Lich for Hire

Chapter 202: A Great Upheaval Approaches

After that bombshell announcement, Ambrose tugged lightly on Catherine's sleeve, signaling that she could leave.

Catherine hurriedly turned and walked back into the castle. Although she felt that Ambrose's words had been a bit too harsh on the other man's dignity, she also understood that his method was far more effective than her previous attempts at rejection. Sure enough, the lich kept his promises.

Ambrose's speech left Brandir standing shell-shocked. For the first time, the goddess of his heart had spoken to him with cold finality. Even when she rejected him before, her tone had been gentle. She would offer a few comforting words, worried he might feel hurt.

It was precisely because of that gentleness that Brandir had believed he still had a chance.

Only now, when the gap between them was laid bare so bluntly, did he realize the truth. In her eyes, his pursuit had been nothing but an insult.

The elves had already stood above the other races during the era of the Dragon Tyrant. The Court of the Silver Moon had been considered a paradise, a utopia, for a millennium.

Meanwhile, the druids had only settled in the Emerald Dreamwood after the Dragon Tyrant was slain. In terms of national heritage, the Emerald Dreamwood was far inferior to the Court of the Silver Moon—not to mention the broader gulf between humans and elves at large.

Brandir had been shamed into realizing that he was reaching far above his station.

His declaration that he would abandon everything and devote everything was like a child offering candy in exchange for an adult's gold. To him, it felt like a tremendous sacrifice, but to others, it would only look like childish opportunism.

Brandir collapsed onto the ground, motionless.His father stood beside him, quietly watching his son. He had wanted to slap Brandir again, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do it. Catherine's words had been humiliating, but perhaps such bluntness was exactly what Brandir needed. Maybe this would finally make him give up.

The old druid patted Brandir's shoulder. "Come with me," he said. "Queen Catherine has already made herself very clear. If you keep pestering her, that would be harassment."

If this continued, the elven queen would truly become angry. The cooperation between their two nations could not be ruined because of his son.

Soullessly, Brandir allowed his father to lead him away without resistance. Silence finally returned to the castle.

Inside the castle, meanwhile, Catherine watched the departing father and son with barely concealed excitement. When they finally disappeared from sight, she let out a long breath of relief.

"That was amazing," Catherine said excitedly to Ambrose. "You made him give up with just a few sentences."

Ambrose snorted. "Some people don't deserve to be given any attention. Though in Brandir's case, humiliating him only worked because he's not a bad person at heart. That tactic wouldn't work against an actual shameless scumbag."

Brandir had collapsed because he still possessed his pride—and because he genuinely loved Catherine. Once he realized that his pursuit had actually hurt her, he had no choice but to stop. But such principled people were rare. Far more common were those who would discard not only their dignity, but even their conscience.

Catherine tilted her head curiously. "Then what would you do if you met someone like that?"

Ambrose answered without hesitation, "Turn him into a pile of ash with a single Disintegration spell. It saves the trouble of digging a grave, too."

Why waste time dealing with trash like that? Just kill them and be done with it. This wasn't a society governed by laws.

Ignoring Catherine, who was gaping at him like a beached fish, Ambrose finally turned his attention back to the real matter at hand. With the Lady of Mists' help, Ambrose could now freely traverse the Dreamveil Barrier. It was time to let Naomi enter the dreamscape for her training.

Time flowed faster within the dreamscape. Given Naomi's own skill as a druid, a single night should be enough for her to master her draconic transformation.

Following Ambrose's instructions, Naomi successfully entered the natural dreamscape. Ambrose remained by her side, guarding her.

As Naomi's contracted master, he could sense subtle changes in her condition. Although it was unlikely that the Lady of Mists had set a trap for her, caution never hurt. If anything went wrong, he would be able to react immediately.

Watching him, Catherine couldn't help but remark, "You finally look like a proper companion now. You'd been acting like a slave master all this time. I was so sorry for Naomi."

Ambrose protested immediately. "What are you talking about? Me, a slave master? If only I had that kind of luck!"

Catherine: "…"

This lich truly didn't bother hiding his greed.

But Catherine was growing used to it by now. She quickly shifted the topic. "Is that so-called Lady of Mists really a fallen goddess? Could she just be some powerful fiend deceiving you?"

Ambrose shook his head. "I considered that possibility. But the illusion spell she taught me is absolutely divine in origin. That can't be faked."

Leyla's True Illusion was outrageously powerful. Any competent spellcaster could immediately recognize how extraordinary the spell was.

Furthermore, she had been able to manipulate the druids' dreamscape, a feat that also resembled divine authority.

