Monarch of Death

Every day, Karnak would get hit and get hit again.

“I-I’m going to die….”

Once again, Karnak sat down on the training ground floor with a tearful expression.

His whole body ached from bruises. Every time he moved, it felt like his muscles were screaming in pain.

Wasn’t he working hard enough to have improved a little by now?

He hadn’t.

He hadn’t learned anything in the first place.

“Hey, shouldn’t you start teaching me something by now? Like how to at least deflect the blows if I can’t dodge them….”

All he’d been doing was wearing armor, holding a sword, getting hit, and then getting back up like a roly-poly toy, over and over again.

“Do you think deflecting is an easy skill?”

Varos, now bulked up, lightly tapped Karnak’s shoulder with his club.

“Only a month—no, now there are just ten days left. With so little time, what could you possibly learn?”

“Then what’s the point of this training?”

“This is a process of getting used to the pain.”

Excellent swordsmanship? Great stamina? Ironclad toughness? Unshakeable mental fortitude?

There was something more crucial to prepare for than any of these when a complete novice faced combat.

“You need to get used to taking hits and being in life-threatening situations. Only then can you stay sane, and you need to stay sane to either fight or flee.”

Normally, one wouldn’t go through such a process separately.

They would naturally pick it up during sparring.

If someone had talent, they would get used to it quickly, and even without talent, their body would eventually adapt with time.

“But right now, you don’t have time or talent, so we have to do it this way.”

It was a convincing answer.

But just because it made sense didn’t mean his dissatisfaction disappeared.

“What if I get seriously injured from all this?”

Varos snorted.

“I’m not hitting you hard enough to cause lasting damage. Besides, I’m just striking over the armor.”

Though his tone was arrogant, the truth was that Varos was more loyal to Karnak than anyone else. He was sincerely doing his best for his cherished master.

“It’s only because you’ve never done anything physical that it seems so harsh. Actually, this isn’t even that rigorous of a training. I’m being careful with my strength.”

“But still, is it okay to train like this without resting for even a single day? I heard too much training can be bad.”

“That only applies after you’ve built up your body to some extent. At your current level, getting a good night’s sleep is more than enough rest.”

No matter how much Karnak argued, it was no use.

“He’s got a real knack for talking back.”

Varos asked with a serious expression.

“How would you feel if I started lecturing you about necromancy?”

“It’d be utterly laughable, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s exactly how I feel right now.”

“…”

“So just shut up and get up. Time is ticking away, you know?”

* * *

On the fifth day of the brutal training.

It was only with ten days left until the duel that Karnak finally began to learn swordsmanship.

It was just the very basics of slashing and thrusting, though.

Karnak continued to slash horizontally at Varos, letting out a battle cry.

“Hah!”

Varos easily deflected it with his club and shouted,

“Louder with the battle cry!”

Karnak attempted another thrust, raising his voice.

“Tah!”

Still, it seemed Varos was not satisfied.

“Scream it louder! You don’t shout to put power into the strike! You shout so others can hear you!”

Karnak tilted his head in confusion.

“But isn’t the battle cry meant to help focus power?”

“That’s what it is for you.”

At Karnak’s current level, whether he let out a battle cry or roared like a lion, it would still only result in a feeble strike.

The shout was merely a way of saying, ‘I’m still ready to fight!’

“Here I come!”

Varos kindly announced his attack, swinging his club.

Perhaps the training hadn’t been entirely in vain, as Karnak quickly raised his shield to block. But he was sent flying along with the shield.

“Urgh!”

Thud, thud, thud!

As his precious master rolled on the ground, his loyal servant offered heartfelt advice.

“Don’t try to withstand a slash! Just roll on the ground, no matter what!”

“…Isn’t that a bit embarrassing? Can’t I just stand my ground?”

“Do you want to get sliced through along with your sword and armor?”

“Yeah, I’ll roll.”

This routine of swinging his sword, blocking with his shield, and then rolling on the ground to dodge repeated over and over.

For Karnak, who had never pushed his body to this extent in his entire life, it was an incredibly harsh regimen.

“Oh, my poor back…”

Karnak sighed deeply, rubbing his aching back.

“Who would have thought I’d end up brawling with some brute in my lifetime?”

“You should have at least picked up some swordsmanship as a hobby. You complained about being bored for a hundred years straight.”

“A hobby is something fun! What’s fun about sticking close to a sweaty guy and fighting close enough to hear each other breathing?”

Before becoming the King of the Dead, during the time when he wandered while hiding his identity as a necromancer, he thoroughly pretended to be a wizard.

His tactics were the same.

He always made sure to put distance between himself and his enemy, and then, from afar—*bang!*

He despised situations where he had to engage in close combat.

“My usual tactic was to send out a meat shield and then take them out from behind.”

“I know that very well. I was that meat shield, after all.”

Though Karnak grumbled incessantly, he diligently committed to his training.

As time passed, there were some results. Previously, he had looked like a shabby recluse, but now he appeared to be at least a shabby third-rate soldier.

Thanks to this, he gained a bit of confidence.

“At this point, I might actually have a bit of a chance, don’t you think? I’ve been working pretty hard.”

Even Varos acknowledged it willingly.

“You have worked hard. At this rate, you won’t be killed immediately.”

“After all this suffering, that’s all you can say?”

And so, the day of the duel drew closer and closer.

Two days before the duel.

“It seems you’re more or less prepared now.”

Varos, now holding a longsword instead of a club, spoke seriously.

“We will proceed to the final stage.”

* * *

The second-in-command of the Empire of the Dead, Necropia.

The strongest Death Knight on the surface, who had defeated three of the Four Martial Kings.

These were the titles that had once described Varos.

“But I wasn’t a superior warrior compared to the Four Martial Kings.”

