Lich for Hire

Chapter 89: Power of the Golden Throne

Ascension to the legendary realm took place at the instant that your intellect, strength, or some other defining trait brushes against the very source of the world's laws.

Put simply, it meant that you had surpassed some threshold the Creator God had set down for mortals.

In some ways, it's like nursing a crush: you see her first through photographs; then, one day, when you catch a fleeting glimpse of her in the street, you suddenly feel that you "understand her a little better."

A photograph is two-dimensional. Its subject is frozen in a single pose.

But reality is three-dimensional, vivid and alive. And the world's laws—this enchanting beauty!—are perfect, flawless, from every angle. The more of her you see, the deeper your fascination grows.

Ambrose was now fortunate enough to behold this supreme deity's true form for a second time. Bathed once more in the radiance of natural law itself, he gained a new revelation.

At this moment, the power of divination stirred restlessly, as if trying to slap a filter onto this supreme beauty and imprint her deeply into Ambrose's soul.

Ambrose hurriedly suppressed that impulse. With his temperament, if he received a divination-related boon, he could forget about ever becoming a god in this lifetime.

During his first ascension, his will hadn't been firm enough. Caught in hesitation, he ended up with a legendary boon of little practical value. But this time, he had already been reincarnated as a lich, severing all his worldly desires save for his purest, most obsessive, pursuit.

He wanted more wealth: wealth so vast that he could spend it freely without ever exhausting it. He wanted the power to protect that wealth, not to be treated as a walking treasure trove for others to plunder over and over. He wanted his riches to be able to buy anything he desired. Perhaps it was excessive. But greed had always been Ambrose's deepest fixation.

Whether or not such gaudy, gold-plated splendor suited the temperament of this beauty, Ambrose didn't care. He loved that dazzling, ostentatious hue that screamed wealth and status.

These obsessions were so clear, so intense, that they finally draped the supreme beauty that personified natural law in a brilliant golden filter and engraved her deeply into Ambrose's soul.

A throne forged of gold appeared before him. In a daze, Ambrose saw all living beings prostrating themselves at his feet—praying, kneeling, praising, offering everything they had to the emperor seated upon the Golden Throne.

When Ambrose emerged from that hazy vision, he understood exactly what kind of legendary boon he had obtained.

He walked up to the small mountain of gold and extended his palm.

In an instant, a million gold coins melted into liquid. Under Ambrose's control, they flowed, solidified, and were cast into the very Golden Throne he had seen in his vision.

Seated upon the throne, Ambrose floated over to Dippel, who was still frozen in time.

With a casual, kingly wave of his hand, Ambrose restored Dippel's ability to move. His memories, however, seemed to have stopped at the moment Alkhemia was destroyed; he had no idea why, or how, he had been transported here.

Seeing Ambrose enthroned upon gold, Dippel sneered. "So this is what you wished for. It suits you."

Ambrose ignored the provocation and calmly commanded, "Kneel."

Before Dippel could retort, immense pressure slammed down upon him. The defensive spells woven into his mage's robes activated automatically, trying to isolate and resist the force.

But it was pointless.

His countermeasures were completely ineffective. Dippel was sent crashing into the ground, his knees slamming hard against the floor.

His mind reeled. Was this the effect of a Compulsion spell? How could such a low-tier spell work on him? Even if alchemists weren't known for combat prowess, he was still a legend. He boasted formidable resistance to low-level magic, and he wore layers of defensive equipment. How could Ambrose force him to kneel with a single word?

Dippel could not even lift his head. He did not see that, the moment Ambrose issued the command, a corner of the Golden Throne behind him crumbled away.

Ambrose gazed with satisfaction at Dippel's humiliating posture. The Golden Throne's first ability was spell amplification. Low-tier spells were usually weak, easily blocked or resisted—but when cast through the Golden Throne, their effects were dramatically enhanced.

Through it, Ambrose could even flawlessly execute spells that he wasn't proficient in.

For example... Power Word: Kill.

It was a high-tier necromantic spell that forced all creatures within a designated range to undergo an instant-death check. Failure meant immediate death, no matter how powerful the target might be. Even a legend would fall dead on the spot.

Ambrose's mastery of necromancy wasn't particularly impressive. It hadn't been too long since his reincarnation, and he wouldn't normally be able to cast something as advanced as Power Word: Kill.

But with the Golden Throne's power, he could. Dippel's life could be stripped away with ease.

He could also cast a simple Fireball. Amplified through the throne, it would be stronger than three ordinary casts at once.

The throne was powerful, but overusing it would bankrupt him.

