Chapter 14: Omen of Doom (1)

With the victory in the trial by combat, the copper mine was now firmly under the Zestrad family’s control. Moreover, Karnak solidified his position as its lord after having saved the territory.

A grand feast was held. Cows and pigs were slaughtered, and plenty of food and drink were distributed among the peasants. Amidst the lively festivities, the most striking sight was the appearance of their

revered new lord

.

"Varos!"

"Yes, young master!"

"It’s beef!"

"There’s pork too! Not just sausages, but freshly butchered pork!"

"Look at that glistening fat!"

"And it’s already sauced!"

The two of them were on the verge of tears. They devoured their food with utter sincerity, leaving even the peasants a little bewildered.

"Are they really that happy over this?"

"Well, sure, beef is a rare treat, but..."

For common folk, beef and pork were delicacies reserved for special occasions—perhaps once or twice a year, if it had been a good harvest. Naturally, they, too, were deeply moved by the rare taste of beef and pork. But Karnak and Varos’s reaction? It was almost theatrical.

"Don’t nobles eat meat all the time?"

"Why are they acting like it’s their first meal in decades?"

"Come on, that can’t be true. They’re nobles."

Unaware of the truth, the peasants could only reach one conclusion.

"They must have undergone truly grueling training to be so thrilled by something so simple."

"Well, they really were risking their lives, weren’t they?"

"You never know how people will change, truly."

The peasants gazed at their new lord with respect. Karnak was once a notorious scoundrel, but he had turned over a new leaf. Not only had he saved the territory, but he had also secured a future for the people. How could they not be in awe?

Of course, Karnak himself was oblivious to all this. He was focused solely on gnawing on his meat.

"Ah, delicious. But why is everyone staring at me?"

"Did we eat too much? Ah, I’m worried we’ll get a stomachache."

"We should be careful. I’m a valuable person now."

One way or another, everything had fallen into place. He was now the master of a wealthy family, enjoyed the respect and goodwill of his people, and those who had despised him within his own family had self-destructed. All of Karnak’s objectives upon rewinding time had been accomplished.

Clinking glasses with Varos, Karnak beamed. "Now all that’s left is to relax and enjoy life. Hahaha!"

"Absolutely, young master. Hehehe," Varos replied, his grin just as wide.

***

Three months after the trial by combat, a group of knights gathered to observe a sparring session at the Zestrad family’s outdoor training grounds.

The duel was between a knight in his mid-thirties and a young man of about twenty.

"Watch yourself!" The older knight warned as he launched a strike.

"Yes, sir!"

The younger man carefully parried the attack and launched a counterstrike. The clash of blades rang out repeatedly as the duel continued in earnest. Despite his youthful appearance, the young man’s skill was impressive. He held his own against the knight without being overwhelmed. After some time, the knight stepped back to catch his breath and lowered his sword.

"

Phew.

That’s enough for today."

The young man also sheathed his blade and bowed deeply.

"Thank you for your guidance!"

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Sir Valtan of Zestrad shook his head in disbelief.

"You’re nearly on par with me now," he said.

The young man before him, Varos, had suddenly announced his intent to become a knight. At first, no one took him seriously. He had claimed to have trained with Karnak, who had obtained the famed Delphiad swordsmanship, but...

Just because you’ve chanced across some exceptional swordsmanship doesn’t mean you’ll magically become strong.

The ignorance of amateurs never ceases to amaze.

Initially, it was so absurd that laughing at him didn’t even feel worth the effort. He was simply pitied.

He’ll come to his senses soon enough after getting beaten a few times.

But within just a few months, his skills had skyrocketed at a shocking pace. Veteran knight Torres, who had been observing from the sidelines, couldn’t help but let out a low whistle.

"Varos, who knew you had this kind of talent?"

Not only was he learning techniques at an astonishing speed, but his combat instincts were sharp, and his physical abilities were improving day by day as he was still growing. He was a prodigy, the kind of talent too extraordinary to remain in this rural territory.

If this were a real battle, I’m not sure I’d be able to take him on anymore.

However, fearing that too much praise might make Varos arrogant, Sir Torres maintained an air of solemnity as he added, "But don’t let it go to your head. Talented warriors often meet ruin because of their lack of experience."

Varos bowed his head obediently. "I will keep that in mind, Sir Torres."

Of course, Varos was still concealing the majority of his strength. If he fought seriously, he could take down five knights of Zestrad single-handedly in under a minute. After all, weren’t these the same rural knights who couldn’t handle even one Randolph? Still, he didn’t see this as a reason to look down on them.

I’m not some incredible prodigy.

Varos was well aware that his rapid growth was thanks to the immense battle experience he had accumulated in his past life, not some divine gift of talent. In fact, before he became a death knight, he had barely qualified as a second-rate knight. He hadn’t even awakened his battle aura.

Whether I can awaken my aura without young master’s help this time remains to be seen. Well, at least I know the theory now, so I’m in a better spot than before.

Regardless, there was no denying that Varos’s reputation had skyrocketed. The knights began to praise him, their words full of admiration.

"Truly impressive."

"To be this skilled at your age..."

"And to think you wasted such talent on mischief in the past!"

"Actually, maybe that’s where he honed his instincts."

Though Karnak and Varos had been widely criticized for their troublemaking in the past, they hadn’t committed any serious transgressions. Sneaking into nearby towns to drink, gamble, and brawl in back alleys—that was the extent of it. They didn’t even have enough wealth to even afford to chase women. It was hardly different from the sort of antics even the knights themselves occasionally indulged in. Still, for teenagers to partake in

adult vices

so recklessly, it was no wonder they were labeled delinquents.

