Chapter 77: The Most Important Sacrifice

Ambrose emerged from the frozen stillness of suspended time to find his skull cradled in the hands of a beauty with jade-white skin, just as the prophecy had foretold.

He looked at the noble, elegant beauty before him, then at the imposing death knights flanking her. Her identity was immediately clear.

"Could you be... Lady Rose?"

There was a trace of awkwardness in Ambrose's voice. He had never imagined that he would meet his most important patron under such circumstances.

So his decapitation hadn't been literal, after all... His head was simply in the process of growing back.

Black Rose smiled and gently set Ambrose's skull on a nearby table. Then, she extended a finger and pointed at one of the death knights.

Her fingertip seemed to turn into a miniature black hole. The death knight was drawn straight into it, flesh, armor, and all. Everything was pulverized and reduced to pure dark magic.

Next, Black Rose pointed that same finger at Ambrose's skull.

The dark magic unraveled into countless filaments that wove down his neck. Ambrose felt an itching deep within him as new bones rapidly formed, aided by the dark magic. In moments, he had regained his skeletal form. He was far from peak condition, but he could already exert perhaps forty percent of his former strength.

Flexing his restored body, Ambrose sighed. "Lady Rose, compared to you, when it comes to dark magic, I feel like a child playing with mud."

What she had just done left him genuinely awed. This was no mere difference in raw power, but rather in mastery. As expected of the undead queen of the Umbral Depths, when it came to necromancy, Ambrose wouldn't ever catch up to her even if he had a bone dragon as a steed.

Black Rose smiled lightly. "We simply specialize in different things. I could not see through the secrets of Alkhemia, yet you uncovered the truth from nothing more than a fragmentary map."

This was no mere courtesy. In her eyes, though Ambrose might have been a watered-down legend, he was unquestionably erudite. Perhaps it was precisely because he knew so much about so many fields that he had been able to create such a peculiar existence as the living mercury slime.

"Still," she added, "I never expected you to actually entrust your phylactery to me."

Ambrose felt indescribably embarrassed. It would hardly do to admit that his appearance here had been random.

Damned fate—it never left even the smallest margin for error. Still, having his skull held by Black Rose was infinitely preferable than if it had been held by a paladin.

He could only brace himself and reply, "We're partners, after all. Of course I would trust you. Besides, even if you believed it was a fake, you still went to such lengths to protect it. A Temporal Stasis scroll, no less...! Your generosity makes my very soul tremble."

That last line was heartfelt. Lady Rose truly did not lack for gold.

Black Rose smiled. She genuinely valued Ambrose and found their collaboration highly enjoyable. She had money; Ambrose had expertise. It was a match made in heaven.

Even after all these years, Ambrose was the only undead she had ever encountered who could improve on her master's work on spirit golems.

It didn't matter whether the core techniques were his own or not. After all, magical research was always built atop the achievements of previous researchers. That Ambrose had combined Alkhemia's technology with these spirit golems was an achievement in itself.

If her teacher, Morgan, knew of this, he would surely be pleased.

Because of that, Black Rose had hesitated for quite some time over whether she should seize this opportunity to enslave Ambrose. His phylactery was right in front of her, after all.

But to enslave an undead required tampering with the soul, much like brain surgery on a human. Absolute success could never be guaranteed.

If Ambrose resisted, his soul could be severely damaged, turning him into a true puppet stripped of all independent will.

What Black Rose valued was his intellect, not his body. Reducing him to a fool would be a net loss.

There was an 80% chance that he would be turned into an idiot, a 10% chance that his soul would be destroyed outright, and only a 10% chance of perfect control.

If Ambrose had been the type of reckless undead who charged headlong like Gareth, she might have tried her luck. But Ambrose was someone who worked with his mind. The risks far outweighed the gains.

In the end, binding him through sentiment seemed the wiser course.

After all, he had handed over his phylactery to her despite the fact that she had done nothing at all. Black Rose suspected she might have stumbled upon the secret to winning an undead's loyalty, though she herself did not quite understand it yet. Perhaps she would consult Alabastra more next time.

Ambrose, of course, had no idea what was going through her mind. Unless an undead deliberately made an expression, its face could remain perfectly blank forever. Cold reading was utterly useless against them. The undead queen before him maintained a courteous smile that revealed none of her inner thoughts.

After exchanging polite pleasantries, Black Rose asked about the situation in Alkhemia.

With genuine concern, she said, "Given your current straits, it seems that your plan ran into trouble. Do you need my help?"

Ambrose was tempted, but he still shook his head. "Lady Rose, I wouldn't be able to offer sufficient compensation for your help. I need the Wish spell for myself, after all."

He had never intended to enlist her aid. Until now, he had only passively accepted her intelligence.

