Chapter 85
Chapter 85
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 85
Chapter Title: The Lich King's Demise
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In the distant future, the man who would come to call himself the Lich King had thought, even from his childhood, that the current world was terribly unfair to humans.
Why couldn't humans accept mana?
Why did this world provide such a harsh environment only to humans?
From the moment they were born, the time permitted to humans was a mere 20 years.
If they had a constitution more attuned to mana and could endure a bit longer, they might live past 20 years, but even then, they wouldn't surpass 30.
That was why people didn't know that hair turned white with age, or that wrinkles formed on the face.
"Why? Because they all die before it happens!"
Pakang.
Why must humans suffer such pain?
What had they done wrong?
He couldn't understand.
He didn't want to understand.
The warmth fading from the gentle hand that stroked his head.
The lips that sang like a nightingale to delight his ears, sealing shut forever the next day.
"But what about you all? Did you pity us humans? Did you even extend a helping hand?!"
Ziiing. Crash.
The world rejected humans.
Thus, it unleashed mana like a poison, creating spirits and beasts to torment the one brief span of time granted to them.
"Spirits treated us as mere toys! They sneered in delight at the lives crumbling under their casual touch!"
Kang! Kang! Pakak.
"What about you beasts? Aren't you all itching to kill us humans? Do you even know how many human hides you've torn with those teeth and claws?!"
Charuruk.
"This world is wrong! That's why I'll fix it! And the one to do it is none other than me!"
What was so wrong with correcting what was broken?
That was why he had returned.
He had turned his back on the end called death and crawled up from the depths of darkness onto the earth.
Whirick.
He no longer remembered the name he bore as a human.
During the process of returning from death, he had discarded all unnecessary memories.
Thus, all that remained for him now was the pain and despair humans endured.
"Kuhk!"
[So, is that all you have to say?]
The Lich King gnashed his teeth against the chains coiling around his entire body.
This was undoubtedly the black chain he had summoned earlier.
Yet the chains meant to bind the enemy were, for some reason, shackling their master—himself.
Ziiing.
And that wasn't all.
The myriad curses woven into the air and the powerful attack spells infused with the power of death—all of them were directed not at the foe before him, but at himself.
But the Lich King did not panic.
More precisely, his rage—overwhelming any flicker of panic and feeding on it as fuel—burned ceaselessly.
[Do you have nothing more to show?]
What had enraged the Lich King so?
Was it the imoogi before him, loathsome enough to devour whole?
That such an imoogi dared to provoke him so brazenly?
No. No, the Lich King wouldn't fly into such rage over something so trivial.
He had long quelled any fury from mere provocation.
Yet the reason for his rage persisted.
That reason was...
Ttak. Ttadak. Ttak.
Ttak. Ttadak. Ttadak.
Ttak. Ttak. Ttak.
Ttadak. Ttak. Ttadak.
"You damned bastards...!"
It was because every single one of the countless skeleton soldiers that had served him until now had turned against him without exception, weapons trained on their former master.
Clank.
"I summoned you worthless husks back and bestowed mercy upon you, yet you dare stab me in the back?!"
The Lich King glared at the chains tightening around his body and the skeleton soldier gripping them.
He knew.
He knew that the soldiers had all turned because control over every last one of the skeleton soldiers had been completely seized.
"Impossible..."
But he refused to accept it.
Because admitting full loss of control meant conceding that the enemy before him possessed superior skill.
He couldn't even make excuses like being caught off guard.
He hadn't regained control even after snapping to his senses.
"Who... the hell are you...?"
"Even for a fellow kin, this is impossible. How in the world...?"
Everything he possessed had fallen into the enemy's hands.
The countless skeleton soldiers.
The black chains to subdue foes.
The potent curses and attack spells.
The black mana that imperiled the living.
Like sand slipping through clenched fists, it all scattered and vanished.
"Ahh..."
Had there ever been a more despairing situation?
