ALL NOVEL 95 - New Possibilities
Lieze’s army was confined to the square surrounding the cemetery. Gravewalkers and other assorted monstrosities idled in the streets like absent-minded citizens. She was pleasantly surprised to see that the alchemy table and blood barrel from the gatehouse had been relocated by a number of Marché’s cultists, placed haphazardly in the centre of the graveyard.
Before making any decisions, Lieze took a moment to examine something she hadn’t been allowed the opportunity to inspect during the attack on the northern district.
Ability - Necromantic Alchemy (Create Wailing Cube)
Description - Conjoin any number of thralls into a neat cube of flesh which is treated as a single entity that absorbs the levels of any thralls used in the ritual. While capable of extremely slow movement, a Wailing Cube lacks combat abilities of any kind. This ability may be used to create a new cube or add to an existing cube.
“This seems useless at first, but I can think of a few applications…” Lieze thought.
Wailing Cubes would be perfect for her [Corpse Explosion] ability. Unlike Rot Behemoths, their creation didn’t involve any diminishing returns, making them perfect candidates to use as living bombs against her enemies.
“If only the shape was a little more workable…” She lamented, “Wait… I can fix that, can’t I?”
She had been making use of the templates the scale had been offering her rather than devising her own thralls. The Wailing Cube was little more than a theory in her mind, but with some thought, she could transform it into a more worthwhile investment.
[Unique Undead Learned - [Wailing Sphere]
Quest ‘Dark Resurrection’ Complete!
Reward - 3,300xp
“Why make a cube when you can make a sphere?” She smirked, “This way, we’ll be able to roll them into the enemy. But there’s still the problem of timing [Corpse Explosion] correctly… it’s powerful, but I’ve nearly blown myself up every time.”
She considered the intricacies of her communion during the casting of the spell. She focused on her breathless incantations, and the haunting visions of the Blackbriar creeping out from its celestial hole. If she could learn to ‘tweak’ those intricacies, it would be possible for her to change the particulars of a spell.
Technique Learned!
Type: [Spell Variant] Name: [Delayed / Proximity Corpse Explosion]
Description - Same as [Corpse Explosion], only the target of the spell can now be labelled as ‘delayed’ or ‘proximity’ for an amount of MP equal to double the target thrall’s level. When labelled as delayed, the spell’s effect can be delayed for up to 5 seconds following casting. When labelled as proximity, the spell will ‘arm’ itself over a period of 5 seconds, taking effect when any creature passes within 5ft of the targeted thrall.
As Lieze thought, tweaking a spell was simpler than she gave it credit for. The improved version had an increased MP cost, but it would allow for more strategic applications in the future.
“Now… what kinds of improvements should we be focusing on?” Lieze placed a hand to her chin, “Marché!”
The curly-haired necromancer pushed through a crowd of thralls to reach her.
“New orders?” He wondered.
“Indeed. It’s time to start creating our Dark Casters.” She nodded, “I want every one of our cultists working on this. Our target is to create at least 30, but more will always be welcome. Use middling to high-level Gravewalkers for the rituals. That way, we’ll end up with some rather powerful spellcasters on our side.”
“I’ll make sure they get right on it.” Marché bowed, “What about yourself and Drayya?”
“We’ll occupy ourselves with some general improvements - strengthening the Rot Behemoths, improving the constitutions of our Flesh Elementals… things like that.” She said, “My father will be doing something similar, I’m sure. Only he doesn’t have the benefit of an alchemy table nor an existing source of blood, so I presume we’ll have at least a day or two free.”
“We might be attacked during that time.” He warned.
“Yes. In fact, I’m almost certain that we will.” She replied, “Have one of the cultists stationed as a scout near the southern district. Tell them to report the slightest possibility that there might be an ‘angel’ attack on the horizon.”
“As you wish.”
A beat passed between them.
“...Something’s bothering you.” Lieze noticed, “Does it have anything to do with my actions in the town hall?”
“Do you still remember Alma?” Marché asked out of the blue, “Perhaps it’s not my place to ask, but… hasn’t her death affected you in the slightest? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve wiped the girl clean from your memory.”
“Something like that.” Lieze tilted her head, “Do you recall the first utensil you ever used?”
“Have a heart, Lieze.”
“No.” Her expression flattened out, “I’ve told you this already - place it at the back of your mind. Yes, she was a fine steward while she lasted and I would have preferred if she hadn’t passed, but our mission has grown in scope and the impact of her death has become negligible.”
“The way she was staring at us when Morgan executed her…” Marché sighed, “I see it. In my dreams, I mean. It was something beyond hatred, like she devoted every fibre of her being to cursing us in her final moments.”
“She knew the risks.”
“Yes, but…!” Marché raised his voice, only to fall into a short silence, “...But she was innocent. Her interest in necromancy was little else but a hobby. And knowing you, I can’t imagine the circumstances of her recruitment were entirely voluntary.”
“They weren’t. I blackmailed her.” Lieze admitted, “She is with the Heavens now, as all creatures are destined to be.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“You’ve killed your fair share of innocents already.” She said.
