Driven by powers beyond mortal comprehension, Alkhemia rose into the sky. As it ascended, most of the city's buildings were reduced to drifting ash.
In the end, the entire city vanished outright, leaving behind nothing but a colossal crater.
Jas Watson stared at the horrifying sight before him, silently grateful that he had retreated quickly enough. Had he hesitated even a little, he too would have been swept away by that dreadful force.
The disappearance of Alkhemia was tantamount to the destruction of one of the Nine Kingdoms. Such an event was bound to trigger upheaval across the continent. Jas Watson could not linger here any longer. He had to return to the Lyon Empire at once and prepare for the coming shockwaves.
The paladins had arrived in haste and were now leaving just as hurriedly.
Ambrose, anwhile, returned to his own castle with a lingering sense of frustration.
Aside from his phylactery, he hadn't suffered major losses. Before leaving ho, he had already suspected that the alchemists were plotting sothing nefarious, so he had transferred most of his valuables away in advance. Even his phylacteries had largely been moved—the ones left behind were nearly expired knockoffs that he deliberately kept as bait.
As for the humans in his territory, it seed that most of them had already fled. Ambrose did not particularly care. Alkhemia was gone, and it was ti for him to relocate as well.
Without the protection of a kingdom, a lich was far too easy a target for adventurers.
That said, there was no rush. First, Ambrose needed to review his gains.
He tore open a spatial rift with both hands and stepped into the special space created by Wish. This was a private domain that belonged solely to him, vastly larger than any extradinsional storage pouch—large enough for him to put his entire castle within, too.
A look inside made his heart skip. There was a veritable mountain of gold coins, numbering at least a million.
In the past, Ambrose would have been delighted. A million gold coins was no small fortune. But upon rembering how much more he could have gained, the pain in his chest grew almost unbearable.
Suppressing his heartache, he began searching through the space.
Before long, a smile spread across his face.
"Formulas and blueprints!"
Hundreds of bookcases filled nearly half of the private space. These were Alkhemia's secret archives. Perhaps because more massive materials had been sacrificed first, these lightweight sheets of paper had survived in large numbers.
Ambrose flipped through them and quickly found several extrely valuable alchemical formulas.
The shelves and paper themselves were worthless, but their contents were priceless.
By Ambrose's estimation, selling all these formulas would easily net him a fortune. Tens, even hundreds, of millions would not have been out of the question.
However, after the chaos Alkhemia had caused, all the alchemists across the continent would inevitably be affected. The city's destruction would trigger a mass exodus of alchemists—and with them, a massive leak of formulas and recipes.
How much these docunts were still worth, and how quickly they would depreciate, was anyone's guess.
Beyond that, Ambrose was surprised to see Dippel sealed within the space as well.
Why was this old bastard here too?
"Valuable things... Do people count as well?"
The criteria were admittedly vague, but a legendary alchemist was surely worth sothing. If nothing else, a bit of harsh interrogation might squeeze out a few hidden stashes of gold.
Looking around further, Ambrose discovered several other people sealed into the space as well. Whether they should consider themselves lucky was hard to say.
There were also various alchemical materials of moderate value. Taken together, the total indeed ca out to be roughly six million gold. Gary Watts' calculation had been accurate.
It wasn't quite a loss. Six million gold was still substantial, especially since Ambrose himself hadn't stood to lose very much. But it was far less than the fortunes he had hoped for.
Still, there was sothing else he hadn't accounted for. Setting aside the two additional legendary boons, the most valuable prize of all was this space itself.
Since prophecies could not be altered, Ambrose had deliberately avoided wishing for more gold. Instead, he placed special requirents on this private space of his.
First, to ensure that the stored resources would not degrade, he required the space to have an adjustable flow of ti. As it was now, everything within it was sealed in a state of temporal stasis. Whatever magical materials were within the space could be preserved indefinitely. Unfortunately for Dippel, this ant that he too was frozen in suspended ti.
