Karnak, Monarch of Death

”You think someone else came to this era years before us?”

Varos’s expression turned doubtful. That hypothesis rested on a significant assumption.

”You’re saying someone other than you could manipulate space-time?”

The time regression spell had been Karnak’s greatest challenge. It was a feat he had only achieved after countless failures and decades of toil, even with the nearly godlike power of Astra Shunaph at his disposal.

”If a mage or a necromancer that powerful existed, we’d already know about them.”

Even the three greatest Archmages of humanity had never dared to venture into the realm of space-time manipulation. If they had possessed such abilities, they wouldn’t have fallen to Karnak in the first place. As for the Four Great Martial Kings, aura users by nature, they weren’t even part of the equation. Perhaps the Dragon Emperor, Grateria, could have done it if he were alive and whole...

”But we know better than anyone that he isn’t.”

Karnak nodded. ”You’re right. There’s likely no one capable of creating a time regression spell from scratch like I did.”

But what if they were simply modifying someone else’s creation?

”Do you remember the Obelisk of Transcending Time-Space?”

”The crimson slab we used to get here?”

”Yes, that one.”

Karnak’s expression darkened.

”After using the Obelisk of Transcending Space-Time, I didn’t give it another thought.”

He had assumed that traveling to the past would erase the future entirely. That everything he had done would vanish, that history itself would dissolve into nothingness, replaced by a new timeline.

But what if that wasn’t the case? What if the future he had left behind continued to exist?

”That would mean the obelisk still remains in that timeline.”

If so, it also meant the undead legions of Necropia, once ruled by Karnak, still existed. The undead included monsters like the undead Dragon Emperor, Grateria, the Three Archmages, the Four Martial Kings, and countless other horrors.

What would happen if Karnak’s hold on them vanished?

Grateria had been completely stripped of his reasons. He would become nothing more than a mindless beast. Even Karnak wasn’t bold enough to control the mighty Dragon Emperor while leaving his intellect intact.

On the other hand, the Three Archmages and the Martial Kings, excluding Lapicel, had retained their intelligence. For them, Karnak had relied on engraving their loyalty rather than stripping away their reason—it had been enough to ensure their obedience. After all, the nature of magic and aura meant that their intelligence needed to be retained. Without it, their utility would have been diminished significantly.

So, what would happen if those beings regained their sense of self? What if they found the Obelisk of Transcending Space-Time behind the empty throne?

”A tenth circle seeker might just be able to study the obelisk and unlock the time regression spell...”

As Karnak grew more solemn, Varos nodded gravely. ”I see.”

Then, with an even more serious expression, he added, ”So, in the end, it’s all your fault again, isn’t it, young master?”

”Be quiet.”

Karnak pouted as he lapsed into thought. If this hypothesis were true, it explained much. Lapicel, for instance, might have been sent here as an experiment before the real manipulator arrived in this timeline.

”The problem is, how do we confirm it?”

***

After the Mareda Incident, Karnak’s group was granted another leave. Though it hadn’t been long since their last break, no one raised objections. Karnak had accumulated so much unused leave over the years.

With this new free time, Varos immediately immersed himself in aura training. Truthfully, he didn’t need to learn any new techniques. All he needed was to increase his aura reserves. Still, he meticulously revisited the basics.

”Review is key, after all.”

Moreover, this was his first time handling aura uniquely his own. He had to anticipate and account for any unforeseen challenges.

”Hah! Hiya! Hah!”

Day after day, Varos practiced his swordsmanship in the backyard of their new home, diligently fine-tuning his movements.

Meanwhile, Lapicel began learning the fundamentals of swordsmanship under Serati. Instead of combat techniques, Serati focused on sword exercises that strengthened her entire body.

”She’s not even in her growth phase yet. Forcing her into strenuous movements could end up hurting her.”

Lapicel, as expected of someone with talent, performed everything she was taught with remarkable ease. However, she didn’t grow stronger at an abnormal rate or exhibit anything beyond ordinary progression. Lapicel was now just a normal child without Mareda’s blood essence.

As Varos’s case demonstrated, even a future Martial King couldn’t wield their full potential without a capable body. As such, for now, Lapicel’s admiration for Serati’s demonstrations bordered on awe.

”Wow!”

”That’s amazing, sister!”

”When do you think I’ll be able to swing a sword like you?”

Her bright-eyed enthusiasm and eagerness to follow Serati around like a chick made her irresistibly endearing. Even Serati couldn’t help but grow fond of her. Occasionally, though, Lapicel would exhibit unsettling feats.

”Sister Serati!”

”Yes?”

”I just split a leaf in half mid-air, like you told me!”

Serati glanced at two perfectly intact leaves Lapicel held and tilted her head.

”What do you mean? What did you cut?”

”You said to cut it in two, right?”

Only then did Serati realize something peculiar. The two leaves weren’t ordinary. They were unnaturally thin.

Wait... was that originally one leaf?

Lapicel hadn’t merely sliced a leaf in half. She had sliced it in half—horizontally. She had split one leaf to two identical, but thinner layers, furthermore, in mid-air.

Wow. How is that even possible?

It was a skill so precise that Serati wouldn’t dare attempt to mimic it.

”We-well done,” she managed to say.

”Hehehe!”

Beaming from the praise, Lapicel smiled brightly, her expression filled with the innocent belief that no mentor could surpass Serati.

”I want to grow strong like you, sister!”

For the first time, Serati could truly empathize with Karnak and Varos.

Ugh, the guilt... the guilt is unbearable...!

***

Serati was undergoing her regular soul cleansing with Karnak’s assistance, on the second floor, in her bedroom. Using Gehenna’s Armor had significantly polluted her soul, which necessitated this ritual to cleanse it.

