Lich for Hire

Chapter 282: Breaking the Sound Barrier

After relieving the adventurers of their belongings, Ambrose came away with over three thousand gold, a set of infernal knight armor in good condition, an elmwood staff, and a handful of miscellaneous items.

By his estimate, the haul was worth sixty to seventy thousand gold coins in total. The most valuable piece, without question, was the full set of armor. This wasn't just some antique. It was fully functional equipment steeped in history, in a mythic saga tied to a fallen angel.

Armor that had marched through Hell itself, armor worn by traitors... To the right collector, it wouldn't just fetch tens of thousands. It might even go for ten times that price.

"These adventurers are richer than they look," Ambrose mused. Still, now that he'd thoroughly stripped them of their possessions, could they still pay off their debts to the tavern? Odds were, more than a few of them would end up sold into slavery to cover their debts.

It was a reminder to never act on impulse. If you escalate a situation recklessly, your opponent would have no choice but to flip the table. And once that happens, a single misstep might ruin you for good.

Just as Ambrose was about to leave, satisfied with his spoils, he suddenly sensed something unusual inside his extradimensional space.

He stepped aside, opened it up, and found the infernal knight armor glowing.

It released a deep crimson glow, searing, like the flames of Hell.

Curious, he moved closer. A fiery phantom emerged from the armor: the weathered face of an elderly tifling, opening his mouth to spew hellfire at him.

Ambrose waved a hand, effortlessly dispersing the flames. With a flick of his finger, three crimson bolts struck the armor, blasting it backward.

The armor took the hit without much damage. The fiery phantom sank back into it, animating the suit like a living body. It strode toward Ambrose, engulfed in flames.

Ambrose chuckled. Without lifting a finger, the armor froze in place, its motion halted, even the flames suspended mid-burn.

This was his private domain. Time itself bent to his will here.

He walked up to the immobilized armor, examining it with interest. "Hellfire... a vengeful spirit... now that's a rare combination."

The phantom bore some resemblance to the unfortunate party leader from earlier. Likely an ancestral spirit, but one seething with resentment.

"Let me guess... a traitor in life, unable to rest in death. It was bound to the armor and passed down through generations. It didn't harm its descendants, but the moment the armor changed hands, it started acting up."

That sounded about right.

Reaching out, Ambrose grasped the frozen spirit. With a tug, he drew out a thread of fiery red essence. Then, with practiced ease, he began unraveling it, pulling it apart strand by strand until the vengeful spirit was reduced to a tangled skein.

From its memories, he confirmed his suspicions.

The original owner had lived in wealth and glory after his betrayal, only to be consumed by terror in his later years. He feared falling into Hell, or facing the lord he had betrayed.

That fear morphed him into a vengeful spirit. And so it lingered, bound to the armor, passed from father to son, until the latest heir fled the Unholy Kingdom and came to the desert to make a living as an adventurer.

But within those memories, Ambrose found something more interesting. The infernal knights who had betrayed the angel Sariel were being purged.

Even if most of the original traitors were long dead, their descendants were now being hunted. That explained why these tiflings had fled their homeland.

The tifling captain, a former noble in possession of a powerful inheritance, had been able to crew a reasonably good adventuring party, but had been unlucky enough to run into Ambrose.

"Interesting... Is the Unholy Kingdom rounding them up as offerings to Sariel?" Ambrose muttered. "Trading the descendants of traitors for her support..."

The theory made a disturbing amount of sense.

After all, Sariel had only grown stronger after her fall. Controlling a kingdom wouldn't be difficult for her.

That said, the tiflings likely hadn't gone too far. Otherwise, the gods would have intervened already.

Ambrose sighed. "Alkhemia had a madman trying to ascend to godhood. That failed spectacularly. The Court of the Silver Moon tried to revive elven supremacy. That backfired, too. The tiflings are flirting with Hell, a recipe for disaster. Why is it that every nation trying to self-destruct actually crashes and burns... and yet Lyon keeps getting away with it?"

Truly, it was divine injustice. If anyone deserved blessings, it was a world-improving lich like him, not those religious fanatics.

After venting, Ambrose turned back to the thread of spirit essence in his hands.

It was a high-quality soul, strong and resilient. Perfect to be repurposed. Trim some memories, strip the excess emotion, add some functionality, and brand it with his own mark... Before long, the infernal wraith had been remade in its entirety.

He stuffed the reconstructed spirit back into the armor. Flames erupted. The armor split into dozens of components, flying toward Ambrose and assembling themselves onto his skeletal frame piece by piece.

In an instant, he was clad in the full suit of armor.

Then, hellfire burst from his limbs. Jets of flame roared from his arms and legs, lifting him into the air.

He cast Featherfall on himself. His body became light as a plume as the thrust carried him upward, out of his extradimensional space and into the skies above Sweetdew City.

He shot into the night, carving a blazing arc across the heavens. To avoid dealing with the city's lizardman patrols, he flew straight out beyond the city limits.

High above, he felt the rushing wind and quickly estimated his speed. "About two hundred kilometers per hour..."

Not bad. It was far faster than standard flight magic, which capped at around sixty to seventy kilometers per hour.

"Can I push it further... combine it with proper jet propulsion... maybe with my mithril body..."

He flew through the night, landing occasionally to tweak and refine his design.

By sunrise, he had upgraded again into a new mithril exoskeleton layered beneath the armor.

It was bulky, yes, but effective.

With Flight, Featherfall, and his old jet propulsion engine in tandem, Ambrose shot skyward. The acceleration was so violent it felt like his very soul might be torn from his body.

A thunderous boom followed. He had broken the sound barrier.

Unfortunately, the jet engine, which had been modified from a magitech cannon, was still unstable. After reaching a thousand meters in elevation, it exploded.

Ambrose tumbled through the sky before stabilizing himself.

Only an undead body could have survived that. A living being would have blacked out instantly and been splattered on the ground moments later.

"Still needs work," he muttered. "Less power, more stability. As long as it doesn't explode, this setup should reliably break the sound barrier."

Speed was an attribute no one could afford to ignore.

Last time, Ambrose had managed to toy with a squad of legendary paladins purely because he was faster. Without that advantage, they would have ground him into dust.

If he could sustain supersonic speed, he would be untouchable in aerial combat.

Even the Silvermoon Knight's blade attack might not keep up. At that point, no one would ever be able to touch him.

Over a single day, he would be able to bombard multiple cities across the Lyon Empire: a Meteor Shower here, a Meteor Shower there, Meteor Showers everywhere...

He would be a highly mobile, mana-rich entity equivalent to an entire battlemage corps.

The thought alone was terrifying. And just as he was indulging in that vision, something even better appeared before him.

The God of Alchemy descended beside him, holding out four small boxes no larger than fingers.

"I've extracted the divine domains. Take them."

Ambrose blinked. "Why are there four?" The God of Alchemy was due one for himself.

"I don't need any of them," the God of Alchemy replied. "So you'll have to trade me something else." His gaze fell on Ambrose's armor. "That equipment of yours that can break the sound barrier... I want all relevant technical data. I have the feeling that alchemy is on the verge of a breakthrough."