Chapter 13: Trial by Combat (3)

Two streams of blinding sword energy tore through the sky, carving twin crescent moons as they raced toward Randolph’s chest.

"What—!"

Randolph recoiled in genuine surprise, twisting his body instinctively. And then—

"Ack!"

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. A thin cut marred Randolph’s chest. Crimson droplets welled up, staining his shirt. But that was all. It missed. By a lot. The priests exchanged solemn glances.

"Ah..."

"What a shame."

Karnak’s strike had been a true masterpiece of desperation, aimed flawlessly at an opening. It was the kind of attack one might even call a secret technique. But the execution left much to be desired. The lack of mastery was painfully apparent—so much so that any seasoned knight could have dodged it unconsciously.

One of the Zestrad knights let out a despondent murmur. "So there are no miracles after all..."

Karnak had tried. He had woken at dawn each day to train relentlessly. He had poured sweat and blood into every swing, transforming himself into someone unrecognizable from the wastrel of his past. Even those who once despised him had begun to harbor faint hopes.

But in the end, all he managed was a scratch that barely broke the skin—a strike no deeper than a cat’s claw.

"Hah... Haha..."

Randolph chuckled softly, raising his sword. "Not bad. For someone like you, I’d say that was your best effort."

The knights turned their heads away. This was reality. No matter how hard one tried, an overwhelming difference in skill could not be bridged.

"Truly..." one knight whispered bitterly, "...the world is cruel and unfair."

***

Varos was exceedingly pleased.

What incredible luck.

It truly was a stroke of fortune.

It’s rare to have everything unfold so perfectly.

The world was unfair? What could possibly be unfair about this? Karnak may have poured his heart and soul into his training for a month, but for any proper knight, that level of effort was routine. And they sustained it not for weeks but for decades.

Moreover, Karnak’s opponent was no ordinary knight. Sir Randolph was the mightiest warrior of Devantor, a man who had honed his natural talent through relentless discipline to reach where he was at. If such a figure were to fall victim to a technique hastily crammed into a single day of practice, that would truly be an insult to the concept of effort.

No, there’s no unfairness here. Not yet.

A faint smile crept onto Varos’s lips.

The real unfairness begins now.

***

"Ah, this is just..."

Randolph let out a sigh of disbelief.

"They say even a cornered rat will bite a cat. Guess I’m the cat now, huh?"

To think he’d allowed Karnak—a mere

nobody

—to land a blow. It was only a minor cut, sure, but it was enough to irk him. The wound wasn’t serious, but Randolph could already hear his fellow knights turning it into a drinking story, laughing at his expense.

"I’m going to be a joke for weeks. Damn it."

He was just about to end it when Karnak, head lowered, muttered something softly. "You’re worried about being mocked when your opponent is fighting for their life? I’m glad I don’t need to feel guilty."

"What?"

Randolph frowned. He was confused about what Karnak was saying.

Guilt? About what? Who owes who guilt here?

Karnak raised his head, a sly grin tugging at his lips. "Not that I’d know what that feels like."

Suddenly, Randolph’s body erupted in

something

.

Fwoosh!

Shocked, he looked down at himself. From the small tear in his tunic, a pitch-black shadow burst forth before spreading like wildfire. The darkness quickly enveloped the arena, forming a massive, ominous shape.

"What... what is this?"

Karnak, seizing the moment, thrust his sword forward.

"Hyaaah!"

The result was predictable. Randolph immediately countered with a kick. Even when he was taken off guard, a seasoned knight could not be injured so easily.

Thwack!

The problem was that Karnak was sent tumbling over five meters through the air.

"What?!"

Gasps rippled through the audience. Was it even possible to launch a man fully donned in plate mail like that with a single kick? Such strength was beyond the capacity of any normal human, which meant it was impossible for someone without any battle aura.

"What kind of power is this?"

"And that black thing... what is it?"

"It looks like the demon..."

Shock and horror spread like wildfire across the arena.

Then a priest’s voice rang out, quivering with dread.

"Ne-necromancy

!

"

***

Shouts erupted from all directions.

"Necromancy?"

"Is that the necromancy from the stories?"

"By the gods! How could such an evil energy come from Sir Randolph?"

Randolph was utterly bewildered.

Necromancy? Who? Me?