Within the space, Ambrose could also accelerate or decelerate ti at will. One day outside could equal a year inside, or one year outside a day inside. The maximum ratio was roughly 300:1 each way.
Second, the space was extrely secure. Barring direct divine intervention, infiltration was effectively impossible. This space was akin to an impenetrable vault whose contents could not be stolen.
Third, the space retained the potential for future expansion. The justification was simple: the stored materials might increase in volu. Alchemical potions exploding was perfectly normal, after all.
Thanks to these utterly shaless reasons, Ambrose's private space had gained several characteristics of a divine kingdom. It was strictly because Gary Watts was on his side that Ambrose dared to make such unreasonable demands. The consequences of fulfilling this wish were likely borne entirely by Gary Watts himself.
Or... perhaps the gods feared that Ambrose would have been dissatisfied with only six million gold, and grudgingly indulged him so that he wouldn't cause any trouble.
Either way, Ambrose had co out ahead. A highly secure private space with adjustable ti flow and room for future expansion was a genuine prize. If it were transferable, every other legendary-tier powerhouse would be green with envy.
And there were still the two legendary boons to consider.
Ambrose took out the gold coin and linked it to his soul.
Instantly, countless projections of light burst forth, displaying over a dozen different legendary boons related to alchemy.
"Let see. Construct Repair: perfectly repairs your own creations. Trash. Double Output: significantly increases experintal yields. Interesting. Attribute Bestowal. This one's absurd, and definitely worth a look. Guaranteed Alchemical Success. The guildmaster's ability, huh? That one's impressive..."
Ambrose studied them carefully for a long while before narrowing his choices down to three.
The first was the guildmaster's legendary boon: guaranteed success in alchemical experints. It was so powerful it verged on a facet of divine law. It consisted of two effects: accurately calculating an experint's probability of success, and forcibly altering that probability.
But the greater the adjustnt, the higher the cost.
Ambrose had no idea what price the guildmaster had paid to push the probability of ascension to godhood to one hundred percent. All Ambrose knew was that for him, the cost would be gold.
The lower the original success rate, the more gold it consud. The description was frustratingly vague, emphasizing only that it required vast sums of coin. But with enough gold, no matter how ridiculous the experint, success could be guaranteed.
The second boon was equally outrageous: altering the attributes of matter. This too touched on divine authority. When Dippel's golem puppet had been dismantled, the chairman had recategorized the "damaged golem" as "a pile of parts." The difference seed subtle, but it had completely nullified Dippel's legendary boon.
Once it was no longer his creation, his repair ability no longer applied.
And this boon could be taken to even further extres. Ambrose could take a mass of steel and assign it the concept of "bones." In theory, after the alteration, his Mitic Soul could treat steel as skeletal material.
Naturally, this also demanded an enormous expenditure of gold—and how much, once again, was left unspecified.
The third boon was far more practical. At regular intervals, Ambrose could comprehend a new alchemical formula. Which formula he gained was random and entirely dependent on the God of Alchemy's whims. Ambrose did not have much affection for his forr teacher and suspected he was hiding many secrets, but the price was genuinely cheap: only a few hundred gold per monthly draw, with the chance of hitting a jackpot.
Compared to these three, the other legendary boons were either useless or underwhelming. Most alchemical legendary boons were simply too support-oriented, leaving Ambrose hesitant.
"Well, I don't need to make my decision today. I can afford to think it over for a few days."
He put the coin away, then took out another scroll glowing with golden light.
This was his other reward: his second legendary ascension, which would grant him another legendary boon.
With this scroll, he'd be able to shake off his label of "half-baked legend." It might even compensate for the loss he had suffered by abandoning the power of divination.
Without hesitation, Ambrose activated the scroll.
Golden light erupted and enveloped his body. The sa wondrous sensation from his first legendary ascension returned. His soul felt as though it were about to rge completely with the world itself.
In his daze, he seed to see countless beings prostrating themselves at his feet. Like a giant, he sat upon a throne forged of gold, gazing down upon billions of worshippers.
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