In the dim, filthy sewers, an evil lich interrogated the grotesque, twisted hag about the secrets of ascension to godhood.
The scene was unmistakably one of an evil mastermind plotting dark deeds.
Yet, in truth, Ambershire could not extract any useful information from the hag's mouth.
The hag had merely heard the prophecy from other hags.
"The blasphemous experiment has finally succeeded, though hidden in the sewers of Alchemy City. It is a treasure that can manifest the power of the gods. Whoever possesses it shall become a true deity."
The hag spoke with an air of conviction, but after hearing her words, Ambershire was struck by the sheer folly of mankind.
If Alchemy City had truly crafted a treasure capable of granting godhood, would they still be hiding it in the sewers? Surely they would have given it to the enigmatic Speaker, and used it to resolve the city's economic crises, rather than enduring such hardships?
Moreover, the concept of attaining godhood was nothing more than a mere mortal fantasy.
If anyone on this continent came closest to being gods, it would undoubtedly be the legends.
The so-called "legends" were individuals who had transcended mortality but had not yet ascended to godhood, powerful beings who were often referred to as "demigods." These individuals had acquired a faint godly power, allowing them to, to some extent, disregard the laws that govern mere mortals.
The legendary boon that Ambershire himself possessed was the ability to break rules, to create blank souls—powers that could only be wielded by true deities.
But even legends were still a far cry from actual gods.
Becoming a deity, in essence, was akin to a civil service promotion—only those truly worthy could ascend. It wasn't just about being powerful.
For a mortal to become a god, there were generally two possible paths.
The first was sheer luck: to earn the favor of the First Creator, the primordial deity. This god could designate any being as a god, even granting divine status to lifeless objects. There were no preconditions, no side effects—if the god simply consented, that individual would ascend to divinity.
But Ambershire had never heard of anyone being that fortunate.
The second path, of course, was to first become a legend—essentially passing the first trial in the quest for godhood—and then await further opportunities. If fortune favored you, a god might assist you in your ascent, perhaps sacrificing themselves to bestow their divine essence upon you.
Yes, becoming a god generally only occurred through these two routes.
Without the abdication of an old god, no new god could rise to power.
Otherwise, with so many legends on this continent, wouldn't they have ascended to divinity long ago?
Of course, there was one more, seemingly absurd possibility—the creation of a new path to make room for one more deity, thus expanding the pantheon.
It was said that the Alchemist God was the true new god, having pioneered a new domain of divinity, receiving the approval of the First Creator, and thus ascending to godhood.
But notice this: even if you were capable of opening a new path, you still needed the approval of the primordial god to ascend.
Without that approval, no matter how powerful you were, you could only remain a legend.
Mankind had many unrealistic fantasies about deities, which is why they believed in such rumors—that acquiring some magical artifact could somehow grant them godhood.
But as Ambershire pondered further, something about it didn't seem quite right.
The small tribes of druids and hags may not understand, but the legends of the Ryan Empire certainly should not be so easily deceived. The appearance of the empire's holy paladins in Alchemy City, preparing to explore the sewers, suggested that something of great significance was hidden here.
The hag, seeing Ambershire remain silent, assumed that he too was pondering the prophecy. She hurriedly added, "There are many more details, such as the time, the location, and various omens. If you swear by the gods, I will reveal everything to you, if you only spare my life."
Ambershire, upon hearing this, coldly remarked, "Prophecies? Prophecies are nothing more than nonsense."
The hag was taken aback. She couldn't fathom how Ambershire, a mage of the prophecy school, could dismiss the very power he once studied. If he didn't believe in the power of prophecy, what made him different from someone who blasphemed against his own god?
Ambershire, indeed, no longer believed in prophecies. To be more precise, he had abandoned the path of the prophecy school.
The reason was simple: his soul was not noble enough to live in harmony with it.
When you master the power of prophecy, you are bound to believe everything the prophecy reveals. You cannot pick and choose what is convenient for you and dismiss what is inconvenient. If you call the favorable events fate's design but reject the unfavorable ones as mere misfortune, the laws of the world will not tolerate such double standards.
If one cannot fully accept the will of fate, they will become anxious and restless, trying desperately to avoid an unpleasant future, often bringing about their own demise.
The fear of death pales in comparison to the dread of waiting for it, and this torment can drive a person mad.
Ambershire was never one to accept his fate quietly. If he were, he wouldn't have so desperately sought immortality. Perhaps it was because of this inner duality that when he ascended to legend, the boon he received had nothing to do with prophecy.
In this way, Ambershire had finally accepted his own weaknesses, resolving to pursue a different path.
His reincarnation as a lich, beyond the economic strain, had been influenced by this very decision. Yet, despite everything, the influence of the prophecy school hadn't vanished entirely; it had simply been halted at the cusp of ascension, unable to progress further.
This was also why Ambershire had become a "defective" legend—having abandoned what he was best at, he now had to spend vast amounts of time making up for what he had lost, in order to stand on equal footing with other legends.
But these details were of no concern to the hag. Ambershire slowly raised his hand, a small skinning knife appearing between his fingers. He coldly addressed the hag, "It seems your usefulness has come to an end."
"No, wait!"
Upon seeing the knife, the hag's face drained of color, and she begged for mercy.
But Ambershire paid no heed to her pleas. With one swift motion, he removed her scalp, the rancid blood splattering out, leaving only a pale skull beneath.
The scalp in Ambershire's hand seemed to possess a life of its own, its intricate markings writhing like countless insects.
A revolting sight, yet it was the most valuable thing the hag possessed.
By skinning her, Ambershire had extracted the majority of her power, for her scalp contained most of her strength. With a few additional ingredients, he could brew alchemical potions that permanently boosted attributes—whether it was strength, intelligence, or agility, depending on the additives used.
Though such potions were only effective on those below the legendary tier, they could still fetch tens of thousands of gold coins. With the skyrocketing prices in Alchemy City, Ambershire was confident he could sell the potion for forty or fifty thousand gold.
When the hag had initially offered only twenty thousand, Ambershire had already sentenced her to death. He would never spare her unless she offered more than the value of her scalp.
Once the hag's scalp was removed, her strength was utterly gone. She collapsed to the ground, more fragile than a mere mortal. There was no need for Ambershire to lift a finger—just the poisonous stench in the air was enough to invade her body, causing her to twitch and die.
Without her magical protection, the sewers had become her tomb.
Ambershire carefully extracted her soul, fashioning her body into a skeletal puppet, and then turned to walk down another path in the sewer.
While his journey had been a great success, Ambershire had not forgotten his true goal.
He was here to capture slimes, and he could only hope that Naomi's marked locations were accurate.
End of Chapter