Karnak, Monarch of Death-Chapter 157: Rescue Operation (3)

At the center of the underground chapel, the pentagonal stone altar emitted a crimson glow, illuminating the surrounding darkness. Hugot and the eight necromancers remained engrossed in preparing the ritual, their efforts relentless.

They continuously poured necromantic energy into the altar through the mysterious symbols inscribed on its corners. Demphis observed their work from his skeletal throne.

Everything is proceeding smoothly.

All was going according to plan. The Eustil King's Order had made no further movements, and the wraiths that had appeared sporadically had now vanished completely.

Did they give up after realizing it was futile? After attempting one last trick?

Just because they belonged to the King’s Order didn't mean they were all paragons of righteousness or loyalty. It was perfectly reasonable to assume they had abandoned the mission by now. More than anything, Demphis subconsciously wanted to believe this to be true.

Every time his thoughts strayed to that black-haired young man, an unshakable certainty surfaced.

There's no way that guy cares about his comrades. Absolutely not.

With that conclusion settled, Demphis turned his full attention to the ritual of descent. The ceremony required an immense and intricate spell, demanding even the archlich's full focus. It was then that a middle-aged necromancer entered the chapel.

"What is it, Sores?"

"I've come to deliver a progress report."

The report itself was ordinary. It was essentially a detailed confirmation that nothing had happened. The only unusual aspect was that, throughout his report, Sores kept glancing toward the altar. More precisely, he was eyeing Hugot and the eight necromancers who were drenched in sweat as they channeled their energy into the ritual.

It wasn't particularly strange. The senior necromancers had been working tirelessly for hours, while Sores himself, thanks to the intruder situation, had been excluded from the grueling labor and assigned lighter duties. Moreover, since the ritual had already begun, it was too late to swap in a replacement. Naturally, he must have felt guilty about it.

Demphis let out a silent chuckle and waved his hand dismissively. "You've done well. Maintain your vigilance."

"Yes, Lord Demphis.”

***

After completing his report, Sores returned to his chamber. The moment he stepped deep into his personal quarters, his eyes rapidly lost their luster. Karnak watched the middle-aged man’s vacant, unfocused gaze.

He muttered to himself. "Well, let's see what's going on."

He pressed a finger against Sores's forehead, and a shimmering projection of light formed in the air. It displayed everything Sores had seen moments ago in the underground chapel, from the shape of the altar, the crimson symbols carved into the stone chamber, to Hugot and the eight tirelessly working necromancers. And Demphis himself.

Varos, observing Demphis's casual demeanor, let out a relieved sigh. "He didn't suspect anything."

"Yeah, I was a little worried about that,” responded Karnak.

Karnak's brainwashing technique was so refined that most necromancers wouldn't even notice its presence.

Still, with his current power being a fraction of what it once was, there was always a risk that a powerful practitioner might detect its traces. Yet, even Demphis had shown no signs of suspicion.

Serati looked surprised. "But isn't an archlich supposed to be an incredibly powerful undead?"

Karnak shook his head. "Just because something is an incredibly powerful undead doesn't mean it's an incredibly powerful necromancer."

The very existence of a lich was born from a dying mage desperately seeking a way to prolong their life and continue their path in magic. While their bodies were imbued with formidable necromantic power, their techniques often leaned more toward dark magic than pure necromancy.

"Even taking that into account, though, Demphis really let his guard down.” Karnak smirked, shaking his head in amusement. "That paranoid bastard ignoring something like this? This isn't the Demphis I remember."

Either way, they had gathered all the information they needed, including the entry routes to the underground chapel, the forces stationed around the altar, the location of the hostages, and Demphis's current state.

"Time for the next step.” Karnak raised his right hand—then hesitated, turning to Serati. "Just to confirm, one more time..."

"Hm?"

"We are doing this to rescue our comrades, so... it's fine if I live like I used to for a little while, right?"

Serati didn't answer immediately. She had already learned, through bitter experience, that responding to that question too carelessly could lead to unforeseen disasters.

"Can I at least ask what you're planning to do first?"

"I'm going to use more necromancy."

"Oh. That's all? Well, I suppose that's fine..."

Still looking a little uncertain, she nodded.

He's already been using necromancy freely, so why is he even asking?

Karnak, looking satisfied with Serati's answer, raised his right hand even higher. "I see."

Then, without hesitation, he sliced Sores's throat open with a blade of darkness. The cut was deep, severing more than half of his neck in an instant. Blood erupted in a fountain, and his head nearly snapped backward from the force.

Serati gasped and screamed. "Wh-what are you doing?!"

"Hm? I told you already.” Karnak, not even flinching, continued calmly. "I needed to use more necromancy."

"So you just kill someone out of nowhere?!"

"He's not very useful alive. I need him dead for what I'm about to do."

Sores' lifeless body collapsed like a felled log. Blood pooled rapidly, spreading across the floor in a dark, crimson lake.

Karnak tilted his head slightly. "What? Did I do something wrong? You said I could live like I used to."

"No, I mean... I just..."

