Published at 14th of October 2023 5:35 pm

Chapter 25: The Ritual

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To her credit, Laufey was a fantastic actress. This must have been the ultimate stress test, and she perfectly feigned confusion. If he didn’t have irrefutable proof of her betrayal, she might have made Tye doubt himself with charm alone.

“Something cruel, Walter?” she asked mirthfully, with no hint of tension. “You do know my tastes.”

“Tell me, did you plan behind my back on your own, or on your father’s behalf?” Tye asked her, his hands ready to spellcast. “That part remains unclear.”

“Darling, we have a contract.” Even if she maintained her composure, he could sense her rising fear. “I could never betray you.”

“Have it your way, ‘Darling.’ [Enhanced Blood Puppetry].”

Controlling the fluids in Laufey’s body, Tye telekinetically slammed her against the cathedral’s murals with such force, he heard some of her ribs break.

This time, it dawned on her that this was kill or be killed. She attempted to open her mouth, to sing some bard song, but the necromancer forced her mouth shut and twisted her fingers with thought alone.

[Curse of Love] could not overcome your [Curse] resistance.

Was that her best defense? Then again, it was difficult to spellcast when your own body resisted. She had very few combat abilities, and fewer that could be activated without vocal or physical input.

A good summoner never called something that they couldn't put down.

“You demons will never understand.” Tye forced her to fly to him, a prisoner of her own body; he put a hand on her mouth, covering these poisonous lips of her, and seized her [Black Athame] with the other. “We spellcasters summon and bind you to our will, yet you never do the same to us. Beneath your empty bravado, you fiends cannot deny the truth: that you exist to serve us. [Lifedrain].”

He consumed her essence as he did with Beli, stealing her years, stealing her youth, stealing her existence. She tasted so much better than his previous meals, her divine lifeforce such a delicacy. If he didn’t need her alive for what came next, Tye would probably have consumed her utterly.

Instead, he stopped as her dark skin had turned grey and her wings to dust. Then, he telekinetically opened the vat and dumped her inside.

“Hagen had your hounds quartered and raised,” Tye said, releasing his hold over her blood for the moment, before adjusting the [Athanor]. “You are alone.”

“[Planeloved]...” she muttered, trying to activate whatever ability she could use without Special Points.

“Trying to teleport away? A fool’s hope I’m afraid.”

So many Perks and spells. None that could let her escape this cathedral and its wards.

“This is a mistake, Walter,” Laufey weakly protested, trapped inside a magically reinforced glass.

“Is it?” Tye asked as he adjusted the [Athanor]. The mere fact that she dared utter his name so casually annoyed him greatly. “I learned that you were never bound by our contract Laufey.”

“I do not understand,” she lied as she breathed. Even after all of this, the elf thought her lies were her armor, instead of her noose. “I have always been faithful.”

“I admit that I didn’t know when I first summoned you.” She had hidden this information well, and Tye’s own belief in the superiority of magic had blinded him. “But the first lesson of [Diabolism] I learned was: trust fiends to be untrustworthy… and always hedge your bets.”

With a flick of his fingers, Tye caused the [Black Athame] to fly around Laufey’s vat. It didn’t take long for the dark elf to understand what happened.

“And here I thought you were a generous master,” she said, finally dropping the facade of innocence.

“I can forgive mistakes and initiative, but never treachery.” Tye shook his head; her betrayal didn’t surprise him, but it was saddening all the same. He had hoped for a more fulfilling partnership. “This was a loyalty test, Laufey, one that you failed utterly. I gave you the illusion of freedom, but your weapon recorded everything you did. I wished to see how you acted when you thought I couldn’t watch.”

Asclepius had trusted Calvert unconditionally, and it cost him. Tye had learned the lesson.

“But why am I the only—” Laufey paused, frowning, “Morgane. She sold me out, my own Handmaiden.”

Loyalty was such a rare, fleeting thing. “I could offer her an immortal body, and unlike you, she knew better than to lie to my face. Or in this case, telepathic messages.”

“So, you will keep me as a replacement for your lost battery?” the demoness asked, almost hopefully. Perhaps she thought it would give her a chance to get away. “You will find me a poor meal.”

