I was the one who ruled over death. It took a hundred years for me to realize it—that if one wants to lead a life as a human, they should never strive to control such a thing. The palace was grand and opulent. Rows of golden pillars stretched endlessly, a marble hall spread out beneath them, and elegant paintings and decorations adorned the walls. There were even intricate sculptures placed all around. But the people who should have filled this place were nowhere to be found. There was no king, no queen, no prince, no princess—not even a single servant or attendant. Well, technically speaking, the king was there. The servants and attendants were present as well. But none of them were human. A massive golden throne gleamed under the faint rays of the moon, and upon it sat a skeletal figure draped in a black robe. The skeleton murmured to itself, "Why did I ever do that...?" The short remark was followed by a deep sigh. "Why on earth did I...?" The skeleton's shoulders slumped after the sigh, and a hollow smile appeared on its face. But it wasn't the smile typically found on humans, but that of a skull. With no one there to hear, the skeleton—the Monarch of Death, Karnak—continued his monologue while absently lifting one hand. "No... It's not like I don't know why. I really had no choice. Ah... " A faint blue aura gathered over his bony fingers, forming the shape of a human hand. This was the very hand that could part seas and shake the heavens with a mere wave. Even his skull started to take on the form of a human face, pale and blue, as he sighed once more. "It's already been seventy years since I ended up ? Wow, time sure flies," he commented. The Monarch of Death leaned back on his throne before giving another hollow smile. "Though sometimes, it feels like it's crawling by." It was about a hundred years ago when Karnak first encountered necromancy, the forbidden art of forbidden arts. He was born as the illegitimate child of a fallen noble family, and he was scorned and neglected as he grew up. In his desperation to survive, he reached for the forbidden, and whether by fortune or misfortune, he gained power. But he paid the price for gaining power and veered from the path of humanity. Instead, he lived the life of an evil necromancer. He battled wave after wave of enemies. He always struck first, when he could, and killed the innocent over and over. The world grew to despise him as he became the devil. The Central Empire of Lacania, the Western Alliance of the Seven Kingdoms, the Eastern Federation of Berus, and the Church of the Seven Goddesses—all had him as their enemy. The entire continent—the world—was his enemy. Yet despite facing the entire world, Karnak never retreated. He used the mighty power of death to raise his fallen foes as his undead minions and expanded his influence even further. This only stoked the flames of war and made it grow more brutal. Indeed, it was a living hell, where the dead walked among the living, and their march brought them all the way across the continent. Before long, Karnak was known as the Monarch of Death, the ultimate evil that humanity could never tolerate. At last, humanity's final defenses crumbled. Even the Four Great Martial Kings, the strongest warriors alive, and the three Archmages, who were known to reach the heavens with their power and authority, fell and became servants of the Monarch of Death. In the end, the guardian of the world, the Dragon Emperor Grateria, appeared to confront him, and indeed, the Dragon Emperor was powerful. Despite having committed and practiced every forbidden act imaginable, Karnak found no way to oppose him. But it was, of course, to be expected. Karnak was a lowly human who relied solely on devious tricks. What could he do against the mightiest emperor of the dragons? With no other choice, Karnak resorted to the most dreaded forbidden technique. It was something he'd kept in reserve until the very end. He transformed himself into the ultimate transcendental being, Astra Shunaph, an existence surpassing even the strongest undead, the death knight and the archlich. Thus, Karnak completely abandoned his humanity. The price he paid was as immense as what he had lost. After three days of fierce battle, Grateria lost his honor as the Dragon Emperor. Instead, in his place stood the undead dragon Grateria, now the loyal servant of the Death Monarch. Karnak had once been nothing special—a lowborn noble with no heroic bloodline or divine power. Yet this mere human, devoid of any extraordinary lineage or divine strength, had defeated the legendary heroes and godlike beings to ascend to the ultimate throne. The world was now entirely his. "Sure, it's all good. A happy ending, right? Everything is just perfect..." Karnak let out a deep sigh as he looked once more at his hand. "But what can I do with this body? I've been reduced to nothing but bones." Gold and jewels, graceful beauties, rare wines, cheerful songs—every luxury and pleasure a human could imagine. None of it meant anything to him anymore. This dead body no longer held any trace of human sensation. He wanted to taste again, and he wanted to feel the warmth of another person. He wanted to feel the gentle breeze, the warm sunlight on his skin. Or, at the very least, he'd even accept feeling pain. Even weak, fragile flesh, pierced by a blade with