A Great Lord? Who? (5)
Every single day, Baros beat him—again and again.
Every single day, Karnak got hit—again and again.
"I-I'm gonna die…"
Today as well, Karnak slumped down onto the floor of the training hall, his face twisted in misery.
His entire body throbbed with bruises. Every time he moved, it felt as if his muscles were screaming in pain.
After working this hard, shouldn't he have improved at least a little?
He hadn't.
Because, to begin with, he hadn't actually learned anything.
"Hey, shouldn't you start teaching me something by now? If I can't dodge, at least teach me how to take a glancing blow or something…"
All he'd done was stand there in armor, gripping a sword, getting beaten, and popping back up like a roly‑poly doll.
"Do you think taking a glancing hit is an easy technique?"
Baros, whose body had gradually grown more solid, tapped Karnak's shoulder lightly with the club.
"You've got barely a month—no, just ten days left now. With so little time, what exactly do you think you can learn?"
"Then what's the point of this training?"
"This is about getting used to pain."
Superior swordsmanship? Powerful stamina? Iron-like durability? An unshakable mind?
For a complete beginner heading into battle, there was something more important than all of those.
"You need to get used to being hit, and to situations where your life hangs by a thread. Only then can you keep a clear head—and only with a clear head can you fight or run away."
Normally, people weren't put through such a process separately.
They learned it naturally during sparring.
Those with talent adapted quickly, and even those without would eventually adjust if given enough time.
"But you, young lord, have neither time nor talent. So we have to do it like this."
It was a reasonable explanation.
But just because it made sense didn't mean the complaints disappeared.
"What if this wrecks my body permanently? Wouldn't that be even worse?"
Baros snorted.
"I'm not hitting you hard enough to cripple you. I'm just pounding on the armor anyway."
Though his tone was insolent, in truth he was one of the most loyal retainers Karnak had—utterly devoted, doing his absolute best for his precious lord.
"You've just been so removed from physical labor that it feels harsh. Honestly, this isn't even that brutal. I'm controlling my strength properly."
"Still, is it really okay to train nonstop without even a day off? I've heard overtraining is bad."
"That's after your body's been built up to some extent. At your current level, just sleeping soundly at night is more than enough rest."
No matter how much Karnak argued, it didn't make a dent.
"This guy really does talk back at every opportunity."
Baros asked with a serious expression,
"How do you think you'd feel if I started lecturing you about necromancy?"
"I'd find it endlessly ridiculous."
"Yes. That's exactly how I feel right now."
"..."
"So shut up and get up. Time's still ticking away, you know."
Five days after the beating-focused training began, with ten days left until the duel, Karnak was finally allowed to learn swordsmanship.
Even then, it was only the most basic slashes and thrusts.
Letting out a kiai, he followed through with a horizontal slash toward Baros in front of him.
"Hup!"
Baros lightly knocked it aside with his club and shouted,
"Louder!"
Karnak raised his voice as he tried another thrust.
"Taaah!"
Even so, Baros still seemed dissatisfied.
"Louder! A kiai isn't for putting strength into your strike! It's for others to hear!"
Karnak tilted his head.
"Isn't shouting supposed to help you focus your strength?"
"That may be true for you, young lord."
At Karnak's current level, whether he shouted a kiai or roared like a beast, the blow would still be feeble.
This was merely a way of signaling: I still have the will to fight!
"I'm coming!"
Baros kindly announced it out loud as he swung the club.
Perhaps the training hadn't been entirely pointless—Karnak quickly raised his shield to block.
And then he went flying along with it.
"Guhk!"
Crash! Bang!
As his precious lord rolled across the floor, the loyal retainer offered some heartfelt advice.
"If a slashing attack comes, don't even think about tanking it! You roll on the ground, no matter what!"
"…That's kind of embarrassing. Can't I just endure it?"
"Do you want to get cut in half—armor and all?"
"Yeah, okay. I'll roll."
Karnak's daily routine had become a relentless cycle of swinging his sword, blocking with his shield, and rolling across the floor to evade attacks.
For Karnak, who had never pushed his body this hard in his entire life, it was an exceptionally grueling schedule.
"Ugh… my back…"
He thumped his aching waist and sighed deeply.
"Who would've thought I'd end up grappling with a brute swordsman in my lifetime."
"Then why didn't you take up swordsmanship as a hobby or something? You've been whining about being bored for a hundred years," Baros said.
"A hobby is supposed to be fun! What's fun about fighting sweaty guys, pressed so close you can hear their breathing?"
Before becoming the Lich King, during his wandering days disguised as a necromancer, he had strictly acted like a mage. His tactics were the same. Keep your distance, and from afar—boom!
He hated close-quarters combat.
"My usual tactic was to put a meat shield in front and hit from behind," he muttered.
"I know. I was that meat shield," Baros replied.
Despite his grumbling, Karnak continued his training diligently. Over time, some results became apparent. He no longer looked like a pathetic recluse from a backroom—he now resembled a low-ranking soldier at least.
With that, his confidence began to grow.
"Maybe I have a slight chance now… I've trained pretty hard."
Even Baros had to admit it.
"You've worked hard. At this point, no one would just cut you down immediately."
"Is that all I get after all this effort?"
Gradually, the duel date approached.
Two days before the duel.
"I think we're reasonably prepared now," Baros said seriously, holding a longsword instead of his club.
"We're entering the final stage."