"This guy was doomed anyway. Even if the King's Order captured him, he wouldn't have survived."

"That's true, but...”

Sores' fate had already been sealed. Being part of the cult was crime enough, but being a necromancer on top of that? There was no scenario in which he wasn't going to be executed.

"If he was going to die anyway, doesn't it make more sense to use him to save other people?"

Serati let out a quiet sigh. Ah. He really doesn't think he has any sins of his own to atone for, does he?

Still, she didn't bother arguing further. Sores had committed crimes worthy of death. And it wasn't like complaining would bring him back to life.

No, actually, he is coming back to life, isn't he?

Sure enough, Sores' body twitched. The blood soaking the floor began to dry, turning a dark, sickly red. A crimson mist curled into the air. It was drawn toward the severed wound, then, the head reattached itself. And the corpse stood up.

"Uuuhhh..."

Karnak, looking quite pleased, nodded in approval. "Not bad. He turned out to be a pretty decent undead."

Satisfied, he issued his next command. “Everyone get ready. It's almost time to begin."

Although it wasn’t as precise as before, Karnak could still sense the general flow of energy in an area. And the necromantic energy surging from the underground chapel was reaching its peak.

"If we move now, we'll arrive just in time."

***

Dark energy swirled through the chapel. The ominous symbols carved into the pentagonal altar glowed a deep, blood-like crimson.

At last, the archlich rose from his throne. "It is finally complete."

His hollow voice echoed through the chamber.

Then, he gave the order. "Children of Tesranach, prepare the vessel."

Four necromancers headed toward the stone chamber where the hostages were kept.

Moments later, Leven was dragged out.

"Mmph! Mmmph!"

He struggled desperately, but it was useless. His limbs were bound tightly, and a gag was shoved into his mouth. The necromancers carried him to the altar and secured him in place. His eyes darted around in terror.

What the hell are these lunatics trying to do?!

Of course, he could guess. A necromancer was tying him to an altar. It really wasn’t that hard to figure out. He just didn't want to acknowledge it.

As Leven lay bound, Demphis' voice rang out. "Take your positions."

Hugot and the eight necromancers—nine in total—formed a circle around the altar. Demphis, too, stepped forward. The skeleton, draped in a black robe, loomed over the altar and looked down at Leven. Cold blue flames flickered in his hollow eye sockets as he reached into his robes and pulled out a jet-black cube.

"Now, we begin the ritual of descent."

The nine necromancers began chanting.

"Kal lapika dratiya..."

"Devet rastali paharyu..."

Their eerie, inhuman voices reverberated through the chapel, filling the air with an unnatural, chilling resonance. Demphis, too, grasped the black cube he had retrieved from his void-space and began chanting in a slow, deliberate tone.

"The gate of the void shall open, intertwining the threads of fate that were never meant to meet..."

The incantation continued at a measured pace. Dark currents swirled violently, forming a massive vortex against the chapel's ceiling. The symbols carved into the altar erupted with a dazzling crimson glow. A suffocating pressure of death energy and malice filled the chamber, writhing and surging as if it were on the verge of bursting. The ground trembled ever so slightly, as if shaken by an earthquake.

Demphis watched the scene with satisfaction. The ritual was a success. Everything was progressing flawlessly, each step flowing seamlessly into the next. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

Then suddenly, the chapel doors suddenly burst open. The necromancers turned in shock.

What’s going on?

They had made it explicitly clear to the believers that no one was to approach the chapel under any circumstances. No sane follower would dare to enter at such a critical moment. Then... was it an intruder? Had the escaped members of the King's Order somehow made their way inside?

Impossible!

We secured every path!

But it wasn’t the King’s Order. Rather, the ones who had entered were a man and a girl. Peculiarly, both were half-naked. More precisely, it was a pot-bellied middle-aged man wearing only underwear, and a zombie girl clad in nothing but her undergarments.

Hand in hand, they skipped cheerfully into the chapel, bounding forward like a pair of rabbits. Or, perhaps more accurately, like a pair of very unwell rabbits.

Hugot muttered in disbelief. "Sores?"

The other necromancers froze. Had it been an outright enemy attack, they would have responded immediately. Had it been an ally behaving suspiciously, they still would have reacted on the spot. But this...

"Uh..."

"Um..."

"W-what...?"

It was certainly bizarre, but not entirely impossible. In some strange way, this was actually exactly the sort of thing Sores might do. Even Demphis found himself reacting the same way.

So, he finally lost his mind. Well, I suppose it was bound to happen eventually.

As everyone stood frozen, Sores and the zombie girl joyfully hopped all the way up to the altar.

Hugot clicked his tongue and stepped forward to stop him. "Tsk, tsk. Sores, my friend, what the hell is...”

That was when he finally noticed. His eyes landed on Sores' blank, milky-white pupils, his cold, breathless skin, his motionless chest.

He... he's dead?

Well, he wasn't alive. He was, without a doubt, undead.

What the hell?

Sores' entire body suddenly began to swell at an alarming speed, and then exploded in a massive blast.