Lich for Hire

Chapter 286: The World is a Cycle

Ambrose flew on, stopping several times along the way to repair his armor.

At last, he reached a certain conclusion: in its current form, the mech simply wasn't suited for long-distance flight. No matter how carefully he repaired it, something would break again after the next stretch. After a journey of a thousand kilometers, he had no choice but to slow down. His supply of spare parts was nearly exhausted, and if anything else failed, he wouldn't be able to fix it.

"So the movies from my past life really were nonsense... Humans just aren't shaped for supersonic flight. I'll have to redesign the armor."

While the armor's form was flawed, the jetpack itself proved unexpectedly reliable.

He had expected malfunctions after five hundred kilometers, but it had remained intact even after twice that distance. Instead, it was the flame wraith that was wearing out. It had faded to near-transparency and was barely able to hold the armor together, as if it might fall apart at any moment.

With only two to three hundred kilometers left to the Court of the Silver Moon, Ambrose no longer dared to maintain supersonic speed. He reverted to ordinary flight magic.

But after tasting supersonic travel, flying at sixty or seventy kilometers per hour felt painfully slow.

As he drifted lazily through the sky, Ambrose pulled out the Necromantic Codex.

Sure enough, there were messages, and more than one at that.

[Black Rose: I'm tied up at the moment. I'll send Milena to collect the divine domain.] Then, later: [Black Rose: Are you not home? She says she only saw a human servant when she teleported in.]

Ambrose jolted. Had she seen Harvey? He genuinely worried Milena might kill him. Undead didn't always need a reason to kill the living. It was instinctive and born of a deep-seated resentment of opposites.

He quickly replied, [Megaman Tiga: Have Milena come to the Court of the Silver Moon. I'm handling affairs here. Tell her not to kill anyone at my place.]

[Black Rose: Relax. I warned her before she left. I know you have a particular fondness for living beauties. Let me send you a few drow, too.]

Ambrose frowned. Where had that rumor even come from? What would a lich want with beauties?

Still, as long as Harvey stayed alive, he didn't care. His reputation was already bad enough; there was no need to address every rumor.

He moved on to the second message, from Gareth.

[Dullahan's Crown: Aren't you home, bro? Where are you?]

Ambrose was speechless. The others had claimed they needed time. Black Rose had asked for a few days, Gareth claimed the dragons needed to prepare some gifts for him.

Why had they all teleported over the moment he left?

Couldn't they at least give him a heads-up?

Sighing, Ambrose replied, [Megaman Tiga: I'm heading to the Court of the Silver Moon. Meet me there. If you teleport, don't go directly into the Court. The elves might treat you as an intruder. Let's meet at the town of Springblossom on the border. It's open to outsiders.]

Though the elves were isolationist, they weren't completely cut off. They still oversaw the trade of magical materials.

Springblossom served as their only gateway to the outside world.

Since Ambrose couldn't teleport over at the moment, meeting his companions there was his only option. Otherwise, he could have gone straight to Catherine, had her grant him access, and teleported everyone directly into the elven palace.

"Such a hassle... I'd better get a good price this time," Ambrose thought to himself. "If I can join the elven pantheon, I won't have to worry about Shara causing trouble. Let her try picking a fight with the elven god-king! She'd get slapped to death."

Even the Lord of Dawn might not be a match for Choralan. Under his protection, Ambrose would have nothing to fear from the four evil goddesses.

Meanwhile, less than two hundred kilometers behind him, a young figure flashed across the land in rapid succession.

Allen Watson, following the lingering aura of necromancy, had actually managed to catch up.

It was only possible because Ambrose kept landing for repairs. Otherwise, even Allen wouldn't have managed to stay on his trail.

Even so, he was nearly collapsing from exhaustion.

"Who is this necromancer?" he thought. I've been teleporting nonstop. How is he still faster than I am? Is he riding a dragon or something?"

Worse, every time Allen was about to give up, he would feel the trail growing stronger again.

Suspicion crept in. Could this be a trap? But that made no sense. Who would lure him away over a distance of hundreds of kilometers?

Despite the growing sensation of wrongness, Allen pressed on.

The necromancer had killed innocent people. Allen would see justice done, even if the Lyon Empire had branded him a traitor to the Light.

The trail was growing strong again, stronger than ever before. Allen knew he was closing in on the necromancer, even if a potential trap lay in his way.

It reminded him of his past humiliation, charging recklessly at that lich only to fall into a trap.

Even their second encounter in the desert had ended the same way: he had been outplayed and outmaneuvered. He had disgraced and enslaved all the paladins of the town without killing a single human.

At least this time, he wouldn't be the only one humiliated.

"I'm different now."

Allen's confidence burned bright. He was no longer the naïve, inexperienced youth he once was. He had ascended to the realm of legend. If he met that lich again, he would make sure to teach him an unforgettable lesson.

Driven by that resolve, he continued his pursuit.

Unaware of the hunter closing in, Ambrose pressed onward. He could hardly sense a paladin from two hundred kilometers away, but that sense of impending trouble hadn't dissipated.

"Should I try divination?" he wondered. "Or will the Goddess of Fate just roll her eyes at me?"

"Forget it. It's not fatal anyway."

He chose to accept the premonition without doing anything about it, as if he were tolerating a lover's occasional temper—a capricious princess's, really. Anger her, and he might lose his head.

Following his original plan, Ambrose flew toward Springblossom. After several hours, he finally saw the settlement blooming across the land like a flower.

The elves excelled at blending beauty with function. Their bows looked delicate enough to snap, yet were stronger than any human design.

The town of Springblossom was much the same, bearing a floral layout that was both breathtaking and meticulously integrated into its surroundings.

Springblossom, as the Court of the Silver Moon's main trading hub, was replete with warehouses filled with all sorts of magical materials. Though its roads curved and tapered like petals, it had no issue with transportation or logistics. Despite the heavy traffic, Ambrose could not spot a single blockade or jam.

Even Ambrose had to admit that this level of design wasn't something just anyone could achieve. The slightest carelessness could have ruined the marriage of form and function.

He landed smoothly and entered the town without issue.

As a trading hub, Springblossom was light on inspections. Its outer districts were filled with merchants from across the world.

The moment he entered, he sensed familiar presences. He soon spotted Gareth in armor—and Milena, looking around with childlike curiosity.

They had arrived early and had clearly been waiting for some time.

"Teleportation really is convenient..."

No wonder no one bothered with supersonic flight.

Ambrose walked over and said, "Come on. Let's find somewhere private and talk."

Divine domains weren't the kind of matter to be discussed in public.

But how would they find privacy in a town like Springblossom?