Chapter 108: Enemies and Scholars

If we were to remain where we stood, waiting for Bull Million’s wandering soul to break free from the endless maze at the edge of the world and return to the mortal realm, then I fear my tale would end here—for teaching this brain-shrunken minotaur paladin to read a map would surely take far longer than it would for the End-Time Sovereign to lay waste to this world.

Yet, throughout the resplendent and grand history of the Falvey Continent, every heroic company that has rescued the world from the brink of ruin has never lacked warriors both clever and fearless. We were no exception. As I stood dumbfounded, staring at Bull Million’s lifeless body, my heart heavy with sorrow over my minotaur friend’s tragic fate, the decisive wisdom of the B-flat Minor Nocturne suddenly shone forth. He rushed forward, shouting to us, “Don’t move! I’m going to bring him back!” and charged bare-chested without a hint of caution toward a large group of undead guards.

I had never seen this usually cunning and sly Confucian bard so resolute and brave. Though he remained diminutive in stature, as always for a purebred underground Confucian, in that moment his unwavering silhouette seemed towering, compelling me to look up to him with genuine admiration. Indeed, I kept my gaze fixed on his back—it was an uphill path.

Even facing an unarmed, bare-chested Confucian bard, those heavily armed decayed guards showed no mercy whatsoever. The torment of their undead resurrection had thoroughly eradicated any innate kindness from their souls. Gleaming blades rained down upon B-flat Minor Nocturne’s head like a brutal metallic storm unleashed upon his forehead.

Though I had never personally witnessed such a dreadful scene, surely having six or seven heavy swords strike your head simultaneously could not leave a sweet or pleasant memory. Fortunately, the bard did not have to endure this agony long. When the “Boneguard” raised their swords away from his head for the second time, death finally freed our friend from this merciless massacre.

By then, we had all realized what B-flat Minor Nocturne intended. Since waiting here for Bull Million’s return was hopelessly long, it made more sense to find someone who could navigate and accompany him back to the resurrection point, then guide his lost soul from the deathly maze. It proved to be an effective plan. Less than three minutes later, these two comrades in life and death simultaneously rolled to their feet—successfully revived.

“That fast?” Dingding Xiaoge was amazed at their speed of resurrection. Previously, Bull Million had revived on the spot using magic, so he curiously asked, “Where exactly is the resurrection point?”

“Right outside the dungeon entrance. As soon as you step out the gate, you face the graveyard…” B-flat Minor Nocturne glanced at Bull Million with an annoyed look, evidently baffled by the elaborate soul journey Bull Million had undertaken before his last revival.

“That close?” Though I had never held any hope for Bull Million’s sense of direction, this answer was still hard to accept.

“How did you get lost just now? Where exactly did you run off to?” I asked the minotaur paladin in surprise.

“That…” The embarrassed minotaur paladin was at a loss for words.

“No one knows where he ran off to!” B-flat Minor Nocturne grumbled bitterly at the mention of this—understandably so, for if I had lost a comrade like Xiaoming due to Bull Million’s stupidity, I would not be much better tempered.

“Likely not even ghosts know…” Dingding Xiaoge seemed to think even Night Nocturne’s conclusion was overly optimistic.

Because of the presence of the Hellfire War Spirit, Bull Million no longer needed to stand at the front with me, serving as the meat shield to draw enemy attacks. This was good news for all of us: I no longer had to worry about a wayward stone pillar smashing me unexpectedly, and Bull Million no longer had to constantly fear for his life. More importantly, freed from frontline duties, the minotaur paladin could devote more attention to supporting his comrades. Previously, most of his healing spells had to be cast on himself, but now we too could frequently bask in the radiant and soothing light of the divine.

“That’s what you call sharing the rain and dew equally,” Bull Million boasted smugly as he helped restore our health, flaunting a new phrase he had just learned.

“Ugh…” B-flat Minor Nocturne, who had been enjoying the healing effects of the divine magic a moment before, immediately made a disgusted face staring at the white light shining on him, as if he wished to rid himself of it at once.

“Do you even know what that phrase means?” Dingding Xiaoge rolled his eyes. “If not, don’t spout nonsense. It’s really disgusting…”

“What’s wrong with the phrase?” Bull Million looked puzzled, unaware that he had said something inappropriate. Confused, he turned to the fairy maiden with humility and asked, “Does this phrase have a special meaning?”

The fairy maiden blushed deeply, shyly lowering her head… before suddenly transforming into a giant bear and slapping him hard. I heard a crisp “crack,” and Bull Million’s head snapped back at an exaggerated angle, nearly twisting fully around his neck. Just watching his expression made my own neck muscles twitch.

