Chapter 90: Not That Kind of Vampire

For a lich who had long since shed all worldly desires, experimentation was one of Ambrose's few remaining forms of entertainment.

After all, there weren't opportunities to make gold daily. And when there was no profit to be had, the only way to pass the time was to run experiments. If those experiments happened to be related to making money, so much the better.

In theory, the power of the Golden Throne granted Ambrose limitless wealth and strength.

With his two legendary boons, Mimetic Soul and Material Transmutation, he had the start of a self-sustaining cycle. Given enough time, becoming the richest being on the continent was hardly a fantasy.

But reality was cruel.

The artificial souls created by Mimetic Soul simply didn't boast enough intelligence.

Before Ambrose stood five newly created types of "undead," lined up neatly in a row.

When it came to material transmutation, density mattered. To transmute the same mass, the denser the material, the more gold was required to alter its properties.

The five experimental "undead" before him were made from books, leather, steel, sand, and gold. Each weighed exactly one kilogram. Each housed a blank soul with a precisely calibrated strength of 100 thaums, a unit Ambrose himself had defined. An ordinary human soul typically fluctuated between 80 and 130 thaums. His manufactured souls were far more standardized and resulted in much less variance.

Though the souls were equally strong, the difference in transmutation cost was staggering. The gap between the cheapest and the most expensive differed by nearly a hundredfold. That one-kilogram golden skeleton alone consumed seventeen times its own weight in gold just to be given the "corpse" attribute. Part of it, perhaps, was Ambrose's lack of finesse, but the cost was undeniably unacceptable.

Worse still, the results showed that, regardless of material, the faith output of these undead constructs was uniformly terrible.

By Ambrose's rough estimates, a Golden Throne forged from one million gold coins, when fully expended, would require several million artificial souls praying continuously to restore it within a single day.

The one saving grace was that artificial souls could evolve. They were dim-witted when newly created, but if Ambrose loosened the restrictions placed upon them, they could grow more intelligent over time. When that happened, their efficiency in generating faith would naturally increase.

Undead were also cheap to maintain. Most of the time, they simply slept, passively absorbing ambient dark mana to sustain themselves. Their upkeep was effectively zero.

In other words, the more undead he had, and the longer time passed, the more his gains would snowball.

After all, undead were immortal. As long as they did not suffer combat losses, their numbers would only ever increase.

Given enough time, Ambrose might truly materialize his gilded fantasies.

The only unknown limitation was the Golden Throne's maximum capacity. He suspected it had one, but he had yet to test it. In any case, it was certainly far higher than a few million. Legendary boons required constant experimentation and refinement before they could be fully mastered.

With baseline data gathered, Ambrose once again returned to the quality of the undead constructs.

Artificial souls had great plasticity, but no matter how they were tuned, there was no way they could reach baseline human intelligence at birth without time to grow.

Thus, using gold to make his skeletons would surely be a loss. Gold's high density meant that the artificial souls had to expend more effort controlling their bodies, resulting in constructs that were small, clumsy, and slow. Their only advantage lay in their resistance. They had no combat value, no advantage in faith generation, and absurdly high costs. Gold could be eliminated outright.

Perhaps someday, when Ambrose truly had gold to spare, he might make a couple of golden death knights for fun.

The sand-based undead construct, however, offered a pleasant surprise. When his artificial soul fused with loose sand, it was somehow able to control every grain individually. Without any guidance from Ambrose, it even learned to move like flowing sand on its own. More impressively, it displayed remarkable mimicry.

It glanced at its siblings. At times, it transformed into a book and fluttered its pages. At times, it rolled around like the steel brute beside it.

Curiosity was the wellspring of intelligence. Clearly, this sandy little creation was smarter than the other four. Though its faith output still fell short of expectations, it had genuine potential.

As for the remaining four... Well, his resources were tight.

To further test how material structure affected his artificial souls, Ambrose experimented with flowing water, iron sand, and—gritting his teeth—scraped-off gold dust.

The conclusion was intriguing: loosely structured "corpse" forms genuinely enhanced the intelligence of his artificial souls. When solid gold was shaped into a skeleton, the result was dull and sluggish; with gold dust, the result was far livelier. It was still clumsy and maladroit, but noticeably more perceptive and able to exhibit innate mimicry.

Ambrose could not yet explain this curious phenomenon. His best guess was that a looser body structure increased the soul's surface area and therefore contact with the outside world, allowing it to perceive more information.

And though this hypothesis would require further testing, the results were clear. The only real problem was water. It was arguably the best option, but it evaporated. And once it was gone, his poor little soul would vanish with it.

After repeated trials, Ambrose finally settled on two materials for his new undead constructs.

Crushed glass, and carefully sifted sand.

Their densities were similar and their transmutation costs acceptable. Both materials were stable and unlikely to degrade due to environmental factors. He created five of each and released them into the castle to grow freely, just like his living mercury slime. He would check on their progress later.