Catherine asked again, "Even if she really is a goddess, why wait so many years to seek your help? You're impressive, sure, but compared to all the druids of Emerald Dreamwood, you're hardly unique. Wouldn't she have better luck cooperating with them?"

Ambrose thought for a moment before answering, "It probably has something to do with the Oakfather. The Lady of Mists was killed by other gods, after all. She probably doesn't want to interact with other deities at all, if she can help it. I don't worship any god. For her, I'd be the perfect choice."

Catherine's expression, however, turned worried.

"If that's true, then war might really be coming. We elves probably won't be able to avoid it either."

Catherine disliked war. No matter the justification, war only brought massive casualties. She had previously felt fortunate that the elves had narrowly avoided conflict—but it now seemed that the real catastrophe had yet to begin.

Ambrose could only console her. "We're nothing but pieces on the gods' chessboard. The best we can do is make ourselves valuable enough that they won't casually sacrifice us as cannon fodder. By the way, hasn't the elven pantheon given you any warnings? I've already received hints from several deities."

Catherine shook her head helplessly. "Perhaps my sins haven't yet been fully atoned for. I haven't heard the voices of the gods in a long time."

The elven gods really were petty. Hadn't Ambrose's solution satisfied them?

Since Catherine couldn't provide any help, Ambrose would have to rely on himself.

From the information currently available, the gods were clearly preparing for something. One thing was certain: in the coming upheaval, some gods would fall, and new gods would rise. But who exactly would participate, and how they would intervene, remained completely unknown to Ambrose.

Another fact was equally clear. The gods needed mortal champions: agents who could secure advantages for them amidst the chaos.

So many dark gods had tried to recruit Ambrose as their chosen because they valued his personal capabilities. A lich blessed with multiple legendary boons was practically irresistible.

And that was precisely what troubled Ambrose most. Those gods were unreliable by nature. Associating with them inevitably meant standing against the Lord of Dawn.

And the Lord of Dawn had the very annoying habit of descending personally into his followers' bodies to help them win against enemies they were struggling against. This wasn't some rare miracle granted to a lucky few. Historical records showed that it had happened repeatedly. That god truly had no qualms about bullying the weak.

Of course, divine descent had its limitations. Generally, gods could not use their full divine power during a descent.

But for a powerful deity like the Lord of Dawn, even restricted to the legendary rank, he would be able to instantly kill Ambrose.

Ambrose could already imagine it happening on the battlefield against the Lyon Empire. After painstakingly defeating the Silvermoon Knight, all of a sudden, holy light would erupt. The Lord of Dawn would descend and beat Ambrose senseless. Just what could he do then?

Because of that, Ambrose had been hoping that some reliable and powerful deity would take him under their wing—perhaps Mystrix, the Goddess of Magic, or Oguma, the Lord of Knowledge.

Unfortunately, the Goddess of Magic had never given Ambrose a second glance, and Oguma preferred bards. A tone-deaf lich like Ambrose was utterly out of favor with him.

Ambrose glanced at Catherine. Although she believed herself still burdened with heavy sins and under punishment from the elven gods, the divine blessings upon her had never been withdrawn. Clearly, the elven gods still valued her. After all, a perfectly pure soul was incredibly precious. No deity would easily abandon such a treasure.

So perhaps… he could make use of Catherine's connection to get closer to the elven gods.

Ambrose spent the night contemplating future plans. The sun rose. Naomi was still in the dreamscape, but Ambrose could sense that her condition was stable. The dream training seemed to be progressing smoothly. She simply required more time.

As Ambrose continued to wait patiently, the Necromantic Codex suddenly trembled.

Black Rose, who had been inactive for quite a while, had finally responded to his messages.

[Black Rose: The Lyon Empire has invaded the Orc Kingdom. Twelve cities have already fallen. Its armies are about to reach the orc capital.]

Ambrose nearly jumped in shock. Had the people of Lyon gone mad? They had only just finished fighting the desert dwarves, and they were already attacking the orcs? Why hadn't there been any warning at all? The orc population wasn't large, but orcs were natural-born warriors. Their military strength ranked among the upper echelons of the nine kingdoms. How could they have been defeated so quickly?

Ambrose immediately replied, [Megaman Tiga: When did this happen? I hadn't heard a single rumor about this. How did they suddenly make it to the orc capital?]

[Black Rose: Ten days ago, I received intelligence that Lyon was mobilizing its troops. They withdrew most of their elite forces from the desert and moved them to another border. Three days ago, the Silvermoon Knight led a surprise attack together with the bulk of the paladin legions. Five legendary orcs have already fallen. No one can stop that old monster.]