terrible agony, would be better than this dry, lifeless skeleton. "No, actually, that's a lie. I mean, no matter what, numbness is still better than pain. What am I, spouting nonsense like some pampered noble?" Karnak quickly corrected himself before smiling bitterly. Still, it was true that he missed sensation. It was quite funny, really. When he still retained his senses, he'd never thought it mattered much, but now that it was gone, he felt the loss so deeply it chilled him to the bone. "There's a reason people warn against these things, after all. Now I see why everyone scorned necromancy as forbidden and taboo." There was no joy in living anymore, no spark to carry him through existence. And yet, ironically, the thought of ending it all didn't appeal to him, either. "I'm still afraid of dying." He'd thought that by losing sensation, he'd lose his fear of death too. But that wasn't entirely the case. What he truly wanted was to enjoy life, not to find peace by forgetting everything in death. But all he could do was sigh. "So that... that's the only hope I have left?" Karnak glanced behind his throne. A towering, blood-red obelisk flickered with an eerie light. His eyes glinted. Not that his actual eyes glinted, of course—they had long since rotted away. It was the ethereal gaze, formed from spirit energy in the hollow eye sockets of his skull, that flashed with intent. "...then there might still be hope." A towering knight, nearly two meters, tall, strode down a long corridor cloaked in shadow. At a glance, he looked human, but he was not. The pale skin stretched over thick muscles held no warmth, and he neither breathed nor blinked. These were undeniable signs that he was among the dead. He was the second-in-command in the Empire of the Dead, Necropia. He was a warrior who had defeated three of the Four Great Martial Kings and risen as the strongest on earth and supreme commander of the Legion of Death. The knight had been Karnak's loyal servant when the monarch was still human, before he ever encountered necromancy. The death knight lord, Varos, suddenly turned around. Behind him followed another death knight, robust but lean in comparison. Varos spoke, "Why do you think that bloke suddenly called for me, Sir Leven?" The death knight, Leven, replied politely, "How could I possibly fathom his profound intentions, Lord Varos?" Varos gave a wry smile. "That's the same line as always. You really were better off when you were alive." Leven Strauss, once one of the Four Great Martial Kings and the pinnacle of all swordsmen, bowed respectfully once again. "Everything unfolds according to his will." "Well, I suppose you're no longer the same person you were," Varos said before leaving Leven behind and continuing his stride. At last, he reached the entrance of a grand hall. He entered before kneeling and said in a reverent tone, "To the lord of all the dead, the master of life and death, the conqueror of the continent, the great Monarch of Death, Karnak..." But the skeleton on the throne quickly waved him off. "Oh, enough of that." "What? Are you saying I shouldn't be formal?" Varos looked up in surprise. Karnak, with his chin on his hand, grumbled, "What's the point of all that? Would anyone dare disrespect me if I didn't keep up the formalities?" Those with absolute power often cared little for decorum. After all, they could impose etiquette on the spot if necessary. Still, Varos had maintained formalities, because even the undead of Necropia, loyal as they were to Karnak, retained some influence from their living customs. Though Karnak had the power to enforce etiquette instantly, it was easier not to create a need to do such a thing in the first place. But now he's telling me to drop the formalities? Varos thought. This implied that there was no longer any need to command the undead. "Wait, could it be...?" Varos used the familiar title he had called Karnak ever since the latter's human days. "Did you succeed, young master?" Karnak shrugged with a triumphant smile. "Yeah, I think it worked." Varos's gaze shifted toward the towering blood-red obelisk behind the throne. Eyeing it with skepticism, he asked, "Is it really working this time? Haven't all your attempts failed until now?" Karnak hadn't always lamented the loss of his mortal body. Conquering the world and bringing all things under his control had given him immense satisfaction as a ruler. The problem was, that satisfaction didn't last more than a few years. What meaning was there in conquering the world with absolute power if he couldn't experience pleasure? This was why high-ranking undead like liches often developed intensely sadistic tendencies. They would torture others to derive vicarious satisfaction from the suffering they inflicted. Regrettably (or fortunately?), Karnak lacked such a sadistic inclination. "Someone else's pain is just their pain. How's that supposed to make me happy? I'm not some sociopathic, empathy-devoid maniac," he said. Varos cut in, "Oh, really? Well, that's surprising, considering all you've done..." "Like I said, I was just scrambling to survive!" "I'm sure those who died at your hands would find that very comforting." In any case, Karnak had tried numerous methods to regain some sensation. The first attempt was possession. Honestly, he didn't need to live in a mortal body all the time. He