Monarch of Death

Chapter 1

Chapter 1. 0. Prologue

He was the one who ruled over death.

It took him 100 years to realize it.

To live like a human, one must not rule over such a thing.

***

It was a grand and magnificent palace.

Endless rows of golden pillars, a marble hall stretching beneath them, elegant paintings and decorations adorning the walls, and meticulously crafted sculptures.

But there were no people here, none who should have been present.

No king, no queen, no prince, no princess, not even a single minister or servant.

No, to be precise, there was a king. And there were ministers and servants.

It was just that they were not human.

A large golden throne bathed in faint moonlight.

Upon it sat a skeleton draped in a black robe, muttering to himself.

“Why did I do that…?”

He let out a deep sigh after uttering those words.

“Hah, why on earth did I do that…?”

With a sigh, his shoulders slumped as he wore a hollow smile.

A smile not of a human, but of a skull.

“No, it’s not that I don’t know why. It couldn’t be helped.”

Though there was no one to listen, the skeleton, the Death King Karnak, continued muttering to himself as he blankly raised his hand.

“Sigh…”

A faint blue aura formed over the slender bones, taking on the shape of a human hand.

A hand that, with a single swing, could split the seas and shake the heavens.

Even atop his skull, a human form began to emerge.

A pale blue human face let out a sigh.

“It’s already been 70 years since I ended up in this body? Wow, time really flies.”

Leaning back against the throne, the Death King Karnak continued to smile in futility.

“Though sometimes it feels like it’s dragging on forever.”

***

Karnak first encountered the forbidden art of necromancy, the ultimate taboo, about 100 years ago.

He was born as the illegitimate child of a fallen noble family and grew up under scorn.

To survive, he reached out for the forbidden, and fortune favored him, granting him power. Whether it was luck or misfortune, he did not know.

As the price, he strayed from the path of humanity.

He fought against endless waves of enemies, sometimes striking first, killing the innocent over and over, living the life of a wicked necromancer.

The world grew to despise him even more as he became a demon.

The Central Empire of Lakeania, the Union of Seven Kingdoms in the west, the Verus Federation in the east, even the Church of the Seven Goddesses that worshipped the Great Seven Goddesses.

The entire continent was his enemy.

Despite facing the whole world, Karnak did not retreat.

Using the immense power of death, he turned the enemies who dared to challenge him into undead, making them his subordinates and expanding his dominion even further.

The war continued to grow.

A living hell, where the dead walked among the living, spread across the entire continent.

Before long, he became known as the Death King, an existence that humanity could not tolerate—an absolute evil.

Finally, even the last bastion of humanity crumbled.

The four Martial Kings, the strongest warriors of the human world, and the three Archmages, whose powers were said to reach the heavens, were defeated and became the Death King’s minions.

In the end, the protector of the world, the Dragon Emperor Grateria, was forced to reveal himself.

Indeed, the Dragon Emperor was powerful.

Even Karnak, who had committed every possible taboo, could not see a way to defeat him.

It was only natural.

What could a mere human, who had relied solely on cunning and forbidden methods, possibly do against the greatest of the dragon race, the supreme Dragon Emperor?

With no other choice, Karnak resorted to the worst forbidden art he had been saving for last.

He transformed himself into the ultimate transcendent being, the “Astra Shunaph,” surpassing even the most powerful undead, such as the Death Knight or the Archlich.

In doing so, Karnak completely abandoned his humanity.

As much as he lost, the cost was equally great.

After three days of battle, Grateria lost his rank as the Dragon Emperor. He became the corpse dragon Grateria, a loyal slave to the Death King.

Karnak, who had nothing special about him other than being of lower noble birth.

A mere human, born without the bloodline of heroes or the power of gods, overcame extraordinary heroes and divine powers to ascend to the supreme position.

The world became entirely his.

“Yeah, it’s all good. It’s a happy ending. Everything’s great, but…”

Karnak let out a deep sigh as he looked once again at his hand.

“What can I possibly do with this body that’s nothing but bones?”

Gold and silver treasures, elegant beauties, fine wines and songs, all the luxuries and pleasures a human could imagine.

None of it had any meaning anymore.

In this dead body, all human senses had completely disappeared.

“I want to feel…”

He wanted to taste.

He wanted to feel the warmth of another person.

He wanted to feel the gentle breeze blowing and the warm sunlight shining down.

No, he would even prefer to feel pain.

Even fragile skin, which would be pierced by a blade and bring excruciating pain, would be better than these dry bones.

“…No, honestly, that’s not true. No matter what, numbness is better than pain. What kind of nonsense am I spouting like some pampered noble?”

Karnak quickly changed his words and let out a small laugh.

