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 become 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 same: the soul. Over two hundred bones and a hundred joints represent a colossal burden for that core. Yet we've grown accustomed to this, to the point that no necromancer has ever precisely measured soul strength. We have only vague classifications of 'low,' 'medium,' and 'high-grade' souls.
"In alchemy, potion formulas are measured down to the milligram. Yet in our field of necromancy, we haven't even precisely measured our most crucial component. I find this an unacceptable level of intellectual laziness.
"Admittedly, soul strength fluctuates, making measurement 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 experimentation, I have established my own standard, naming the unit of soul strength the 'Anima.' The specific measurement methodology 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 experiment 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 specimen. Its strength, agility, and durability are all significantly increased. By my calculations, the enhancement 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 metal blades onto the arms of this alien skeleton.
A small, mantis-like skeleton was complete.
Ambrose placed the creature on the floor. It immediately began to move at an incredible pace, faster even than a cat.
"I've named this model the Kha'Zix Model I. Now, for the field test."
Ambrose gestured to the pale, trembling man. "What is your name?"
The terrified man stammered, "R-Raul."
"Alright, Raul. You will take the Kha'Zix Model I and bring me back the other escaped freemen. If you can bring me 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, immediately 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 me. I told him I'd release you if he brings back ten people. By the way, since you're freemen, what is your profession?"
Freemen usually possessed a trade. Since most of the land belonged to the lord, only slaves or tenant farmers could work his fields. Most other freemen had to take up a different profession to survive.
It took the girl a long time to calm down. She didn't believe her brother would willingly work for a lich. The undead monster must have forced him somehow. 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 memorizing and understanding complex potion formulas.
Different ingredients contained different magical elements, and even ingredients of the same type could vary in elemental concentration depending on how they grew. To become 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 moment 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 met with an accident."
Without her master's protection, a mere apprentice was indeed powerless against a lord. That lord had probably been eyeing the girl for some time, 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 perfume. Its effect was simple: it calmed 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."