“It is not your soul that interests me,” Tye said, although he would have it too, “but your blood.”

The [Athanor] spewed out the result of his previous alchemical experiments, a rounded, small golden stone he could hold within the palm of his hand.

He had yellowed the [Albedo Stone] through the first round of experimentation—an alchemical process called Citrinitas. Now, the final part of creating a [Philosopher’s Stone], the reddening or Rubedo, was within sight. Usually, it took years of refinement to polish the stone into its final form… but Tye had found a quicker method.

“The blood of the demon deity Loki courses through your veins,” the necromancer said, putting back the stone in the [Athanor] for the second stage. “The blood of the gods and calamities. The substance that will turn this golden stone red.”

“The moment you summoned me,” Laufey trailed off, with a mix of pride and fear. “You planned to do this all along.”

“You’re wrong,” Tye replied, setting up the last buttons of the [Athanor]. “You didn’t have to die.”

She had always mistaken pragmatism for mercy and weakness.

“This is my nature,” Laufey said, almost pleading. As it turned out, she wasn’t too proud to beg. “I am a daughter of Loki. My role is to foment chaos and distrust, so my father has an easier time escaping in the future. To help him, I raise up champions who can become great powers of the Nine Realms, who can challenge the status quo. I thought you had it in you.”

“I do not care.”

“I meant to help, Walter,” she pleaded. “You hate the gods as much as my father does. Medraut joined us, you know that. You think you can change this world through your magic, but it only answers to tides of blood.”

“On that, we agree.” It had taken him a long, long time, but now Tye understood that achieving his goal of immortality for all needed total, complete devotion from his part. Sacrifices started with oneself. “Yours will be the first drop.”

“I don’t sense any ill-intent from you,” Laufey continued. “You bear no malice. You won’t kill me.”

“I don’t feel any animosity for you,” the necromancer replied, but he didn’t mean it as reassurance. “Look into my heart right now. See how I truly feel about you.”

Laufey frowned at him, her eyes widening in horror. “You feel nothing.”

Tye activated the machine.

The effect was instantaneous. His magic activated and started draining Laufey of her blood through all her orifices, from the nose, the eyes, the ears… the divine liquid floated inside the vat and into the [Athanor], the cauldron letting out a loud sound.

Although she howled in agony, Tye barely paid any attention to Laufey. As far as he was concerned, she was no different than any other alchemical reagent.

The process lasted several minutes, but at long last, the cauldron spewed out a crimson stone radiating life. The vat had turned red from all the blood, Laufey’s dead husk laying in her own body fluids; even in death, she managed to expire with flair, her dramatic expression mimicking some theater actor.

Tye grabbed his stone and observed it closely.

To an outsider, it would appear as a mere, bloody sphere, fragile and yet precious. A ruby made of bloody amber rather than gemstones. Yet Tye knew that he held in his hand the dream of every alchemist, the furthest step ever attempted on the journey towards eternal life.

And it wasn’t enough.

Congratulations, you created a [Philosopher’s Stone]. For completing this alchemical wonder, you earned three levels in [Infernal Alchemist]. You earned the [Enhanced Organs] and [Promethean Mastery] Class Perks.

+60 HP, +20 SP, +2 SKI, +1 AGI, +6 INT, +1 CHA, +3 LCK.

[Enhanced Organs]: Your organs have been reinforced and their weak points removed, granting you immunity to Critical Hits.

[Promethean Mastery]: You intuitively understand how to create any kind of golem and [Artificial] creature. Additionally, you understand how to graft parts of these creatures on living beings. This upgrades [Promethean].

The levels gained also disappointed him somewhat. Tye still needed to reach level 25 in [Infernal Alchemist] to access a new tier, and finally cast Tier IX spells. His alchemy had greatly helped in his research, but he felt the loss of spellcasting power now.

“[Phylactery],” the necromancer cast on Laufey’s husk, trapping her treacherous soul in a gem as he did with Sigurd. “My dear, your contract isn’t over yet. You may not put too much faith in agreements, but I do.”