Still, it was true that he missed having senses.

It was ironic; when he had them, he didn’t realize how precious they were, but now that they were gone, he missed them to the point of despair.

“That’s why there’s always a reason when people say not to do something. No wonder everyone called necromancy a forbidden art, a taboo, and looked down on it.”

There was no joy in living.

There was no driving force to continue his life.

But even so, he didn’t want to commit s*****e.

“Dying is still scary.”

He thought that once he became numb, he wouldn’t feel fear of death anymore, but that wasn’t the case.

He wanted to live and find joy, not die and forget his sorrows.

All that came out was another sigh.

“Is that the only thing I can trust?”

Karnak glanced behind the throne.

A large blood-red monolith stood there, flickering with an eerie light.

His eyes gleamed.

“If that succeeds…”

To be precise, it wasn’t really his eyes that gleamed. His eyeballs had long since rotted away.

It was just that the spiritual eyes created within his empty skull sockets were flashing.

“…there might be hope.”

***

A long corridor shrouded in ominous darkness where sunlight didn’t reach.

A massive knight, standing nearly two meters tall, was walking down the hallway.

He might appear human at first glance, but he was not.

The thick muscles beneath his pale skin held no warmth. He didn’t need to breathe, nor did he blink.

These were clear signs that he was not among the living.

He was the second-in-command of the Empire of the Dead, Necropia.

A warrior who defeated three of the Four Martial Kings and claimed the title of the strongest on earth, and the supreme commander of the Legion of the Dead.

He had been Karnak’s most loyal servant, even from the time when Karnak was still human, long before he had encountered necromancy.

The Death Knight Lord, Varos, suddenly looked back.

Another Death Knight, robust yet appearing relatively lean compared to Varos, was following him.

Varos asked, “Why did he suddenly summon me, Sir Leven?”

The Death Knight Leven replied politely, “How could I possibly understand the deep intentions of our lord, Lord Varos?”

Varos gave a bitter smile.

“You always say something like that. You were much better when you were alive.”

Leven Strauss, once one of the Four Martial Kings and the pinnacle of all swordsmen, bowed his head respectfully once more.

“Everything unfolds according to his will.”

“Well, you’re not the same as you used to be, so I suppose that’s unavoidable.”

Varos continued walking, leaving Leven behind.

At last, his steps brought him to the entrance of the massive hall.

Entering the hall, Varos knelt and spoke respectfully.

“Before the Lord of all the dead, the ruler of life and death, the conqueror of the continent, the great Death King Karnak, I humbly present myself…”

The skeleton on the throne waved him off immediately.

“Ah, that’s enough.”

“Huh? No need for formalities?”

Varos looked up in confusion.

Karnak, resting his chin on his hand, grumbled.

“What’s the point of all that? Who’s going to think less of me if we skip the formalities?”

Those with absolute power often become indifferent to etiquette.

After all, they can instill manners on the spot if they really want to.

Even so, Varos had observed formalities because, despite being undead who obeyed Karnak, they were still somewhat influenced by the customs they had followed in life.

While Karnak had the power to enforce manners at a moment’s notice, it was more convenient to avoid creating a situation where he would need to do so in the first place.

‘But now he says to drop the formalities?’

This implied that there was no longer a need to control the undead.

“Oh, could it be?”

Varos reverted to the old title he had used to address Karnak since the time when they were both still human.

“Did it succeed, Young Master?”

Karnak puffed out his chest with pride.

“Yeah, it seems so.”

“My goodness.”

Varos’s gaze shifted to the large blood-red monolith behind the throne. He asked skeptically as he looked at it.

“Does it really work this time? You’ve failed so many times before.”

***

At first, Karnak hadn’t regretted losing his living body.

World domination, placing everything under his control—these were exhilarating experiences.

The problem was that the thrill didn’t last for more than a few years.

What was the point of conquering the world with absolute power if he couldn’t enjoy any of its pleasures?

This is why high-ranking undead, like liches, often develop extremely sadistic tendencies.

They derive vicarious satisfaction by torturing and tormenting others, feeding off their pain.

Unfortunately (?) Karnak didn’t have such sadistic inclinations.

“Other people’s pain is just that—someone else’s pain. Why would that make me happy? I’m not some antisocial psychopath.”

Varos chimed in, interrupting him.

“You’re not? Considering what you’ve done so far…”

“Ah, that was just me flailing around trying to survive!”

“If all the people you’ve killed could hear that, I’m sure they’d find great comfort in your words.”

“…Shut up.”

In any case, for these reasons, Karnak tried various methods.

The first thing he attempted was possession.

