Karnak, Monarch of Death

Deep beneath the earth lay a vast underground chamber. Torches embedded in the walls flickered with an eerie blue glow, casting faint, shifting light over blood-red inscriptions. The dim radiance barely held back the oppressive darkness.

At the center of this black abyss stood a hexagonal altar carved from obsidian, and the air reeked of rot and blood, thick and cloying. Scattered across the floor were countless human bones and entrails.

A lone man stood amidst the grotesque scene, gazing at it with detached indifference. This was all necessary. These sacrifices were a sacred offering—a price that had to be paid. The man, the Fallen Pope of the Sun, Jedex, stepped toward the altar.

A prayer to the Black God slipped from his lips. ”Answer me, my lord, Tesranach...”

Darkness unfurled from the altar. The polished obsidian surface twisted and writhed, exuding waves of pitch-black miasma. Thick shadows billowed outward, forming ghostly faces and spectral hands that clawed at the void before vanishing.

Screams and wails of agony rang through the chamber, echoing in an endless chorus of despair. Yet Jedex did not so much as blink. He had already devoted everything to the God of Death, and thus, these tormented cries were no different from birds singing in the forest.

”Your foolish servant humbly petitions you.” He offered only his sacrifices and his prayer. ”Grant me the wisdom of the profound darkness...”

The ritual was a success. Through the countless deaths offered in tribute, the mortal world and the Sanctuary of Death were now connected. The divine voice of Tesranach reached Jedex through space and time.

It was a prophecy.

”Ooooh...” His body trembled as the weight of the god’s words struck his mind like a hammer. With a voice trembling in ecstasy, the slave of the Black God whispered, ”I shall obey, my master.”

***

On the sixth day after departing from the royal capital, Drunta, Karnak and his group were finally crossing the border from Eustil Kingdom into Lipaul Kingdom.

The effort they had put into disguising themselves as merchants had paid off. No one had suspected them so far. Crossing the border itself posed no issue, as they had prepared thoroughly in advance.

At the checkpoint, Varos presented an identification plaque to the gatekeepers. ”We are with the Brenton merchant guild of the Eustil Kingdom.”

The Black God’s Cult was well aware of Karnak’s ties to the Altas merchant guild. To avoid suspicion, they had deliberately borrowed the identity of a different merchant guild.

This particular arrangement had been made possible thanks to Sir Hermann, captain of the Sixth Squad of Eustil’s King’s Order. The Brenton merchant guild belonged to his maternal family, making the connection an easy one.

”See? This is why it pays to have connections in high places. When you need a favor, the right people just pop up.”

As Karnak smirked, the gatekeeper carefully inspected the identification plaque.

”This is indeed the official seal of the Brenton merchant guild.”

Technically, the verification process wasn’t complete yet. Merchants were supposed to unload their cargo for inspection, allowing the gatekeepers to check for contraband, such as narcotics or cult artifacts. However, both the merchants and the gatekeepers found this process cumbersome. That was where the traditional method came in.

”And this is a small token of appreciation for all your hard work... perhaps a drink on us?” Varos discreetly handed over a few silver coins.

The gatekeepers’ expressions subtly brightened. ”Hmm, seems like you lot understand how things work.”

At a glance, it might have looked like they had bribed their way through the checkpoint. However, there was more nuance to the exchange than met the eye. The amount had to be just right.

If they had handed over a large sum, something like a silver crown, just to pass a border gate, it would have raised suspicion. That would have been a clear sign they had something to hide. The gatekeepers would have been forced to refuse, lest they invite trouble upon themselves.

Even the way the bribe was given mattered. Cultists were well aware that small bribes helped grease the wheels of bureaucracy. However, replicating the technique—the well-honed subtleties of experienced traders—was much harder. That was why many got caught red-handed.

Varos, on the other hand, was a natural. He blocked the view with his body and concealed the coins in his palm and passed them in such a fluid motion that no one could see. It was a skill comparable to sleight of hand, something only those well-versed in bribery could execute flawlessly.

”Proceed!”

Thanks to that, they passed through the border without incident and officially entered Lipaul Kingdom.

Once they were a safe distance from the checkpoint, Leven turned to Varos, visibly impressed. ”Where in the world did you learn to do that?”

Varos responded with a grin.

—I told you. I spent a lot of time hiding in my past life.

Meanwhile, Serati looked troubled. ”Wow... I didn’t understand a single word of that.”

The gatekeepers and Varos hadn’t spoken Eustil’s Isola but rather Lipaul’s native language, Ralphon. Up until now, Isola had been widely used in the regions they had traveled through. But now that they had ventured farther south, they were in territory dominated by an entirely different language.

”I thought I had studied enough...”

Serati hadn’t been idle. When she learned they would be traveling to Lipaul, she had bought a beginner’s book on Ralphon and had studied diligently.

But it had only been a few days. If she had managed to learn a foreign language in that short time, she would have been a linguistic prodigy.

