciples throughout the years. Over history, this became institutionalized as the Golden Branch Society, one of the three great magical schools on the continent.

Karnak continued to explain. ”For reference, most fae mages are elves. There are hardly any dwarven mages.”

Milia tilted her head. ”Why? Are dwarves not smart enough?”

Karnak responded, ”That’s not the case. Intelligence doesn’t differ much across races.”

There were certainly dwarves smart enough to become mages. However... ”They’re just too strong.”

Dwarves were born with bodies that easily developed muscle. This meant they could overcome most situations with brute strength alone.

Karnak shrugged. ”The world only progresses when there’s a need for it, you know?”

Because their bodies were strong, they rarely found themselves in situations where their minds had to struggle, resulting in few taking an interest in magic. There were a few dwarves who knocked on the doors of the Golden Branch Society, but in the end, most high-ranking fae mages were elves.

”And just like fae warriors, elven mages take several times longer than humans to accumulate mana.”

Drel asked curiously. ”Then wouldn’t their strengths and weaknesses be similar?”

Instead of relying on overwhelming magical force, they would employ precise and refined spells with practiced skill.

”That’s right. That’s essentially how it is.” Yet Karnak had said there was a difference between the fae warriors and mages. ”But unlike swordsmanship and martial arts, there’s a field in magic where simply spending a long time makes you stronger.”

That field was spirit magic. In this branch of magic, the mage’s ability to handle spirits was more important than the complexity of the spells themselves.

Karnak gave a breakdown of spirit magic. ”This branch of magic doesn’t require much mana. It’s not particularly difficult, either. It’s just that the summoned spirits are notoriously uncooperative, which is why people avoid it.”

However, things were different for elves, who needed centuries to learn magic anyway. Since their mana accumulated so slowly, the number of spells they could learn before their mana pool grew large enough was sufficiently was limited.

”So they devoted their spare time to taming spirits, but over hundreds of years.”

Even the most obstinate spirits would eventually yield to the requests of those they had known for centuries.

Leven let out a hollow laugh. ”So that’s why when people think of elven magic, they think of spirit magic?”

”Because they aren’t much different from human mages in other areas,” responded Karnak.

Serati suddenly shivered. ”Don’t tell me elves wield spirit magic the way you do, Lord Karnak?”

That would be a total nightmare. Even now, the horrific scenes of enemies being pummeled by spirit giants were vivid in her mind.

”Ah, it’s not to that extent,” admitted Karnak.

Even elves couldn’t wield spirit magic in the same way Karnak did. After all, their approach was fundamentally different from his.

”It’s just that when facing an elven mage, you have to consider that they might overwhelm you with raw destructive force using spirit magic,” said Karnak.

After explaining the characteristics of fae warriors and mages, Karnak briefly covered fae priests as well. ”In their case, you can assume their strengths and weaknesses are the same as fae warriors.”

When of equal rank, they had more experience than humans, but their divine power accumulated slowly, so they tended to fight using finely tuned techniques.

Serati asked Karnak. ”So it’s like dealing with a fae mage without spirit magic, then?”

”Exactly. The only other difference from human priests would be that they don’t worship the Seven Goddesses.” Unlike humans, the fae worshiped the nature god Ta’al as their sole deity. ”But in terms of priestly hierarchies and the kinds of divine spells they use, they’re very similar.”

After finishing his explanation, Karnak raised his wine glass and took a sip to wet his throat. ”With this, I think I’ve covered everything you urgently need to know about the fae.”

Lapicel cautiously raised her hand. ”Um, Lord Karnak.”

Karnak turned towards her. ”Hm? What is it?”

She seemed troubled. ”Then does that mean the fae don’t believe in the Seven Goddesses?”

Karnak answered her with a frown. ”I told you, they worship Ta’al.”

”In that case...” Lapicel glanced cautiously at Milia before finishing her question. ”So, are the fae also heretics?”

According to the Church of the Seven Goddesses, only the Seven Goddesses were true deities, and all other beings were deemed false gods. By that doctrine, Ta’al should be considered a false god. Yet according to Karnak’s explanation, fae priests also wielded divine spells—spells that were almost indistinguishable from those of the church.

A glint of interest flickered in Karnak’s eyes. ”That’s actually an interesting topic...”

In truth, there had long been debate between humans and the fae over each other’s faiths. Yet neither side could confidently brand the other as heretical. There was a simple reason for it: Both wielded divine magic without issue.

The very proof that the Seven Goddesses were true deities lay in the holy powers they bestowed upon their followers. However, fae priests who worshipped Ta’al also undoubtedly wielded holy powers, and there was hardly any difference between their powers and those of the goddesses’ priests. To accuse each other of heresy would simply be hypocritical.

”That’s why there’s been extensive doctrinal research over the years, and each side has come to its own conclusions.”

From the fae’s perspective, short-lived and foolish humans could only see fragments of the one true god, Ta’al. In their perspective, the humans were mistakenly worshipping fragments of God as seven separate deities.

On the other hand, humans believed that the long-lived but still primitive fae lacked the wisdom to distinguish the Seven Goddesses individually and were ignorant enough to believe there was only one god.

”What is that supposed to mean?” Lapicel exclaimed, incredulous. ”So basically, you’re saying that neither side really knows the answer.”

”That’s why some mages claim that neither Ta’al nor the Seven Goddesses truly exist as beings,” explained Karnak.

They argued that divine powers were formed by the collective faith of humanity, and that what people used in their divine spells was merely a portion of that collective power. Accordingly, some suggested that the source of humanity’s collective faith should be referred to as grace, while the power borrowed from it should be called divine power.

