REAPER SCANS

Monarch of Death

[Translator – Darkraider ]

[Proofreader – Harley ]

Chapter 0 - Prologue

I was a being that ruled over death.

It took me a hundred years to come to a realization.

A human should live a human life. One shouldn't rule over something like that.

* * *

The palace was grand and opulent. Endless rows of golden pillars supported a marble hall, elegant paintings and decorations adorned every wall, and intricately crafted statues stood throughout.

However, the palace was devoid of the people it should have been home to.

No king, no queen, no princes, no princesses, not even a single servant or attendant.

Well, to be precise, there was a king. There were servants and attendants, too.

It was just that none of them were human.

A skeleton draped in a black robe sat on a massive golden throne, bathed in the pale moonlight, muttering to itself.

“Why did I do that…?” A heavy sigh followed its words. “Ugh, why in the world did I do that…?”

The skeleton slumped, a hollow smile stretching across his bony face. It wasn’t a human smile. It was a skeleton's smile.

“No, I know why I did it. I had no choice.”

The skeleton was Karnak, the Monarch of Death.

He continued his monologue, though there was no one to hear. He stared blankly at his hand.

“Haah…”

A blue energy gathered over his bare bones, taking the shape of a human hand. It was a hand that held the power to split the sea and shake the heavens with a single wave.

Above the skull, a human form began to materialize. A pale, blue human face let out a sigh.

“It's already been seventy years since I became like this? Wow. Time flies.” Karnak leaned back on his throne, his hollow smile widening. “Though, it also feels like it's going by incredibly slow.”

* * *

It had been roughly a hundred years since Karnak first encountered necromancy, the forbidden art.

Born the illegitimate child of a fallen noble family, he grew up scorned and neglected. He had reached for the forbidden knowledge to survive, and by some stroke of luck—or perhaps misfortune—he gained its power.

But in return, he strayed from the path of humanity.

Karnak lived the life of a wicked necromancer, fighting off endless enemies—sometimes striking first, killing and killing again, both the innocent and the guilty. The world, seeing him as a demon, grew to despise him even more.

The central Lacaenia Empire, the western Seven Kingdoms Alliance, the eastern Verus Federation, and even the Church of the Seven Goddesses, who worshiped the Great Seven Goddesses. The entire continent was his enemy.

Even as he faced the entire world, Karnak did not back down. Using his powerful dominion over death, he transformed his enemies into the undead, expanding his power even further.

The war only escalated. A living hell—where the dead walked the world of the living—spread across the continent.

He had become the Monarch of Death, an absolute evil that humanity could not tolerate.

Finally, even the last bastion of humanity fell. The four Martial Kings—the strongest beings in the mortal realm—and the three Archmages—whose power was said to reach the heavens—were defeated and became his servants.

In the end, even the protector of the world, Dragon Emperor Grateria, had to intervene.

As expected, the Dragon Emperor was strong. He was so strong that even Karnak, who had broken every taboo imaginable, saw no way to win.

It was only natural. What could a lowly human, who relied solely on unorthodox methods, do against the most powerful of the exalted dragons?

Left with no other choice, Karnak resorted to the worst possible forbidden magic, one he had been putting off until the very end. He transformed himself into the ultimate transcendent being, the Astra Schaff, a being that surpassed even the mightiest death knight or archlich.

And so, Karnak completely abandoned his humanity.

The price was as great as what he had gained. After three days and nights of battle, Grateria lost their divinity, becoming the Undead Dragon Grateria, a loyal servant of the Monarch of Death.

Karnak, who had been nothing special, just an illegitimate child of a low-ranking noble family… a mere human, who had not inherited the blood of heroes or the blessings of the gods, had overcome extraordinary heroes and divine power to claim the ultimate throne.

The world was completely his.

“Yes, it's all good. A happy ending. It's all good, but…” Karnak looked at his hand again and let out a deep sigh. “What can I do with this body that is nothing but bones?”

Treasures, beautiful women, delicious food, every luxury and pleasure imaginable to man—all of it had lost its meaning because his dead body was devoid of all human sensation.

“I want to feel…”

He wanted to taste. He wanted to feel the warmth of another person. He wanted to feel the gentle breeze and the warm sun on his skin. No, at this point, he would even welcome pain. Even the feeling of a blade piercing his flesh, the excruciating pain that came with having vulnerable skin, would be preferable to this monotonous existence as a skeleton.

“…Okay, that's not entirely true. I'd still take numbness over pain. What am I saying? I sound like some pampered noble whining about nonsense,” Karnak quickly corrected himself and chuckled dryly.

