Monarch of Death

The Crimson Flame Corps members, who had barely made it back alive, nodded vigorously.

“There’s no doubt about it.”

“The corpses were moving, and the evil spirits attacked us…”

“A dreadful aura lingered everywhere; how could we not notice it?”

Sebastian blinked in disbelief.

He had never imagined, not even for a moment, that there could be a necromancer by Prince Lloyd’s side.

“How did the prince end up joining forces with a necromancer?”

Meanwhile, the eyes of the cultists sparkled with interest.

“A necromancer, you say!”

“It seems they’re a wanderer who hasn’t received the teachings of Tesranak.”

“Even so, their necromantic power seems quite strong.”

Not only the cult of the Dark God used necromancy. The Darkness of Doom had already spread too much across the world.

Moreover, necromancers could absorb the powers of their opponents to increase their own strength.

It means that the one who picks it up is the owner.

“We’ll take care of it!”

Those who usually held back were now more eager than ever.

“If it’s necromancy, that’s our specialty!”

“Don’t worry, we’ll safely bring the prince back!”

Since the opponent was also a necromancer, there was no need to hide their identities from each other.

With no reason to oppose, Sebastian nodded.

“Th-Then I’ll leave it to you.”

As soon as he granted permission, the cultists left the room, seemingly eager to begin preparations.

They were in a hurry, perhaps worried that someone else might get ahead of them.

Left alone, Sebastian clicked his tongue.

‘Is it really true that Prince Lloyd has allied himself with a necromancer?’

On the surface, it didn’t seem all that strange.

If one was harmed by a necromancer, they might seek out another necromancer to resolve the issue, right?

It was just too absurd.

This only made sense if Prince Lloyd had known another necromancer for a while.

In other words…

‘So, does this mean they were trying to do something similar to what Prince Alford was planning?’

It was enough to make him chuckle in disbelief.

‘Ha, ha… The royal family really is a den of demons, isn’t it?’

***

Detzras, a necromancer serving the Dark God.

At fifty-three years old, he had originally been a mage of the fifth circle.

In the world of magic, the fifth circle was a level where one could definitely hold their own. It was a position that could not be reached without both talent and effort.

Yet, Detzras was not satisfied.

The regular mages who ranged between the third and fifth circles were the most common, the level where most mages fell.

He hadn’t worked so hard just to end up on the same level as everyone else.

He wanted to reach higher, to possess more. And so he ceaselessly strived towards his goal.

But reality was harsh.

Though he had talent, it was not enough to overwhelm others.

As much as he advanced, so did others. As much as he worked hard, so did others.

When everyone puts in the effort, what remains is only the gap in talent.

Some people say that life is long, that it’s not a sprint but a marathon, and if you keep running steadily, you will eventually reach your destination.

That if you keep walking your path diligently, when you look back, those who had been ahead of you will be sitting behind.

Well, it wasn’t entirely untrue.

There were indeed those who, relying only on their youthful talent, slacked off and faced ruin. When he looked back, he could see those who had fallen behind.

It’s just that there were still far more people far ahead of him.

What sense does it make to ignore the hundreds, thousands of competitors ahead and look back at the few who have fallen behind?

If you keep running steadily, you’ll eventually reach your destination?

When is that supposed to happen? In 20 years? 30 years? When you’re 70 or 80 years old?

Human life has its limits. Are they telling him to finally reach his goal only to die in contentment after his body has aged and withered?

It was then that the cult of the Dark God approached him in his despair.

“Mage Detzras, the true power of darkness has chosen you.”

When faced with the saint of the great god, Detzras’s first reaction was one of blasphemy.

“A cultist dares to reveal themselves openly? Are you mad?”

He knew well that learning necromancy would be of no use to a mage.

It was akin to a fighter cutting off both arms and attaching pincers instead.

Sure, the pincers might be useful in combat. They could hit harder with thick shells, and crush enemies with the pincers.

But the martial arts they had learned when they had arms would become almost useless.

“And you suggest necromancy to me? Do you think I’m some novice mage?”

A novice mage might consider it.

Giving up low-level magic of the first or second circle to gain powerful necromancy would be an attractive proposition.

But Detzras was already a mage of the fifth circle.

Even if he was dissatisfied with the results of his decades of dedication to magic, the power itself was far from weak.

Abandoning it to become a novice necromancer wouldn’t necessarily make him stronger than before.

But the cult of the Dark God was different.

“That is because what you’ve seen is not true necromancy.”

The true power of darkness wasn’t about cutting off your arms and attaching pincers. It was about reinforcing your arms with exoskeleton-like armor.

This meant he could continue to use the skills he had mastered while also learning new techniques.

He could walk a new path while maintaining the mana he had accumulated so far!

With little to lose and much to gain, it was inevitable that he would join the cult of the Dark God.

“So, there’s a necromancer on Prince Lloyd’s side too?”

Returning to his room to prepare for departure, Detzras smiled contentedly.

“How much more powerful will I become if I devour that necromancer?”

Magic requires relentless effort to increase mana. Thus, the path to increasing mana is a difficult one.

“Of course, necromancy doesn’t grant power for free. Nothing in this world is obtained without effort.

However, the nature of the effort is slightly different.

While magic requires one to solely refine oneself, necromancy allows one to steal the power of others.

