It wasn't long before the field trip lood on the horizon, like an impending storm cloud promising both opportunity and peril. My days leading up to it were spent neck-deep in necromantic theory—grim tos, mana-construct equations, and programming fraworks that would make even the most seasoned of Mythos professors sweat bullets.
The hardest part of the entire undertaking? My mana.
Necromancy, it turned out, wasn't fond of delegation. Every thread of power used to create a Lich had to co from my own mana reserves. Not because I was a control freak (though so might argue otherwise), but because of the unique signature imbued into each individual's mana. It was like trying to forge a sword with soone else's hamr—impossible unless you wanted a blade as brittle as glass. So, no borrowing mana and help from anyone else. It was all on .
Of course, understanding the theory was one thing. Actually making a Lich? That was a challenge so far above my current ability it might as well have been lounging on a cloud, sipping a martini, and laughing at my struggles. Gravemore's lessons made it clear: the soul, the skeleton, the staff—each component needed a careful touch, a precise integration of mana that couldn't be brute-forced.
The most infuriating part of the process? The Life Source.
The Life Source was what elevated a Lich beyond a glorified skeleton mage. Skeleton mages, while impressive in their own right, were little more than puppets on strings. Their ability to wield mana was borrowed, like renting an expensive car—flashy but not yours. A Lich, however, was an autonomous being, a servant imbued with a semblance of free will while still being under its master's thumb. And for that, I needed to give it Soul.
Soul was what made Liches unique. It wasn't just plugging in a battery; it was creating a complex system that could think, adapt, and wield mana independently. Without Soul, I'd have nothing but a glorified marionette. But with Soul? A Lich would be a force to reckon with—one capable of wielding complex magic, evolving alongside , and becoming the cornerstone of my necromantic arsenal.
To create this Soul, I needed the Heart of a Basilisk.
Not just any heart, mind you—the Heart of a Basilisk, one of the mythical creatures of this world. The Basilisk was legendary, a being whose gaze could petrify and whose body was steeped in venomous mana. Its heart was a treasure capable of housing the Soul aspect of a Lich, providing the raw power and taphysical "spark" necessary to make the undead summon far more than a mindless drone.
Now, ideally, I'd have gone for a Dragon Heart—because who wouldn't? But Dragons, unfortunately, were a tad hard to co by. Basilisks were a more achievable goal, though "achievable" in this case was relative. The task was still monuntal and required precise planning.
I also had another reason for targeting the Basilisk Heart: Jack Blazespout.
Jack, in the original tiline of the novel, would one day discover this sa treasure in Nimran, a sprawling city in the Southern Continent. The Basilisk Heart was pivotal to his rise as one of the greatest human villains, a dark reflection of Lucifer's heroism. I couldn't let that happen. If I got there first, I'd cripple Jack's future power base and take one step closer to completing my Lich.
The Southern Continent was no joke. Known as the Continent of Beasts and Bloodlines, it was a wild, untad land where even the trees seed to resent human intrusion. The city of Nimran, perched on the continent's edges, was a rare bastion of civilization amid the chaos. And it was where I planned to steal the treasure Jack would one day claim for himself.
'You're going to use a Basilisk Heart, huh?' Luna's voice chid in, her tone carrying a faint note of approval.
I nodded internally, listening as she continued.
'That will work. It's more than powerful enough to house a programd Soul capable of controlling a Lich. It will also allow for the Lich's future evolution into an Arch Lich.'
Her words were encouraging, but they did little to ease the weight in my chest. This wasn't just a high-stakes ga of fetch. A Basilisk was no ordinary beast—it was a mythical predator with enough venom-laced mana to flatten half a city. Killing it would be one thing; harvesting its heart without dying from its residual mana or toxins would be another entirely.
Still, the Basilisk Heart was perfect. I couldn't afford to hesitate.
Necromancy wasn't just about cobbling together bones and magic willy-nilly. Creating a Lich was, in many ways, akin to forging an intricate puzzle from scratch. The skeleton, the skull, the staff, and the life source all needed to work together seamlessly, each aspect functioning as part of a unified whole.
My mind spun with theories about Basilisk Hearts and the intricate chanics of necromancy as I boarded the sleek, mana-powered bus that was to ferry us on the first leg of our journey.
"Everyone, please board in an orderly fashion," Nero called out, his voice calm but carrying the weight of command. "You may sit wherever you like, but keep your behavior... professional."
