Karnak, Monarch of Death-Chapter 179: The Governor’s Vault (6)

Karnak's group revealed themselves, and the necromancer shouted once again. "Epe dnet wapala skalan!"

Jet-black wraiths surged up around him. Only then did Serati realize why the man was speaking in an unintelligible language.

Oh, right, we're in central Lacania, aren't we?

Isola was only used in western Lacania. The central regions spoke Lacanian. Since they had been traveling with the Western Division of the Brigade of Purification this entire time, she hadn't noticed the language barrier.

Serati grimaced, gripping her sword. This is bad. Does anyone here even speak Lacanian?

Fortunately, Karnak did. Well, of course he did. He was over a hundred years old and a genius. It would be more surprising if he didn’t speak the language. The two exchanged words in Lacanian, and then battle erupted.

Karnak's fire magic surged forward, targeting the necromancer's wraiths. In response, the opponent countered with a torrent of dark energy.

Amidst the chaos, the necromancer shouted, "Jod adran ka!"

Even without knowing the language, the tone alone made it obvious. It was a curse.

Alius immediately yelled back in Lacanian. "Adran ka!"

Apparently, he could speak it too. That made sense. He was a high-ranking priest, well-educated at the temple. It was only natural. The real surprise was Varos.

"Epe perta!"

He shouted something incomprehensible while slashing through waves of Revenant Orcs.

Serati's expression stiffened slightly. Wait, Varos speaks a second language too?

She had always assumed she was at least smarter than him.

No, no, wait. He's lived for over a hundred years. He ruled the world for decades. Of course, he'd know more than one language...

Suppressing the growing sense of inferiority, she threw herself into battle. She weaved between wraiths and Revenant Orcs, slashing through them as they clashed. Around her, the incomprehensible language exchange continued.

This time, it was Leven's voice. "Gel parta palond!"

Again, not surprising. He was a Strauss, the most prestigious noble house in the Seven Kingdoms. It would have been more shocking if he didn't have a basic education in multiple languages.

But then, a sweet, childlike voice rang out. "El lapra! Patas pol!"

Even Lapicel spoke Lacanian. Serati froze mid-swing, blinking rapidly. Wait. What the hell? Am I the only uneducated one here?

***

In the end, the necromancer fell. Lying on the ground, he spat out one last curse in Lacanian.

Alius smiled coldly, eyes gleaming. "Shall we interrogate him? It might take a while."

"Go ahead."

Demphis's intelligence had been fairly accurate, but a lot of time had passed. It was worth updating their information. Moments later, the merciful interrogation of the church began. After all, screams sounded the same in every language.

"Kugh! GRAAAAGH!"

While the interrogation proceeded, Serati turned to Lapicel. "Have you ever studied Lacanian before?"

It made sense that the others could speak it. They all came from prestigious backgrounds, meaning they had access to education. Or they had lived for over a hundred years.

But how did Lapicel speak it?

The ash-gray-haired girl tilted her head in confusion. "What's Lacanian?"

"What do you mean, what? You just spoke it."

“Huh??"

Only then did Lapicel realize she had been speaking another language. She had been so caught up in the flow of conversation that she hadn't even noticed when she switched.

"Huh? I’m not sure. How do I even know this?"

Karnak casually joined the conversation. "It's not that strange. You're from somewhere in Western Lacania, right?"

Lapicel had been one of the many orphans kidnapped by the Cult of the Black God from that region.

"Then it's likely you grew up using both Isola and Lacanian at the same time."

Even if she had lost her memories, habits from childhood still remained. It was natural that she would instinctively use the language.

"Ah, that makes sense!"

Lapicel accepted the explanation, but Serati secretly sent a message.

—What's the real reason?

—Why do you assume I'm lying?

—I don't know, it just feels like you are?

—Serati, your instincts are getting sharper.

Karnak let out an amused sigh before explaining.

—Lapicel may have lost her memories, but she's still the future martial king.

In her past life, she had been a hero of humanity, leading the resistance forces across the continent in a war against the Monarch of Death.

—To lead people across the entire continent, she had to be able to communicate with them. A translation amulet alone wouldn't have been enough.

In truth, Lapicel was fluent in most of the continent's languages. She had simply never had a reason to use them before, so she hadn't realized it.

—Speaking of which, should I get you a translation amulet, Serati?

—Are you sure? I heard those are ridiculously expensive.

—Well, they do cost about as much as their weight in gold.

The translation amulet was exclusively produced by the Tower of Dawn, led by Diogres Kolon, one of the three archmage and the continent's greatest enchanter.

Its effectiveness was undeniable, but due to the rare materials required, the price was astronomical.

—Actually, necromancy has its own version of a translation device. It's not as expensive as the amulet.

—Really? How much does it cost?

—Well, technically, the materials are. free.

Its functionality wasn't much different from the magical amulet.

—It's about as accurate as having a translator whispering in your ear in real-time.

Of course, Serati wasn't about to take his words at face value. Anything this man said had to be questioned at least once.

—Before we go any further. How exactly is this thing made?

—First, you dig up some human bones from a suitable grave and refine them properly. Then, you summon the soul of a translator using necromancy and seal it inside the processed bone.