However, he did long for sensation. He hadn't realized how precious it was when he had it, but now that it was gone, he missed it terribly.

“This is why people tell you not to do things. No wonder everyone looked down on necromancy, calling it forbidden and taboo.”

There was no joy in living. There was no drive to keep going. But he didn't want to kill himself either.

“I'm still afraid of dying.”

He thought that if he couldn't feel anything, he wouldn't fear death, but that wasn't the case. He wanted to enjoy life, not escape the pain of it through death.

All Karnak could do was sigh.

“Is that all I have left to believe in?” Karnak glanced behind his throne.

A large, blood-red monolith stood tall, emitting a strange, flickering light.

His eyes gleamed. Well, technically it wasn’t actually his eyes. His eyes had long since rotted away. What was flickering were eyeballs made of spiritual energy that he placed in the empty sockets of his skull.

“If that succeeds…” Karnak’s voice took on a hopeful tone. “…There might be hope.”

* * *

Reaper Scans

[Translator – Darkraider ]

[Proofreader – Harley ]

Join our discord for updates on releases! https://dsc.gg/reapercomics

* * *

A towering knight, over six feet tall, walked down a long corridor, shrouded in darkness and untouched by sunlight.

He looked vaguely human, but he was not. His pale skin, stretched over his bulging muscles, held no warmth. He didn't breathe nor did he blink—all clear signs that he was not among the living.

It was the death knight Lord Baros, the second-in-command of Necropia, the empire of the dead. The Commanding General of the Legion of Death, a warrior who had defeated three of the Four Martial Kings and ascended to the position of the strongest in the land.

He was the most trusted confidant of the Monarch of Death, having served Karnak faithfully even before he became a necromancer, back when he was still human.

He suddenly turned around. Another death knight, strong but comparatively smaller in stature, followed behind him.

“Why did he summon me so suddenly, Sir Revan?” Baros asked.

“How could I possibly know his profound intentions, Lord Baros?” the death knight Revan replied respectfully.

Baros chuckled wryly, “Always the same answer. I liked you better when you were alive.”

Revan Strauss, once one of the Four Martial Kings and the pinnacle of all swordsmen, bowed his head respectfully once more. “Everything is as his will dictates.”

“Well, I suppose it can't be helped, seeing as you're not the same Revan anymore.”

Baros continued walking, leaving Revan behind.

Finally, he reached the entrance to a grand hall.

Baron stepped inside, knelt, and began to speak respectfully, “I am in the presence of his majesty Karnak, the Monarch of Death, master of life and death, conqueror of the continent, ruler of all the dead…”

The skeleton on the throne immediately waved his hand dismissively. “Ah, cut it out.”

“Huh? You don't want the formalities?” Baros tilted his head in confusion.

Karnak leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “What's the point? Who's going to disrespect me if I don't enforce them?”

Those with absolute power cared little for etiquette. They could instantly instill manners in anyone who dared to question them.

The reason Baros still adhered to formalities was that even the undead of Necropia, who were utterly devoted to Karnak, were still somewhat influenced by the customs of their former lives. Even if Karnak could instantly instill manners in them, wasn't it easier to avoid the situation altogether?

‘Why is he saying he doesn't want the formalities anymore?’ Baros wondered.

Could this mean that he no longer needed to exert control over the undead?

“Don't tell me…?” Baros used the old form of address he had called Karnak from back when they were still human. “Did you succeed, young master?”

Karnak puffed out his bony chest proudly. “Yeah, I think I did.”

“Incredible.” Baros' gaze shifted to the back of the throne.

He stared at the large, blood-red monolith and asked skeptically, “Are you sure it's working properly? You've failed all this time.”

***

Karnak didn’t regret losing his flesh and blood body from the start. Conquering the world, bringing everything under his control… the thrill of being the ruler was quite significant.

The problem was that it didn't last long. What was the point of having absolute power and the world in his grasp if he couldn't enjoy any of it?

That was why high-ranking undead like liches tended to develop extremely sadistic tendencies. They derived vicarious satisfaction from torturing and tormenting others, experiencing pleasure through their pain.

Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), Karnak didn't have that kind of sadistic tendency.

“Why would I enjoy seeing someone else in pain? I'm not a sociopath.”

“Really? Because all the things you've done so far…” Baros interjected.

“Ah. I told you already. That sort of just happened because I was trying to live!”

“I'm sure all those who died by your hand will find comfort in those words, young master.”

“…Shut up.”

In any case, for that reason, Karnak had tried various methods. The first thing he attempted was possession.