The bus was a marvel of modern enchantnt. Two stories of gleaming white tal and runes etched into its surface gave it an almost ethereal glow, like a fortress on wheels that refused to acknowledge the laws of physics. The mana engines humd softly beneath the polished exterior, a sound that promised safety and efficiency, even against Integration-rank attacks or a rogue six-circle spell. It was overkill for a school trip, but then again, this was Mythos Academy. Even a misplaced picnic basket might require a Radiant-rank mage on standby.
Inside, the bus was every bit as luxurious as its exterior suggested. The seats, arranged in pairs, were upholstered in fine leather, softer than the cloud-like fluff that topped my morning pancakes back in Avalon. Polished oak tables stretched before each seat, bearing a small selection of snacks that looked almost too artistic to eat. Small, discreet compartnts humd gently, maintaining the perfect temperature for every passenger's drink of choice. It was transportation that whispered, "You are important, and the universe should be grateful for your existence."
I passed row after row of excited students, their chatter forming a low hum of anticipation. As I reached the back, I spotted my fellow Class 1-A students. The rear seating arrangent was tailored to fit us: a spacious bench for five in the very back and two pairs of seats directly in front of it. Lucifer had already claid the center of the back row, flanked by Seraphina and Jin on one side, with Rachel and Ren on the other. The arrangent mirrored their personalities—Lucifer in the middle of everything, Seraphina and Jin stoic as bookends, Rachel and Ren each occupying opposite poles of warmth and intensity.
I spotted Rose nearby, her brown hair cascading over her shoulder as she scanned the seats. I tapped her shoulder lightly, catching her attention.
"Co sit with ," I said with a small smile, gesturing to the left-side seats just ahead of the back row.
Her eyes widened in brief surprise before softening. "Sure, Arthur."
We settled in, with Rose taking the window seat. Her curious eyes darted around the bus, soaking in the opulence with a quiet kind of appreciation. I couldn't help but smile—her genuine interest in the world around her was infectious.
Behind us, the quiet hum of conversation between Cecilia and Ian caught my attention. Cecilia's crimson gaze burned into my back more than once, though she hid it behind a veneer of calm when I glanced back. Ian, ever the easy-going balance to her intensity, seed unbothered.
The bus purred to life, gliding smoothly onto the road as we left the Academy behind. It was more of a floating sensation than a drive, the mana-powered wheels barely kissing the ground. Outside, the scenery blurred into a tapestry of lush greens and distant mountains, the tranquility almost surreal.
As we approached the teleportation gate at the edge of the campus, the mood inside shifted. Conversations hushed as the massive structure ca into view. The gate, a towering arch of silver-veined marble, shimred with a faint, otherworldly glow. Runes etched into its surface pulsed in ti with the thrum of mana emanating from its core. It was a portal to another part of the world, and for many of us, this was the first ti we'd pass through such a marvel.
Nero ensured the students were accounted for before leading us through the shimring gateway. The sensation was indescribable—an instant of weightlessness, as if the universe had briefly forgotten the rules of existence. The world folded in on itself, colors blending into a kaleidoscope of light before everything snapped back into focus.
We erged into a sun-drenched outpost near the Southern Continent's coastline. The air was warr here, tinged with salt and the faint aroma of blooming flowers. A bus identical to the one we'd just left awaited us, its pristine white surface gleaming against the vibrant backdrop of forest and hills.
As we boarded again, the landscape unfolded before us in all its glory. The Southern Continent was a realm of life and vitality, where nature thrived in a riot of colors and sounds. Rolling hills gave way to dense forests, their canopies teeming with movent. Birds with shimring feathers flitted between ancient trees, their songs weaving a lody that seed to echo the pulse of the earth itself.
Inside the bus, the atmosphere was a mixture of quiet awe and bubbling excitent. Rose leaned her head against the window, her expression serene as she took in the view. Beside her, I felt the sa anticipation building in my chest. This wasn't just a journey; it was the beginning of sothing pivotal, though I couldn't quite na it yet.
Lucifer sat behind us, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery, his expression thoughtful. Seraphina had her nose buried in a book, the faint crease in her brow betraying her concentration. Rachel glanced over at occasionally, her warm smile a quiet reassurance. Ren remained unreadable, his violet eyes scanning the room with asured detachnt, while Jin seed content to observe in silence.
As the bus wound its way through vibrant villages and sprawling fields, the chatter around us ebbed and flowed. The hours passed in a blur of shifting landscapes until, finally, we crested a hill—and there it was.
Nimran.
Reviews
All reviews (0)