In Another World with Absolute Awareness

The ornate double doors burst open, and a giant skeleton lumbered through. Unlike the D-Ranked horde of warriors, the Skeleton King was draped in a crimson robe.

A golden crown sat atop its empty skull, and its eyes were filled with Malevolent Miasma so concentrated that it seemed to flow out like tears.

Suddenly, its jaws went slack. A foul stench emanated from within its skull as it leaned forward in rage.

Looking at the Skeleton King, Aventine felt a melancholic smile crack open across his lips.

"Kirivan the First. Third Puppet King of Grakkis."

A mere slave of the Elder Lich who ruled the Soulless City.

Ten thousand years as a slave in its own kingdom.

And a slave of undeath forevermore.

"What a tragic existence."

Aventine couldn’t help but fear his own death even more. If there was such a cruel fate for those unbound by the [Absolute Awareness]... What more would it be for him? What would the world do to him, who was blessed by the heavens and given something no mortal should have ever wielded?

—KIEEEEEEAAAAAAK!

Kirivan roared.

And his subjects went into a murderous frenzy.

Feeling dizzy, Aventine had no choice but to stay close to Li’lsuo’s healing range. All of that sonic soul damage was beginning to pile up. If even the surrounding crypt cracked and shivered, what more would his own eardrums?

Luckily.

The shaman had stepped up, imbuing the party with newfound strength and making sure that their environment remained conducive to their continued survival.

A zone of life and vitality swirled around the party as they fought off the horde. Very Sighed kept one eye on the Skeleton King as it suddenly rushed forward.

—Boom!

A low rumble shook the crypt as a fierce wind was kicked up. The Skeleton King wielded a halberd proportionate to his size.

The fifteen-foot-tall giant skeleton wielded a twenty-five-foot-long halberd...

Looking at how much space it could cover, Aventine’s eyes flashed. His gaze drifted off to the chambers that Kirivan had emerged from.

"Hm..."

The <Power of Death> that gave him invisibility also called out to him.

However, the moment he directed [Absolute Awareness] into the depths of Kirivan’s chamber—

"Oh, shit—"

His mana vanished into nothingness.

If not for the fact that <Power of Death> did not use mana as a driving force, he would have lost his invisibility.

No wonder he could not peer into the chamber’s secrets before it was opened up—and even then, the price to surveil was much too steep.

Only Kirivan stood out, floating above the abyss of terrifying truths, available for him to observe.

But the Skeleton King was just a ripple along the surface.

What Aventine wanted were the secrets it held.

’Unfortunately,’ He almost clicked his tongue when he saw what barred his senses.

Looking at the dense amalgamation of threads hidden inside Kirivan’s chamber, at least, the reason why all his mana vanished was made clear.

There, lying in the Malevolent Miasma, was a cocoon made out of <Fate’s> threads. Whatever was inside it... Aventine had to take it with his own hands.

However, he also felt wary.

The most fateful item he’d stolen so far was Melia’s <Sword of Light>. Whatever was inside that cocoon was clearly something pivotal.

Moreover, he had an intuitive notion that it wouldn’t be useful to him at all.

In fact...

It might be detrimental.

Thus, Aventine scanned the group from Very Sighed as he regenerated and absorbed as much mana as he was capable of. With what he had, he had discovered a faint, thread-like haze connecting the party to their surroundings.

But not a single thread led to the cocoon.

’Odd...’

Judging by this sight...

—BOOM!

Skeleton King Kirivan had arrived before the feeble party of five. The king’s halberd flashed, tearing through the sound barrier as it was swung forward.

The giant polearm screamed obliteration.

"STAND BEHIND ME!"

Pulvir roared his lungs out, holding his tower shield above his head.

—Crack.

Suddenly, he began to expand.

[Lesser Gigantification]!

[Muscle Bulking]!

[Immovable Fortress]!

It was finally time for the tank to shine.

—CLANG!

The polearm, twenty-five feet long, slammed its blade onto Pulvir’s shield. However, the dwarf had risen to stand just five feet shorter than the giant skeleton. His tower shield had expanded accordingly, matching Kirivan’s size.

The halberd could not blast its way through with its dull, rotting blade.

[Revitalization]!

From the shaman, Li’lsuo, a wide, green field expanded, engulfing Pulvir within its embrace.

"Nice!" Pulvir grinned, taking a heavy step forward and pushing the halberd aside.

Kirivan revealed an opening, pushed back by the momentum. The hulking skeletal frame staggered back, but that only meant that it had created distance once again.

Ghush could not bridge that gap fast enough with just his greatsword.

Thus.

A faint whistle echoed in everyone’s ears.

Before a dull thud seemed to pierce into the Skeleton King’s skull.

"Heh,"

—Boom!

A muffled explosion shook Kirivan’s eye sockets, spilling out Malevolent Miasma in waves. For a moment, it seemed like the Skeleton King wept even further.

As if reminiscing about his subjects.

The kingdom he once loved with all his heart and ruled with great wisdom.

’Tragic indeed,’ Aventine inwardly sighed.

[Absolute Awareness] was back online, allowing him to read into what remained of the King of Grace, Kirivan.

Although the king’s lands had long been overrun by the undead and absorbed into the Soulless City, Kirivan’s soul still bore its markings.

The weight of his responsibility remained, sustaining his Necromancy and allowing him to continue governing his subjects many millennia later.

Of course, it was wholly against his will.

Grakkis only cared about results. He would not allow any deviations to appear in his grand schemes.

Aventine glimpsed the memory that left the greatest scar on Kirivan’s soul.

"This grand realm will one day become as undying as I."

Grakkis was sitting upon a throne of bones and precious gemstones. His eyes gleamed a deep crimson. Every single bone on his body was a pristine, sterilized white. Silk robes draped down from his shoulders, gilded with the purest of gold.

In his hands was a staff of crystalline formation—natural, as if accepting the state of undeath as a <Law> of the world.

"I will become a god!"

Such were the aspirations of the Elder Lich.

Suddenly, Aventine had a feeling he knew what was wrapped in that cocoon.

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