Karnak, Monarch of Death

Scattered battles raged throughout the capital. A man in his fifties and a young boy in his teens exchanged a dazzling array of spells above a shattered tower, located west of the grand cathedral. It was Diogres Kolon and Dios.

Dawnshroud Staff and the Staff of Dusk radiated intense mana as the two weaved a chaotic tapestry of brilliant magic across the blood-red sky.

They were evenly matched. Dios was in a completely different situation than Drel, Malican Thun, and Dios. The three of them had yet to become martial kings, but Dios was already an archmage.

He was not inferior in mastery of magic even compared to the future Diogres. He was merely lacking physically and in raw mana. However, those shortcomings were being compensated by powerful allies.

—Lord Maloka, Judgment of Flame.

—Yes!

—Lord Demphis, Extreme Frost.

—Understood.

The archliches heeded his every command while soaring through the air. Their skeletal fingers carved patterns into the void, giving birth to a terrifying fusion of blazing heat and biting cold that surged toward Diogres. Dios’s own spell, Star of Stigma, layered over the spells and amplified their power.

Dios roared, ”Take this, you bastard!”

The sheer force of the attack forced even Diogres Kolon to respond with caution. ”Absolute Shield!”

It was a defensive spell of the tenth circle. A massive shield of light formed just as a meteor of fused ice and flame crashed down upon it, leading to a massive explosion.

Diogres reappeared through the smoke. He wasn’t injured, but his expression was far from relaxed. ”Impressive...” he muttered.

Two regular ninth circle mages wouldn’t have been much of a threat, but Maloka and Demphis were no ordinary mages. They were powerful undead and necromancers capable of wielding ninth circle magic.

Moreover, Dios controlled them like extensions of his own limbs as he pressed future self relentlessly. Demphis had always been formidable in battle, and Maloka, being the type to execute orders without hesitation, was far from easy to deal with.

Even so, summoning reinforcements feels risky...

Diogres Kolon was in much the same situation as Dreltein.

No matter what he did, it felt as though Karnak was toying with him. And so, he reached the same conclusion. I can handle this alone.

Focusing mana into the Staff of Dawnveil, Diogres shouted, ”You think you can defeat me because you have their support? You don’t know who you’re dealing with!”

”I know better than anyone! That’s my body to begin with! Give it back, you bastard!”

***

Another clash between powerhouses was unfolding to the east of the grand cathedral. The two in question were a teenage girl clad head to toe in golden aura, Lapicel, and a beautiful woman radiating terrifying magical power, Elezar.

The battle between a martial king and an archmage was nothing short of earth-shaking. Every time aura and magic collided, everything around them was swept away.

Elezar shook her head in exasperation while pointing her staff forward. ”As expected, you are strong, Sir Lapicel.”

Lapicel responded calmly with her hands gripping the aura blade. ”You as well, Master Elezar.”

For a brief moment, a strange light flickered in Elezar’s eyes. ”You remember me?”

The Lapicel she knew should not have been able to stand there so composed, even while bearing those past memories.

A faint smile touched Lapicel’s lips. ”Yes. Though it doesn’t really feel like those memories are mine.”

Surprisingly enough, Elezar could understand. ”I see. So that’s how it is.”

After all, her former self, before falling under Tesranach’s control, was a hero of humanity and the great archmage of the empire. Those memories still remained. It was just that they no longer felt like her own.

She didn’t feel any particular sorrow over it. Now, her only joy was in devoting herself to Tesranach. Elezar scoffed. ”You too will soon belong to him, Martial King of Cyphras.”

The archmage’s flames engulfed Lapicel from all sides. Unfazed by the scorching heat, Lapicel drew forth her golden aura before whispering quietly. ”The Martial King of Cyphras is dead. I am a knight of Zestrad.”

A radiant strike cleaved through the flames in a single stroke.

***

Unlike the other strongholds, where one-on-one or small group battles were taking place, a large-scale war raged to the southwest of the grand cathedral.

