In Another World with Absolute Awareness

Aventine was busy analyzing the staff, <Soul Permanence>, in his possession. He could barely spare any other effort, given the woven cocoon of <Fate> surrounding it.

Of course, he knew about the <Yearner’s Grimoire>. It wasn’t something that interested him.

He did not need to hold the book to study its gifts. Now that he was aware of its existence, it was easy to access its contents whenever he had the mana and felt like it.

It was even easier once Very Sighed took it out of the crypt. No longer would he need to spend an extra handful of mana to bypass the thick, protective enchantments.

Thus, he began to space out.

[Absolute Awareness] had infiltrated a gap in the slowly unravelling cocoon of <Fate> threads.

Now that the crystal staff of <Soul Permanence> was in his possession, it had lost its original purpose. Everything it was supposed to experience as a powerful item was rendered null and void.

Of course, if Aventine returned the staff before its fated owner arrived, then the fate cocoon would wind itself back into place.

Alas, the thief had no intention of doing so.

With a few strands already fully unravelled, Aventine took a look at the traces of time on its crystal body.

He peered into a specific point in its past.

** *

Grakkis overlooked a vast horizon filled with a writhing sea of white and pale blue.

Billions of Undead heeded his every command. Skeletons, wraiths, bone dragons, liches, and even the monstrous vampires of yore.

All of them swayed with the tremors in the ground.

—Clack, clack!

The elder lich walked forward, bones rattling against his enchanted jewellery. Platinum-gold chainmail adorned his robes, reflecting the pale moonlight above his head.

None of what he wore was made to resist physical attacks. All of them were instead deeply imbued with magic of various kinds.

It was the result of the last few hundred years of research.

In the past, his armies had grown vast enough that the surrounding kingdoms became wary. The fringes of his lands had faced endless harassment, as if those souls could ever hope to probe his lands for information.

They feared him so much that indecision clouded their judgement.

After all...

To venture deep into his kingdom required one to offer up their own soul.

Involuntarily, of course.

Now, however, there was a force that could threaten him. Logic dictated he had to make a move before that force gained too much strength.

’The children of Grace?’

"Hmph."

Grakkis did not feel even a shred of apprehension nor rage at their impudence. Emotionless were his body and soul, incapable of anything more than pure rationality.

Thus, he raised his crystalline staff, letting the moonlight shine upon its translucent, colorless gleam.

<Soul Permanence> emanated a malevolence born from the depths of the Elder Lich’s soul.

"To war!"

Grakkis did not speak. Instead, the ghosts around him boomed with a shrieking chorus that sang of his commands.

"To war! To war! To war!"

The vast horde of bones and immortal flesh slammed their weapons into the ground and roared.

—KRIEEEAAAAAAAK!

The bone dragons rose to the sky, flapping their bony wings. The wraiths all shrieked in accompaniment.

This vast display of power was possible only because Grakkis wielded a soul that no being could tear apart.

Even if trillions more tugged at his soul, trying to escape his command, nothing would happen. He would remain whole, and his consciousness would be undeterred.

"Enslave the Kingdom of Grace. Bring me the body of its king. Let those humans know the price of their hubris."

—Bang.

Grakkis slammed his crystalline staff into the marble floor.

"Kill them all!"

Spells emanated from the Elder Lich’s deceptively frail figure.

[Infinite Resurrection].

[Eternal Flame].

[Soul Corrosion].

[Undead Cohesion].

[Lethal Aura].

[Encroaching Fear].

[Malignant Choirs].

[Life of Decay].

...

...

...

...

[True End, Instant Death].

[Death Domain].

A thousand spells bloomed, yet the Elder Lich’s mana still seemed endless.

The only time a chunk of it was diminished was when he used his final spell.

[Gate of Instantaneous Travel].

—vwhooooooOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM!

A tiny sphere expanded into a massive, crackling hole in space. It flew into the air and bound itself to the ground. A pillar of darkness formed, bearing four grand arches in every cardinal direction.

The undead army turned towards it.

Sensing the vibrant souls on the other side, filled with the beauty and vitality of life, a deep-seated hunger awakened within their dull, crimson eyes.

Then, the first skeleton took a step forward.

—Clack.

Then, a hundred followed after.

One thousand vampires drifted forward.

Ten thousand vengeful ghosts flowed like a river.

A hundred thousand walking corpses lumbered forth.

While hundreds of millions of skeletons surged forward like a tide.

The sheer grandiosity of this sight would send all living beings into the depths of despair. What hope would they have to fight off an army of this size?

Battling the tireless, deathless army that knew no fear... Who were they to even hope for victory?

Who were they to dream of glory?

Even the skeletons alone could end kingdoms. What more when they were supported by the elites? Ghosts, wraiths, zombies, vampires, and ghouls were just a few of those well-known species.

Grakkis had created many more types of undead in the long years of his isolation.

Thus!

In just three months.

The Kingdom of Grace fell.

No one survived.

The king, his advisors, and the entire royal family were resurrected as elites.

Millions became food for the undead horde. Whatever remained was reanimated—their souls joined the choirs of ghosts and banshees, their bones marched with the legions of skeletons, and their flesh was assimilated by the shapeless abominations of rotting meat.

Kirivan became the commander of the skeletons, dubbed the Skeleton King by Grakkis himself. It was a mockery of his empty title and lost kingdom.

The undead had burned all of its history and cut off its descendants in one fell swoop.

Such was the tragic end of humanity’s earliest kingdom, delaying the proliferation of humanity by several millennia.

It was only when Grakkis attempted Apotheosis to become a Necromantic God that he finally fell. The Elder Lich was erased by the hubris wrought by endless power and immortality.

Nothing of him remained...

Save for the staff that enslaved his soul, anchoring it forever into its embrace.

** *

"...Shit,"

Understanding this point, Aventine grimaced.

’Not again...’

Suddenly, an ancient choir of voices rang in his mind.

—[ So an inheritor has finally found us. ]

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