The throne had been forged with gold: he could convert wealth directly into power. In this manner, gold was indeed all-powerful—but the resulting cost was terrifying.

Casting Power Word: Kill just once would cause the throne behind Ambrose to completely disintegrate.

After confirming the effects of this ability, Ambrose no longer agonized over which legendary boon to choose from the God of Alchemy's coin.

The chairman's boon guaranteed success in alchemical experiments at the cost of gold. The Golden Throne did something similar, burning gold to cast spells he otherwise could not. The two overlapped significantly. Choosing the chairman's ability now would be wasteful, especially since many alchemical experiments depended on high-tier spells, and their success rates were often tied directly to those spells.

Thus, the best choice was surely the legendary boon that altered material properties. In the future, Ambrose would no longer need to worry about sourcing bones to craft skeletons. Steel would do just fine, granting him far more flexibility.

But if that were all, then Ambrose would merely be using gold to bridge the gap between himself and other legends, which would not have aligned with his greed.

The Golden Throne, in fact, had a second ability. It could help him earn more gold.

Ambrose looked down at Dippel, still kneeling, and softened his tone. "Master Dippel, it seems there was a small misunderstanding between us."

The pressure vanished. Dipel staggered back to his feet, shaken. Only now did he truly sense the threat of death. The lich before him had changed, and the golem he had once relied upon were gone. He no longer had the standing to be defiant.

Dippel lowered his head. "I admit defeat. I am willing to pay a ransom."

At the word "ransom," Ambrose's eyes lit up.

"Heh. You see? A misunderstanding indeed. I knew Master Dippel would understand my difficulties. After all, your people from Alkhemia had paladins tear down my castle. As for the ransom, it should be worthy of a legend's status, don't you agree?"

Dippel's expression darkened, but he could only reply, "Alkhemia has been operating at a deficit for a long time. I don't have much gold to offer you, but I do have this."

Moving slowly, wary of provoking Ambrose, Dippel reached into his robe and produced an object resembling a pocket watch. He handed it over.

Ambrose opened it cautiously. Beams of light projected outward, forming numerous three-dimensional images.

"Detailed data and design schematics for all of Alkhemia's magical automata," Dippel said. "More complete than any archive. The data is encrypted. Release me, and I will tell you how to decode it."

Ambrose casually tossed the watch back. "Sorry. I'm not interested in golem technology. You should know that I'm a lich. To me, undead are far more useful than golems."

"But I have nothing else!" Dippel cried out.

He had already sacrificed everything to the ritual. Despite all his efforts, he had lost to Ambrose completely.

"Don't say that," Ambrose replied mildly. "You still have your life."

Another fragment of the Golden Throne's backrest crumbled away. Pale green magical energy descended upon Dippel, forcing a scream of agony from the legendary alchemist.

He desperately tried to activate his magical equipment, but it was too late.

Corrosive dark energy pierced his body, rapidly devouring his flesh and blood.

His clothes fell away, revealing stark white bone.

Under Ambrose's gaze, the skeleton knelt before the throne, just like the vision Ambrose had seen when he had awakened to this power.

A fine glimmer of golden light flickered at the throne's damaged edge. Tiny grains of golden sand formed, filling in part of the missing gold.

This was the Golden Throne's second ability.

All life that submitted to Ambrose, that knelt devoutly before the Golden Throne, could restore it with the power of faith.

The stronger a being's will and intelligence, the more faith—the more gold—it would produce when kneeling sincerely before the throne.

Physical strength was irrelevant. A child's sincere devotion might generate more faith than a ferocious beast's, simply because human intellect far surpassed that of animals.

Ambrose unfroze the remaining alchemists one by one, emptied their pockets, and turned them all into skeletons.

Unfortunately, these skeletons did not seem particularly intelligent. The gold they generated through worship was far from satisfactory.

Dippel had been a legendary existence, but the moment he died, his soul vanished. If he worshiped a god, his soul would have entered some divine realm. If not, a legendary soul would be high-value currency eagerly fought over by the devils of the Hells.

The skeleton before him was little more than a sturdy frame.

No matter. He could make up for lacking quality with quantity.

Combined with his ability to fabricate souls, as long as Ambrose had sufficient time and materials, he could create a vast army, one that would continuously provide faith to recharge the Golden Throne.

Previously, he had worried about material shortages. Acquiring a massive number of corpses was not easy; no matter how rich you were, there were only so many bodies for sale unless you resorted to mass slaughter.

But now, he no longer needed to use bones as vessels for fabricated souls.