The one in charge there was Rigail, the Fallen Pope of Wind. He opened the battle with his strongest card from the very beginning.

—Incarnation of Divinity, Black Heaven Storm.

A colossal vortex of pitch-black wind roared, unleashing gales strong enough to bend steel.

Rigail roared with fury, ”This is the domain of Lord Tesranach! None shall trespass!”

But the Twilight army did not falter. Aura users, along with Alius and the priests, charged in waves, bombarding the giant with aura strikes and divine spells. Around the giant, humans, monsters, undead, and elves clashed together in a chaotic melee.

”Do not retreat!”

”There is nowhere to retreat to anyway!”

”The fate of humanity rests in our hands!”

”If we lose, all will become wretched undead!”

The priests let out impassioned cries. However, a few knights belonging to the Twilight army wore conflicted expressions.

Well... they’re not wrong, but...

Doesn’t this look a bit strange?

At the very front of this brutal battlefield stood two archliches. Kalaf and Tirafar, elders of the Twilight Order, were fighting Rigail while protecting everyone. Moreover, they were shouting encouraging messages while defending them.

”Take heart!”

”The goddess will bless you!”

The archliches were terrifying, grotesque enough to haunt their nightmares, and they were casting spells at graceful elves. Yet ironically, the archliches were on their side, while the elves served an evil god of death.

And that wasn’t all. Both sides had necromancers. Both commanded undead and monsters. And on top of that, the opposing side, even though they were an evil cult, had golden angels flying through the air.

It was utter chaos. One of the knights let out a hollow sigh. ”I miss the old days, when you could tell the good guys from the bad at a glance.”

***

The Twilight army and the Black God’s forces were locked in desperate combat north of the grand cathedral. Karnak, Serati, and Varos charged into the temple, letting their allies face the enemies outside.

At the center of the vast hall, its ceiling shattered in places, stood an elf man in golden robes. His long green hair flowed behind him as he patiently waited for the intruders.

It was the Archmage Giyen Ren. ”The Evil-Slaying Mage, his followers, and even the Twilight Saint? It seems you’ve brought most of your forces here.”

From their overt movements thus far, it was clear they were plotting something using the Twilight Saint. The problem was, he didn’t know what. Karnak and Serati were undoubtedly the countermeasures they had prepared against Tesranach. The two of them were the strongest cards.

Giyen Ren speculated further. ”I don’t think you were targeting me, which leaves one possible explanation.”

They intended to combine their strength, eliminate Giyen Ren swiftly, and then proceed straight to Tesranach. The martial kings and archmages at other strongholds were all tied down. None would be able to come to his aid.

Giyen Ren intended to put a stop to their plans. ”That will not happen.”

He sneered while raising his staff, the Golden Branch, toward them. ”The only one we are concerned about is you, Karnak.”

The reason Tesranach could not leave his position recklessly was precisely because he feared Karnak might slip in unnoticed and pull some trick.

”Now that I’ve confirmed your location, there is no longer any need for Tesranach to remain seated at the center of darkness.”

Giyen Ren was fully prepared. Intangible mana began to rise over his shoulder. ”I shall hold you here until he arrives!”

Mana began to swell around the Golden Branch as Giyen Ren prepared his attack. However, he was abruptly interrupted by Karnak. ”Tell him there’s no need to come. We’ll be there soon.”

”What?” Giyen Ren stopped his attack. There was no reason for him to stop his spell. After all, there was no need to respond to an opponent’s words in a battle. And yet, Karnak had a talent for making people react.

Karnak scoffed. ”I didn’t have any intention of fighting you in the first place. Why are you jumping to conclusions?”

It seemed Karnak intended to leave someone else to fight while he headed straight for Tesranach.

Giyen Ren let out a laugh as he glanced at Varos. ”Do you truly think he alone can handle me?”

Karnak would obviously bring the Twilight Saint with him to face Tesranach, which left only Varos. Sure, Varos had shown surprising strength and unpredictability, but he was still only a silver knight. Could he really put up any resistance against an archmage?

