Chapter 78: The Ritual is Ready

The sewers beneath Alkhemia had been utterly transformed.

What was once a labyrinth of tangled passages now looked to have been kneaded and crushed by invisible hands, leaving the passages shattered and fragmented. Walls formed of magical energy carved the sewers into separate zones, while countless illusions guided the monsters below toward predetermined locations.

They were offerings for the Wish ritual. The monsters' flesh and souls, along with their memories and emotions, were dissolved by magic circles and transformed into tens of thousands of black threads.

Those threads flowed through the entire formation like spectral hair, seeking the only living being within it: a solitary figure at its center.

At the heart of the ritual circle, an elderly man floated naked in midair, his body bound tight by those black strands.

His frame was hunched, his long white hair hanging in wild disarray. His emaciated body was no different from that of a corpse.

Though his body had to be wracked with pain, he had an expression of fanatical ecstasy on his face.

The black threads continuously burrowed into his flesh. The monsters' blood, flesh, and souls were converted into pure energy and poured into his body.

Yet his shriveled body was like a bottomless abyss. No matter how much essence he devoured, there was no sign that it was filling him up.

No one knew how long this grotesque sacrifice had already lasted. The old man continued to maintain the magic circle with manic determination.

Gustavo Flynn stood among a group of alchemists watching the old man with a mix of emotions.

The old man had once been the pride of Alkhemia, the mortal closest to divinity: Gary Watts, Chairman of the Alchemists' Council.

He had once unraveled the curse of the God of Alchemy. Despite the fact that all creativity had been sealed away, he had come up with new alchemical potions that revived Alkhemia. He had founded the Alchemists' Council, and the formulas he had invented or refined were enough to fill an entire dictionary on their own.

He had reached the pinnacle of alchemy many years ago, and had only been one step away from true godhood since.

But that single step was a chasm.

Mortals could not cross that chasm without divine sanction.

The God of Alchemy gazed coldly upon those who walked this path. Over the course of history, he had never responded to the petitions of mortal geniuses.

Alchemists tended to obsess over new creations and new breakthroughs. The chairman, who felt that he had stagnated for far too long, similarly obsessed over godhood.

That was how this mad plan had been born.

Gustavo Flynn could no longer remember how long ago it had been when the chairman presented a shocking blueprint to everyone.

It was a plan born of madness, a plan that would allow mortals to transform into gods without divine permission.

At first, the council's alchemists were all stunned by the sheer audacity of the idea. They shut themselves away and debated it for a full two decades. During that time, many council members chose to leave, convinced of the plan's failure.

Gustavo Flynn was one of those who stayed. Everyone who agreed to the plan wagered their entire future on it.

Once the plan was initiated, Alkhemia became like a fruit steadily hollowed out from within.

Outwardly, it still looked radiant and prosperous, but in truth, all of its profits were funneled into this single endeavor. Attempt after attempt, failure after failure, millions upon millions of gold coins were burned away.

Gustavo Flynn could no longer remember how many times the sewers had been rebuilt over the years. On several occasions, they were completely destroyed and then reconstructed brick by brick at an unimaginable cost in manpower and resources.

Once the wealthiest among the Nine Kingdoms, Alkhemia now teetered on the brink of economic collapse from nothing more than the fluctuating cost of magical materials. They had staked Alkhemia's fortunes entirely on this ritual, abandoning any concern for the future.

The reckless tax hikes and countless irrational policies all served just one purpose: to squeeze out every last drop of blood from Alkhemia to fuel this grand design.

The costs were measured not just in money and time. To realize the plan, many members of the Alchemists' Council had willingly offered themselves as sacrifices.

The sacrifice of so many legendary alchemists finally yielded a result. Just one more legend would be needed to complete the Wish ritual.

To achieve this goal, Alkhemia had prepared several different plans.

The first was to pour massive quantities of alchemical potions into the sewers, causing the monsters that had long been cultivated there to mutate and evolve, in hopes of creating a legendary-tier creature.

The second was to fabricate a false prophecy, luring adventurers into the sewers as sacrifices. The hope was to attract a legendary powerhouse to bring the ritual to completion.

The third was a contingency: if no suitable legend could be found, then the remaining members of the Alchemists' Council would sacrifice themselves.

That Ambrose had been targeted was simply bad luck on his part.

The so-called assistance from the Lyon Empire was merely a misunderstanding on Ambrose's part. Alkhemia did not want aid; it wanted legendary warriors.

Ambrose was the intended sacrifice. If something were to go wrong, they would simply use the High Inquisitor to fill the gap. The alchemists didn't care if this sparked a war. If they succeeded, they would have accomplished the unprecedented feat of apotheosis without divine oversight. And if they failed, Alkhemia would destroy itself long before the Lyon Empire could.

But now, both targets were gone.