Honestly, there was no need to live in a flesh and blood body all the time. Wouldn't it be enough to just feel sensations when he needed to, for as long as he needed to?

So he captured numerous living human slaves, wiped their souls clean, and tried to take over their bodies.

“…And yet you say you're not a sociopath?”

“Just be quiet, Baros.”

Sadly, his attempts were unsuccessful. Karnak's soul was simply too powerful after becoming the ultimate transcendent being, the Astra Schaff.

Forget possession, even just the finger of his soul entering shattered the host body.

‘Is temporarily taking over someone else's body impossible?’ Karnak wondered.

So this time, he set his sights on reincarnation. He gathered carefully selected infants, chose the body most compatible with his soul, and tried to inhabit it.

The results were better than Possession. He managed to at least get about a leg’s worth of his soul into the body, which was significant progress compared to just a finger.

Of course, that was the limit.

He tried other things as well, exploring various ways to pursue pleasure as an undead, such as stealing the senses of others. Nothing worked.

Wraiths, who felt pleasure by absorbing Souls, and Vampires, who derived pleasure from Bloodsucking—the commonality between those types of undead was that their pleasure stemmed from their flaws. They felt pleasure in the process of filling what they lacked.

Karnak, as the ultimate transcendent being, had no flaws. He lacked nothing. Because he lacked nothing, there was nothing to fill, and therefore no pleasure to feel.

He despaired. Was he doomed to live like this, unable to die? When there was no joy in living?

As he wasted his days away, a thought occurred to him.

The reason he couldn't experience human pleasure was that he wasn't human, and the reason he wasn't human was that he had become an Astra Schaff.

‘Then, wouldn't it be enough to not be an Astra Schaff anymore?’

He continued his research, seeking a way to relinquish the power he had gained. Finally, he found the answer.

‘I just have to go back to when I was human.’

Back to when he was human. Back to when he wasn't the enemy of the world, the target of hatred for all living beings. Back to when he was just the illegitimate child of a low-ranking noble, harboring a vague resentment towards the world.

‘I'll turn back time!’

The result of his efforts was the blood-red monolith behind his throne, the manifestation of darkness that transcended time and space.

Karnak declared triumphantly, “The most powerful necromancer in human history has poured his heart and soul into this research, driven by his deepest desire. If this fails, then no one can do it!”

As if he had been waiting for this, Baros snorted, “That's only because you're the only proper necromancer in recorded human history. You need a point of comparison to be the strongest…”

Necromancy was a forbidden art left behind by an unknown ancient race that existed in prehistoric times, back before humans had even invented writing. It was considered the ultimate taboo, and no one dared to master it. There were only third-rate hacks who dabbled in its power and got their heads chopped off.

Of course Karnak was the strongest necromancer in human history.

“Gah. You're not wrong, but…” The skeleton on the throne gnashed his teeth. “Baros, if you weren't my childhood confidant, I would have ripped your head off by now.”

“Why do you think I talk to you so casually? Besides, do you really think you'd feel better if you ripped my head off?”

“Ugh, you’re just a yapper.”

Karnak rose from his throne.

He walked towards the blood-red monolith, muttering, “Anyway, let's go, Baros.”

Baros followed him, examining the crimson surface of the monolith. “If this works, when will we go back to? Don't tell me we're starting over as babies?”

“It doesn't work like that. There has to be at least a minimal common point,” Karnak explained.

Since they were manipulating time and space with the magic power of darkness, there had to be a point of intersection in the timeline they were trying to reach.

With a hint of longing in his voice, Karnak continued, “The moment I took my first step as a necromancer. The very moment I first tapped into dark magic power.”

“So, will I be returning to the moment I became a death knight? The timelines won't match.”

“You're just tagging along with me. We'll go back to the same time.”

“Ah, I see.”

Still skeptical, Baros continued to examine the monolith.

Then he asked, “What happens if we fail?”

“We will perish.”

“Perishing is not something you should speak about so lightly.”

“Why? Do you have any attachment to your life?”

Baros let out a hollow laugh. The second-in-command of a vast empire that ruled the world. An immortal body with superhuman powers. Did he have any attachment to any of it?

“Not really.”

Indeed, he found no pleasure in his existence either.

“Nothing to lose then.” With a serene expression, Baros placed his hand on the monolith. “Let's go, young master.”

“Very well.”

Karnak placed its bony hand on the monolith as well. The blood-red monolith erupted in a blinding flash of darkness.

“Let's go back. Back to a time when we lived like humans.”

Join our discord for updates on releases! https://dsc.gg/reapercomics