How strange—what could be wrong with that phrase? The language habits of these sky-dwellers truly baffle me...

In any case, Bull Million’s return greatly strengthened our ranks. Opponents who had once challenged us now became manageable. Moreover, the intense battles were not only arduous tests but also effective training for each of us. When our feet finally stood at the fortress dungeon gate, ready to face the enemy’s first evil leader—the undead lich A’Visari—both Dingding Xiaoge and the fairy maiden had already reached level fifty. B-flat Minor Nocturne had long since…

The dungeon’s iron gates swung open in two halves, revealing pitch-black darkness inside. We groped along the walls, moving forward blindly. After about fifty steps, two purple flames flickered to our left. These flames floated midair, burning coldly without any warmth or light. As we approached within ten steps, we discerned that the flames were enclosed within a huge white skull—the very soulfire of the decayed monstrosity before us.

This undead creature had a human-like form but with an extra pair of arms sprouting from its ribcage besides those on its shoulders. It wore a white robe and lay upon a large stone altar. Its four arms tirelessly stirred various potions on the altar into a device called the “Magic Fusion Apparatus.”

I noticed the apparatus resembled a steamer: a large transparent container at its center, with a circular crystal tube extending outward. A valve sat midway along the tube. Judging from the refracted lights, many funnel-shaped filters were carved inside the crystal tube—a feat of craftsmanship I could scarcely imagine without damaging the glass.

Inside the container soaked a complete animal brain, immersed in a pungent potion that had bleached it white. The creature poured a bottle of powder and a bottle of liquid into the container, then gently stirred with a long rod while chanting a strange, tongue-twisting incantation. Though I understood none of the words, the eerie pronunciation sent chills down my spine. A cold sensation rose from my heart to my chest.

As the chant continued, the liquid inside began to boil, bubbling fiercely from bottom to top. A murky hue emanated from the brain, spreading outward rapidly, yet it never dissolved into the liquid. I could not discern its form—though I saw its color, it seemed gaseous yet more translucent than any gas; it faintly glowed with an alluring sheen, though I could not tell its source.

Finally, the substance was fully separated from the brain. The undead’s hand slowly opened the valve, and the mass, as if drawn by an immense force, was swiftly sucked into the crystal tube. It writhed forward, passing through each filter, growing progressively darker and more solid in presence.

When it emerged at the other end into another crystal container inscribed with a pentagonal magic array, the once murky hue had become a dense, impenetrable black. This black mass—an entity I could only describe as a “black thing”—reassembled and condensed into a perfect sphere within the container. I had never seen such a flawless orb; it gave me the strong impression that it was the roundest object in the world. This substance seemed impervious to any external forces or imperfections—truly the most perfect existence in this world.

Undoubtedly, this undead absorbed in his arcane experiment was the leader of all the decayed creatures here, a genius necromancer and creator—A’Visari. Although he was one of our most dangerous foes on this journey, my hostility paled in comparison to the respect I harbored for this alien sorcerer. With my painstakingly acquired alchemy knowledge, I could only discern that he was extracting an extraordinarily pure essence from that animal brain, yet remained utterly ignorant of the sublime mastery and finesse involved.

As a ruthless villain who tramples over human lives and has caused countless deaths among your own people, no hatred you hold for him could be excessive.

Yet as a scholar, his profound knowledge, genius inventions, and extraordinary grasp of the essence of matter—though I only grasped a fraction—compelled me to feel genuine admiration and awe.

It was like a child stumbling on the path of knowledge, naturally revering the masters atop the summit.

Encouragingly, as a diligent human youth, I evidently held greater academic value in Mr. A’Visari’s eyes than a mere apprentice…

“Aha! Excellent—a fresh specimen! You will greatly contribute to the study of biological souls. Perhaps I should thank you by placing your names on my thesis...”

As a half-baked alchemist, this might be the closest I’d ever come to academic greatness. Yet, for this great honor, I felt a flicker of hesitation in my heart.

“...Of course, ahead of your names, there are over three hundred wild dogs,” the wicked undead sorcerer cackled, casually gesturing to the animal brain soaking in the container.

I immediately drew my longsword, firmly resolved to politely decline this “generous” invitation.

—

In this world where magic is widely employed, necromancy is a relatively rare branch among the many magical disciplines. There is ongoing debate about its nature. Some say it is a natural magic akin to elemental spells of ice, fire, or lightning, caused by an unknown substance called “dark element” or more recently, “antimatter.”

