Chapter 68: An Imaginary Enemy

It was said that even gods could not adjudicate disputes between husband and wife. Ambrose, a heartless lich of far lesser stature, was even less qualified to mediate matters of marital affection.

So he did the responsible thing: he informed Gareth that his wife was on her way and left the headache to him.

Ambrose had originally assumed that Gareth would immediately flee. If so, his castle might at least be spared from being melted by dragonbreath.

What surprised him was that Gareth's first reaction was concern for the orc woman.

"I know her too well. If she's realized that I'm in Alkhemia, then Una is definitely under surveillance as well. She could be in danger. I have to save her."

Although the female orc had already sold the tavern, moving out was not something that could be done overnight. She was still tied up dealing with various assets and had yet to leave Alkhemia.

Ambrose hurriedly said, "Gareth, if a third party is really involved and you go rushing in to save her, won't that just make your wife even angrier?"

"If I don't go, Una will certainly die. If I do, she still has a chance."

Gareth buckled his helmet back on, transforming once again into a scruffy middle-aged adventurer, and set off for Alkhemia without another word.

For a moment, Ambrose could not decide whether that made him a warm-hearted hero or an irredeemable scoundrel.

In the end, he decided it was none of his business. Other people's domestic affairs were best left to them. He had more important matters to attend to.

The first was repairing the damage to the living mercury.

During the previous assassination attempt, the living mercury had once again demonstrated combat power that pleasantly surprised Ambrose. Its metal-devouring ability had nearly rendered Starfall's enchanted armor useless.

If not for the absurd extravagance of Starfall's equipment, the living mercury alone would have caused the paladin severe trouble.

Even so, the little creature had taken a direct hit from Sacred Slash and suffered heavy damage.

It lay weakly in a glass container, barely breathing, in urgent need of large quantities of metal to recover.

Ambrose didn't hesitate. He dumped the scrapped paladin equipment straight in and let the slime feast. Paladin armor was forged from top-grade metals: light, flexible, and extraordinarily durable. No one knew how much adamantium and mithril had gone into them, but, pound for pound, it was worth more than gold.

Yet the living mercury rapidly corroded and absorbed even those metals. Its waning aura recovered at a visible pace. Faint lines of varying shades appeared across its once-silver body.

"Adamantium and mithril? Are you having indigestion from overeating?"

Ambrose felt a twinge of concern. He wondered if those rare metals could not be fully absorbed and were leaving residual patterns behind. But he soon realized this was not indigestion at all. On the contrary, having consumed high-grade metals, the living mercury had begun to evolve.

"Fascinating. Let's see what you'll grow into..."

As its creator, Ambrose held absolute authority over the living mercury. At his command, it immediately began to expand, swelling as if inflated.

A gold-trimmed longsword extended from its body, slicing cleanly through the glass container with a casual stroke.

Moments later, small metal plates emerged one by one, assembling themselves into a diamond-shaped shield.

One glance was enough for Ambrose to recognize the material. Mithril: light yet durable.

"You can reproduce the properties of the metals you consume, can't you?" he asked.

The living mercury bounced excitedly, as if answering him.

That ability was extraordinary. The world was full of exotic metals. If the living mercury were fed enough high-grade materials, might it someday advance to legendary rank?

With that thought in mind, Ambrose hurried to the treasury and retrieved a helmet radiating pure white light.

This was the artifact he had stripped from Starfall's head. It brimmed with such intense holy power that Ambrose could even sense divine energy within it.

There was no doubt this was a replica of a divine artifact. It might not be the genuine article, but the divine power inside it was real. The Lyon Empire likely possessed only a handful of such items.

It was unquestionably valuable. And yet, Ambrose intended to feed it to the living mercury.

He could not use holy power himself, and selling it would be difficult. Buyers wealthy enough to afford it might not dare offend the Lyon Empire, while those hostile to the Empire generally could not afford it. As for someone like Black Rose, who could afford it and hated the Empire, she was undead like Ambrose and had already made it clear she had no use for such an item. Unless it were free, she would never spend good money on something she would only end up smashing.

Rather than haggling endlessly with Alkhemia, he might as well let the living mercury consume it. Who knew what kind of surprise it might give him?

Thanks to Master Morgan's research, the mercury slime was a living creature, not undead, and was not suppressed by holy power. There was a chance it could absorb the divine energy entirely.

That said, the helmet didn't look easy to digest. The living mercury clung to it, corroding it bit by bit at a painfully slow pace. With no better option, Ambrose placed both the creature and helmet into another glass container and let it feed on the artifact at its leisure.

Once that was settled, Ambrose headed for the castle's dungeon.

What had once been an empty prison was now filled with hanging paladins.

Every one of them glared at Ambrose with burning hatred as he entered, as if they wanted to unleash a simultaneous Sacred Slash and reduce him to ash on the spot. Unfortunately for them, their eyes were the only parts they could still move. Each paladin was layered with multiple seals and bindings. Stripped of their equipment, they could not escape.

Ambrose stopped before a female paladin, studying her face carefully. He even reached out and pinched her cheek, appraising her like merchandise.

Her eyes nearly burst into flame, but she could do nothing except glare at him.

Only after confirming that there was no disguise did Ambrose release her and remove the seal from her mouth.

The moment she could speak, she launched into a furious tirade.

Ambrose listened for a few seconds before saying, "Save your strength. All your insults put together don't even outnumber the paladins hanging in here."

It was all the usual fare: "despicable", "filthy", "vile". Highly targeted insults that focused only on him, not even his family members. Ambrose suspected these paladins had never argued with anyone growing up; they had likely learned all their insults straight from scripture.

There was zero lethality to it. Cursing a druid to lose all his hair after shapeshifting would have been far harsher.

"I have one question," Ambrose said. "Were there only ten of you on this mission? Are there any other paladins? Especially female paladins?"

A blood-tinged glob of spit flew toward him, which he easily dodged.

The paladin sneered. "Don't even think about it. I won't answer anything. Kill me if you dare!"

Ambrose sighed. "Can't you just let me save a bit of mana?"

Tracing a pink arc of magic with his fingers, Ambrose pressed a charm spell into her forehead.

Several minutes later, Ambrose left the dim dungeon wearing a heavy frown.

"So it wasn't this group of paladins who would decapitate me..."

There had only been one female among the ten paladins, and she was broad-shouldered, stern, and aggressively righteous in demeanor.

She bore absolutely no resemblance to the jade-like beauty described in the prophecy. Not even remotely.

After a moment's thought, Ambrose arrived at a conclusion that unsettled him deeply.

If these paladins weren't responsible, could those mad alchemists be, instead...?