just needed to experience sensation, when necessary, right? So he captured living humans, erased their souls, and attempted to inhabit their bodies. "And you're still claiming not to be a sociopath, incapable of empathizing with anyone or anything?" "Shut your mouth, Varos." Unfortunately, his attempt failed. Karnak's spiritual energy as the ultimate transcendent being, Astra Shunaph, was simply too vast. Even before fully possessing a body, his energy would crush it entirely upon even a slight touch of his soul. So, temporarily possessing another's body is impossible? This led him to his next plan: reincarnation. Karnak carefully selected and gathered infants with the aim of finding the body most compatible with his soul. He would then inhabit it. This yielded better results than mere possession—he could get as far as one leg inside. It was a huge improvement over just a fingertip. But of course, that was still the limit. He tried numerous other methods: Stealing others' sensations, exploring various undead means of pursuing pleasure—it was all useless. There were wraiths who derived pleasure from absorbing souls and vampires who felt ecstasy through bloodsucking. But for such undead, the pleasure they felt was also their weakness. They felt pleasure because they were fulfilling a missing part of them, which allowed them to experience a warped sense of satisfaction. But as the ultimate transcendent being, Karnak had no such lack. With nothing missing, there was nothing to fill. And with nothing to fill, there could be no pleasure. Despair overcame him. Was he doomed to continue this lifeless existence indefinitely? Would he live life without any enjoyment? As he drifted through this purposeless existence, a sudden thought crossed his mind. The reason he couldn't experience human pleasure was that he was no longer human. And he was no longer human because he had become the ultimate transcendental being. So, all I have to do is stop being Astra Shunaph, right? He began researching ways to strip away his powers, and eventually, he found an answer. All I need is to return to the time when I was human. Back to the time when he wasn't the enemy of the world, when he wasn't the object of hatred for all the living. Back to when he was merely a lowborn noble's illegitimate child, harboring vague resentment against the world. The result of that endeavor was the blood-red obelisk behind his throne, the manifestation of darkness capable of transcending time and space. Karnak declared triumphantly, "The strongest necromancer in human history poured his most desperate wish into this research. If this fails, it simply means no one else could ever succeed!" The latest_epɪ_sodes are on_the 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭·𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮·𝙣𝙚𝙩 Varos snorted as if he'd been waiting for Karnak's comment. "Well, young master, that's because you're the only proper necromancer in recorded history, isn't it? You need a point of comparison to call yourself the strongest..." Necromancy was an ancient art left behind by an unknown pre-human race. It predated humanity's invention of writing. Since then, it had been a forbidden, taboo practice, with no one learning it seriously—only third-rate fools who sought power and lost their heads. So, of course, Karnak was the strongest in human history. "Well, technically, you're not wrong..." The skull on the throne clicked its jaw in irritation. "Varos, if you hadn't been my loyal servant since childhood, I'd have cut off your head by now." "Knowing that is exactly why I'm so cheeky. Cutting off my head wouldn't bring you any peace, would it, young master?" "Eh, you've always got a mouth on you," Karnak muttered while rising from his throne and approaching the blood-red obelisk. "Anyway, let's go, Varos." Varos also stepped up to the obelisk, scrutinizing its crimson surface as he asked, "When we go back, when exactly will we return to? Are we starting from infancy again?" "No, it doesn't work like that. There needs to be some continuity." Since this magic would distort time and space, there had to be a similar connection in the time they'd arrive in. With a hint of nostalgia, Karnak continued, "It'll probably be the moment I first set foot on the path of necromancy. The very first time I seized the power of darkness." "Then will I return to when I became a death knight? Our timelines don't exactly match up, you know." "You're just riding along with me, remember? You'll return to the same timeline as me." Still looking skeptical, Varos examined the obelisk and then asked suddenly, "What if this fails?" "Then we'll cease to exist." "Cease to exist doesn't seem like something one should say so casually, don't you think?" "Why? Do you have lingering attachments to this life?" Varos let out a hollow laugh. He was the second-in-command of the world-dominating empire. He had an immortal body with superhuman power. Did he have any attachments to such things? "No, I'm not," he answered. Indeed, he too found no pleasure in this life. "Nothing to lose then," said Karnak. With a calm expression, Varos placed his hand on the obelisk. "Let's go, young master." Karnak placed his bony hand on the obelisk as well. The blood-red obelisk began to emit immense darkness. "Let's go back. To that time when we lived as humans."