He couldn't remember.
He had left all the trivial memories of his human days far below.
Rattle.
Thus, the Lich King despaired.
If he had retained a memory of experiencing such despair before, he might have used it to find a solution.
"Impossible."
But the Lich King could not give up.
Even now, with his body immobilized, he spat forth flames.
For even if the monster before him stole his experience, his time, his talent, it could not steal this grudge he felt now.
Hwaruruk.
"Burn. Devour my rage, use my despair as kindling, and blaze higher."
The flames ignited.
Hideous flames of resentment, feeding on all his negative emotions, raced along his body, across the chains, and consumed the skeleton soldiers who were once his loyal subordinates.
Hwarururuk!
Yes, even if it took everything else, this alone the monster could not touch.
As long as he had these flames of resentment—like the spark that began his tale—he could resolve it all.
Hwaruruk.
"What...?"
But that was arrogance.
Why had he assumed the monster couldn't wield the flames of resentment?
The Lich King stared blankly at another blaze of resentment blocking his own.
The flames of resentment were the symbol of his very beginning.
If even that was mimicked, what was left to him?
Thud.
Strength fled his hand.
It had devoured even his own resentment.
"Indignant..."
Honestly, he had believed himself the sole savior who could change this world.
He had raised the countless kin who died unable to withstand mana, and he had taken the head of the Spirit King—one of those responsible for this damned environment—so he judged he had no equals. Now he realized that was a grave miscalculation.
"Monster. Monster. Why must we humans suffer so?"
Reality was always cruel.
Thus, he dreamed of an ideal overflowing with hope like a dream, utterly unlike harsh reality.
"Is my ideal... the hope of humans... so utterly futile?"
"Then must we humans be trampled by you forever?"
The monster spoke.
He couldn't hear it.
In the Lich King's mind, there existed only the monster that tormented humans and refused to admit it was mere play.
Kaduk.
"Fine. Then, to save even more humans from you, I'll burn every last moment I have left."
"Kraaaaaah!!!!"
Black mana surged.
The Lich King poured every ounce of black mana and flames of resentment through his own body as the conduit.
Pakak. Pajijik.
Exceeding its limits, the mana and flames caused his body to crack and shatter, unable to maintain form.
"I failed to create a better world, but at least I'll take this monster that torments humans with me."
A frantic voice rang out amid the dire situation, but the Lich King ignored it, gathering even the tiniest specks of emotion left to ignite flames within his body.
And these flames would meet the black inferno, devour his entire form, and erupt in a massive explosion...
Shuuuuuu.
But for some reason, no matter how much time passed... the explosion never came.
"Wha...t is this."
The Lich King awaited the end amid the sensation of his body crumbling, questioning the absent explosion, until he soon discovered the cause.
Hururup.
It was being sucked in.
The black mana, the flames of resentment, the fragments of his shattering body.
All of it vanished into the monster's maw.
Hururup. Gulp.
It devoured them with the relish of savoring a fine meal.
Thus, to the very end, the Lich King gazed upon the monster that had foiled his plan.
Tremble tremble tremble.
Far from rage, it filled him with overwhelming terror.
Pajijik.
"U, uwaaaaaah!"
But what were the odds of such coincidence?
The final fragment—the power gained from slaying the Spirit King—that the monster had overlooked reacted belatedly.
But this much wouldn't kill the monster.
Concluding as much, the Lich King used this power not to slay the foe, but to flee.
Clang!
Still, it was the power from killing the Spirit King.
It shattered space itself, forging a passage to another place. Driven by the desperate urge to escape the monster as swiftly as possible, he hurled himself into the rift without hesitation.
Thud!
The destination was a remote, uninhabited island devoid of any human trace.
Until a necromancer who would later become the Demon King's right hand arrived far in the future, the Lich King lived out his days in lonely solitude before meeting his end.
For a mythic legend called the Tyrant of Death, it was an utterly pathetic and hollow demise.