”For something so supposedly corrupted, I don’t feel any different,” she remarked.

”That’s because you’re my vassal.”

From the perspective of a necromancer’s vassal, this wasn’t so much corruption as it was adaptation. The real question was: What exactly was she adapting to?

”You don’t want to become accustomed to the air of hell, do you?”

”Clean it up as quickly as you can.”

Karnak smirked as he drew a magical circle on the floor. Since he wasn’t using necromancy but rather chaos magic, there was no need for discretion. It was fine to perform this openly in his own home.

After completing the ritual’s setup, Karnak gestured to Serati. ”All right, sit tight.”

”How long will it take?”

”About ten minutes.”

Serati sat cross-legged in the center of the circle, while Karnak pulled up a chair and perched on it. Sitting idly was boring, so Karnak glanced out the window. In the backyard, a small, gray-haired girl was diligently practicing her sword swings.

”How’s Lapicel doing?” he asked.

Serati sighed deeply. ”It feels like I’m committing a crime.”

Lapicel was originally destined to be the disciple of Martial King Beltia.

”Do you think I’m blocking her rightful path?”

”If it’s Lapicel, she’ll become a Martial King regardless.”

After all, she wasn’t merely destined to become a Martial King. She already was one in the future. She hadn’t truly lost her abilities. She had simply forgotten them. Watching others train would be enough to rekindle much of her knowledge.

”Her title might change. She might not end up as the Martial King of Cyphras, but the Martial King of Zestrad instead.”

”Who knows? Who’s to say another Martial King of Cyphras won’t rise under Beltia’s guidance?”

”Then we’ll just have five Martial Kings instead of four.”

The titles of Martial King or Archmage weren’t ranks determined by some hierarchy. It wasn’t as if the strongest warrior was the First Martial King, the second strongest was the Second Martial King, and so on. Humans weren’t static. They grew stronger or weaker. Ranking them every time would be nonsensical.

Thus, the titles reflected the mastery of their craft. Those who attained the pinnacle of aura, the golden aura, were honored as Martial Kings, while those who reached the tenth circle, the ultimate magical mastery, were called Archmages.

Naturally, the number of Martial Kings and Archmages varied across eras. There were times when one Archmage and three Martial Kings existed, or two Archmages and six Martial Kings. There were even eras without a single Martial King or Archmage.

”There was a brief period when there were five Martial Kings, actually,” Karnak mused.

”When was that?”

”Roughly twenty years from now.”

He spoke as though it were the past, but it was, in fact, a future event. After training under Beltia, Lapicel would emerge as a new Martial King after mastering the golden aura. During that time, Beltia would still be active.

”But it didn’t last long before it was back to four.”

Nothing lasted forever, not even the strongest bodies or minds. Time inevitably took its toll, and even those at the pinnacle of martial arts often retired by their sixties or seventies.

The current Four Martial Kings were Gellard, Beltia, Dreltein, and Batalok. Gellard and Beltia had each raised successors—Levan and Lapicel—before stepping aside.

”Dreltein, though, was still active at the time.”

Batalok was a case of failure in cultivating disciples. Although he was a genius himself, he seemed to lack the talent for teaching. Despite taking on several students, none of them had risen to the rank of Martial King—or even silver knight, for that matter.

”Oh my, then the new Martial King had nothing to do with Batalok?”

”Exactly.”

The new member of the Four Martial Kings, Malican Thun, was an underdog success story. His master had only reached the rank of purple knight, but through sheer effort, Malican Thun ascended to the pinnacle of swordsmanship and achieved the golden aura.

”Well, not that it matters much. They all lost to Varos in the end.”

Among the Martial Kings, only Dreltein, a seasoned veteran, managed to surpass the Death Knight Lord. However, even he eventually succumbed to the overwhelming authority of the Monarch of Death’s power.

”I see...”

Serati listened as if entranced by the tale. Knowing the future was captivating for anyone. After all, fortune-tellers thrived because of humanity’s insatiable curiosity about what lay ahead. Though Karnak’s knowledge of the future was already skewed due to the changes, his predictions were likely far more accurate than any fortune-teller’s.

”What about the three Archmages? Did any new Archmages emerge from among them?”

Karnak shook his head. ”No, that hasn’t changed.”

Unlike aura users, mages enjoyed a relatively long prime. Magic was a matter of the mind, so aging didn’t result in the same rapid decline seen in aura users. Moreover, those who reached the rank of Archmage could use their immense mana to retain some measure of youth.

However, the rarity of reaching the tenth circle ensured that the number of Archmages remained extraordinarily low. Having three Archmages at once was a phenomenon that hadn’t occurred in centuries. Typically, one or two was considered exceptional.

”The three Archmages were the same in my time as they are now.”

They were: Diogres Kolon, Master of the Tower of Dawn, Giyen Ren, Supreme Guardian of the Elves, and Elezar de Reflasion, Imperial Court Mage.

These were the Archmages of this era, the same figures who would, in a few decades, join the ranks of the Monarch of Death’s forces.

Serati’s expression stiffened slightly. ”You’re saying one of them might have returned to this era like you did and is causing all this chaos?”

”Exactly. Whether it’s just one of them or more, I can’t be certain.”

If Karnak’s hypothesis was correct, whoever had returned likely had strong ties to the Cult of the Black God.

”The good news is that we’ve finally gotten a lead.”

The Dark Cardinal Hudel Grental was the most influential member of the cult they’d identified so far.

”Until now, they were so deeply hidden that we were forced to react to them. We were always chasing shadows.”

Karnak’s lips curled into a smile.

”But this time, we’re going on the offensive.”