Lost in thought, Sir Torres murmured, "It’s a joy to see. Not just you, but the young lord as well—who would have thought he’d mature like this..."

There had been plenty of skepticism about Karnak’s transformation. Even as a lord, could a former troublemaker truly change his ways? But that doubt had melted away long ago.

Everyone had witnessed his reaction to his first drink in years—the sheer emotional intensity that shook him to his core. That kind of response was something only a true drinker, who had abstained for years, could show.

"Now he drinks sparingly, only with meals. Thanks to that, the young master—no, the lord—has grown much healthier," Sir Torres noted.

Varos smirked inwardly at the comment.

Well, of course.

Unlike before, Karnak had started paying attention to his physical health—not because he wanted to become a knight, but simply because he had realized the importance of taking care of himself.

For decades, Karnak had endured life in a dead body. He had sacrificed everything he once possessed to regain this mortal flesh, and now it was his most

precious

possession—not just as a metaphor, but literally.

"Health comes first! Take care of yourself while you’re young! Once you’re older, it’s too late! Trust me—I’ve been there!"

Both Karnak and Varos made it a priority to eat a balanced diet, live by a strict routine, and diligently exercise, cherishing and refining their newly gained bodies.

"Who would’ve thought he’d change like this?"

"Indeed. I heard he even spends his free time reading."

"They say most of his leisure is now spent in the study."

"When the old baron passed, the future seemed bleak, but now..."

The knights reminisced about their new lord, Karnak, their faces filled with nostalgia. Ah, the future of Zestrad was bright indeed!

Only Varos wore a faint, bitter smile.

He does spend most of his time holed up in the study. But it’s not for the reasons they imagine.

***

Karnak’s original plan upon returning to the past had been straightforward: scour the continent for hidden treasures, use his knowledge of future events to make profitable trades, and establish himself financially.

After all, his family had fallen into such ruin that there seemed no way out. But the copper mine had solved his financial troubles. And with it, the need to venture across the continent had vanished.

The entire plan had been aimed at becoming a modestly powerful provincial noble—someone neither too conspicuous nor easily ignored—so he could live a peaceful life.

Now that he had achieved that, why should he go through the hassle of traveling and seeking adventure?

Adventure? Youthful passion? A desire to see the world?

He had already circled the world five or six times. He’d seen everything worth seeing and plenty he’d rather have not. But that didn’t mean he intended to sit idly, doing nothing.

Being the owner of a copper mine meant that more predators like Viscount Devantor might come sniffing around. In fact, it was inevitable. Greed was a powerful motivator. He needed enough strength to defend his domain—but not through necromancy. He required a power that wouldn’t draw unwanted attention.

Pale moonlight streamed through the window of the grand library on the second floor of the Zestrad mansion. Karnak sat cross-legged on the floor, deep in meditation.

"

Phew

..."

He exhaled deeply, concentrating his mind to draw in the surrounding energy—the darkness of night, the lunar essence, and faint traces of negativity. Moments later, Karnak opened his eyes.

"Good. That’s enough for now."

He raised a finger, and a small flame flickered to life at its tip. Varos, who had been observing from the side, tilted his head in curiosity.

"Huh? That doesn’t feel like necromancy."

The deathly aura of necromancy was unmistakable. Even ordinary beings, let alone clergy, could sense its unsettling presence. But the flame Karnak had conjured emitted none of that usual foreboding energy. It looked like ordinary fire conjured from ordinary magic.

"And it’s red, just like a regular flame," Varos remarked.

"Of course," Karnak nodded.

"This originated from necromancy, but it’s no longer necromancy."

Necromancy no longer held any allure for him. He knew all too well the kind of end it would lead to, no matter how much power he amassed. But becoming a knight, a mage, or a priest was no longer an option either.

"Necromancy is a one-way street. Once you learn it, there’s no turning back."

"I get that. But isn’t that true for all paths of power?"

In this world, there were four ways to transcend human limitations: Aura, wielded by knights who harnessed their life force. Mana, used by mages to manipulate natural energy. Divine power, channeled by priests in alignment with light and providence. Lastly, necromancy, or black magic, which drew upon the forces of death and darkness.

Despite their differences, all these methods shared a common principle: storing and converting the world’s energy into power within the practitioner’s body. In doing so, the wielder’s body and soul became optimized for their chosen path.

Once a choice was made, it was final. Could a mage, who harnessed mana, also learn martial arts? Certainly. There was no reason someone with functional arms and legs couldn’t wield a sword or spear. But mastering aura? That was impossible.

Their soul and body, already imbued with the properties of mana, would only continue to accumulate mana no matter how much effort they put in. The world’s energy would be processed into mana and mana alone. The same applied to necromancy. A soul tainted black could never return to its original purity.

"Well, technically, you

can

bleach it."

But everything else—your memories, your personality—would get bleached along with it. Using the world’s energy to create power fundamentally meant reshaping one’s own soul and body.

This was why those who practiced aura, magic, or divine power and later fell into necromancy became entirely different people. They didn’t just lose their former strength—they became unrecognizable even to themselves.

For Karnak to make a truly fresh start, he would have needed to return to a point in time

before

he had ever learned necromancy. But that was impossible.

The regression spell itself relied on necromancy as its foundation, anchoring its temporal target to the moment he became a necromancer. Thus, it was only possible to return to a time after he had already been tainted by necromancy.

"Varos, you managed to hitch a ride on me, so you were able to return to a point before becoming a death knight."

Karnak had recognized this limitation even during his time as the Monarch of Death. To prepare for a fresh start after his regression, he had long devised a workaround.

"This is the result."

He twirled the small flame on his fingertip, smiling proudly.

"I call it chaos mana."