Necromancy? He’d heard the name but barely knew what it meant. Yet here it was, bursting forth from his body. And why did he suddenly feel his strength surging?

He looked around in confusion while clutching his sword.

"No, I... This isn’t..."

At that exact moment, the dark energy billowed out, forming shadowy wings that spread wide behind him. It also coated his blade in pure darkness.

Right on cue, Varos shouted, "Demon’s wings! That fiend is trying to flee!"

The priests of Alium finally snapped to their senses and immediately sprang into action.

"Judges, seize him immediately!"

Armed combat priests stormed into the arena. They had been standing by to oversee the execution after the trial, but now they charged with purpose.

"In the name of Alium!"

"Deliver justice to this unholy creature!"

Holy radiance flashed in all directions as spears and swords aimed for Randolph. Overwhelmed by the chaos, Randolph roared in anguish. "Aaaaaaaargh!"

***

The black giant rampaged.

"Aaaaaah!"

Each time he moved, combat priests were sent flying in all directions. Every sweep of his massive sword flung his attackers several meters through the air. It was a display of raw power, something unpermitted to humans.

"It truly is necromancy!"

"The wretched fiend!"

Fueled by hatred for necromancers, the priests relentlessly closed in on Randolph. But Randolph, utterly panicked, swung his greatsword wildly, his cries echoing across the arena. "Aaaaaaah!"

What is this? What’s happening? Why is this happening to me?

He wanted to scream in protest, to explain his innocence, but his mind was in shambles. Words refused to come. Instead, they were replaced by guttural howls of rage and despair.

"Grrrrraaaaah!"

But his outburst couldn’t last forever. The ominous black aura that had engulfed him began to dissipate. Along with it, the monstrous strength he’d displayed quickly faded.

"He’s weakening!"

"Take him down now!"

Even so, capturing him proved impossible. Necromancy or not, Randolph was still Devantor’s strongest knight. Fueled by raw fury, he thrashed about like a berserk boar, lashing out at anything within reach.

"Aaaaaaah!"

Eventually, the priests abandoned the idea of capturing him and shifted to elimination. Blades from every direction sought his vital points. Randolph could not fend off all the attacks without armor, and one by one, the blades started to find their mark. They pierced, slashed, and cut him again and again.

"Aaaaaagh!"

With a final, agonized scream, Randolph fell lifeless to the ground in the middle of the arena. Watching Randolph take his last breath, Karnak couldn’t help but smirk bitterly.

I never thought things would work out this perfectly.

Originally, Karnak had expected Randolph to be subdued and dragged to the temple. That outcome would have carried the risk of exposing the truth. The plan had been for Varos to intervene at the last moment to finish him off.

Randolph had thrashed like a wounded boar in his frustration and rage. Thus, he had been finished off right there in the arena.

I didn’t think he’d be this hot-headed. Not that I blame him.

Karnak thought while grimacing in pain. He’d flown five meters through the air. Even in top-quality armor, he couldn’t be unscathed. If not for the breakfall techniques Varos had drilled into him, he might have broken something.

Karnak staggered to his feet, his entire body aching, and shouted, "Priests of Alium! What is the verdict of this trial by combat?"

The priests surrounding Randolph’s lifeless body turned to him with hardened expressions.

Verdict? Is that what matters now?

That’s not important right now! The forbidden power of necromancy, the root of all evil, has taken root here!

But on second thought, on reflection, the verdict did matter. This was a sacred trial held in the name of Alium. Concluding the proceedings properly was the clergy’s solemn duty. One of the judges regained his composure and raised his hand before declaring loudly.

"The combatant of Devantor has brought unforgivable evil into a sacred trial by combat! This is a heinous mockery of the goddess herself!"

The voice echoed across the arena.

"We hereby declare the victory of Karnak, Baron of Zestrad!"

No cheers erupted. Only silence blanketed the space. The audience stood in a hushed, collective dread, staring at Randolph’s lifeless body sprawled in the dirt.

***

The Devantor Viscounty was thrown into chaos.

With one of its knights exposed as being connected to necromancy, the copper mine was the least of their problems. The central church of Alium dispatched priests to thoroughly investigate the viscounty, scouring every corner for signs of necromantic activity.

From Randolph’s quarters, they discovered damning items: handkerchiefs scrawled with necromantic sigils, undergarments embroidered with dark talismans, and more. The evidence was overwhelming.