Others believe it is akin to the divine magic of priests, the natural magic of druids, or the demonic magic of warlocks—drawing power from mighty beings summoned from distant realms. Priests pray to the great supreme deity, druids worship the goddess of nature, warlocks forge soul contracts with various obscure demons lurking in hidden corners, while necromancers and liches draw their potent magic from the death goddess Tephrimilance, ruler of the eternal shadow realm.

This scholarly contention has raged across Falvey Continent for centuries. Ironically, all the great magical scholars involved have at least dabbled in necromancy themselves. The reason is simple: this mysterious power demands harsh physical conditions from its caster—only those baptized by death as decayed beings can wield such rare magic.

Regrettably, those undead liches lack the scholarly spirit of truth-seeking that the continent’s academics possess. More importantly, they seem to have neither the time nor inclination for writing treatises or engaging in endless debates. In every authoritative historical record, famous and obscure liches alike devoted their entire lives to the futile pursuit of world destruction—and invariably failed.

Ultimately, their tediousness matches that of the lively, vibrant mages of Falvey.

Regardless of the scholarly disputes and conflicts, one truth is universally accepted: necromancy is an inherently dark, cruel, and murderous magic.

We had experienced this truth firsthand…

Following a chilling incantation, a piercing shriek like a sharp awl stabbed into my heart. This was not a sound heard by my ears but an assault rising from deep within my soul, piercing my consciousness. This invisible force seemed to tear my spirit to shreds. Though I felt no physical pain, the agony of my soul left me dazed and disoriented. My proud shield and heavy armor offered no protection whatsoever against the lich’s “Soul Wail” spell.

Having withstood the initial attack, B-flat Minor Nocturne immediately began chanting a “Battle Song of Will,” a spell to bolster resolve, resist mental assault, and hasten mana and energy regeneration. But A’Visari’s tactics were not so simple. Raising all four arms, he conjured four bone spears, each wreathed in a yellow-green fetid aura. These spears did not fly forth as I expected but whirled in front of him, spinning in a protective cluster. When I closed in, two spears lunged automatically.

Fortunately, I dodged in time; one spear grazed my left shoulder, costing me less than a hundred health points, the other pierced my arm. I soon realized these magically summoned bone spears were not only lethal but also inflicted toxic damage and corrosion, reducing my armor’s defense by over thirty points and its durability by three.

“Paladin, watch for poison! Warlock, release the war spirit!” Dingding Xiaoge also drew two bone spears. Thanks to the Confucian’s dodge bonus, he escaped unscathed, hacking at the floating spears with his shortsword while shouting commands.

Under his direction, the Hellfire War Spirit charged the lich’s spells head-on. This otherworldly beast seemed impervious to pain; two “Flesh Bomb” attacks failed to slow its advance. Yet Dingding Xiaoge cautiously used “Soul Balance,” sharing half his vitality with his summoned minion.

Once within three steps, A’Visari faced a brutal life-draining contest—hardly the forte of a research mage. Though his necromancy remained formidable, under the orcish warlock’s “Soul Balance,” the war spirit’s vitality stayed safely above critical.

Meanwhile, Bull Million and the fairy maiden kept falling to the ground only to revive promptly, continuously restoring Dingding Xiaoge’s health so he could maintain his minion’s combat effectiveness.

When the protective bone spear spell finally faded, Night Nocturne and I joined the assault, hastening the lich’s demise. Though he briefly used “Soul Wail” a second time to disorient us and escape encirclement, Bull Million promptly summoned a “Sacred Hammer,” knocking him unconscious and trapping him once more.

Perhaps our prior trials had boosted our levels and strength; or perhaps A’Visari’s status as a level fifty-seven leader was overstated—either way, the fight proved far easier than anticipated. Though his massive vitality was taxing, we never faced true danger. His attacks were powerful but manageable with Bull Million and the fairy maiden’s support.

When Bull Million joined the fray swinging his great stone pillar, the battle rapidly drew to a close. Soon, the four-armed decay fell into a heap of shattered bones, ending any hope of it feasting on our fresh specimens.

While cleaning the battlefield, Dingding Xiaoge retrieved a transparent crystal vessel set in a copper frame from the corpse, labeled “Fusion Apparatus Part One,” marked “For Alchemists Only.” Recalling A’Visari’s complex experiment upon entering the dungeon, I compared it to the device on the altar. Apart from size, it appeared to be part of the same apparatus.

This might prove quite useful—I thought, tossing the incomplete component into my pack.