Ambrose had self-destructed and escaped. As for James Watson, because he had failed to locate Ambrose's true phylactery, he was still digging around in the lich's territory outside the city. Rumor had it that they were preparing to enter Alkhemia when, while passing through a small village, they discovered a new phylactery in the village chief's home.

James Watson had gone mad and insisted on expanding the search range by dozens of kilometers.

"That damned lich!"

Gustavo Flynn had once been a steadfast supporter of the Wish ritual, but he was now regretting that decision more and more.

Had they become too obsessed? If the plan failed, everything invested over these long years would be lost. Alkhemia's future would be utterly destroyed. And he certainly did not want to end up as the next sacrifice thrown into the ritual.

Unlike the other alchemists, Gustavo Flynn cared more about power and status. His ideals were lofty, but not lofty enough to justify sacrificing himself.

With that thought, he turned around and looked behind him. In a corner stood a young alchemist. Handsome and perennially smiling, he looked as though he were eagerly anticipating what was about to happen.

He was also a member of the Alchemists' Council: the youngest of them all, and the last to join. Gustavo Flynn did not even know his real name, only that he called himself Gold.

This was obviously a pseudonym. Yet Gold was a legendary alchemist, and he had volunteered to be the final sacrifice. Now that the lich had fled and James Watson was delayed, Gold was to be the suicidal offering.

But why did he look so happy?

Even those who had sacrificed themselves before him needed to steel their resolve. They had entered the ritual with heavy or agitated emotions.

But Gold was far too relaxed. Gustavo Flynn could not see the slightest trace of anxiety or restlessness on his face.

"This kid isn't going to run at the last second, is he? If he does, won't I be the one thrown in instead?"

With that thought in mind, Gustavo Flynn walked over and said, "The plan has failed. I bear responsibility for that. I am truly sorry."

The young alchemist replied casually, "It's fine. That's what backup plans are for, aren't they? Don't worry. I'll be the last sacrifice. But are we really ready? If we can't completely sever the chairman's humanity, he can never become a true god."

"There are no issues according to our calculations," Gustavo Flynn said firmly, as much to reassure himself as Gold. "The chairman has only one blood relative left alive. Once that bloodline connection is destroyed, his soul will be completely purified. Without human interference, he'll become a god under the ritual's effects."

Gold glanced at Flynn. "Is it truly that simple to transition from humanity to divinity? It sounds like a clumsy plot twist from a hack novelist who ran out of ideas. That losing all your attachment would make you stronger, that the death of a loved one would let you break through—stories are always written that way, and somehow we accept it as reasonable.

"But humanity, divinity, the soul... Surely such philosophical concepts shouldn't be that shallow?"

Something felt off to Gustavo Flynn. Was this kid getting cold feet and looking for excuses to run off?

"No. Our calculations can't be mistaken. Trust the chairman: he is the closest mortal to divinity, after all," Gustavo Flynn said. He retrieved a vial. "Why don't you rest for now? We'll wake you when it's time."

Gold glanced at the liquid and recognized it at once as a powerful sleeping draught.

Gustavo Flynn didn't trust him. Fearing that he might run, Flynn wanted him unconscious until the moment of the sacrifice.

The young alchemist smiled faintly. "If that will put your mind at ease, I don't mind."

With that, Gold drank the entire vial in one gulp, then immediately yawned.

Just before falling asleep, he said one last thing to Gustavo Flynn. "Master Flynn, you seem even less confident in the plan than I am. Instead of worrying about whether I'll back out, perhaps you should think about how you'll face what comes after the ritual."

"What did you say?" Gustavo Flynn felt something was wrong and tried to press him further, but the potion had already taken effect. Gold sank into a deep sleep.

Gustavo Flynn quickly supported him, confirmed that he was truly unconscious, and ordered others to position him in place for the ritual in advance.

Even if Gold woke up and tried to flee, the magic circle would stop him. The other alchemists would notice immediately.

And though everything was now prepared, the unease in Gustavo Flynn's heart only grew stronger.

Nothing unexpected would happen... right?

Gustavo Flynn decided to go speak with the druids. He needed to confirm the existence of that young woman.

At the same time, the newly reborn Ambrose was walking through the streets of Alkhemia alongside Black Rose.

Many of the city's residents had already sensed that something was wrong. Alkhemia was under total lockdown, and even its citywide defense systems were fully activated. Countless magical automata patrolled the streets under the administrators' control, ready to eliminate any source of instability.

This was Ambrose's first time witnessing just how terrifying Black Rose could be.

With nothing more than a glance, the undead queen could transform Alkhemia's administrators into undead within seconds. The process was silent and painless; their magical defenses didn't react at all.

The administrators themselves didn't even realize they were dead. By the time they understood what had happened, they had already become Black Rose's puppets and were obediently ordering the automata to clear a path.

What a horrifying legendary boon, as expected of the undead queen of the Umbral Depths.

With Black Rose's power, Ambrose advanced unhindered.

Before long, he reached his target: the druids' location.