In terms of strength, skill, mental fortitude, and experience, they were all superior to him.

Nevertheless, the main reason he was able to win was entirely due to the overwhelming power of Karnak, the King of the Dead.

“Heh, I guess I was pretty impressive.”

“Of course. You were so impressive that you went around possessing skulls, didn’t you?”

Varos spoke with a hint of resentment as he continued addressing the boastful Karnak.

“Couldn’t you have been a little less impressive? Then we could have been living it up, slicing steak and sipping wine.”

“If we had, we’d both be dead by now.”

In any case, it was true that Varos was a step below the Four Martial Kings.

However, there was one area where he excelled far beyond the other Martial Kings.

“I’m the best at tormenting the weak and killing them while shaming them. It’s how I’ve lived my entire life.”

“You’re a devious one.”

“You’re the one who ordered it, Master! You said that drawing out hatred and anger before killing them made for better undead, didn’t you?”

Thanks to this, there was one thing he could predict with certainty.

How Randolph would toy with Karnak and eventually force him to submit.

“He’ll definitely play it out like this.”

Varos swung his longsword, pressing Karnak hard.

“At first, he’ll probably mock you slowly like this.”

Karnak panicked and rolled on the ground.

“Gah! You’re too fast!”

Even though Varos claimed to be moving slowly, his strikes came at a speed that Karnak could barely perceive.

Varos, still swinging his sword with ease, said calmly, “But now you can dodge, right?”

Indeed, the training hadn’t been in vain.

Though Karnak was rolling pathetically on the ground and taking hits on his armor, he somehow managed to avoid any direct blows.

“Huff! Huff, huff!”

Even while taking hits and rolling around, Karnak struggled to his feet and aimed his sword again. Seeing this, Varos smiled with satisfaction.

“You’re moving quite well.”

“Really? Is it good?”

“Yes, it’s perfect for toying with you.”

“…”

“I’m genuinely complimenting you. Reaching this level isn’t easy, you know?”

Regardless, Randolph would be quite pleased to face such a determined Karnak.

After all, it wouldn’t look good if he appeared to be overly bullying a weaker opponent in a duel trial.

“He’ll probably try to finish it off slowly.”

Even so, Randolph wouldn’t go straight for the kill.

“The best scenario for him would be to force you to your knees and make you admit defeat. That way, he can leave your execution to the priests and maintain his honor as a knight.”

So, Randolph’s target would likely be Karnak’s legs.

“Even if your arms are cut, you can stay standing through sheer willpower. But if your legs are cut, there’s no willpower left—you just kneel.”

Varos’s movements suddenly changed.

In an instant, his entire figure blurred, and a flash of light streaked toward Karnak’s knees.

“Gah!”

There wasn’t even time to react. Karnak froze in place, and Varos smiled broadly at the sight.

“He’ll try to cut your legs like this.”

“…And I have to stop that?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“If you know what part he’s aiming for in advance, you should be able to block it at least once. Of course, we’ll practice it repeatedly.”

Varos continued, emphasizing that this was Karnak’s only chance to counterattack.

“Of course, even if your opponent shows an opening, you can’t just swing your sword recklessly and expect them to take the hit.”

At this moment, Karnak would need to use a truly powerful and precise sword technique.

“So….”

Varos lowered his stance, reversing his grip on the longsword and placing the blade on the ground. This naturally positioned him in a defensive stance, protecting both knees.

“The technique you need to learn now is this.”

He then swung the sword diagonally upward, as if scooping it up, while switching the grip between his hands. After cutting through the air in front of him, he switched from a two-handed grip to a one-handed one, extending his shoulder to increase his reach. At the same time, he added rotational force and swung upward once more!

*Slash! Slash!*

The air seemed to tear with a series of sharp sounds.

“Double Rising Slash, Overkill.”

Varos calmly murmured to Karnak, who stared wide-eyed in astonishment.

“It’s one of the secret sword techniques of Leven Strauss, the Martial King of Delphiad.”

“…”

Karnak blinked repeatedly, speechless.

In the past, he wouldn’t have recognized how impressive this technique was—he’d never even wielded a sword before. But after swinging a sword countless times over the past few days, he could now appreciate just how advanced the technique Varos had demonstrated was.

“And you expect me to do that?”

“Yes.”

“Then you should’ve taught it to me earlier! There are only two days left—how am I supposed to master something like that?”

“A day is enough.”

Varos remained as composed as ever.

“You’re not going to master it; you just need to imitate it.”

Mastering a technique means repeating it thousands, even tens of thousands of times, until it becomes so ingrained in your body that you move instinctively, without needing to think.

“I’m not expecting that level of proficiency. You just need to mimic the technique convincingly in the specific situation.”

“Is that really okay?”

“Normally, no.”

But for Karnak, it wouldn’t be a problem.

“After all, once this is over, you won’t need to hold a sword again. It’s actually more efficient to cram it all in one day and then forget it afterward.”

“Is that so?”

Uncertain, Karnak gripped his sword.

“Alright, I’ll give it a try.”

He placed the blade on the ground, his eyes focused as he swung the sword upward!

– *Overkill!*

The longsword flew far off, tumbling into a corner of the training ground. He had lost his grip on the sword.

The technique involved changing grips several times, causing his fingers to fumble.

“…Can I really pull this off?”

Varos remained confident.

“Don’t worry. I planned all this according to your level.”

“And what level do you think I’m at?”

“Like a 16-year-old noble girl who’s only ever done embroidery at home.”

“You damn bastard…”

* * *

Despite his grumbling, Karnak diligently followed Varos’s instructions in his training.

Two days passed like that, and finally, the morning sun rose.

The day had arrived—the day that would decide the fate of the Zestrad Barony and Karnak’s very life.

It was the day of Alium’s Duel Trial.