Overwhelming Firepower

It took several tries, but the Lich finally got the information he needed. He was a little surprised by the fierce loyalty of the people of this kingdom.

Most would comply at first and answer a few questions, but when the question was something that could be used to harm the kingdom and its people, they became feral and attacked.

Even after inflicting great pain upon them or offering them sweet promises, they would not break. Only a few people from the old Empire were like that, but most of them were cowards who only followed their own greed.

Norvaegard. That was the name of this kingdom. It was called a kingdom of warriors, and the Lich who had met a few of its people understood why it was called that.

The Lich’s surprise lasted only a moment, and hatred once again burned brighter. These people who think they descended from honorable warriors know nothing of their filthy origins.

He hated how they talk of honor, of valor, of pride, of dignity. Those who shared the filthy blood of cowards had no right to speak of such things.

To the Lich, it sounded like mockery. Yet hatred did not blind him completely.

Norvaegard was not the Golden Sun Empire. That much had become clear after several attempts to gather information.

Still, after kidnapping a mercenary deserter, he got a bit of information from him. He learned of the advancements of this era from the weapons they used, like guns, to the airships in the sky.

The details he gave weren’t much, but it was enough for now. He also kidnapped a mage who was easily swayed by the mention of gaining more power.

He learned that the mages of this era no longer used the draconic tongue, instead creating their own chants.

Then there was the biggest difference between the mages of his era and this one. The mages of this era had found a way to store massive amounts of mana in their own body.

They need not manipulate the surrounding mana, but instead manipulate the mana within themselves. The way they stored it was with their so-called mana cores, and it increased with how many rings they had.

A mage with a mana core could cast even in places where the surrounding mana was thin. A mage with enough rings could store power like a walking reservoir.

They did not need to beg the air, earth, flame, and water to answer them. They carried their own supply of mana within them.

The Lich once again looked at the mage he had kidnapped. The man was shaking, but the greed for knowledge, for power shone in his eyes.

He had sold information quickly after hearing the word power. The Lich had seen many like him in the old empire.

Men who would sell their families to learn more draconic words. Seeing that one of their descendants remained the same trash as they always had been made him chuckle.

”Very well, I will grant you power. More power than you currently have.”

The mage’s eyes widened. Fear was still there, but greed quickly swallowed it. ”Truly?”

”I do not lie, and always keep my word. I shall grant you power right here, right now.” The Lich’s hand suddenly pierced through the mage’s chest.

The mage, unable to understand what had happened, looked at the hole in his chest in shock. He then saw his heart still beating in the hands of the Lich.

His mouth opened, but only blood came out. The Lich stared at the beating heart with cold indifference.

”I will now make you stronger. Your body will no longer feel pain, and you will no longer feel fear. Rejoice, you will no longer have the blood of cowards, as you will not have any blood at all.”

The mage’s eyes trembled. He wanted to speak, but no words would come out, only blood flowing. Perhaps he wanted to beg, or perhaps he wanted to curse, or perhaps he wanted to ask why.

His body fell to its knees, then collapsed onto the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

The Lich looked down at him with cold eyes. He had not lied; the mage had asked for power, and the Lich would grant it.

The Lich crushed the beating heart in his hand. Blood spilled between his rotten fingers, but before it could fall to the ground, pale blue fire consumed it. The blood hissed, burned, and turned into black smoke that twisted around the corpse.

”Rise.”

The corpse did not move. The Lich narrowed his hollow eyes. His current strength was still lacking. In the past, raising a corpse like this would have been nothing to him.

A single word, a single command, and the dead would obey. Now, even this required care. This had somehow irritated him.

He knelt beside the dead mage and pressed one hand against the hole in his chest.

He whispered a few words, those born from the stolen tongue of dragons and twisted by his own hatred. Pale blue fire flowed from his fingers and entered the corpse. The dead mage twitched.

His fingers scraped against the ground. His broken mouth opened, though no breath came from it. Slowly, stiffly, the corpse pushed itself up.

”Rise,” the Lich once again commanded.

The dead mage obeyed. The first thing the Lich noticed was the abundance of mana within the new undead mage.

’I see, so this is the mana core he spoke of... This might be useful. In my current condition, I can’t cast spells like I used to, but if I create my own mana core, that would alleviate some of my problems.’

The mana core was different from anything he had known in his era. It was not natural like the mana that flowed through the air, nor was it something given by the gods or dragons. It was something humans had carved into themselves through training, pain, repetition, and desire.

’Heh, I will create my own mana core and gather as many forces as I can, fast. If one of those so-called ducal houses finds me in this state, it might be difficult to win. For now, I need to hide this.’

The Lich took out the ring that he and Liora shared, the one he used to promise their future together.

His soul was sealed inside this ring, and despite the difficulty of destroying this object, if it is somehow done, his soul would perish.

The Lich stared at the ring for a long time.

It was old, scratched, and darkened by centuries beneath the earth, yet the faint engraving inside remained. His name had already vanished from his mind, but Liora’s name had not.

His rotten fingers trembled for the first time since he awakened.

”Liora...”

The word left his mouth like dust. ”I promise to rain down death upon this world that took you away from me.”

The Lich then decided to first turn the surrounding animals into undead, then the monster, and finally, he would dig up the graves of those who had died.

He will then crush this kingdom and make every single one a part of his army of the dead. He will then continue onward to bring death upon every single living descendant of those cowardly b*stards.

***

After a few days of studying the mana core, the Lich was able to create one, not only that, but he got five rings in one go. The sixth ring was taking longer to manifest than expected, and based on the progress he was feeling, it would take a few weeks.

Still, the progress of creating undead was going better than he had anticipated. He now had a few mages and aura users under his rule.

The so-called aura users of this era surprised him as well. In his era, warriors or knights did not have the so-called aura; instead, they, like mages, used mana to strengthen their bodies.

Now, humans had actually created a different source of power than mana. The Lich was a little bit intrigued, but that did not last long.

It didn’t matter what new things these people had created, since all of them would end up as part of his army of the dead, in the end.

The Lich looked at the undead gathered around him. There were not many of them yet. A few mages, a few aura users, several beasts, and some corpses taken from forgotten graves. It was not enough to destroy a kingdom, not yet.

He would conquer the nearby towns and cities quickly before anyone has the time to react. The second they die, they would become part of his army.

Above him, the moon disappeared behind black clouds. The first town lay asleep beyond the trees, unaware that its graves were already open. The Lich raised one rotten hand.

”March.” Upon command, the dead moved toward the living, hungry for dawn.