She would make a fine [Banshee], once properly cowed.

Hagen chose this moment to enter the cathedral, sparing a mere glance at Laufey’s remains. “So, what do we do with the wench’s husk, chief?”

“Add her to the sacrifices,” Tye replied. “Her flesh may have some use.”

Her corpse would become one with her masterpiece. A fitting end for an artist.

While his friend moved the body away, Tye telepathically focused on his link with Morgane, seeing through her eyes.

Much to his dismay, the necromancer watched his house surrounded by guards in broad daylight, its door broken by filthy Hel inquisitors. A crowd had gathered around it, whispering between themselves or slandering Walter’s good reputation.

As she had warned the necromancer, the princess had returned from the capital, and she brought company. A full contingent of soldiers bearing the royal family’s heraldry escorted a young, blonde lord whom Walter instantly recognized as Prince Arthur, heir of Avalon. A Royal Knight stood at his side, a warrior whose power probably eclipsed that of Walter himself, alongside a female thrall whom Laufey had secretly turned into a deadly weapon.

Annie and Lady Yseult protested to Hel’s inquisitors outside the shop, although Walter couldn’t hear them; Percy attempted to calm them down, although the whole situation clearly made him uneasy. Meanwhile, although she kept her usual neutral expression, Walter could have sworn he saw an edge of vindication at the edge of the princess’ lips. The sight infuriated him as much as losing his home did.

They would move inside the dungeon within hours, with the backing of the Royal Knights and the prince himself. It would be like the siege of the Black Citadel, high-level warriors taking Tye’s home away from him.

This time though, the necromancer was tired of running. Tired of hiding, tired of being outmatched, tired of his progress being undone time after time. This time, he would fight, and he would win.

They wanted to cast him into Helheim?

He would show them Helheim.

“Laufey has been dealt with,” Tye spoke telepathically to Morgane. “Thankfully, this means that you will inherit her duties and possessions, including her [Black Athame]. Now, Morgane, let this be a reminder that everything I give, I can take back. Especially your life.”

To her credit, the shadow fiend immediately got the message and submitted. “I understand, my master.”

“Have the inquisitors identified your true nature?” They possessed abilities allowing them to detect undead, although none powerful enough to bypass Tye’s [Deathmask] Perk. He had set protections for his vampire familiar, but they were weaker.

“Not yet,” she whispered back. “There is something you must know. Annie is sick, and the capital’s healers couldn’t do anything for her.”

Tye froze. “Which symptoms?”

“She spews black bile and has trouble breathing. The healers said it couldn’t be cured.”

[Hel’s Breath].

I will break you, Walter. I will torment you until you accept me into your heart.

Tye clenched his fists in anger at the goddess’ vicious cruelty. Considering how contagious the disease was, Lady Yseult had probably only been spared from it by his [Minor Lifegift].

And from what he had seen, the necromancer couldn’t delay the ritual for long. The royals would be at his door within hours.

“Thank you for informing me, Morgane, but this means that I must change your priorities today.” He had given her instructions to murder Gwenhyfar if she could find an opportunity, but Annie’s safety took priority.

“I live to serve,” the handmaiden replied, and this time she meant it.

After delivering Morgane her instructions, Tye dropped the psychic contact and moved inside the center of his magical circle. The giant serpent’s bones seemed to shudder at his proximity as if whatever remaining essence within them could feel his intent.

Outside the cathedral, before its open doors, the [Death Coach] awaited with Hagen at its side. “Chief, you are certain you wish to proceed?” the Dullahan asked, slightly uncomfortable. “From what you told me, once they’re out, they will never come back inside.”

“We no longer have the choice,” Tye replied. “Today’s events will spell the doom for either them or us. Unleash the passengers.”

The Dullahan cautiously grabbed the coach’s door and opened it.

Thousands of screaming specters emerged from its confines in a flock of ghosts, the ectoplasmic remains of demons, humans, and countless creatures the [Ankou] had collected over the years. Many were his victims, but others were his fellow necromancers whom he had managed to smuggle out of Helheim, awaiting the time when they could return to the world of the living.