“-So I’m a hypocrite. What does that change? I never intended to be a rational person, as I’m sure you can already tell from my willingness to join you.” Marché replied, “...This is pointless.”
“It is.” Lieze said, “If you have time to mourn a single corpse among hundreds, then spend it doing something more productive. Don’t forget who you are, and where your allegiances lie.”
She was naïve to assume that Marché had placed his emotions behind him. He lacked the discipline of a necromancer raised from birth in the Deadlands. She had no patience for someone who busied himself with grieving when there were better things to be focusing one’s grief into.
“Get to work.” She turned her back to him, “Don’t speak of this again.”
The only option was to alienate him from sensitivity. The Order was the only place left for him to turn, and he needed to be reminded of that. Lieze didn’t want to exile him in fear of his cultists switching up their allegiances, so she was willing to put up with an occasional complaint or two as long as Marché remained useful.
“...Of course.” Relenting, he bowed again, “30 Dark Casters, you said? I’ll order the others to begin right away.”
And that was that. He walked off, too anxious to utter a word of protest. It was precisely the kind of attitude Lieze liked to see.
Afterwards, she went in search of Drayya, who was slipping through the ruins of an abandoned house just down the road.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Lieze crossed her arms.
Drayya flipped around on the slope of a collapsed wall before sliding down to meet her.
“I was just going to visit our good friend Morgan.” She smiled, “She still needs to eat, you know.”
“We have everything we need from her.” Lieze replied.
“Yes… I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve gone and taken her… stone. Her gem. You know what I mean.” She said, “-But that’s no reason to kill her, you know? I would say she’s deserving of at least another week.”
“That’s not our way.”
“Oh- I knew you were going to say something like that.” Drayya sighed, “Try to see this from my perspective, Lieze. She witnessed my father’s torturous end over the course of days and revelled in his suffering. Why should she be allowed a quick death?”
“Because you have better things to be doing.” Lieze said, “We’re in no position to be indulging in our fantasies. Marché and his followers are hard at work creating our Dark Casters, and we need to focus on separating the wheat from the chaff, so to speak. Most of our Gravewalkers are pitifully weak.”
“Mm… no, I’m not doing that.” She stood her ground, “I’ll meet with you in half an hour, but until then, you’ll have to make do with your own abilities.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
“You weren’t-” Drayya lowered her head in exasperation, “Let’s be clear about one thing, Lieze - I’m only following your orders out of respect for how much you’ve managed to accomplish without me. Rightfully, the glory of this conquest is yours, but don’t allow that pride to distract you from the fact that the two of us are not equals.”
“Are you willing to test that theory?” Lieze asked.
“...What?”
Her response arrived on instinct. It was unbelievable. Drayya couldn’t wrap her head around that simple statement. The mere suggestion that her power could be contested had sent her reeling.
It was only a natural reaction. When the two of them were reunited after the siege, Lieze was barely a novice. Drayya was her senior in age, experience, and talent. But a quick glance at the text above her head revealed the new normal to Lieze.
Margoh Drayya
Level 34 Necromancer
HP - 370/370 MP - 982/982
BODY - 6 MIND - 21 SOUL - 7
2 Levels separated them. With the predictable progression of her milestones, Lieze knew that her [Supreme Necromancy] was on the same level as Drayya’s. The only factors that separated them were a few measly numbers, and in terms of pure magical power, Lieze already had more MP than her.
For a few years, her teenage self cared for little else but surpassing Drayya. She knew it was an impossible dream, but that only made the possibility more tantalising. Standing there, she realised that her dream had finally become reality. For the first time, their positions were reversed - Drayya would lag behind while Lieze ascended to new heights.
“If I tried to kill you right now, would you be able to stop me?” She asked, “There are no thralls here. You don’t even have any spare blood on you. All you have is a dagger. Would that be enough?”
“I see killing Graeme has done wonders for your confidence…” Drayya sighed, “Let’s not do this, Lieze. Not when we’re so close to greatness.”
She was trying to back out on her own terms. It was a show of reluctant weakness.
“Go into that shed and kill Morgan.” Lieze ordered, “We don’t need a priest sneaking in and healing her. Afterwards, we’re going back to the cemetery. I want to make sure our army is prepared for the trials to come.”
“...You’re really going to take this away from me?” Drayya shrugged her shoulders, “You’re going to allow that snake the mercy of death, after all she’s done?”
“Yes.” Lieze nodded, “Now go.”
There was a moment of silence - one final chance for Drayya to reject a direct order from someone other than Sokalar. Then, without another word, she turned and clambered over the ruined foundations into the back garden.
“Good.” Lieze thought, “She won’t put up a fight from now on.”
If she wanted to retain her authority, then it was necessary to discipline her followers. Drayya had been the most troublesome, but she had ignored every chance to dethrone Lieze as the cult’s leader. She only realised then that the opportunity had dried up, and there was no longer any choice but to obey the commands of her former rival.
As much as it made Lieze’s skin scrawl, she really was starting to feel like her father.