I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 548: What’s your plan?

The ancient mage’s expression shifted, recognition flickering across his skeletal features.

God’s Blood trees were rare but not impossible to locate.

Various clans and organizations throughout the tower maintained them for communion with divine entities, using the sap to facilitate communication with gods willing to briefly manifest their consciousness.

”And if they refuse to part with it?” Loryn asked, his tone carrying genuine curiosity rather than challenge to the order’s feasibility.

Jack’s yellow and orange eyes blazed brighter, his expression hardening into something that even Loryn’s awareness recognized as a genuine threat.

”Tell them I’ll wipe their whole clan off the map as an example for the rest of the tower. Make it very clear this isn’t a negotiation. It’s a notice of what will happen if they choose poorly. Every member, every structure, every trace of their existence eliminated so thoroughly that future generations will only know them as a cautionary tale about what happens when someone tells me ’no.’”

”Oh, and the mutt with you, she’ll be useful enough.”

Loryn’s lips curved into a smile that showed his skeletal structure more clearly, dark satisfaction bleeding into his expression at the casual threat of genocide.

The ancient mage, Loryn, having accumulated extensive experience, valued direct problem-solving approaches.

Jack’s unreserved readiness to engage in morally questionable acts for personal gain was, in Loryn’s view, a refreshing contrast to the pretense of innocence often maintained by the nobility.

”Understood,” Loryn’s response conveyed a sense of approval, subtly underscored by a hint of dry wit. ”I’ll begin searching immediately. Most clans will comply once they understand the alternative. The few who might consider resistance will reconsider after I explain exactly what you’re capable of. Tonight’s demonstration should make that conversation significantly shorter than it might have been otherwise.”

He turned to depart, his dark robes swirling as he prepared to exit the throne room and begin his search throughout the tower’s various floors and faction territories.

Jack sat alone on his throne, his right arm hanging useless at his side, his enhanced constitution struggling to process accumulated damage from channeling power far beyond what his physical vessel could safely handle.

”Sylph,” Jack said. ”Go back to Rhys. I need to think, and your worry isn’t helping me focus.”

The small spirit’s wings fluttered with obvious reluctance, her tiny features twisting into a nasty expression. She wanted to argue, but something in Jack’s tone made her reconsider.

”Fine,” Sylph replied, her high-pitched voice carrying resignation wrapped in continued concern. ”But if that arm gets worse, you tell someone immediately. Don’t try to tough it out until it’s too late for proper treatment.”

She launched herself from the throne’s arm, her gossamer wings carrying her across the throne room toward where Rhys stood with Father Caelen near the chamber’s entrance.

Green light flared briefly as she merged back into her contractor’s body, disappearing from view as their connection re-established.

Jack watched them depart through the throne room’s massive doors, the sound of their footsteps fading as they moved deeper into the castle.

Then silence fell across the chamber, broken only by the distant sounds of demons working at forges and the occasional crack of stone settling in the castle’s ancient foundations.

Then footsteps echoed from the opposite direction.

Not the measured tread of servants or the heavy steps of Pho’s massive frame, but the casual stride of someone who did not care about anyone else.

Ren emerged from the shadows near the throne room’s secondary entrance, his purple armor catching torchlight in ways that made the plating seem to shift.

His hood was down now, revealing the same face that Jack knew.

His expression carried amusement as if he’d been waiting for this exact moment and found Jack’s current state more entertaining than concerning.

”Well,” Ren’s voice carried across the throne room with mocking cadence that made clear he was enjoying this far more than sympathy would allow.

”Look at the mighty Soul Warden. Sitting on his throne with one arm turned to a useless dead weight, looking like he’s questioning every decision that led to this moment. Was it worth it, Jack? What you sacrificed for what you gained?”

Jack’s gaze, characterized by its distinctive yellow and orange hues, followed Ren’s advance, his expression betraying no discernible emotion.

His cognitive processes were engaged in evaluating the ramifications of the query, while simultaneously discerning the authentic inquisitiveness underlying his mocking tone.

”It was,” Jack replied, his tone carrying certainty that transcended simple bravado. ”I learned information that’s worth more than this temporary injury. Confirmed suspicions, gained new abilities, eliminated threats that would have kept hunting me until one of us died. The cost is acceptable given what I accomplished.”

Ren’s lips curved into a smile, revealing a significant number of teeth, and his expression shifted to one of approval, despite the continued mockery conveyed by his posture.

”Spoken like someone who’s already calculating how to fix the problem rather than dwelling on the damage. Good. Self-pity is boring, and I’d hate to think my future Master lacks the spine to own his choices.”

He stopped about ten feet from the throne’s base, his stance relaxed despite being within striking distance.

Jack’s mind processed Ren’s presence with growing curiosity.

The man was trapped in this tower, banished centuries ago, surviving through a combination of magical immunity and skills that transcended normal classification.

If anyone would know about Elemental Necrosis and its treatment, someone who’d endured tower imprisonment for that long would be the logical source.

”Do you know anything about Elemental Necrosis?” Jack asked, his tone direct despite recognizing the question revealed vulnerability. ”You’ve been trapped here long enough that you’ve probably seen it before. Maybe even experienced it yourself.”

Ren’s expression shifted, amusement giving way to something more clinical as he examined Jack’s blackened arm with professional interest.

”I do,” Ren confirmed, his voice losing some of its mocking edge in favor of genuine knowledge-sharing. ”After all, I was a Chosen One in the past. Had divine blessing, channeled power that exceeded human limitations, and regularly pushed my body beyond its designed tolerances. Elemental Necrosis becomes almost inevitable when you’re operating at those levels... The question isn’t whether you’ll get it but how often and how badly.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed fractionally at the confirmation, his mind immediately seeking the logical follow-up. ”How many times did you get it?”

”Over a dozen,” Ren replied casually, as if discussing a minor inconvenience rather than a condition that led to amputation or death for most people.

”Lost my left hand twice, right foot once, had to regrow my entire left leg after a particularly bad incident with divine lightning that turned everything below the knee into ash. You learn to recognize the symptoms, understand the progression, know exactly how much time you have before the decision becomes ’amputate or die.’”

He just accepted it like it was no big deal, probably because he’s faced stuff that would kill most people a million times before.

”How did you fix it?” Jack asked, his voice carrying urgency despite attempting to maintain a neutral tone. ”Divine healing? Alchemical treatment? Something else?”

Ren’s smile broadened, and his expression reverted to one of amusement.”Tell me, Jack.. what do you plan to do with Glacius now that Warren is dead?”