Writer, trying to learn art // 22 // Trying to set up Death King Karnak's wiki, will get around to that soon. // As you might guess I read alot lmao. Send me manwha recs
Hiii just using this to make a pinned post/keep lists. This is a side blog I have dedicated towards my writing, art (eventually), and the various novels / manga / manwha / etc. I read.
Ask box and DMs always open! I love chatting about pretty much anything & if you're worried about spoilers, don't be! Though I'll tag them as Spoiler // Novel Title Here.
I love getting critique if you have any!
Currently working on: Several DKK fanfics & maybe a SCTIR fic if the plot bunny goes anywhere.
First fanfic finished! Expect a few more sooner or later!
Ao3 Link!
The first meeting between Karnak and Baros and various moments after that, how things have changed and how they've stayed the same.
If you don't want to read on Ao3, it'll be under the following Read-More!
Talent for necromancy is, unlike all other forms of magic or supernatural ability, not something you’re born with. No matter how studious you are, the lack of morals and empathy doesn’t often come naturally. Evil is rarely evil just for the sake of it, and even the most powerful necromancer was once a small child.
And before Karnak had learned to run from the church, from the various armies that sought to end his reign as the “Death King” he had learned to run from a far simpler— though no less vicious enemy.
Still tender from his mothers death just a few days ago, the jeers of his family and servants alike cut deep. And in an act of rage, he too had tried to cut, fighting with the strength of a feral animal as he tried to claw at his brother's face. It hadn’t done much, these fights were always a two-versus-one and both were much bigger and stronger. But the sight of the wound on his useless face gave Karnak a sense of pride.
(Though the memory is now long forgotten, a century between the young boy angry and the injustice of the world and the man who’s proven himself stronger than all, one thing has never changed; he will always get revenge for those he counts among his circle.)
As the day progressed, Karnak collected all the spare coins he could, wrapped carefully in the cloth purse his mother loved. He waited until dusk had begun to settle and then he snuck down to the kitchens. By now he knew exactly where the staff kept everything so with little problem he amassed enough to disappear into the night and to never turn back.
(Another thing remained the same; when faced with an unsolvable problem; he ran.)
And then he left, clothed in nothing but his favorite outfit and some nice boots, hopefully to never return. He walked, and he walked, and he walked until he could no longer. Barely aware of where he ended up— it hadn’t really mattered in the moment but he’d wondered if he should’ve regret it, he caught sight of something limping its way to an alleyway.
Karnak followed after a moment, feelings of curiosity and apprehension pushing him forwards. And that’s when the universe shifted on its axis by just a few degrees.
(There were many legends about soulmates. From marks, to red strings, to any number of things happening when you meet them. Karnak thought it was all fairytales and useless things to make new lovers happy. Baros sometimes wondered if, maybe, there was any amount of truth to them.)
A small, dirty boy was curled up by some leftover boxes. He was thin, having clearly not had a meal in a long time. His blond hair looked nearly black with how much grime was stuck to it. His clothing as well was torn at the edges. He was pitiful, he was dying.
Uncertain what to do— the boy was just a few years younger than him it seemed, Karnak approached quietly. He stood over him for a moment, before the boy's eyes met his. He flinched, curling inwards and guilt stabbed at Karnak’s heart.
“Do you… want some food?” He asked, slowly reaching into his bag to split some of the bread he had stowed away.
(Nowadays, Baros doesn’t even ask before eating right off Karnak's plate. Granted, Karnak also doesn’t really ask before eating off of Baros’ either. Both had grown complacent in the stolen side dishes or sneaky forks spiriting away small bites so long as at the end both had their fair share. Not even Serati’s raised eyebrow at them sharing a kebab or Karnak eating off of Baros’ fork would break this long standing habit.)
The boy isn’t able to speak, or perhaps he’s simply unwilling, but he takes the bread. He eats like the slightly stale meal is ambrosia. Karnak watches him closely, taking in every detail. He wonders what he should do; surely the boy must have somewhere to go back to, right? He’d packed whatever he could but not enough for two people to eat.
(Many years later, somewhere between discovering necromancy and the end of the world they split an orange. Karnak had thrown the thing at Baros, demanding his knight's help after he had spent 30 minutes trying, and failing to get the thing open. After Baros had spent another half hour laughing at him, it had been peeled. Both were sure they’d lost most of their sense of taste by then, but, somehow this colorful fruit tasted like heaven.)
And then, the kid looked up at him again.
It was an expression of pure, undiluted trust and joy.
Karnak doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at him like that, except for maybe his mother. So he takes out more food.
“I’ll give you more if you tell me your name. I’m Karnak.”
“...Baros”
The boy was quiet, almost so quiet Karnak couldn’t hear him. His voice was rough with disuse. Karnak handed him one of the sweets he’d carried with him, just as promised, watching as the boys entire face lit up after just a bite. He couldn’t help but smile in return.
