ALL NOVEL 90 - Alchemical Evil
The massacre proceeded with such ease that Lieze barely had to lift a finger. Most civilians assumed that they had at least a few minutes to gather their belongings together before evacuating, unaware that they were only sealing their fates by allowing the undead horde to blockade their streets. The few soldiers who had been assigned to the district’s protection scattered like rodents before the army’s Briarknights.
Lieze was at peace. She finally had the freedom to carve a path through life’s tribulations on her own merit. In the past, she had experienced fleeting moments of hope after discovering new techniques in the archives, only to have that hope crushed by the reality of her abilities. In less than a month, she had overcome the weakness of her blood, and that was a relief that words could do justice.
‘End of Days’ Quest Status
Combatants killed: 291 / 1,000
The unwashed masses would serve as fuel for her crusade. For every civilian and royalist killed, a Gravewalker was raised in their place. Lieze had plotted against the city for so long, and the climactic bloodletting at the end of her journey was finally taking shape.
“There’s still so much I have left to learn…” She thought, “I learned during our siege of the northern district that I’m more than capable of dreaming up new types of thralls if the need strikes me. Not to mention that strange ritual…”
[Gain Forbidden Knowledge]. The name alone was enough to earn her interest. What could be more forbidden than necromancy itself? Lieze could only dream of the possibilities. But first of all, she would need to gather an abundance of thralls and make time for the ritual. The western district would serve as the perfect crucible for her needs.
In a final effort to protect the cityfolk, soldiers had gathered in the district centre to buy precious time, forming a shield wall stretching from one side of the street to the other.
“Hm. Brave, but suicidal.” Lieze remarked, “These are the warriors who reject the Order’s ideals, and yet offer their lives up as tribute to our cause? If they can see the beauty in death, then why not lay their arms down?”
“What should we do, my lady?” One of the cultists asked.
“I’d prefer not to lose any thralls, if possible… but we don’t have the time to manoeuvre around them.” She paused, “It would be wise to- hm?”
Her attention was caught by a single knight breaking away from the formation. He walked without fear, as if convinced of sudden and glorious victory, steeling his nerves against the warped forms of his countrymen backing Lieze and her cultists up.
“What’s this?” She smirked, “Come to offer your unconditional surrender? I appreciate the candour, but we have no intention of taking prisoners this day.”
“Lieze Sokalar…” The knight’s voice was muffled, and his face hidden, but the scathing tone of his voice was more than enough to reveal the roiling emotions beneath, “His Majesty knew you would come here.”
“I would hope so.” She shrugged her shoulders, “It was the most logical step to take. What I’m interested in knowing is why he bothered assigning any soldiers to the district at all. Royalists are in short supply these days, you know?”
The knight didn’t answer. Instead, he reached for his waist and retrieved a vial of golden liquid which glistened in the midday sun as its cork was unplugged. Lieze didn’t recognise the formula, but she assumed it was some sort of alchemical drought. On a whim, she focused on the vial and activated her [Identify] feature, pleasantly surprised to see a familiar box popping up.
Alchemic Drought (Elixir of Heavenly Metamorphosis)
Description - Drinking this potion in its entirety permanently alters your physiology. When imbibed, your level is doubled and all [Attributes] are redistributed into the [BODY] category. Additionally, you gain the [Alchemy Sickness] debuff for 1 hour, preventing you from receiving the benefits of any other Alchemic Drought for the duration.
“What in the…” Lieze muttered, “Some product of the Church’s alchemists? Don’t tell me you’re actually going to drink that, you damnable fool?”
“We guardsmen have sworn an oath to protect Tonberg, no matter the cost.” The knight answered, “Our alchemists have worked themselves to the bone creating a drought that will grant us the power to resist your dark crusade. They have condensed the very might of the Gildwyrm into these vials. His Majesty wishes for us to partake of the Lord’s strength and be remade in his divine image.”
“You’re being sold a terrible lie.” Lieze said, “Nothing I say will convince you. But don’t worry - you’ll certainly be ‘remade’ if you drink that potion. Whether you’re remade in a manner that pleases you or not… well, I’d be prepared for disappointment, assuming you’re still capable of rational thought afterwards…”
“Silence!” The knight demanded, “You expect me to trust the words of a witch!? The very same necromancer who has brought ruin to this city!?”
“Guilty as charged.” Admitting the truth, Lieze summoned a globule of blood from her Bag of Holding, “-But don’t think for a second that I’m going to let you drink that foul concoction.”
Lieze’s MP - 1,200 / 1,250
Lieze launched a [Blood Spike] towards the knight, only to have the spell nullified by his gargantuan shield. She clicked her tongue as he brought the vial to his lips and downed the golden liquid in one quaff.
“I’m not about to sit back and wait for this to happen.” Lieze beckoned with one hand, signalling her Briarknight to attack. The greatsword-wielding thrall leaped towards the knight at her call, “If you want to expose yourself to danger, then I won’t complain.”
Following in his example, the knight’s allies retrieved their own droughts, downing the vials faster than the Briarknight could close the gap between the two groups. Their courageous expressions were quickly replaced with horror, however, as the first symptoms of change inflicted their leader.
