Chapter 73: A Traitor For Sure

A phylactery was the most important possession of any lich. That was why every lich went to absurd lengths to hide theirs.

Some buried it deep underground. Some built flawless, magically warded vaults. Others grew so paranoid they carried it on their person at all times.

Ambrose chose all of the above.

He built a dedicated chamber inside his castle solely to house a phylactery. Beneath that chamber, he dug a deep pit to conceal another. He kept one with him year-round. And wherever he went, he made a point of hiding several more along the way.

He gave Gareth one. He gave Black Rose one. He gave his students one. He gave his servants one. Quantity over quality—far better to give out too many than too few.

As for which one was real, that was classified information. In any case, none of them were completely useless.

Once he finished dealing with his phylacteries, Ambrose headed to the dungeon and hauled out the captured paladins. One by one, he bound them tight with chains, sealed them with magic, packed them into coffins, and had them transported outside the castle.

An airship from Alkhemia was already waiting. His old friend Gustavo Flynn had been standing by for quite some time.

Ambrose shifted into human form and flashed Gustavo Flynn a brilliant smile. "My old friend, you seem to be in quite a hurry."

"People from the Lyon Empire have already arrived. If you don't hand them over soon, I'll have to invite them to dinner," Gustavo Flynn replied. "The sooner this is resolved, the sooner I can get back to my experiments."

His expression was as severe as ever. With his dark skin and intimidating eyes, he looked more frightening than the lich Ambrose.

"Oh? That fast? Which big shot did they send?" Ambrose asked.

"Heh. He's n old acquaintance of yours as well. The Lyon Empire's High Inquisitor, James Watson."

At once, the smile vanished from Ambrose's face. If there was still room for any emotion left in his heart after becoming a lich, his hatred for James Watson certainly would take up a considerable share.

"Pity," Ambrose snarled. "I won't get to see that old bastard preside over a funeral for his son."

Only then did Gustavo Flynn smile. Seeing Ambrose angry pleased him.

Not only had the damned lich rejected the chairman's invitation to join the Alchemists' Council in the past, he had also gotten Gustavo mocked for it. Gustavo Flynn did not think his alchemy inferior to Ambrose's; they simply specialized in different fields. And his research just happened to be of little use to the current plan.

And yet people had seized that opportunity to demean his intelligence. It made him want to tear Ambrose's phylactery apart on the spot.

No rush, though. He would get his wish soon enough.

With that thought in mind, Gustavo Flynn said eagerly, "Get on the airship. I hope you're prepared. Using the Wish Engine is complicated, and it'll take several hours of practice."

"Is it that troublesome? I thought you'd just make a wish to the machine, and that'd be it," Ambrose said.

"As if. This is a magnificent machine we created with countless years of effort. Allowing anyone to make a wish is a complex process. You need to memorize the precautions carefully. If anything goes wrong, don't say I didn't warn you."

Ambrose studied Gustavo Flynn's face and found no trace of deceit.

The old fox's acting was flawless.

If Ambrose's friends hadn't gathered intelligence for him, and if he hadn't seen through the false prophecy, he really might have walked straight into the trap.

As it was, the two of them, who had collectively lived for over a millennium, were locked in a mutual duel of masterful acting. The only pity was the lack of commentators cheering from the sidelines.

Ambrose boarded the airship with the captive paladins. The moment he entered the cabin, he realized he was trapped in a space that suppressed teleportation.

Noticing the change in his expression, Gustavo Flynn explained, "It's the latest model. It prevents people from boarding the airship using teleportation during aerial combat."

Yeah, right. Who would use an airship in an aerial battle? It'd just be a target for magitech cannons.

Clearly impatient, Gustavo Flynn didn't bother convincing Ambrose. The airship shot forward, tearing through the skies toward Alkhemia in record time.

Not long after the airship departed, a fully armed unit of paladins appeared outside Ambrose's castle.

The Knights Penitent had shown up again, in far greater force than before.

