Chapter 105: The Profane Sacred Slash

After casting a high-tier invisibility spell, Ambrose strode brazenly into the territory of House Skinner.

Though the house might boast a long history, it lacked the means to pierce advanced invisibility.

Ambrose passed through layer after layer of guards as if strolling through a park. He made his way straight into the mines.

Blast furnaces belched black smoke. Ore was sorted on the spot and smelted into ingots of various metals.

House Skinner's mines featured a peculiar composite vein of intermingled iron and copper, along with a potpourri of other metals, as if several separate veins had been forcibly kneaded together. It hardly seemed natural.

Such a deposit was a nightmare to work. Different metals required different smelting methods; they had to be separated first, then refined in furnaces at varying temperatures.

The more metals were mixed together, the harder the separation became.

Ambrose picked up a chunk of mixed ore and muttered to himself, "No wonder House Skinner is pouring resources into alchemical laboratories. This mine alone could never turn a profit. They might even be losing money."

This wouldn't be a problem for living mercury. No matter how many metals were mixed together, living mercury could digest it all the same.

Ambrose released the two living mercury slimes at once.

Freshly split, the slimes were ravenous. They pounced on the hills of ore and began to gorge themselves.

Their ability to devour metal was terrifying. Like water poured onto salt, the ore mounds visibly caved in before his very eye sockets.

The commotion quickly drew the attention of the miners. None of them had ever seen creatures like the living mercury slimes before. When the iron picks and shovels in their hands were swallowed whole, they decisively called for the guards.

But the guards fared no better. Their spears vanished the instant they struck the living mercury, leaving only wooden shafts behind.

The two slimes were simply too hungry. They had no interest in fighting; food was far more important.

But their passivity gave the guards the wrong idea. They assumed the puddles of mercury were harmless.

Since metal was useless, they tried to corral the puddles of mercury away with wooden poles, hoping to scoop them into barrels before they could corrode more ore.

More than a dozen poles jabbed and poked at the living mercury, proving to be sufficiently annoying as to enrage them. Blades sprouted from their pliant bodies, and they hacked wildly at the guards.

Five men were beheaded on the spot. Many more lost arms or legs.

The fight began, and ended, almost instantly.

After all, ordinary people stood no chance against them. Even trained soldiers were little more than fodder.

With blood spilled and lives lost, the situation escalated rapidly. The mine overseer, apparently an alchemist, arrived at once.

He was a man of some learning, and he recognized the two globs of metal-devouring mercury instantly.

"Living mercury? That's impossible!"

Everyone knew that living mercury was one of Alkhemia's failures. This was the first time he had ever seen them move.

In that instant, a crazy thought struck him. If he could capture these two specimens and study them properly, he might become the next legendary alchemist.

He immediately ordered the soldiers not to act rashly, then pulled out a collection of bottles and began mixing something together on the spot.

Ambrose watched for a moment and guessed his intent.

He was creating a potent sleeping draught that would be effective on the vast majority of living creatures.

A fine idea—except he had underestimated the intelligence of the living mercury.

The alchemist had just finished brewing the potion when a chunk of ore suddenly flew through the air, smashing the vial in his hand to pieces.

A pale white mist spread outward. There was a dull thump as the alchemist collapsed, instantly asleep. Even when his forehead split open on the ground, he did not stir.

The stone had been thrown by one of the slimes. After the successful ambush, both of them began emitting strange noises. Only Ambrose understood that they were laughing uproariously.

Ambrose was genuinely surprised. They were behaving far more cleverly than before.

The seemingly simple act of throwing a stone belied the slimes' burgeoning intelligence.

When he had first set one of them against the paladin Allen, it could only mindlessly mimic his movements and was completely suppressed by Allen's swordplay. Only after Ambrose reminded it that it could shapeshift did it finally defeat Allen.

This time, however, Ambrose had said nothing at all. The living mercury had recognized the danger in the alchemist's hands, chosen to strike first, and did so with precise intent. Throwing a stone was mechanically simple, but deciding to do so at all, and when exactly to do so, was not. The living mercury understood that glass bottles could be shattered, and that the liquid inside could be turned against its maker.

Their budding intelligence pleased Ambrose greatly.

With the alchemist down, the soldiers hurriedly carted him off before nervously surrounding the two slimes again. They had no clue what to do against such monsters.

Someone finally shouted, "Burn them! Burn these monsters to death!"

"Quick on the uptake," Ambrose praised inwardly.

From an unseen corner, Ambrose released all of his elemental undead: constructs of sand and glass shards, five of each type.

"Go on, little ones. Let me see what you can do."

These elemental undead had had a few days' worth of life by now, and their intelligence had clearly increased.

Fine sand spread out, creeping forward inch by inch across the ground, almost impossible to notice unless one was staring at it closely.

These sand undead had learned the nature of their own bodies and could analyze their surroundings, enabling their stealthy advance.

