[gaman Tiga: I'm currently in Lyon's imperial capital. I just stepped out of the teleportation array…]
The mont Ambrose sent that ssage, the group chat exploded.
The first in line was Heki Stone.
This dwarven vampire was Ambrose's top hater in the Elegiac Society.
He had only just recovered from the shock of the Elven Queen practically throwing herself at Ambrose—only for such a ssage to pop up. His mood imdiately soured.
[Human-Hater: You ******! What nonsense are you spouting now? The imperial capital of Lyon? An undead would be blasted into ash before even getting close.]
The second in line was Gareth, who had married into wealth. He probably had nothing to do all day; he never missed a single chat session.
[Dullahan's Crown: Bro, I'm siding with the dwarf this ti. Even if you're just bragging, this is going too far. The imperial capital of Lyon? Even I wouldn't dare go near that place. With your tiny fra, the holy light would blast you so hard there wouldn't even be bone ash left.]
Ambrose read their replies, pondered briefly, then continued writing. [gaman Tiga: Gentlen, care to make a wager?]
[Human-Hater: A wager on whether you're actually in the City of Dawn? How are you even going to prove it?!]
[gaman Tiga: Don't worry about how I'm going to prove it. Just tell if you're in or not. My stake is fifty-three million gold.]
[Human-Hater: That's a pretty specific number. What's with the extra three million?]
[gaman Tiga: A group of paladins just knelt in front of , crying and begging to take it. I might as well gamble with it.]
[Human-Hater: *******!]
Ambrose sighed inwardly. Why was it that no one ever believed him when he told the truth? He was a lich who conducted business with integrity. He always spoke honestly.
Heki Stone seed too agitated to think about the bet anymore. He was furiously spamming "******" in the chat, as if he had forgotten about the wager entirely.
Ambrose made a ntal note to tell a white lie next ti. Can't have the poor sucker—no, his fellow undead—ntally breaking down.
Once Heki Stone cald down, Gareth continued, [Dullahan's Crown: Bro, you serious? You're really in the City of Dawn?]
[Pale Little Skeleton: Impossible. How could undead enter the City of Dawn? Even if you were the Lord of Dawn's illegitimate son, as an undead, you'd still be burned to ash by the Holy Light.]
[gaman Tiga: Why would I lie to you? I'll record my surroundings with a mory crystal right now.]
Ambrose pulled a mory crystal from his private space and recorded the towering white stone pillars surrounding the teleportation array. Each one bore statues of the Lord of Dawn. On the entire continent, only Lyon's imperial capital, the City of Dawn, possessed forty- to fifty-ter-tall statues of the Lord of Dawn in such numbers.
After filming the environnt, Ambrose walked up to the stern-faced paladin overseeing them and leaned close. "Co on, cooperate a bit. Take off the helt and give us a smile."
The paladin turned his head, glanced at Ambrose once, then resud his rigid posture as if he'd heard nothing.
"Fine. Don't cooperate, then."
Ambrose captured all the guarding paladins in the fra and uploaded the footage into the Necromantic Codex.
Monts later, the group began to question their sanity.
[Human-Hater: How is this possible?! Is that really the City of Dawn? You didn't fake this in advance, did you?]
[gaman Tiga: If you don't believe , I'll write your na on a piece of paper and prepare another recording with it in fra.]
[Dullahan's Crown: Bro, how are you still alive? Where's the holy light? Why isn't it affecting you?!]
[Pale Little Skeleton: Don't tell you really are the Lord of Dawn's illegitimate son?!]
……
Undead being allowed entry into Lyon was outrageous enough, but the City of Dawn? That was practically the Lord of Dawn's earthly palace, a place where divine miracles occurred more often than anywhere else.
The concentration of holy light there was so dense that even a bone dragon wouldn't last more than a few seconds.
How could a lich like Ambrose possibly stand inside the City of Dawn unhard? Had he mastered so thod of resisting holy light?
If so, that would be the most shocking discovery in undead history.
The undead who cared most about Lyon, Black Rose, saw the ssages late. After reading the chat log, she imdiately sent Ambrose a private ssage. [Black Rose: How did you enter the City of Dawn? What exactly happened?]
Ambrose knew that Lyon was Black Rose's obsession. He didn't keep her waiting. He briefly recounted his encounter with the Silvermoon Knight in Sandshadow, saying only that he had requested passage toward the Erald Dreamwood. He didn't ntion anything about rescuing Harvey.
[Black Rose: You t Winston Light?]
Perhaps it was his imagination, but even through the Codex, Ambrose could sense the anger she was suppressing.
[gaman Tiga: I did. I even extorted over fifty million gold from him on your behalf.]
There was a long silence before she replied, [Black Rose: Thank you. That's the best news I've heard in decades.]
Curious, Ambrose asked, [gaman Tiga: Do you have a grudge against the Silvermoon Knight?]
[Black Rose: My ntor, Master Morgan, died to his blade. But he didn't co out unscathed either. His last disciple died in the Umbral Depths.]