Honestly, he didn’t need to live as a living being all day long. He just needed to feel sensations whenever necessary, and only for as long as needed, right?

So, he captured a bunch of living human slaves, erased their souls, and tried to take over their bodies.

“…And you still claim you’re not an antisocial psychopath?”

“Shut up, Varos.”

Sadly, the attempt failed.

The spiritual power of Karnak, who had become the ultimate transcendent being, Astra Shunaph, was simply too immense.

Possession wasn’t even an option; just inserting a fingertip of his soul into a body caused it to shatter completely.

‘So, taking over someone else’s body temporarily is impossible, huh?’

Next, he aimed for reincarnation.

He gathered carefully selected infants, choosing the body most suitable for his soul, and attempted to inhabit it.

The results were better than with possession. At least he managed to get one leg inside the body—a significant improvement compared to a mere fingertip.

Of course, that was still the limit.

He tried several other methods as well.

He attempted to steal the senses of others or sought various ways to pursue pleasure as an undead.

It was all in vain.

Wraiths, who feel pleasure by absorbing souls, or vampires, who gain ecstasy through blood-sucking.

The commonality among these undead was that the pleasure they experienced was actually a side effect. It stemmed from filling a void within themselves.

But Karnak, as the ultimate transcendent being, had no such void.

With nothing lacking, there was nothing to fill.

With nothing to fill, there was no pleasure.

He despaired.

Was he doomed to live on, unable to die, with no enjoyment in life?

As he wasted time, a thought suddenly came to him.

The reason he couldn’t obtain human pleasures was because he wasn’t human.

The reason he wasn’t human was because he had become the ultimate transcendent being.

‘Then all I have to do is stop being Astra Shunaph, right?’

He continued his research to find a way to lose the power he possessed. And finally, he found the answer.

‘I need to return to the time when I was human.’

To the time when he was still human.

The time before he was the enemy of the world and the object of all the living’s hatred.

The time when he was just an illegitimate child of a lower noble, harboring vague resentment toward the world.

‘I will turn back time!’

The result of that research was the blood-red monolith behind the throne, a manifestation of darkness that transcends time and space.

Karnak spoke with confidence.

“The greatest necromancer in human history poured his most desperate desires into this research. If this fails, it means no one else could ever succeed!”

As if on cue, Varos snorted dismissively.

“Isn’t that because, since humanity started recording history, you’re the only proper necromancer there’s ever been? You can’t claim to be the strongest without any point of comparison…”

Necromancy was a forbidden art left behind by a mysterious ancient race that existed before humanity even invented writing, in prehistoric times.

It was considered the ultimate taboo, so no one ever mastered it properly. There were only third-rate fools who sought power half-heartedly and got their heads chopped off for their trouble.

Of course, Karnak would be the strongest in human history.

“Well, you’re not wrong…”

The skull on the throne clicked its jaw in irritation.

“Varos, if you weren’t a loyal servant who grew up with me since childhood, I would’ve beheaded you long ago.”

“I know that, which is why I’m comfortable talking back like this. Do you think you’d feel better if you chopped off my head?”

“Ha, you’re all talk.”

Karnak rose from the throne.

As he approached the blood-red monolith, he muttered, “Anyway, let’s go, Varos.”

Varos also moved closer to the monolith. As he inspected its dark red surface, he asked, “So, if this works, when exactly will we return to? Are we starting over from infancy?”

“That won’t happen. There has to be a minimal commonality.”

Since they were twisting time and space with dark magic, the time they arrived at had to have a similar point of contact.

With a sense of nostalgia, Karnak continued, “It’ll be the moment I first set foot on the path of necromancy. The very instant I first harnessed the power of darkness.”

“So, do I return to the moment I became a Death Knight? The timelines don’t match up, though.”

“You’re just hitching a ride with me, aren’t you? We’ll go back to the same time.”

“Ah, I see.”

Varos continued to scrutinize the monolith with a doubtful expression. Then, suddenly, he asked, “What happens if it fails?”

“We’ll be annihilated.”

“Annihilation doesn’t seem like something you should mention so casually, as if it’s someone else’s problem.”

“Why? Do you have regrets about your current life?”

Varos chuckled dryly.

The second-in-command of a great empire that rules the world.

An immortal body with superhuman power.

Did he have any attachment to all of this?

“None whatsoever.”

Indeed, there was no pleasure in life for Varos either.

“Nothing to lose, no harm in trying.”

With a calm expression, Varos placed his hand on the monolith.

“Let’s go, Young Master.”

“Yeah.”

Karnak also placed his bony hand on the monolith.

The blood-red monolith began to emit a massive wave of darkness.

“Let’s go back. To the time when we lived like humans.”