The glass undead, on the other hand, knew perfectly well that sunlight would leave them conspicuous. They didn't bother with subtlety. Instead, they clustered together and rolled straight toward their targets.

The scraping sound of shattered glass caught the attention of a few soldiers. By the time they realized what was causing the commotion, five glass spheres had already reached them.

At close range, the shards burst apart, wrapping around the soldiers' calves and spinning madly.

These foot soldiers were not entitled to full plate armor. The sharp glass quickly shredded their boots and padded trousers, carving wide gashes into their flesh.

Screams erupted. The scene looked devastating, but Ambrose was not entirely satisfied.

The elemental undead did not yet understand their enemies' weak points. They simply attacked whatever was closest within reach, resulting in wounds that were mostly superficial.

Still, there was no hurry. They would learn through experience.

And though Ambrose had found their combat performance lacking, the soldiers of House Skinner felt very differently. A mass of shattered glass flayed their calves in a thousand cuts, and their blood streamed everywhere. It was a terrifying experience.

Worse still, the wounds were not immediately fatal. The injured soldiers screamed in agony, spreading fear to everyone else.

Meanwhile, the living mercury, which had been eagerly devouring the mined ore, noticed their underlings fighting. They paused their meal and charged in, swinging silvery blades, cutting the soldiers down in rivers of blood.

Not every soldier had undergone bloodslave conditioning. Most were unable to truly conquer their fear. Confronted one after another by incomprehensible monsters, they lost the courage to resist and began to scatter and flee.

The chaotic stampede kicked fine sand into the air. The sand undead were only able to reconstitute themselves after most of the soldiers had run off. They had lain in ambush for nothing.

Ambrose watched from the side, offering no guidance. Some lessons, they would have to learn on their own.

After finishing off the remaining soldiers, the living mercury returned to devouring the ore.

Having split in two, their appetites had doubled as well. Hill after hill of ore vanished, leaving only heaps of slag behind. Even so, they were still not full. They had only barely recovered from the weakness of their recent division.

Ambrose winced at the sight. He had once planned to mass-produce living mercury, but that no longer seemed possible. They had to be used as elite troops. Otherwise, he would go bankrupt feeding them.

Once most of the exposed ore had been eaten, Ambrose prepared to head underground so that the living mercury could feed on the deeper, unexcavated veins.

Just then, dense footsteps thundered in the distance, accompanied by clouds of dust.

Ambrose glanced over and saw a familiar force approaching.

Frenzied slaves running on all fours accompanied a female knight in thorned armor astride a warhorse.

Ambrose frowned. The last time he had invoked the power of the Golden Throne, a single Thunder Wave had blasted everyone away, snuffing out their life force. Who was this knight?

Had the same woman survived, or was there another female knight around?

In the former case, the female knight surely bore the blessing of Levitra, Mistress of Pain.

"A chosen of the Mistress of Pain... that could be a worthwhile opponent."

By the time the thought crossed his mind, the Bloodslave Legion had already charged into the mine.

The enslaved berserkers, driven by magic and fearless unto death, began seeking out targets. Having never seen the strange creatures Ambrose commanded, they couldn't even tell whether the two blobs of mercury writhing over the ore were enemies.

That changed when, at Ambrose's command, the living mercury shifted form. Two vague, silvery humanoids rushed straight at the oncoming force.

Though they had never encountered such bizarre foes, the slaves showed not the slightest hesitation. They charged forward.

The crimson tide swallowed the two silvery figures, as though blood itself had dyed them red.

Yet after the first clash, the silver emerged pristine and whole, having carved out furrows in the sea of blood.

These magically controlled slaves were nothing special at heart. Their only strengths were their fearlessness and the ability to regenerate by devouring flesh.

But their opponent was two pools of mercury.

Ambrose's living mercury had no fear. These slaves were merely crazed mortals. No matter how frenzied they were, what could ordinary weapons, claws, and teeth possibly do to living mercury?

After the initial clash, the slaughter began.

Even if the slaves felt no pain, they couldn't live without their heads and hearts.

Blades of every length condensed into being. The two living mercury meat grinders killed any slave that dared approach.

Though the Bloodslave Legion seemed to hold an overwhelming numerical advantage, once a few dozen bodies hit the ground, their commander realized that something was wrong. Continuing like this would lead to nothing but pointless attrition.

"Useless trash, get out of the way!"

The female knight snapped a barbed whip, lashing the slaves left and right and spraying blood everywhere.

Despite fearing no pain, the slaves screamed under the barbed lash. The power bound to it made them suffer as if all the pain they had ever endured was erupting all at once.

Under their torture, an aura of blood began to curdle around the knight's body. It grew so dense around the whip in her hand that its original form was occluded entirely.

She spurred her horse, smashed through the crowd, and charged straight at one of the mercury slimes. The whip snapped taut, transforming into a four-meter-long sword of scarlet light, which she swung down in a single devastating arc.

Sacred Slash of Pain!

She struck with the power of Levitra, Mistress of Pain. The blow fell with the force of a thousand swords.