And leading them was none other than High Inquisitor James Watson himself.

In Alkhemia's negotiations with Ambrose, returning the paladins had been framed as a favor. But when Alkhemia addressed the Lyon Empire, they claimed that the favor also included Ambrose's castle.

Alkhemia would extract Ambrose from the castle. While the legendary lich was away from his tower, the Lyon Empire could strike personally and eradicate this den of evil once and for all.

That, too, was part of the deal.

Standing before Ambrose's castle, James Watson issued an order with a cold expression on his face. "Destroy the evil before you. Purify every last filthy undead."

The paladins answered in unison, raising their swords as their holy light merged into a blazing tide.

As they charged the castle atop celestial warhorses, its automatic defense system activated, unleashing a rain of corrosive dark energy.

Yet the necromantic spells that would have been lethal to ordinary people washed over the paladins like a gentle breeze. They were utterly ineffective against layers of divine protection.

This was what made the Lyon Empire such a terror to face. Their divine arts were perfectly suited for large-scale warfare. The more people involved, the more terrifying their collective strength became.

The skeletal constructs guarding the outer perimeter posed no threat at all. They were purified by holy light before they could even approach.

The Knights Penitent advanced like a hot knife through butter, smashing the castle gates open. They detected traps in advance and nullified them with stone-shaping spells. With no one left to man the castle's defenses, they were far less effective than they could have been.

In under ten minutes, the paladins completed their mission.

A paladin reported back. "High Inquisitor, the castle has been seized. However... there were casualties."

He looked embarrassed at the last part.

James Watson frowned sharply. "Casualties? From a magical castle without a lich in control? The Knights Penitent took losses from a handful of skeletons?"

It was unthinkable.

How could a paladin order specialized in combat, with easy access to all manner of miraculous healing, still sustain casualties in a battle like this? It was nothing short of disgraceful.

"Sir, we encountered several bizarre types of skeletons. Their forms were strange, they used magitech weapons, and their ammunition was... highly unusual."

He recounted the engagement in detail, leaving James Watson deeply unsettled.

The initial advance had gone smoothly. Ordinary undead and magical traps posed little threat to the paladins. The real danger came from aberrant skeletons that appeared without warning—half-bodied skeletal gunners hanging upside down from ceilings with magitech rifles, or skeletal tanks wedged into wall openings, exposing only a sliver of their cannon barrels.

These abnormal attacks caught them off guard. Worse still, any bullet that caused a wound triggered abnormal bone growth in the victim. Several paladins suffered nothing more than a scratch, only to be torn apart by proliferating bone amidst screams of agony.

No healing had any effect. It didn't seem to behave like a curse at all, but rather some terrifying power they had never encountered.

Fortunately, there were few such skeletons, and a Sacred Slash could eliminate them outright once they were identified. Even the massive skeletal tanks could only endure a few Sacred Slashes. Their bulky frames made them too clumsy to dodge; they were little more than living targets.

James Watson had never imagined Ambrose capable of such extreme measures. How could there be undead magic that could survive holy light?

The paladin continued, "Sir, there are a number of human slaves outside the castle. They appear to have been enslaved by the lich."

James Watson waved his hand. "Follow standard protocol. Give them sufficient food and set them free. We won't be taking them with us."

"But, Sir, we also found a cleric in the castle. He claims to have been your son's attendant."

James Watson frowned. A cleric? Hadn't all the hostages already been handed over to Alkhemia?

"What condition is he in? Is he seriously injured?" James Watson asked.

The paladin hesitated before answering. "He appears completely unharmed. In fact... he looks very healthy."

James Watson snapped, furious. "How could he possibly be unharmed?"

That article mentioned that Allen had been subject to inhuman torture, the descriptions of which had moved James Watson to tears. How could this cleric be unscathed?

"Then he must have betrayed his faith," James Watson said coldly. "Interrogate him thoroughly. And find that lich's phylactery. Dig it out as quickly as possible!"