The magical circles around and within the cathedral ignited at once, channeling the power of the four elements; the specters floated around the cathedral in a circle, a siphon of necromantic energies consuming all light and life. Even Hagen fled before his essence could be trapped inside.

Everyone had their orders, for Tye couldn’t be interrupted until the ritual ran its course. Any mistake would have catastrophic consequences, and even success would spell doom for everyone within miles.

Now, his servants had to hold the line without him.

She had been right all along.

“We believe there used to be a tunnel leading down, recently condemned through magic,” a Hel inquisitor told the princess and her brother, as soldiers examined the basement of Tye’s Boiling Cauldron. The place seemed to look like a mere storage area, but investigators had found traces of a broken switch hidden in the back wall. “It probably led to the dungeon below.”

“It’s impossible,” Lady Yseult argued, utterly in denial. She had ardently defended her friend, in spite of the damning testimonies. “Lunacy. Pure lunacy.”

“Tye can’t be the necromancer!” Annie protested. “He helped us fight him! We were all there!”

“He helped us fight a decoy,” Gwen replied grimly. She knew it had been too easy.

“But he provided us advice, potions, items…” The young witch shook her head, distraught, while the kind Percy put a hand on her shoulder as comfort. Even Morgane stayed in a corner, her arms crossed and her face thoughtful.

“He lied to keep an eye on us,” Takeru said, his gaze sharp and his hands holding his bow tightly. “I knew he sounded shifty.”

“I healed him more than once,” Lady Yseult insisted. “I prayed to my god to heal his wounds. Walter bleeds like any living person.”

“Then this unclean is probably a [Deathlord],” a Hel inquisitor replied, wielding a fiery staff.

“[Deathlord]?” Arthur asked. Unlike everyone present, Lancelot included, he took the matter somewhat nonchalantly.

“A rare and powerful [Necromancer] promotion, Your Highness,” the inquisitor explained. “Their [Deathmask] Perk allows an unclean to masquerade as a living being and falsify their class information, by channeling a trapped soul as a spiritual shield. They can cast spells up to tier VI once capped.”

Then Walter Tye was much more dangerous than Gwenhyfar thought. “Either Walter Tye is the necromancer, or there was more than one Pale Serpent active in Lyonesse,” the princess declared, before turning to her soldiers. “Unearth the tunnel.”

“Gwen, are you not a little too hasty?” her brother asked. “It is worrying that a necromancer almost infiltrated the Academy, but he was a shopkeeper, not a Calamity cult leader.”

“The more time we give him to prepare, the greater the chance he slips through our grasp,” Gwen pointed out. “If he is indeed involved in the spellcasting battle, then he can cast Tier VIII spells.”

“Tye must have been captured, or, or framed!” Annie insisted. “Why are you all condemning him on hearsay?!”

“I agree,” Percy said. “Walter… Walter helped me when I needed counsel. Now you’re saying that the monster who murdered Ser Sigurd and this kindly shopkeeper are the same person? We don’t know enough!”

“He is clearly involved in the dungeon,” Gwen pointed out. “If not as the necromancer, then as a member of the organization. Too many events line up too perfectly when we assume Walter worked against us.”

“Where is Laufey?” Morgane suddenly asked, worrying. “Is she…”

“She hasn’t been seen for days,” Percy said. “Tye said she had returned home.”

“If he was the necromancer, then do you think…” Morgane left her sentence unfinished, but the meaning was clear.

“The only way to shed light on this matter is to unearth the dungeon,” Lady Yseult declared. If anything, Tristan’s indiscretion had made her more determined to clear the name of someone she saw as a true friend. “I will undo the wards and—”

The ground suddenly trembled, the walls briefly shaking. Gwen immediately prepared to cast a protective spell, expecting an [Earthquake] spell, but the tremor quickly stopped.

“Do you sense that?” Annie asked, looking down.

Yes. Gwen could feel it in the air. Powerful magic coming from below, a pulse of energy, the beating of a mighty heart. A second tremor followed, not powerful enough to collapse the house, but mightier than the last.

