Every mage fortifies their domain with an array of magical traps—some lethal, some not—primarily to deter thieves.
After all, mages typically amass valuable magical materials, rare tomes, and personal notes. Compact yet precious, these items are prime targets for theft.
The ongoing duel between setting traps and disarming them has persisted for millennia—a game neither mages nor thieves can escape. Yet this intrusion was different; it wasn't some opportunistic thief, as they failed to bypass even the simplest perimeter wards.
When Ambrosius donned his cloak and emerged outside the castle, he encountered a young couple. The man lay in a pool of blood, his thigh pierced by spikes, rendering him nearly crippled. The girl, despite her best efforts, couldn't budge him.
Upon seeing Ambrosius, the girl let out a terrified scream.
Ambrosius flicked his finger, casting a sleep spell that silenced her and sent her into slumber.
He then approached the man and inquired, "Why trespass on my estate? Did you not see the sign at the gate warning of magical traps?"
The man, trembling with fear, stammered, "I... can't read."
Ambrosius: …
"Illiterate or not, surely your lord informed you this is a lich's domain?" Ambrosius pressed further.
Though weakened by blood loss, the man summoned the strength to reply, "Lich Lord, I offer you my life and soul. Please, spare my sister. We were fleeing for our lives and meant no offense."
"Fugitives?"
Only runaway slaves would dare such a desperate act, even venturing into a lich's territory, perhaps dismissing the tales of liches as mere scare tactics by the lord.
But the man, desperate, clarified, "No, we are free folk. Our lord suddenly imposed new taxes. We had already paid, but he demanded double. Unable to comply, he threatened to sell my sister to a brothel!"
"Arbitrary taxation? Did you offend the lord?" Ambrosius inquired.
The man continued, "It's not just us. The entire county, even neighboring regions, face heavy taxation. Many free folk have already been sold into slavery."
Ambrosius was taken aback. The Alchemists' Council wouldn't ordinarily permit such actions. Could it be they themselves are nearing ruin?
Perhaps their attempt to create a new race failed, squandering much of Alchemy City's wealth. Seizing the opportunity, the elves of Silvermoon High Court hiked the prices of alchemical ingredients, leaving Alchemy City struggling to fulfill even routine orders. The resulting compensations would only deepen their financial woes.
In their typical fashion, the alchemists likely decided to increase taxes across the board, and the minor lords followed suit, shifting the burden onto the lower classes.
"Many free folk have fled?" Ambrosius asked.
"Yes, dozens I know personally..." The man fainted, succumbing to blood loss, teetering on the edge of death—a potential new specimen for Ambrosius's experiments.
Yet, hearing about the exodus of free folk sparked a new idea in Ambrosius.
With a flick of his fingers, a healing spell enveloped the man.
The wounds in his thigh sealed, pushing out the embedded spikes, and the lost blood was restored by the spell.
Moments later, the man awoke.
Seeing his healed leg, he quickly knelt before Ambrosius. "Thank you, merciful Lich Lord!"
Ambrosius let out a chilling laugh and said, "Thanking a lich? It seems your mind is still muddled. Did you think I would simply let you go? Trespassing on a lich's domain means leaving behind both your soul and body."
"No, my lord, please..." The man begged desperately.
Annoyed, Ambrosius silenced him with a spell.
"Don't be hasty. I will give you a chance to live, but only if you complete a task for me."
With a snap of his fingers, two grotesque skeletons appeared. While they resembled skeletons, their forms were far from human. They looked like skeletal hounds, though their heads were replaced with three-fingered hands.
What kind of monstrous creatures had left behind such bizarre remains?
The skeletal hounds lifted the sleeping girl onto their backs and followed Ambrosius.
The man, watching his sister being taken away, gritted his teeth and followed. Resistance was futile; he feared becoming a corpse himself. At least the lich had healed him—it hinted at reason. Perhaps there was hope for survival.
Clinging to this sliver of hope, he trailed Ambrosius into the castle.
Ambrosius led them directly to his laboratory, instructing, "Stand aside. Do not speak unless spoken to."
Ignoring the man, Ambrosius approached his workbench.
He retrieved a memory crystal, suspending it high above. This artifact, commonly used to record visuals and sounds, was a standard magical tool. Ambrosius infused it with mana and began:
"Experiment No. 176: Aesthetic Modifications of Undead Creatures."
"For too long, we have adhered to the conventional upright skeletal form—206 bones assembled into a human skeleton. Yet, without muscles and tendons, each bone relies solely on the soul's energy for cohesion.
"Even the simple task of balancing on two feet demands immense soul energy for continuous adjustments. I deem this an unnecessary burden..."
From the first assembly of bones, the memory crystal recorded Ambrosius's every meticulous move.
End of Chapter