Giyen Ren said sympathetically. ”What a cruel master you have.”

However, Varos simply gave a bright smile. ”I have no intention of fighting you either. Surprisingly enough, the young master doesn’t make us do things we can’t handle.”

”Hmm?” Giyen Ren’s gaze naturally shifted to Serati.

Surely they weren’t planning to leave the Twilight Saint behind?

As if reading his mind, Serati chimed in. ”I was told not to fight here either.”

That only deepened his confusion. None of them intended to fight him? ”You don’t seriously think I’ll just let you walk away, do you?”

”Of course not. I have someone else for you,” responded Karnak.

It was absurd. Giyen Ren had already confirmed that all of Karnak’s forces had been deployed across the capital. In other words, there was no one else left capable of facing off against an archmage.

”Why wouldn’t there be?” Karnak spread his hands. A black aperture opened above his chest, revealing its contents. Giyen Ren recognized it immediately. It was a void space, a spatial spell unique to necromancers.

Void space? Again? But there couldn’t be anyone else left. The four archliches were off fighting elsewhere. ”There shouldn’t be any undead left...”

Giyen Ren wasn’t given a chance to finish his words. From the void space, a knight in black armor dropped to the ground with a dull thud. The knight slowly straightened his posture, revealing himself to be a burly man in his fifties. A thick beard covered his grayish skin as he glared at Giyen Ren.

This was a face Giyen Ren knew all too well. ”Batalok?!”

”It’s been a while, Giyen Ren!”

It was none other than the Martial King of Taledo. After being turned into a death knight by the black god, he had met his miserable death. However, he now stood before Giyen Ren as Karnak’s subordinate.

Giyen Ren was shocked. How... did Batalok end up in his hands?

It wasn’t just him, however. Serati, too, was at a loss.

—When did you even pick him up?

—When? Back when Tesranach was descending. I grabbed him while we were escaping.

Karnak wasn’t the type to waste something as valuable as the soul of a martial king.

Giyen Ren muttered blankly, ”Batalok’s soul was still intact?”

Karnak shrugged. ”Not exactly intact.”

As far as Giyen Ren knew, Batalok’s soul had been exhausted to his very limits. That was why he had assumed, without much thought, that Batalok had been lost. However, as one steeped to the bone in necromancy, Karnak saw things differently.

Batalok had merely been broken. Quite badly broken, perhaps. But what was broken could be repaired. So what if the soul had been worn down and was no longer whole? What did it matter? It really made no difference to Karnak as long as Batalok could still fight well.

”I don’t get what’s so hard to understand. In fact, I don’t understand you. You went through the trouble of taking Gellard’s soul, extracted information about the present world... and that was it? You really didn’t do anything with it afterward?”

Fine—Batalok had been discarded because they thought he was completely ruined. But Tesranach had obtained another martial king’s soul.

Giyen Ren hesitated. ”W-well...”

To answer Karnak’s question, they hadn’t done anything. Nothing at all. But why? Why didn’t they turn Gellard into a death knight and bring him back into the present world? The answer was simple: the thought had never occurred to them.

That idea—truly—could only come from someone who viewed human souls and personalities as nothing more than tools.

A shiver ran down Giyen Ren’s spine. He felt an inexplicable fear toward the black-haired young man before him. How can someone like that even exist?

”Now then, Batalok.” Karnak’s cold voice echoed through the hall. ”Unleash your rage!”

A terrifying pitch-black aura erupted in all directions as Batalok roared. ”Giyen Ren! I will repay the humiliation of that day!”

Batalok charged like a frenzied beast while swinging his aura blade. Giyen Ren hastily cast his magic to defend. The martial king’s aura and the archmage’s mana collided, shaking the entire hall.

Karnak’s voice echoed from afar. ”Then we’re off! Do your best!”

Giyen Ren ground his teeth.

”Karnak—!”