The words hung in the air, a death sentence etched in flame. The first corpse—a guard torn apart minutes prior—bloated like a rotting fruit, its skin stretching taut. Turning yellow at first, then an ominous red, Then it detonated. Shrapnel of bone and gore shredded through the ranks, followed by a shockwave that made the ground itself tremble The sound was deafening, a thunderclap that left his ears ringing. Heat washed over him, carrying the stench of burnt hair and charred meat.
Then another corpse blew up right next to the guard, this one belonged to a fallen undead. Then another, and another…
Ludwig watched, transfixed, as the chain reaction unfolded. Corpse after corpse ignited, their innards boiling into volatile gas. A guard raised his shield, but the force of the blast ripped it from his arms, along with his hands. Another tried to flee, only to be torn apart by the shrapnel armor of an exploding dead guard next to him. The air filled with explosions and thunderous booms.
When the smoke cleared, the battlefield was a charnel house. Craters pockmarked the ground, filled with bubbling pools of slime and rotting flesh. Severed limbs hung from nearby rooftops; a helmet rolled past Ludwig’s feet, its interior still smoking. The guards were gone—not dead, but unmade. Only their armor remained, twisted and blackened, like the shells of burnt beetles.
Van Dijk knelt, plucking a sliver of bone from the ground. It squirmed in his palm, alive with residual magic. “Necromancy isn’t about raising the dead, Ludwig. It’s about recycling.” He crushed the bone to dust. “Every corpse is a weapon waiting to be used. Every enemy you kill becomes your ally. That is why they fear this art.”
Ludwig’s stomach churned, though he had no need to vomit. “It’s… monstrous.”
“Monstrous?” Van Dijk laughed, “No, my dear disciple, what is monstrous is what that thing did to these people, their lives taken and turned to an abhorrent sight. I don’t mind a person’s view over power and control to be twisted, but I hate when it’s this… dirty. Necromancy on the other hand is—efficient, controlled and clean.”
Van Dijk smiled, “This,” Van Dijk said as he turned to face Ludwig, “Is necromancy. It is by far the deadliest art, and without a doubt the most powerful. Thus, why the whole world is putting sanctions and punishments upon those who try it. Be careful Ludwig, if you were to use it, you will be hated by the world, but if you’re capable enough, you may even bend the world itself to your will,” Van Dijk explained.
“So what do you think, Ludwig? Are you still willing to walk this path? Remember I am not a master of this art, so you’ll have to walk the majority of this path by yourself.”
Ludwig tightened his grip on the book at his side, without hesitation, “I’m willing to walk it,” he said.
“Good, then let’s move forward, we still have much to explore,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” Ludwig nodded.
He realized how dangerous this path was, and at the same time he saw the might it provided, this was a simple showcase of two spells, Rise Undead and Corpse Explosion. What would the rest of the necromancy abilities and skills entail? Ludwig could do nothing but anticipate the power he’d obtain once he clears his quests and be able to upgrade his class.
The two of them continued through the city, Van Dijk taking care of the guards that tried to stop them. This time, however, he relied on his blood magic and black flames, his movements precise and efficient. His bats scouted ahead, providing him with detailed information about their surroundings and the enemies approaching. Ludwig followed closely, his mind still reeling from what he had just witnessed.
After what felt like an eternity, they reached the final gate of the third sector. Behind them lay a sea of corpses, the remnants of the guards who had tried to stop them. The citizens, if they could even be called that, were too busy cleaning up the bodies to join the fight. The gate stood open, leading to the grand cathedral that loomed in the distance—the final dwelling of the one who commanded this cursed city.
The boss area.
The area around the cathedral was abnormally large, Ludwig realized something the moment they stepped inside and when he received his notification.
[ Your Death Point has been set to, Royal Garden]
The area was vast, far larger than any garden he had ever seen. Yet it was eerily empty, devoid of the flowers and trimmed trees one would expect. Instead, it felt more like an arena, a place designed for battle rather than beauty.
“Master,” Ludwig said, his voice low. “Don’t you think this place is a bit too… big?”
Van Dijk glanced around, his expression thoughtful. “Yes, usually that’s what a royal garden should be. Why?”
“Well, usually, if a garden is this big, it should have more… well, garden stuff. Flowers, trimmed trees and bushes and all that,” Ludwig said, gesturing to the barren expanse around them. “But this place… it looks more like a death trap….”
Van Dijk’s lips curled into a faint smile. “You want to know why?”
“Yeah, I’d like to,” Ludwig said, expecting some explanation about noble aesthetics or royal extravagance.
“It’s because of that,” Van Dijk looked up.
Ludwig followed Van Dijk’s gaze and saw the shadow muffled figure of the King of Tibari standing above the arched entrance of the cathedral.
There, standing atop the arched entrance of the cathedral, was the shadowy figure of the King of Tibari. His presence was overwhelming, his armor gleaming despite the darkness that surrounded him. He jumped down, landing squarely in the center of the arena with a thunderous crash.
This time, the Knight King’s appearance was far different. His armor was fully restored, its surface covered in intricate runic carvings and golden symbols. His shield was pristine, massive and unblemished, while his sword gleamed with a deadly sharpness. His eyes, visible through the visor of his helmet, burned with a cold, unyielding light. Chains still bound his arms, locking his sword and shield to him permanently, but they seemed almost ceremonial now, a reminder of his eternal duty.
“Intruders of this kingdom shall be destroyed,” the Knight King declared, his voice echoing across the arena. He slammed his sword against his shield, the sound reverberating like a death knell. “Prepare to lose your lives!”
“Stay behind me, Ludwig,” Van Dijk said, his voice low and urgent. “This guy seems a bit more… dangerous than before.”
Ludwig’s eyes narrowed as he activated his inspection skill, the status screen appearing before him.
Name: The Fallen King Knight of Tibari
Third Resurrection: The Crownless King.
Danger Level: ☠☠☠
Level: ???
HP: ???
Additional Skills:
[Culling Strike] Any attack below a certain threshold will execute the target.
[Final Duty] When nearing death, enters a berserk state, removing all debilitating debuffs.
[Tibarian Judgement] Calls forth the might of his weapon, bringing down judgment upon those who oppose him.
Addendum:
The mad king of Tibari finally revealed his true form. Though he may appear freed from the corruption, it is only in this state that he is fully consumed by it. Having regained his full power, the king of Tibari has also remembered who he is and what he is protecting. A king without a kingdom, a king without people. A king that is not a king.