As the knights fell to his knees, the Briarknight brought the weight of its greatsword down upon his armour, shredding the metal to ribbons and bisecting the soldier in one smooth motion. Steam rose from the knight’s boiling blood which seemed to have taken on an acidic property. Indeed, his very flesh seemed to be melting, with muscle and organs dissolving into a metamorphic slurry of primeval matter.
The line of soldiers soon suffered a similar fate, throwing their weapons to the ground and clutching their throats as plumes of toxic gas escaped with every cough. Most began to vomit - and not only the contents of their lunches, but sloughed flesh and helpings of blood to boot.
“What sick madness is this?” Lieze blinked to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating, “Has Alistair lost his mind?”
Like a caterpillar freed early from its chrysalis, all that remained of the soldiers in the end were puddles of melted, undulating flesh. There could be no doubt that, through some despicable miracle of alchemy, the once-humans still lived, but as to what the purpose of the drought could have possibly been, Lieze had trouble saying.
-Until a moment later, when new forms rose from the slurry like golems of mud. As their skins hardened, they took on humanoid forms, albeit faceless and devoid of genitalia. The final touch of their metamorphosis was a pair of wings unfurling from their backs which took on a draconic appearance. Then, as if nothing strange had occurred, they kneeled down to retrieve their weapons.
“...Angels?” One of Lieze’s cultists said.
“I’m sure Alistair would be quick to name them as such.” She replied, “-But these are no angels. They are mere corruptions of divinity - a mad alchemist’s final attempt to replicate an unshackling of the body and mind. These dogs of the Church will do anything but accept the sanctity that death provides, though I imagine their original selves are already gone.”
She examined the block of text hovering over one such individual’s head.
Artificial Scion
Level 26 Aberration
HP - 3,501 / 3,501 MP - 0 / 0
BODY - 26 MIND - 0 SOUL - 0
“Far more formidable than the average soldier…” She thought, “This is Alistair’s final plan to reclaim some semblance of control over the city?”
“My lady…” A cultist said, “What shall we do?”
“They’re powerful, to be sure, but not invincible.” Lieze answered, “Send your Horrors and Gravewalkers forward to occupy their attention. The Briarknight will make short work of them in the chaos of the battle.”
“As you wish.”
-Those were her orders, but the legion of Artificial Scions had more sense than to remain still. Wind buffeted Lieze’s face as the winged beasts flapped their draconic wings, taking to the skies in an impressive display of synchronisation.
“Gods, they can fly now?” She sighed, “This might prove an issue…”
She considered making use of her [Antimagic Pulse], but realised that it wouldn’t be of any use. The Artificial Scions didn’t have any MP as a result of their transformations forcibly shifting all of their [Attributes] towards [BODY]. Dealing with ranged or out-of-reach attackers had always been a weakness of necromancy, but flight did come with its own risks - namely, that it was impossible to attack Lieze’s thralls without closing the gap between them or throwing - and therefore losing - their weapons.
“They have plenty of HP to spare, too… what a pain…” She thought, leaning over to one of her cultists, “On second thought, give the order to retreat. We aren’t equipped to deal with an enemy like this yet.”
“R-Retreat, my lady?”
“Don’t trick yourself into thinking we’ve been defeated. I simply don’t want to waste any more thralls than necessary.” She replied, “I imagine Drayya and Marché are facing a similar problem as we speak. If they know what’s good for them, they’ll also begin to retreat.”
Lieze shifted her gaze to the corner of her vision.
‘End of Days’ Quest Status
Combatants killed: 689 / 1,000
“Well… I suppose that’s a victory in its own way.” She muttered, “All of you, get moving! If any of those creatures try to give chase, keep them at bay with [Blood Magic]!”
Naturally, the Artificial Scions weren’t about to let them leave quietly. They demonstrated a superb gracefulness in flight, swooping down to deliver blows to Gravewalkers with spears whilst remaining free of the thralls’ range. Some who were more confident attempted to attack the Briarknight, but they quickly found themselves being dragged by their spears to the ground before a greatsword clipped their wings for good.
Altogether, a victory on either side would be pyrrhic at best, which served to create a rift between the two forces as Lieze’s cultists retreated through the district. As they went, Lieze made sure to raise any civilians who had been killed by straggling Gravewalkers, adding to her own forces.
Lieze’s MP - 480 / 1,250
The Artificial Scions retained enough of their intelligence to decide when it was no longer worthwhile to harass Lieze’s army. They had no chance of killing her or the cultists while the Briarknight was defending them, and so the man-made angels disappeared over the terraced rooftops to parts unknown.
“Unbelievable…” Lieze said, “There is no value in clinging to life, but the Church’s devotion to defying the Order was somewhat respectable. Now, out of their conjoined fear of oblivion, they resort to turning their own soldiers into monsters just to stand a chance. How pitiful.”
More Artificial Scions glided over the rooftops as her army retreated, most likely those sent to intercept Drayya and Marché’s groups. Lieze couldn’t help but wonder if such an atrocity was as far as the Church was willing to go, or if the appearance of their personal guardian angels only portended a more sinister plot.