”But it’s a theory you can’t exactly discuss openly unless you want the church to come down on you with holy inquisition,” Karnak added with a smirk.

Lapicel shrank back, glancing at Milia. ”R-right, of course.”

In truth, Milia’s face was flushed with agitation, her expression shifting between red and pale. She clearly wanted to scream at them for their blasphemy, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything with Karnak in front of her.

Chuckling, Karnak rose from his seat. ”Well then, now that we’ve eaten, let’s get moving again.”

***

The forces the empire prepared to counter Giyen Ren’s invasion were truly formidable. Firstly, half of the imperial knights, widely considered the strongest in Lacania, were deployed.

Their commander, the silver knight Chaplin, could not leave the capital due to his duty of protecting the royal family, but even without him, the assembled force was still overwhelming. The empire summoned mages from the imperial magic tower and the Tower of Dawn to form a mage corps, and with the cooperation of the Church of the Seven Goddesses, assembled a priest corps as well.

Additionally, troops were gathered from the empire’s various territories and reorganized under the eastern imperial army, bringing their numbers to a staggering thirty thousand. Only Lacania could muster such a large and well-equipped force in the entire continent.

In the ancient past, when powers like aura, magic, and divine energy were not as developed, there had been occasional records of armies numbering in the hundreds of thousands. Of course, only about 30% of those were actual combatants, with the rest being porters and support personnel, and the recorded numbers were often exaggerated. Still, there had undoubtedly been larger armies back then.

But in the current age, the difference in numbers meant little. The gap between warriors and ordinary people had grown too vast. Even the lowest-ranked aura users, red knights, could easily slaughter dozens of unarmed peasants with their bare hands. Mages and priests could do the same if conditions allowed.

With such disparity, what use was it to conscript peasants, give them basic training, and send them into battle? They would only consume supplies in vain. In this era, thirty thousand troops were more than enough to destroy an entire nation. In addition, the empire prepared a trump card to command this army.

They appointed Batalok, the martial king of Taledo, and Diogres Kolon, Master of the Tower of Dawn. With Elezar and Dreltein gone, these two were the empire’s living embodiments of sword and magic. The problem was that these two shared an incredibly long and bitter history.

***

A massive man in his fifties stood agitated, with thick dark brown hair and a matching beard. It almost seemed as if his entire frame was composed of nothing but muscle. He raised his voice. ”Look, I’d rather head out there alone than fight alongside this bastard!”

This was Batalok, the martial king of Taledo, a man who had reached the pinnacle of martial arts.

Standing beside him was another man in his fifties. He furrowed his brow. ”This is the imperial audience chamber. Must you persist in such crude behavior?”

Batalok jabbed a finger irritably at Diogres Kolon, his long-time rival. ”See that! Look at him, acting all high and mighty even now!”

emperor Gottfried II of the empire let out a deep sigh. How could a martial king, a man who was more than fifty, still possess such a brash, unruly nature? His tone was basically that of a street thug. It was not a scene that could be shown in public, which was precisely why the emperor had summoned them privately to his office. Yet it made no real difference.

The emperor could feel an oncoming headache. ”Sir Batalok.”

Batalok answered, ”Yes, Your Majesty.”

The emperor asked, ”Are you truly saying you would defy my will?”

Batalok glared, a demeanor that, considering he was addressing the emperor, could easily have been deemed treasonous. ”Who said I’d defy you? I’m only saying I can’t fight alongside that man.”

Yet the emperor could do no more than give another resigned sigh. He’s stubborn and powerful. What a troublesome combination.

This man was a martial king, a being even an emperor could not simply suppress with authority alone. Moreover, it wasn’t as if Batalok lacked loyalty to the empire.

Batalok cried out. ”Just leave it all to me, Your Majesty! I’ll rip off that long-eared mage’s head and present it to you myself!”

”Your opponent is an archmage. Do you truly believe you can guarantee victory without the aid of magic, even as a martial king?”

”That man wouldn’t fight alongside me anyway. It’s not like I’m the only one refusing here.”

Batalok’s argument was not entirely without merit. As beings of equivalent rank, a martial king and an archmage were equals in status and career, making it impossible for one to simply fall under the other’s command when leading an army.

Batalok attempted to reason. ”Having two commanders in an army is a far more serious problem than it might seem, Your Majesty. I’m not being stubborn simply out of personal grudge.”

Diogres let out a snort of laughter. ”I am not foolish and unruly like you. If it is His Majesty’s command, I will gladly work together with you.”

Batalok snorted. ”Oh, really? So you’d be fine with me as commander and you as deputy? Hm? You wouldn’t accept that, would you?”

Diogres answered him somewhat reluctantly. ”If it is His Majesty’s will, then yes.”

”See, I told you he couldn’t—wait, what?” Batalok’s mocking grin froze. ”Are you seriously saying you would serve under me?”

Diogres shrugged. ”I see no reason why not.”

Batalok scrutinized Diogres’ expression carefully. It was calm and unwavering. It did not seem he was speaking in mockery.

Is this really the Diogres I know?

He had heard that Diogres had recently clashed with Elezar and Dreltein. Perhaps the event had caused the man to undergo a sudden change.

Batalok couldn’t help but wonder. Is that how frightening these cult bastards have become?

In a solemn tone, the emperor gave his command. ”Sir Batalok, I hereby appoint you as commander of the army. Work with Master Diogres, your vice commander, to bring judgment upon these wicked ones.”

”If Your Majesty puts it that way...” Batalok lowered his head, his voice subdued. ”Then I simply cannot refuse.”