Ambrose worked with focused intensity, assembling his new skeleton. Nearby, the refugee watched as the lich twisted human bones into a bizarre and horrifying form that made his hair stand on end. He felt dizzy and nauseous but forced himself to endure it, terrified he might beco the next set of materials on the table.
Ambrose’s hands moved with steady precision, piecing together each bone while he narrated in a calm, confident tone.
"A skeleton's power core and control center are one and the sa: the soul. Over two hundred bones and a hundred joints represent a colossal burden for that core. Yet we've grown accustod to this, to the point that no necromancer has ever precisely asured soul strength. We have only vague classifications of 'low,' 'dium,' and 'high-grade' souls.
"In alchemy, potion formulas are asured down to the milligram. Yet in our field of necromancy, we haven't even precisely asured our most crucial component. I find this an unacceptable level of intellectual laziness.
"Admittedly, soul strength fluctuates, making asurent difficult. But that is no excuse to abandon the attempt. As it happens, I have mastered the art of creating Simulated Souls—blank souls with no emotional residue. After a period of experintation, I have established my own standard, naming the unit of soul strength the 'Anima.' The specific asurent thodology will be detailed in my paper.
"Assuming, of course, that the editor-in-chief of Legendary Incantations decides to stop rejecting my submissions.
"But back to the topic at hand. Today's experint uses only a low-grade soul, so I'll use it as an example. A low-grade soul capable of animating a complete skeleton typically has a strength between eighty and one hundred thirty Anima, with a peak output not exceeding one hundred fifty. When this energy is distributed across two hundred and six bones, the result is a fragile, slow, and clumsy undead trash that shatters at the slightest touch.
"Just as intelligent beings invented tools like pliers and differential gears, structural optimization can dramatically enhance strength or speed.
"If we reduce the bone count to just twenty, we get a smaller but far superior specin. Its strength, agility, and durability are all significantly increased. By my calculations, the enhancent is at least fivefold."
As Ambrose set the final skull in place, a bizarre skeleton took shape on the workbench.
Its base was three insect-like legs. Its body was just a third of a spinal column, topped with a jawless skull. Two thick femurs were attached as powerful arms.
Next, Ambrose fitted two sharp tal blades onto the arms of this alien skeleton.
A small, mantis-like skeleton was complete.
Ambrose placed the creature on the floor. It imdiately began to move at an incredible pace, faster even than a cat.
"I've nad this model the Kha'Zix Model I. Now, for the field test."
Ambrose gestured to the pale, trembling man. "What is your na?"
The terrified man stamred, "R-Raul."
"Alright, Raul. You will take the Kha'Zix Model I and bring back the other escaped freen. If you can bring ten refugees, I will let your sister live."
"What?"
Raul never expected this would be his task.
What did this lich want with refugees?
Looking at the bones scattered all over the laboratory, Raul already knew the answer.
"I... I will carry out your command, Lord Lich."
Ambrose nodded, satisfied. He handed Raul a piece of bone inlaid with a gemstone. "Just use voice commands. The Kha'Zix Model I's functions are simple. Red is attack, green is follow, black is stop. The rest is up to you."
Staring at the three gems on the bone, Raul had a fleeting impulse. What if he pressed the attack gem and pointed it at the lich...
The thought flickered in his mind and was just as quickly extinguished. The lich wasn't an idiot. He wouldn't hand over a weapon that could kill him.
Though Raul hadn't understood most of the lich's lecture, he could tell from his casual tone that this monstrous skeleton was little more than a toy to him.
Looking at his unconscious sister, Raul gritted his teeth and pressed the green gem. The alien skeleton, which had been skittering around the room, imdiately fell in line behind him.
Just as Raul left the castle, the girl who had been feigning sleep opened her eyes.
The sight of Ambrose's stark white skull face made her want to scream, but she slapped a hand over her mouth just as a sound escaped.
Ambrose glanced at her. "Your brother, Raul, has gone to do a job for . I told him I'd release you if he brings back ten people. By the way, since you're freen, what is your profession?"
Freen usually possessed a trade. Since most of the land belonged to the lord, only slaves or tenant farrs could work his fields. Most other freen had to take up a different profession to survive.
It took the girl a long ti to calm down. She didn't believe her brother would willingly work for a lich. The undead monster must have forced him sohow. She even suspected her brother might already be dead, his bones now part of the laboratory's grim collection.
But resistance was impossible. Her only choice was to avoid angering him and look for a chance to escape.
The girl answered cautiously, "I'm an alchemist's apprentice."
"An alchemist's apprentice?" Ambrose was surprised. That was not a common profession.
Even though his castle was technically within the domain of the City of Alchemy, alchemists were rare. The profession required not only a talent for spellcasting but also a sharp mind capable of morizing and understanding complex potion formulas.
Different ingredients contained different magical elents, and even ingredients of the sa type could vary in elental concentration depending on how they grew. To beco an alchemist, one had to learn to discern these differences.
Ambrose was no professional alchemist. He had to purchase many high-level potions because he couldn't brew them himself. Even with a formula, his success rate was abysmal, leading to a great deal of waste.
He hadn't expected this girl to be an apprentice. He'd stumbled upon a real find.
"Wait. If you're an alchemist's apprentice, how could your lord sell you into slavery? Who is your master?" Ambrose asked again.
In the City of Alchemy, alchemists held a high status. Even an apprentice could have their master intervene to solve a small problem like a tax dispute with a minor lord.
The girl was silent for a mont before saying, "My master... she went to the Silvermoon High Court two months ago to purchase potion ingredients. We haven't heard from her since. People returning from there said she might have t with an accident."
Without her master's protection, a re apprentice was indeed powerless against a lord. That lord had probably been eyeing the girl for so ti, hoping to claim her for himself. A slave with a talent for alchemy was worth a fortune.
Upon hearing this, Ambrose couldn't help but curse. "Those bean sprouts again. How are they involved in everything?"
His dislike for the High Elves grew stronger by the day.
Looking at the anxious girl, Ambrose said, "Do you know how to make a Potion of Serenity?"
The Potion of Serenity was a low-level concoction. It could be drunk or used as a perfu. Its effect was simple: it cald the mind and could neutralize rage effects. Many professions required a steady disposition, so there was a considerable daily demand for it.
The girl didn't understand why he was suddenly asking this, but she nodded. "I've learned how."
Ambrose pointed to a cabinet on the right wall. "Then get to work. The ingredients are inside. I need at least twelve vials."
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