”Guess cramming doesn’t work for everything.”

While she struggled, the others understood Ralphon perfectly fine. Karnak, Varos, and Leven were all fluent. Even Lapicel was fine.

”Wait... why do I know Ralphon?”

She was utterly confused. She had been studying Ralphon alongside Serati during the journey, reading through the beginner’s book. But all the while, she had thought the material seemed strangely easy.

But now, as she listened to the locals speak, every word translated naturally in her mind, just like Isola. For someone with no memories, this was baffling.

I’m supposed to be a peasant from the empire, right? I’m just an orphan with no parents?

She was of low birth, barely in her early teens, yet she was somehow trilingual? Even to her, that sounded ridiculous.

Karnak glanced at her nonchalantly. ”What’s so strange? You must’ve been a diligent student.”

”You can’t learn languages just by being diligent!” she countered.

”If you have the talent, you can. If you already speak two languages, why not three?” Karnak said.

She didn’t buy it. ”But does it make sense for a kid like me to speak three languages fluently?”

”Does it make sense for a kid like you to be an aura user?” he countered once more.

”Well, when you put it that way...” She scratched her head awkwardly. Still, Lapicel couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Karnak asked, ”Anyway, at least you can understand people. Isn’t that a relief?”

Lapicel nodded hesitantly. ”I guess so.”

As Karnak observed Lapicel’s growing confusion, his eyes narrowed slightly. Is she starting to regain her memories?

Right now, she was only regaining memories related to language, but eventually, other memories might return as well.

I don’t know if this is a good thing or a bad thing.

As she approached him, Serati asked, ”By the way, what am I supposed to do? If I’m the only one who doesn’t understand the language, I’ll just end up being a burden.”

”Nothing we can do. We couldn’t get our hands on a translation necklace.”

A magical translation necklace was an expensive item, said to be worth its weight in gold. But for Karnak, that price was hardly an issue. In fact, from his perspective, it was only as expensive as a gold necklace. That was why he had confidently declared that he’d buy one for her.

However, there was a problem. While the necklace was worth its weight in gold in the Lacania Empire, in the Seven Kingdoms Alliance, it was an item that couldn’t be bought at any price.

It made sense, since it was an item exclusively produced by the Tower of Dawn, controlled by the archmage Diogres Kolon. And due to its overwhelming demand within the empire itself, no supply ever made it to the Seven Kingdoms.

—Unless you want to use my translator instead?

—You ended up learning the languages instead because of how flawed it was, right?

The necromantic translator had severe issues beyond just the dark nature of its creation. The biggest problem was exactly that—it was a necromantic tool. It was meant to facilitate conversations with the living, but every time it was used, it exuded death energy.

That made it practically useless in any situation where maintaining a disguise was necessary, and that was precisely why Karnak and Varos had taken the time to learn languages the proper way.

Unless they were in a scenario where secrecy didn’t matter, the necromantic translator was essentially worthless. But that was in the past.

—It’s fine now. I’ve found a way to work around its weakness.

Unlike before, Karnak now had Circumventer of Necromancy, a spell that completely concealed death energy. With that layered on top, he could easily hide the presence of the spirit within the translator.

—If I’d had this back then, sneaking around would’ve been so much easier. Then again, maybe it’s a good thing. I did end up learning a lot of languages. So, what do you think? Want me to make you one?

Serati hesitated for a moment. There was no denying that a necromantic translation necklace was an inherently evil artifact. But if she was the only one who couldn’t understand the language, she had no way of knowing what unexpected complications might arise.

—Guess I don’t have a choice. I can’t afford to be a liability.

As soon as she agreed, Karnak beamed and handed her something.

—Good decision. Here, take this.

—Huh? Why are you giving me... a shovel?

—Didn’t I tell you before? I need a catalyst for necromancy.

She already knew what that meant.

—If you see any abandoned graves along the way, dig up some bones and bring them back. Oh, and make sure Lapicel doesn’t notice.

Apparently, the bones themselves didn’t need to be anything special. All he needed were human remains of any kind. They were only meant to serve as a catalyst, after all. All that mattered was that the summoned spirit spoke both Ralphon and Isola.

With a conflicted expression, Serati accepted the shovel. Is this really okay?

***

Late at night, the wind swept through the abandoned graves, rustling the overgrown grass. A lone wolf howled deep within the forested mountains, its voice stretching into the night. Then, suddenly startled, it bolted away. Something had risen from the graves.

The moonlight cast long shadows across the disturbed earth. As the darkness receded, the face of a beautiful woman emerged from the freshly dug grave.

The wind blew past her.

Her long hair swayed gently as she clutched a rotting human arm bone in one hand. It was a surreal sight, standing at the boundary between nightmare and reality.

”Wow. Just... wow. What the hell am I doing right now?” Serati let out a long sigh while leaning against the shovel she had used to dig. ”I’ve done some crazy things in my life, but this really takes the cake.”