Baros, second-in-command of the empire of the dead, Necropia.
The Death Knight who had slain three of the four great war kings.
The strongest warrior on the surface world.
These were the titles that had once described Baros.
"Of course, I wasn't a better warrior than the four great war kings," he said.
In strength, skill, mental fortitude, and experience, they were superior.
What allowed him to win was largely thanks to the overwhelming power of the Lich King Karnak.
"Hmph, I was a bit impressive, though."
"Sure. So impressive that you kept skeletons under your command, right?"
Baros said this to the boastful Karnak with mock resentment.
"Couldn't you have been a little less impressive? Then we could have just lived sipping wine and slicing steaks."
"Then we'd both be dead already."
Regardless, Baros was certainly a step below the four great war kings.
Yet there was one area where he excelled beyond the others.
"I was the best at tormenting the weak, giving them humiliation, and then killing them. I've lived my whole life that way."
"You're a sinister one," Karnak remarked.
"You're the one who ordered it! You said we need to draw out their hatred and anger to make them into good undead, didn't you?"
Thanks to that, this much was certain:
Baros could accurately predict exactly how Randolph would toy with Karnak and how he would eventually force him into submission.
Baros pressed Karnak with the longsword.
"First, he'll tease you slowly like this," he said.
Karnak rolled on the floor, alarmed.
"Gah! You're too fast!"
Though Baros spoke of moving "slowly," strikes of nearly invisible speed kept coming at Karnak.
As he continued swinging the sword, Baros said calmly:
"Still, now you can dodge, right?"
Indeed, all of Karnak's previous training hadn't been in vain.
Even while rolling on the floor and taking blows on his armor, he somehow managed to avoid direct hits.
Panting heavily, Karnak got up again and took aim with his sword. Baros watched, satisfied, with a proud smile.
"Your movements are quite decent."
"Really… decent?"
"Yes, just the right level to toy with."
"...."
"Really, I'm praising you. Reaching this level isn't easy, you know?"
In any case, facing Karnak, who burned with such fighting spirit, Randolf would likely be fairly satisfied.
It was a duel trial, after all, so it wouldn't do to appear as though he were excessively tormenting a weak opponent.
"At some point, he'll probably start trying to bring things to an end."
Still, he wouldn't go straight for the kill.
"The ideal scenario is to force the opponent to kneel and admit defeat. The priests can handle the execution, while he maintains his image as an honorable knight."
So the part Randolph would target was Karnak's legs.
"You can stand your ground if your arms are cut, but if your legs are severed, there's no stubbornness that'll help. You just collapse to your knees."
Suddenly, Baros moved.
In an instant, his entire body blurred, and a flash of light streaked toward Karnak's knees.
"Gah!"
Karnak didn't even have time to react. Watching Karnak stiffen, Baros smiled faintly.
"This is how he'd try to cut your legs."
"…And I'm supposed to block this?"
"Yes."
"I'm not sure I can do it."
"If you know what part they're aiming for, you can block it once. And of course, we'll practice repeatedly."
Baros continued, noting that this was the only chance for a counterattack.
"Of course, just because the opponent shows a weakness doesn't mean you can swing your sword carelessly and get hit on purpose."
This was the moment where he really needed to demonstrate effective swordsmanship.
"So…"
Lowering the stance, Baros held the longsword in reverse, pressing the blade to the ground. Naturally, this positioned Karnak to defend both knees.
"From now on, this is the technique you need to learn."
He slashed diagonally, as if scooping the blade upward, switching his grip with both hands. After slicing through the empty air, he switched to a one-handed grip, extended his shoulder to increase reach, and added rotational force for a second upward slash.
Shhhk!
The sound of air being sliced echoed repeatedly.
"Double-level upward strike—overkill."
Baros murmured calmly to the wide-eyed Karnak:
"This is one of Delphiade's War King Revan Strauss's secret sword techniques."
"…."
Karnak blinked repeatedly in silence.
Before, he wouldn't have realized how extraordinary the technique was, having never wielded a sword.
But after days of grueling sword practice, he understood the level of skill Baros had just demonstrated.
"You expect me to do that?"
"Yes."
"Then why didn't you teach me earlier? There are only two days left—how am I supposed to learn this?"
"One day is enough."
Baros remained calm.
"You don't need to fully master it, just imitate it convincingly."
Mastery meant repeating the motion thousands of times until it became second nature, where the body moved before the mind even thought.
"You're not expected to reach that level of skill. Just make it look plausible in the given situation."
"Really?"
"Normally, no."
But for Karnak, it wasn't a problem.
"After this, you won't need to wield a sword again. It's more efficient to cram hard for one day and then forget it."
"Is that so?"
Still hesitant, Karnak gripped the sword.
"Alright, I'll give it a try."
He pressed the sword to the ground, eyes blazing, and swung upward!
—Overkill!
The longsword flew through the air and tumbled into the corner of the training hall—he'd lost his grip.
The technique required multiple grip switches, which had tangled his fingers.
"…Am I really capable of doing this?"
Baros still wore his confident expression.
"Don't worry. The schedule is designed specifically for your level."
"What exactly did you gauge my level to be?"
"A teenage noble girl who only does embroidery at home."
"Damn it…"
Grumbling, Karnak still followed Baros's instructions diligently.
Two days passed, and finally, the morning sun rose.
The day that would decide the life of the Jestrad baron family—and Karnak's own life—had arrived.
The day of the Allium duel trial.