Perhaps it was now time to cultivate high-tier undead through more conventional means. He had preserved Bear and Husky; in a few days, he could fashion new bodies for them. At worst, he would spend a little extra to replace their bones with other materials.

High-tier undead with independent consciousness should generate far more faith.

The experiments never seemed to end, and he never had enough gold. After tidying up that day's records, Ambrose opened the Necromantic Codex and sent a message to Black Rose. [Megaman Tiga: Lady Rose, perhaps we should alter our deal. With Alkhemia gone, this region is likely to descend into chaos.]

After waiting a while without a reply, Ambrose glanced at the group chat and found it unusually lively.

[Dullahan's Crown: Are the elves really preparing to move?]

[Pale Little Skeleton: Seems so. They've already begun mustering troops. Good thing we left early. Otherwise, we might've run into their army.]

[Dullahan's Crown: You really made a good call. Thank goodness.]

Ambrose grimaced. Why was the married couple flirting in the group chat?

But wait... what were they actually talking about?

As he scrolled upward, he noticed a new user.

[Human-Hater: Heh. It's not just the elves. The desert dwarves are mobilizing too. You know how it is. Lyon has been beating them senseless lately. They've already lost several oases. Alkhemia was a prime target from the start.]

Who was this Human-Hater?

Undead could sleep for decades at a time. Since joining the Elegiac Society, Ambrose had never seen this particular undead speak up. A sudden appearance like this warranted proper introductions.

[Megaman Tiga: Greetings, senior. I'm new here. Are you a lich as well? I have a design proposal for exotic modified skeletons. Would you be interested?]

[Human-Hater: Woah, a newcomer. Haven't seen one in years. No, I'm not a lich. I'm a vampire. I don't usually deal with skeletons.]

Ambrose: "..."

Vampires instinctively made Ambrose uncomfortable. The Necromantic Codex had far too many "case studies" involving vampires. Every single one ended badly, usually because they fell in love with their own food.

It left Ambrose with the reflexive impression that vampires had... questionable tastes.

After a long silence, the vampire spoke up again.

[Human-Hater: I'm not the kind of vampire you're thinking of!]

[Megaman Tiga: No, no, you misunderstand. I'm not prejudiced. Really.]

[Human-Hater: Look at my name. Isn't it obvious?]

[Dullahan's Crown: Haha, what about elves? I've even read about vampires associating with orcs and even mindflayers from the Codex. You guys put druids to shame.]

[Human-Hater: Get lost. You're involved with a bone dragon yourself!]

[Pale Little Skeleton: What? Got a problem with dragons? Want me to bring my kin over for a visit?]

The argument was escalating. Ambrose felt a little awkward. His silence after the vampire's revelation had sparked a conflict.

At that moment, Black Rose finally responded. [Black Rose: Did you just say both the elves and the desert dwarves are mobilizing? And they're both headed toward Alkhemia?]

As expected of the undead queen, the moment she spoke up, everyone else quieted down.

[Human-Hater: That's only natural. Alkhemia controlled vast, fertile lands. Even if the capital is gone, the surrounding regions are still geared for alchemical production. Who wouldn't want all that? The desert dwarves, in particular—Lyon crushed them so badly they can't even fight back. New territory would be perfect for them right now.]

Alkhemia bordered the Court of the Silver Moon and the Golden Kingdom of the desert. The mighty Lyon Empire, ironically, was separated from Alkhemia by an entire desert.

Lyon was undoubtedly coveting what was left of Alkhemia as well, but the distance made it impossible. All they could do was watch the desert dwarves seize land and gain more breathing room for themselves.

Curious, Ambrose asked a question. [Megaman Tiga: What about the Court of the Silver Moon? Elves rarely wage wars of conquest. Lately, they've even been jacking up material prices like mad. They've offended half the continent. Aren't they afraid of being dogpiled?]

[Black Rose: I've heard similar reports. The elves are indeed mobilizing, and the price hikes seem to be tied to something beyond mere economic warfare. Recently, the Court of the Silver Moon hasn't allowed anyone to leave its borders. All information is sealed. No one knows what's happening within.]

Only entry, no exit?

Ambrose vaguely remembered Isabel mentioning that her former teacher had gone to the Court of the Silver Moon and never returned. That was why she'd been targeted by the local lord. Otherwise, with a formally accredited alchemist as her mentor, no lord would have dared to act so rashly.

What were those elves plotting? Surely they weren't pulling an Alkhemia and attempting a ritual of apotheosis, too?

Probably not. Alchemists lacked divine supervision. Elves were different. Their pantheon was vast and indulgent toward their own. There was no way the gods would let them self-destruct on that scale.

[Black Rose: Tiga, are you planning to stay in Alkhemia? It's about to become a battlefield. The desert dwarves are fighting for survival—they won't back down. And the elves are always aggressive. They'll fight to decide how to carve up a fallen kingdom.]

Her words gave Ambrose pause. The Golden Throne had elevated him beyond the bottom rung of legends, but wars between kingdoms were not something one or two legends could dictate.

Staying here would only invite trouble. But then again, where could he go?