The reason was simple: a Wish spell could benefit only one person.

Coming up with a long list and wishing, "My wish is that everything written on this page comes true," simply wouldn't work.

One wish meant one wish. Otherwise, the laws of the world would impose a serious punishment.

Black Rose, however, replied calmly, "The Wish spell means nothing to me. You should already understand my obsession. I want to destroy Lyon. A Wish spell cannot accomplish that."

After a moment's thought, Ambrose nodded. "That's true. The Lord of Dawn would never allow a Wish spell to destroy Lyon."

The Lord of Dawn was an incomparably powerful deity. The essence of a Wish spell was to alter reality through the laws of the world, something that was trivial to a god.

With modest intervention, the Lord of Dawn could completely nullify its effects.

That was the benefit of faith. If you believed in a generous and powerful god, you would received true protection. Of course, that presupposed that you lived according to the deity's teachings. Otherwise, the backlash could be terrifying.

"Even if you do not need the Wish spell, I still cannot offer equal compensation," Ambrose said hesitantly. "Unless... I give you a discount on future shipments?"

Black Rose burst into laughter. "Consider it an advance investment. Perhaps you might use this Wish spell to become a god yourself."

Ambrose shook his head. "I would never make such a greedy wish. You could wish for godhood as well, and your odds would be better than mine."

"But then I would no longer be able to destroy Lyon with my own hands," she replied. "Gods have rules. Otherwise, why have the gods of the nations invaded by the Lyon Empire never intervened? As long as I remain in the material plane, my opponent will be the Lyon Empire. If I become a god, I would face the direct interference of the Lord of Dawn. My odds would be even worse."

Black Rose was clear-headed indeed. The undead queen had thoroughly studied and prepared for her vengeance, considering every angle in advance.

"You truly are willing to help?" Ambrose asked, hope creeping into his voice.

"Of course. You entrusted your phylactery to me, and I should repay that trust. Besides, your plan was quite sound. This mishap arose only because you are simply too weak."

Ambrose: "..."

Though her words stung his pride, Ambrose knew that she was right. Had he not forcibly tapped into the power of divination, he would have been beaten senseless by that alchemist riding on an automaton. Knowledge alone meant little if one could not wield demigod-level strength.

With solemn sincerity, Ambrose said, "In that case, Lady Rose, please help me once more. In the future, should you ever need my assistance, I will give it my all."

"For free?" Black Rose asked.

Ambrose fell silent for a long moment before he gritted out, "Consultations will be free. As for everything else... I can offer a discount. A real discount."

Black Rose laughed so hard her hair came loose, lending her a different kind of beauty.

But it did nothing to sway Ambrose's resolve. No beauty could trump gold.

After indulging herself in laughter, Black Rose regained her composed demeanor. "Very well. Let us begin. What do you need me to do first?"

"First, I need to know where I am. This is your palace, yes? Have you already returned to the Umbral Depths?" Ambrose asked.

"No. We are still in Alkhemia, merely hidden for the moment."

Her answer startled Ambrose. Hadn't Alkhemia escorted her out? How had she deceived everyone?

Sensing his confusion, Black Rose explained, "The alchemists responsible for escorting me were turned into my undead puppets. The reports Alkhemia received were all false. After that, I simply hid myself."

Ambrose could only praise her ingenuity.

There couldn't have been much time between the order to escort her out and the subsequent submission of the alchemists' reports. And she had turned all those officials into undead puppets without alerting anyone? Just how much mastery of necromancy did that require?

She was a true legend. A half-baked one like him could hardly compare.

That thought only made Ambrose crave the Wish spell even more.

"Since we're still in the city, that makes things easier," Ambrose continued. "The Wish ritual is still missing two key elements. The first is a legendary sacrifice: they originally intended to use me. I escaped, but they surely have a backup plan. The second, however, has no substitute. We must find it first and secure it."

"Oh? And what is this second element?" Black Rose asked with interest.

"A druid woman named Naomi Watts. She should be imprisoned somewhere in Alkhemia. If I'm not mistaken, she's likely being held in the city's most famous institution, the Hall of Wisdom."

"A druid?" Black Rose echoed, puzzled. "And she is essential to the Wish spell?"

"I know it sounds absurd, but my deduction should be correct."

This was not mere deduction. Naomi had seemed conspicuously out of place when she appeared in his prophecy. At the time, Ambrose could not understand what she had to do with the destruction of Alkhemia.

Only after seeing Black Rose's map, along with Gustavo Flynn's documents, had he finally pieced everything together.

"What's so special about this druid?" Black Rose asked.

Ambrose did not conceal his conclusion. He voiced his boldest inference. "She is very likely a blood relative of the chairman of the Alchemists' Council, and the most important, irreplaceable sacrifice of all."