(When they were on the cusp of being teenagers, sitting in the unkempt garden looking up towards the night sky, Karnak had asked what Baros’ dream was. Looking towards the stars, Baros mumbled something about the butler suggesting he become a knight. Karnak said nothing, but, after that if things just so happened to fall into place for Baros to start training, no one said anything.)
They kept talking, each question being met with another piece of food. The night wore on and together they had attempted to find shelter. The inn had turned them away— the meager amount of coin Karnak had taken wasn’t nearly enough but he did lend them a blanket. So they huddled together on a nearby bench.
(It was years later when Baros had asked the same of Karnak. In the darkness of the attic they were hiding away in, his eyes almost looked like the space in between two stars, deep wells of some undefinable emotion. Endless. Karnak had no clear answer at that time, just vague hopes of showing their family that they were more than vermin, to become a better businessman and lord then those that had come before him. But Baros knew none of those were truly what he wanted. So Baros settled next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Karnak’s head rested on him as they settled down for the night. Whatever the true answer ended up being, they’ll do this together as they always had.)
Karnak had woken first, and he took inventory of all of the supplies he’d taken. It… wasn’t nearly enough to keep going. Especially not with Baros in tow. After thinking about it, he wondered if he should return home. He didn’t want to but— if he could take Baros with him, then maybe it’d be okay? He’d be able to take care of him, and he wouldn’t have to worry about the boy dying or anything. And it’d be less lonely in the manor. So he waited until the boy woke up, then after splitting the rest of his food he began to speak.
“If you come with me, I’ll give you more. I’ll…I’ll protect you.”
(When the church had captured Varos and locked him in the deepest part of what may as well be an evil vault, they had assumed Karnak would not come for him. Karnak has never come for any of his subjects before, and to them, seemed more than ruthless enough to save his own skin at the cost of someone else. And if it were anyone else, they might have been right. It’s much easier to just raise another knight, to create another lich or to find more bodies. But there will always be one exception.)
“I’ll take care of you. And we’ll be friends forever.”
“Do you mean it? Forever?”
(In the present day, Karnak often forgot that Barros was no longer his Acolyte. Truly, nothing had actually changed about how they acted. But…
When Karnak gave the order to retreat, it had been absolute. He had watched Serati and the others freeze in place for a moment as the words washed over them. And he’d watched them run. He had intended to join them but— he had to go back. He couldn’t leave Raphisel. So he went back into the fray.
When he’d secured the young girl, he’d turned back. And there Baros had been. “Where else would I be if you’re here, young master?”)
With a hesitant nod and a handshake to seal the deal, the two began the trek back to the manor. The boy had been too weak so midway through Karnak had taken to carrying him on his back. It was…unusual. But it felt warm, like when his mother use to carry him around. So he didn’t mind too much.
(It’s now Baros who carries Karnak around. Before their second chance at things Karnak never… really put any effort into his body. And while he’d tease, poke, and try to prompt him into doing a bit of training it never worked. And he found he didn’t care too much. He has no need to think if Karnak was on his back, there’s no need to check his blind spots or worry of an enemy he cannot react to because his young master is right there. And on those nights when it seems like the church or any of their many enemies would come bearing down they would sleep cuddled close. Bodies so close they could hear the others dull, but present, heartbeat.)
Eventually they arrived, much to the relief of the young butler who had been the sole person to notice that the youngest son had run away. He had nearly fainted, however, when the little boy had proudly presented his ‘new friend’. After sorting out the situation, the butler expressed that Karnak would have to clear it with his father to keep the boy around.
So, with little hesitation, the small boy marched up to his fathers office. But he lost his nerve after he reached the impossibly tall doors that had always separated them. Baros held onto his sleeve, apprehensive upon seeing Karnak’s anxiety.
So the young child steeled his resolve. He’d protect his friend, he’d provide for him since he promised he would. He opened the door and walked in, trying to be as confident and as aloof as he could be.
His father hadn’t even looked at him.
It doesn’t matter, because in the end Baros was by his side and together they’d become better than anyone. With as much sincerity as a ten year old can offer, Karnak promised that they’ll make a better future.
(They were 20 when Karnak had begun to hide something from him. Baros couldn’t quite tell what it was, outside of something that required several long nights of research and questionable meetings when he thought Baros was out patrolling.
Karnak was keeping something from him.
So, Baros did the only thing he could. He grabbed Karnak by the back of the shirt and demanded to know what was happening. The smile on the other mans face should’ve been chilling, the ramblings about some ancient power, raising the dead, but it wasn’t.
Both of them had grown into their terrible reputations, as the years weathered at idealism and the value of honor. If the young master wanted to walk into hell, who was he to say no? So long as they walk together, it was fine.)
