Lich for Hire

Chapter 104: He Will Bring Pain to the World

Among the three mineral-rich territories Ambrose had previously investigated, one belonged to the Skinner Duke, a lord who worshiped the Mistress of Pain, Levitra.

The title of "Skinner Duke" carried exceptional prestige among the neighboring lords and meant that he stood a cut above his peers.

He was no self-styled noble. The title belonged to an ancient family whose lineage stretched back several centuries. They had once ruled within a small duchy—a nation with a sparse population, but one in which every citizen worshiped the Mistress of Pain.

Levitra was a deity of boundless ambition and ceaseless aggression. From that alone, one could easily imagine the character of a country that revered her.

Eventually, that country was annihilated by the Lyon Empire.

The Skinner Duke fled with his family's wealth and a handful of surviving kin. He settled in Alkhemia, where he purchased a new territory and continued to style himself a duke.

Alkhemia had no objections. Here, knowledge reigned supreme. Noble titles mattered less than an author's byline on a paper. Aristocrats enjoyed few privileges to begin with.

In Alkhemia, one often saw nobles bowing or kneeling before scholars. As for aristocratic etiquette between nobles? That was irrelevant. Let the nobles play their games among themselves: Alkhemia's laws did not concern such matters.

Thus, although the Skinner Duke's title sounded impressive, in reality, it only granted him authority within his own lands.

That said, the current duke was no fool. He had endured hardship and adapted diligently to Alkhemia's culture, establishing a reasonably complete alchemical industry within the house. House Skinner specialized in alchemical potions that pursued extremes of pain and pleasure. Their sales were modest, but they had consistent, steady demand among a certain niche clientele.

Then Alkhemia vanished. Overnight, the world plunged into war.

On the very day he learned of Alkhemia's disappearance, the Skinner Duke knelt before Levitra's statue and lashed himself hundreds of times. He flayed himself nearly to the bone, kneeling before the idol in a pool of blood as he prayed.

Through this agony, he saw Levitra smile. His wounds healed rapidly, and he even appeared a few years younger.

The duke understood immediately that this was a divine revelation. House Skinner's ascendance was near.

Thus, unlike the other grand lords, House Skinner adopted a policy of immediate aggression.

Under the command of the duke's daughter, the Bloodslave Legion swiftly carved out a string of stunning victories. Years of peace had dulled the sense of danger among the outer territories once protected by Alkhemia.

After all, Alkhemia had been vast and powerful. Its magical automata could crush any threat.

Why maintain costly armies?

Petty bandits could be dealt with by adventurers. Major crises, like the monster wars of the past, were always resolved by Alkhemia itself.

No one had imagined that such a mighty kingdom would collapse in an instant. When it did, every lord was left disoriented. Only after regaining their composure did they begin thinking about survival.

By then, House Skinner had arrived with its Bloodslave Legion.

These slaves, controlled by divine magic, possessed monstrous strength and feared no death. The more grievously wounded they became, the more frenzied they grew.

No force could stop these bloodsoaked beasts.

The suffering they inflicted became offerings to Levitra, who in turn granted House Skinner ever greater blessings. A paladin had even emerged within their noble house.

Well, "paladin" wasn't necessarily the most precise term. After all, paladins were not the exclusive domain of the Lord of Dawn.

Every evil had its own champion. In the eyes of like-minded believers, devout servants of dark gods were simply saints of another kind.

In theory, any god could bless followers and create their own paladins. It was even possible to become a paladin without worshiping any god at all, merely by unwavering devotion to an oath.

That said, champions of evil-aligned deities were typically known by another name: dark knights, or unholy paladins.

The name was unimportant. Unholy paladins were just as powerful as their holy counterparts and could wield a variant of Sacred Slash, though the effect varied depending on the deity they championed.

The Skinner Duke's daughter, Bella Trix, had been fortunate enough to become one such unholy paladin. [1]

It felt like destiny itself: as though the rise of House Skinner had been preordained.

But this smooth ascent did not last long. Within just a few short days, disaster struck.

Bella Trix returned from a raid with the Bloodslave Legion, her body covered in wounds. She collapsed before she could speak a single word.