Then, whenever translation was needed, the soul would be tortured into performing its function!

—The effectiveness depends on the skills of the translator's spirit, so the quality varies. But the materials themselves are practically free. All you need is a shovel for grave-digging and a catalyst for the necromantic ritual.

Serati let out a bitter chuckle. Of course. Soul-sealing and torture.

I had a feeling it would be something like this.

Nothing in the world came for free. If one option cost as much as its weight in gold, and another was practically free, then...? Well, clearly, something else was being sacrificed instead.

—I'll just take the translation amulet. Even if it's expensive, it's the better choice.

***

A short while later, Alius finished his interrogation. Unfortunately, they hadn't managed to extract any new information. The situation hadn't changed much since Demphis had left. Alius gazed down at the bewildered, hollow-eyed necromancer, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

"Then, I shall take care of the disposal.” Despite the cheerful expression on his face, his words were utterly ruthless. "That means cutting off his limbs and pulling out his tongue..."

Leven panicked and hurriedly stepped in. "Wa-wait a moment!"

“Yes?" said Alius.

Leven was shocked. ”Didn't Priestess Milia just bury them?"

"That is an option, but wouldn't it be a waste of time?” Alius's expression clearly showed that he genuinely didn't understand why they would take a less efficient approach.

Karnak intervened. "I'd prefer to keep him in one piece."

Alius seemed hesitant. ”Is that necessary?"

"The Brigade of Purification should get some credit for this mission too,” answered Karnak.

Alius let out a small gasp and immediately withdrew his hands from the necromancer. "Ah, right! I forgot about them!"

The Brigade of Purification had taken on the burdensome task of distracting the cultists, even agreeing to relinquish the ancient mages' remains, which served as crucial evidence. Since they had received so much assistance, it was only fair to return the favor. This necromancer, being as powerful as he was, would serve as an appropriate reward for their efforts.

"If we're giving them a gift, it should be intact rather than damaged."

"A very good point. I nearly made a mistake.” Alius stepped aside, allowing Karnak to approach the dazed necromancer.

"I'll cast a paralysis spell and hide him somewhere nearby. Once we finish our mission, we can pick him up and hand him over to the brigade on our way back."

Of course, Alius was right that this was a waste of time.

"That's why, Serati, go ahead and move forward with Alius. I'll take care of this and catch up."

“Understood, Sir Karnak."

"Lapicel, you follow Serati as well."

"Yes!"

With clear orders given, the two naturally turned to Alius, urging him forward. "Let's go, then."

***

As soon as the three disappeared beyond the door, Varos casually asked, "I assume there's a reason you sent them away?"

Karnak smirked coldly, gesturing toward the still-unresponsive necromancer. "He's quite useful in many ways. It would be a waste to cripple him like that."

"And what exactly do you plan to use him for?” Varos asked him.

"Shouldn't the teachings of our glorious Goddess of Twilight, Serakal, be spread in this region as well?” Karnak said mischievously.

Rather than handing him over to the Brigade of Purification, Karnak intended to convert the necromancer and secretly infiltrate him into the local Cult of the Black God. In simpler terms, he was going to let him go.

"If I loosen the paralysis a little earlier than expected, he'll take off on his own."

"And what excuse are you planning to give Alius?"

"There's no need to make one."

It wasn't uncommon for captured necromancers to have hidden talents and manage to escape unnoticed. There was a reason why the inquisitors of the church preferred cutting off limbs and pulling out tongues. It wasn't out of sheer cruelty, but because practicality demanded it.

"Alius won't find it strange. He'll just be disappointed.” Karnak planned to deal with the other necromancers in the same way.

Leven looked at him, puzzled. "And how exactly do you plan to convert him?"

It was easy to say, but fanatics didn't change their faith so easily. Karnak simply raised a finger. A long, thin needle of magic formed at its tip.

"Like this.” Without hesitation, he drove it straight into the necromancer's forehead. "Con-ver-sion!"

Thud!

The necromancer's eyes rolled back, his mouth froths, and his limbs convulsed uncontrollably.

Leven's face twisted in shock. "What... What did you do?!"

"Real-time delivery of divine teachings."

The needle of magic was rewriting the necromancer's memories.

Leven clicked his tongue in disbelief. "How is this conversion...?"

"As long as his mind changes, does it really matter?"

Unlike Leven, Varos had witnessed this sort of thing countless times before. Without so much as a blink, he asked flatly, "So, is he a follower of the Twilight Church now?"

"Not quite yet. Since the memory implantation was forced, it couldn't entirely rewrite his personality. "For now, he'll just think he got away safely and be relieved."

Later, through dreams and hallucinations, he would slowly start receiving divine revelations from Serakal. Eventually, he would betray the Cult of the Black God from within.

Leven remained skeptical. "Will it really go that smoothly?"

"It doesn't have to."

Just planting people like this within their ranks was already effective enough. It would sow distrust among their members.

"Their organization is already a mess of isolated cells with poor communication. If they start suspecting each other on top of that, there's no way they'll function properly."

The seeds had been planted. Now, he just had to wait and watch. If they took root, all the better. And if they withered away...

"It's not like I lose anything."