Ambrose hadn't expected such history. Had he known, he would have extorted a few million more.
[Black Rose: That old man… he's probably close to death now.]
[gaman Tiga: He looks like he could drop dead at any mont, but the holy light within him hasn't weakened in the slightest. If I really were to fight him, I might not be his match.]
[Black Rose: Do not fight him. His Sacred Slash can injure a lich's soul. Even if you return to your phylactery, residual holy light will invade it. My ntor died to that strike. Even after returning to his phylactery, he was eventually burned to ash by the lingering holy light.]
That startled Ambrose.
Was that old man truly that absurd?
A lich's soul returning to its phylactery was a fundantal law, unrelated to spatial magic or teleportation.
In theory, nothing except the soul itself could be conveyed during the process. Even curses were cleansed upon resurrection.
How strong did the Silvermoon Knight have to be to imbue holy light to his Sacred Slash in such concentration that it could seep into a lich's soul and even into its phylactery?
Ambrose couldn't even fathom the chanism behind this sort of attack.
After several seconds of silence, he finally replied, [gaman Tiga: Good thing he's almost dead.]
[Black Rose: Yes. Fortunately, he's nearly dead. And fortunately, he isn't of the imperial bloodline. Otherwise, I'd already be dead as well. It's a pity you're trapped at the teleportation array. If you could get into the City of Dawn proper, there are a few secret tunnels that lead straight to the palace. You might even be able to assassinate the emperor.]
Ambrose blinked. [gaman Tiga: You even know about the Lyon capital's secret passageways?]
[Black Rose: Well, since I've already told you this much… I'm actually from Lyon. I grew up in the City of Dawn.]
[gaman Tiga: I had my suspicions. You know Lyon too well. You must have been a local.]
Ambrose wasn't particularly surprised. He had long suspected she had deep ties to Lyon, especially given her access to reports on the city's defenses.
Why she had fled and beco a lich wasn't surprising, either.
Many humans fled Lyon each year. So committed cris. So found the Lord of Dawn's doctrine incompatible with their ideals. Others simply desired immortality.
Lyon forbade magical ans of life extension. Even the Silvermoon Knight, the strongest paladin of the Empire, was aging. That alone proved how strict the ban was.
The instinct to live was fundantal. Undead were still beings. If given a choice, how many could calmly accept death?
But what Ambrose hadn't expected was this—
[Black Rose: In truth… I am of the imperial bloodline of Lyon. The current emperor is probably my cousin. It's been so long I barely rember.]
"What?!" Ambrose blurted aloud.
He was so shocked he had forgotten that the conversation was via text.
He quickly composed himself as she explained, [Black Rose: Strange? What does royalty matter? In the end, we're all slaves to faith. Lyon is a nation where everything can be sacrificed for belief. If you're not fanatical enough, you're a sinner. And I was such a sinner.]
[gaman Tiga: You wanted immortality? To break Lyon's laws?]
[Black Rose: No. I was raised indoctrinated. I was willing to give everything for Lyon. But as I grew older, I realized that even if I could accept death calmly, there were things I could not accept. Do you know how rare the true imperial bloodline is? My father had over forty children. Only I could resonate with the Draconic Armants.]
Ambrose thought to himself, "Just how many illegitimate children did the emperor have? Were those scandalous stories about goblins actually historical records?"
[Black Rose: The bloodline weakens with each generation. The founding emperor never sought to marry his relatives to concentrate the blood. After more than ten generations of dilution, the bloodline is far removed from its origin. Fewer and fewer can resonate with the Draconic Armants. Every emperor's primary duty is to produce children—many children—until one appears who can do so. I thought that, after ascending the throne, I would beco such a breeding machine. I was prepared to accept it as my duty. But I underestimated their madness.]
[gaman Tiga: "They"? Your family?]
[Black Rose: Yes. My father. My mother. All of them. They devised a plan. If my first child did not inherit the bloodline, they would replace my husband. The imperial family has countless collateral branches from generations of such reproduction. Cousins, distant uncles—any male of the bloodline would beco my husband. The goal was simple: to produce a child who would inherit the bloodline.]
Ambrose paused. [gaman Tiga: They're insane.]
[Black Rose: Yes. They are. I overheard their plan before my coronation. There truly are things in this world more unbearable than death. So I ran. Before they could enact their plan, I fled Lyon. They hunted relentlessly. I kept running, all the way to the Umbral Depths. There I t my teacher. With his help, I beca a lich… And you know the rest.]
Ambrose didn't know how to comfort her. No wonder her hatred for Lyon cut so deep.
But Black Rose was hardly fragile. She quickly steadied herself and asked, [Black Rose: By the way, why are you going to the Erald Dreamwood?]
[gaman Tiga: The elves gave the location of a buried divine artifact. I have to sail from the Erald Dreamwood to reach it.]
[Black Rose: Sailing from the Erald Dreamwood? Then you ought to talk to Mute. I spoke with her recently, and she seems to live in those waters.]
Ambrose stared at the ssage, baffled.
An undead living in the sea?
What kind of species was that?
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