‘I don’t know who this necromancer by the First Prince’s side is…’

As he prepared, Detzras fell into thought.

‘They can’t be a mere wandering necromancer, who is using the Darkness of Doom.’

Judging by how they handled the Crimson Flame Corps, they have surpassed the level of simply wielding the power of darkness without skill.

‘But even so, they won’t be a match for me.’

No matter how powerful conventional necromancers are, they are merely those who have not received the true teachings of darkness.

In contrast, Detzras is both a necromancer and a mage.

It’s like fighting someone with one arm while you have two—unless the difference in skill is vast, it’s unlikely he would lose.

‘Of course, if the difference is vast, then I might lose…’

The middle-aged man smiled confidently.

“There’s no way a necromancer as powerful as me exists on this continent outside of our cult!”

***

Even after his whereabouts were revealed, Prince Lloyd did not leave Dalaine Street.

Although he moved his hideout, he continued to make appearances in the same area.

Detzras, having learned this through his spies, smirked. He thought he understood what the prince was up to.

“Really, necromancers all think alike.”

It was obvious that they were trying to lure them in.

Detzras wasn’t the only one who saw the opponent as prey.

One of the cultists following behind, Kale, also sneered.

“He seems quite confident in his own power. How laughable for a mere wanderer…”

Detzras waved his hand, indicating it wasn’t surprising.

“Most necromancers are people who’ve lived at the bottom of society and suddenly gained great power. It would be stranger if they weren’t drunk on that power.”

Usually, people like that meet their match and get a harsh lesson in humility…

“Most of the time, they don’t even get to use the humility they’ve learned before departing this world.”

The cultists continued to move through Dalaine Street.

The night was so deep that there were no passersby. Only the occasional night watchmen patrolled the streets.

Under normal circumstances, they would be subject to inspections, but with the seal of Prince Alford in hand, there were no issues.

“We’re almost there.”

Under the faint moonlight, obscured by clouds, the shadowy slums came into view.

Detzras turned to the two necromancers, Kale and Olt, and commanded them.

“Move according to the plan.”

“Yes.”

The plan Detzras had devised for the ‘Reclamation of Prince Alford’s Body’ was simple.

First, the two would lure out the necromancer on Prince Lloyd’s side. Then, Detzras would watch from the shadows, waiting for the right moment to ambush and completely subdue the opponent.

Why go to such lengths when they could just fight together?

The justification was this:

—The enemy might flee, so I’ll monitor the battle from the rear!

But the real reason was this:

‘There’s no way that guy is stronger than me, but you never know, right? I should use these two as bait first.’

If they handle the situation, he’ll praise them and share the necromantic power with them. He’ll take half and give them the other half.

Is that too harsh? It’s not like he is taking everything for himself, so what’s the problem?

What if Kale and Olt betray Detzras and try to absorb the power themselves?

Even if they do, they won’t become stronger than Detzras, so he can just punish them for insubordination.

And while he’s at it, he could swallow up their necromantic power as well.

With such a justification, the cult wouldn’t object too much.

But what if the two get defeated?

That would mean Prince Lloyd’s necromancer is indeed a formidable foe, proving Detzras’s decision to use them as bait was wise.

It’s a method that could easily get him stabbed in the back, but Detzras felt no guilt.

Only someone who could truly think this way would be capable of practicing necromancy.

Naturally, Kale and Olt weren’t ignorant of Detzras’s dark intentions.

‘Damn it, being weak is a sin.’

‘But we can’t defy him either.’

Kale took out an old-fashioned lantern from his coat and lit it.

Sssss…

As the flame ignited, a chilling sound like a snake slithering echoed, and a cold aura filled the surroundings.

It was the Lantern of the Lost Souls.

The souls of knights and soldiers who had fallen on the battlefield were sealed within this cursed artifact, one of the treasures Detzras had bestowed upon them from the cult.

Even if they were being used as bait, providing them with a means of survival like this was necessary to ensure they followed orders.

Focusing his mind on the lantern, Kale began to chant a spell.

“In the name of Tesranak, I command you…”

The flame of the lantern turned blue, and one by one, wraith-like figures began to rise from the ground.

“Rise, cursed souls of fallen warriors…”

Countless ghosts of knights and soldiers filled the street, their wails echoing through the night.

“Uuughhh…”

“Aaaahhhh…”

***

Inside a shabby two-story house in the slums.

Karnak, who had been sitting in a chair reading a book, suddenly looked up and muttered.

“They’re here.”

Though it seemed like a random statement, Baros and Serati understood immediately.

“Already?”

“That was quick.”

The Crimson Flame Corps had attacked just the night before.

Yet, within just one day, another assault from Prince Alford’s side had begun.

Rising to his feet, Baros asked, “Is it necromancers this time?”

“As expected, they’re in a hurry, likely afraid someone else might steal their prey.”

Serati and Baros swiftly prepared for battle.

Watching them, Prince Lloyd wore a skeptical expression.

“It’s not that I doubt your skills, but…”

They were already fully armed and waiting, so there wasn’t much preparation to be done.

All they had to do was grab the ‘anti-cultist weapons’ that Karnak had prepared for them.

The problem was that these so-called secret weapons were rather unconventional.

In Baros’s hand was a long mop.

In Serati’s hand was a rusty frying pan.

“…Are you seriously going to fight with those?”