Randolph’s younger sister fervently insisted that she had merely purchased the items from an unknown peddler and that her brother had no connection to them. However, her defense only spread the suspicions against her. It wasn’t just her. Randolph’s fellow knights, their families, servants, and even maids became subjects of intense interrogation.

Although no crimes were found and suspicions were eventually dropped, they all endured significant hardship.

"They had quite the ordeal, I hear," Karnak said.

Varos smirked, a strange look on his face. "Randolph’s sister, was it? I feel a bit bad for her. She probably had no idea what was going on."

He said he felt bad, but his expression didn’t match his words. Karnak tilted his head. "Should I be feeling bad about this? Is that what living like a human means?"

"Probably. Most people seem to think so."

But the two of them barely spared it a second thought after causing so much suffering to so many innocents. It seemed becoming fully human was still a long way off for the pair.

Regardless, Karnak chuckled. "Well, that went better than expected. At first, I was scared stiff thinking I’d have to put my life on the line as soon as I returned."

Using necromancy in front of priests would inevitably get detected. Even for Karnak, who had reached the pinnacle of the dark art, there was no way to avoid that.

So, he decided to change his approach.

If I can’t avoid being discovered, then use it—but make Randolph the one to use it!

The arena was vast, and the battle chaotic. If a burst of dark energy erupted amidst the clash of combatants, who would know where it originated? It was enough cover for Karnak to secretly wield necromantic power and transfer the. Blame to Randolph.

"The issue was that the target had to bleed for the necromancy to take effect naturally. So all that training paid off," Karnak mused, satisfied as he recalled their meticulous preparation.

Varos suddenly posed a question. "Won’t the church suspect anything? This can’t be the first time a necromancer has tried something like this. Surely, there were others before you."

"I’m probably the first."

"What?"

To orchestrate a situation where someone else appeared to be using necromancy while suppressing his own power?

"This level of finesse is something only I could pull off. Most others wouldn’t even think to try."

Even Karnak in his prime couldn’t have managed it. It was his experience as the Monarch of Death, having reached the pinnacle of the dark arts, that allowed for such intricate manipulation.

"There’s no precedent for this. So, I doubt it’ll raise issues. But..." Karnak trailed off, his expression tightening. "There is one thing I don’t quite understand."

"What’s that?"

"Everything went too smoothly, without a hitch."

Objectively speaking, Randolph had no reason to rely on necromancy. As a knight recognized for his skill and with a bright future ahead, he had no cause to gamble his honor on forbidden powers. By contrast, the one who gained the most from this incident was, unmistakably, Karnak—who had escaped certain death.

"No matter how unprecedented my scheme was, this should’ve raised suspicions about me."

At the very least, an investigation would’ve been expected.

"So I hid my necromancy and readied myself for an investigation..."

But the church didn’t suspect him. In fact, they didn’t even send anyone to the Zestrad estate. All of their attention was focused solely on uprooting the Devantor Viscounty.

"It’s like... they just accepted that Randolph had turned to necromancy without question."

Baffled, Karnak tilted his head.

"Why? Why would no one question why someone like Randolph, who had nothing to gain, would resort to necromancy?"

***

The Grand Cathedral of Gesellan oversaw the northern diocese of the Eustil Kingdom. Inside, a middle-aged priest prostrated himself before a robed elder in his 60s, whose ceremonial garments shimmered with golden embroidery.

The elder asked the man, "Have you verified this thoroughly? This matter is of grave importance. Even the slightest error is unacceptable."

The priest nodded and retrieved a small glass vial from his robes.

"I have served as an inquisitor for three years now and have amassed considerable experience. I can state with certainty."

Inside the vial, faint tendrils of darkness wriggled momentarily. Though weak, it radiated a presence unmistakable to any who served the goddess.

"This is no ordinary necromancer’s work. The essence matches perfectly." With unshakable conviction, the priest enunciated every word. "It is the fragment of the Transcendent—the death that will bring ruin to the world."

Holding up the vial containing the darkness extracted from Randolph’s corpse, the priest’s expression grew grave.

"This is undoubtedly the Shadow of Doom."

The archbishop, taking the vial, heaved a heavy sigh.

"So, the dominion of darkness has crept this far already..."