“It’s him,” the princess guessed, alarmed.

“What was that an [Earthquake] spell?” Arthur asked, suddenly a bit more on edge than before. Finally, it dawned on him that they weren’t facing a level thirty necromancer, but a dangerous, insane spellcaster.

“I do not know, but a cornered rat will bite a cat,” Gwen pointed out. “Whatever the undead are doing below, we cannot let them continue.”

“Your Highness,” Lancelot spoke up, his face grim and resolute as he drew his sword. “You must evacuate.”

“Flee, Lancelot?” the prince asked, surprised by his bodyguard’s resolve. “From our own city?”

Gwen immediately understood why.

This tension in the air… she had already experienced it once, not so long ago.

Gwen immediately rushed outside the basement, outside the shop, where the civilians had started to panic, looking at the skies with dread and horror. The princess raised her eyes, already knowing what happened before she saw them.

Cracks had opened in the skies, the very fabric of space ripping apart.

Purple mists seethed through, slowly obscuring sunlight; the howls of damned souls echoing through the gates, as specters tried to escape through the chinks.

“A Convergence.” Gwen heard Lady Yseult whisper behind her, as everyone exited the shop.

“Helheim.” Gwen’s eyes widened in sheer terror. “He’s causing a Convergence with Helheim.”

How? How could he? Was that his plan all along?

“Loki. He is a Calamity cultist, like the lich.” Arthur whispered, horrified, before turning towards the priests present. “How long until monsters cross through?”

“Less than a few hours,” Lady Yseult replied with a horrified face.

“The unworthy dead will rise sooner,” a Hel inquisitor replied, seething with fury. “The wicked shall not escape our lady’s domain!”

A screen appeared before Gwen’s eyes, a divine message from the world tree itself.

Yggdrasil Quest: Helheim Convergence

Disrupt the [Necromancer’s Stone] ritual and prevent [Nidhogg]’s rebirth.

Bonus objective: Save the Yggdrasil Root from destruction.

Bonus objective: Personally slay [Nidhogg].

Bonus objective: Defeat all the enemy commanders.

Nidhogg? The necromancer’s stone? The root? “Everyone saw this?” Gwen asked, every fighter present nodding anxiously. Only Lancelot remained eerily calm... even a little excited.

“Then to the dungeon!” Arthur ordered a hand on his sword’s pommel. “Everyone capable of fighting, to me!”

Dressed in his robes and his face hidden behind a mask, Tye ran the ritual; raising the black scepter of Apophis with his right hand, and the Philosopher’s Stone with the left. With their twin powers, he ordered the dark forces of Nastrond to thin the frontier between Midgard and Helheim.

Blood from sacrificed cultists flowed into the cathedral, the fluid forming a cocoon around Walter and the serpent’s bones. Body parts and flesh joined the grisly procession, forming great chains of sinew and tendons.

The process was simple, in theory. Using his innate abilities, Tye would absorb all the dark energies into himself; the [Ankou] would act as a filter, sending the refined essence into the [Philosopher’s Stone]. Once the ceremony ended, the alchemical wonder will have become an artifact of tremendous power; the completion of the Great Work.

The perfect vessel for Tye’s soul to spend eternity within.

The serpent’s bones, meanwhile, would become the core of his new body, completed by the flesh and blood of countless sacrifices. Tye would become an undead powerful enough to cast the mightiest of spells, one that would undo Hel’s hold over dead souls.

A cross between an [Ankou] and a [Lich]; a perfect undead with the strengths of both, and the weaknesses of neither.

But as he began the early stages of the ritual, the necromancer felt that something was wrong.

He expected Nastrond’s dark forces to resist him, but instead, they eagerly obeyed his mental command. They softly whispered to his soul, like abject slaves worshiping their unliving god’s domination. The serpent’s bones did not reject the pull of his soul but welcomed it as if they were his own flesh.

“Master… back… Forever Serpent... reborn...”

The dragon consuming the roots of Yggdrasil, carrying the dead into the next world. A serpent eating his own tail, the end, and the origin. Neither alive nor dead.

Medraut had been right.

Fate always had its due.

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