Their house's brand-new unholy paladin had been gravely injured. Had she not been rushed before the idol and sustained with large-scale slave sacrifices, she would not have survived.

After recovering, Bella recounted her encounter. Even the tyrannical duke was paralyzed by fear.

His daughter, an unholy paladin commanding hundreds of bloodslaves from her Bloodslave Legion, had not been able to withstand even a single spell from the enemy.

If that lich came knocking, how could they possibly stop him?

After brooding for half a day, the Skinner Duke resorted to self-flagellation once more in hopes of divine guidance. To be fair, Levitra was a remarkably accommodating goddess. Her sacrifices required nothing precious—only pain. As long as you could endure it and torment yourself mercilessly, her blessings were sure to follow.

Injury did not matter. Pain was power. As long as you didn't die, the more brutal the suffering, the better.

Unlike upright gods such as the Lord of Dawn, who demanded obedience to doctrine, righteous deeds, self-sacrifice, and even cultural refinement before his followers might qualify as paladins, worshiping Levitra offered exceptional efficiency.

After whipping himself bloody and even breaking his own limbs, the Skinner Duke finally received another revelation.

This one left him utterly stunned.

Levitra's message was simple: "Become his follower. He will bring pain to the world."

Terrified that he had misunderstood, the duke brought his recovered daughter before the statue to confirm the message.

The result was the same. The goddess's revelation was clear: that lich would bring more pain into the world.

It was not a command, but more like a prophecy.

The future had been revealed. It was the duke's choice whether to believe it or not. Even if the Skinner Duke insisted on challenging the lich, Levitra would be perfectly pleased. Whether her followers suffered or others did, pain was pain.

Standing blood-soaked before the statue, the duke turned to his daughter. "Bella, what do you think?"

Bella Trix had removed her thorned armor and now wore a pure white gown. She should have looked like a beautiful noblewoman, but dense scars marred her exposed skin, leaving her original features nearly unrecognizable.

She frowned deeply at her father's question.

She had sworn to repay the lich a hundredfold for her suffering. Was she now expected to submit to him?

Such hesitation was unique to followers of evil gods. If a paladin of the Lyon Empire had been told by the Lord of Dawn to submit to a lich, that paladin would have begun packing that very day.

Bella considered herself a devout believer. Otherwise, she would never have turned herself into such a scarred monstrosity.

But devotion to pain did not preclude ambition. The revelation was vague. Perhaps there was still room to maneuver.

"Father, we need not decide immediately. The goddess revealed that he would bring pain to the world. Let us wait and see. This is a time of chaos. He may not come for us right away. We will not pursue revenge immediately but instead continue expanding our territory as planned. If he truly comes for us, and we cannot resist, we can submit then."

This was not mere resignation. Levitra's revelation lacked specific details. What kind of pain would the lich bring? Who would suffer? It was even possible that the pain would be borne by the lich himself.

The duke agreed. If surrender became inevitable, then they wouldn't have a choice regardless. Levitra's doctrine placed no prohibition on submission. On the contrary, submitting to strength and becoming a stepping stone for the powerful was entirely in line with her creed.

"Very well," the duke said. "We proceed as planned. How is your recovery?"

Bella clenched her fist. "I am ready. I can march again."

Levitra's blessing had granted her formidable regeneration. Combined with alchemical potions and healing magic, her injuries had fully healed in a matter of days.

The duke nodded eagerly. "Then we'll waste no time. The borders of Alkhemia change with every passing day. We must expand quickly—and seize more slaves."

House Skinner possessed mind-control magic that could rapidly convert captives into bloody slaves. Endless conquest was the most efficient strategy, affording a continuous supply of troops, land, and resources.

Bella nodded and turned to don her thorned armor again—only for a servant rushed in, panic written across his face.

"Your Grace, our mines have been invaded! The guards have been routed!"

Bella Trix broke into a savage grin. In a voice dripping with cruelty, she said, "Perfect. I needed someone to vent my anger on. Whoever it is, I will flay them alive and offer their flesh to the Mistress of Pain."

1. A Harry Potter reference. ☜