Game Transmigration: Saving the World Again 1000 Years Later

269 Lich

Rewinding time to not long ago.

William had just left the underground root sanctuary and asked Ebony to wait for him at the Holy Tree Matriarch Temple.

Playing with the rough obsidian dagger in his hand, William fell into deep thought along the way.

“Judgment 3, heh…”

With a flick of his wrist, he threw the dagger into the air and watched as a tiny spatial rift opened up and swallowed it.

Without a doubt, this transcendent weapon that the other party claimed to once belong to Nehe and was supposedly capable of injuring a Void Sovereign was a replica.

After all, Steelheart Widow Aiur had revealed to him not long ago that Judgment 3 was in the hands of the Tacma Church. Since those riddlers saw it as a bargaining chip to maintain contact with the Void Sovereign, there was no reason for them to send it to Ravenwood for nothing.

William had no intention of telling Ebony the truth. In fact, obtaining Nehe’s phylactery was already an unexpected surprise.

What he needed to figure out was why these things were here.

When he arrived at the dagger, he asked Ebony, “Since you already know who I am, it’s time for you to tell me where these things came from, be it the phylactery and the Judgment equipment?”

“I… I’ve said it before. I can’t divulge that information. I signed a confidentiality contract and I can’t break my oath,” Ebony replied with a troubled expression.

William pressed on, “A secret contract with whom? Was it a magic chanter, the Holy Tree Matriarch, the Wilderness Spirit, or an existence in the Moon Realm?”

William knew that the punishment for breaking an oath varied greatly depending on who the counterparty was.

The contract he signed with a magic chanter through summoning spells was essentially a curse based on a specific keyword or action. With his ability, he could weaken or offset the curse from a magic chanter.

If Ebony had signed a contract with a Moon Realm existence, as long as he didn’t do it through a Void Sovereign, William could use physical (or rather, magical) persuasion to make the counterparty “voluntarily” give up the right to pursue the violation of the oath.

The real trouble was an oath he swore to a god as a believer…

“I can’t reveal that either…”

The other party shook his head.

“I can’t reveal it.” This answer was an answer in a way. William, who had roughly guessed the contracted partner, sighed inwardly.

This is troublesome…

If the counterparty of the oath was a god, whether it be the old gods, Holy Spirits, or Void Sovereigns, the punishment for breaking the oath would befall the believer like an inevitable fate. Even William couldn’t stop it.

But what was stranger still was the trigger for the oath’s punishment. It wasn’t established through specific actions or keywords like contract magic.

It was based on the believer’s subjective feelings, like “I feel like I’ve betrayed a god.”

As if a prosecutor was sent by the god to constantly monitor the believer’s thoughts.

This was the difference between magic and faith as transcendent power—whether one was the owner of the power or just an agent.

But this is too strange…

William couldn’t help but think that something was amiss when thinking deeply about the issue.

Was this really possible? It didn’t test the oath-holder’s actions or language, but purely based on the oath-holder’s subjective will.

After all, the free will of mortals was an ultimate mystery similar to creation itself. Theoretically speaking, it should be a sacred domain that couldn’t be violated.

Even Divine Realm illusions couldn’t read minds or directly control thoughts. The Void Sovereigns, with all Their powers, couldn’t directly alter a person’s thoughts. And even spells like Commandeering of the Dead could only access the remnants of a person’s memories, not from the living.

So why was it that the gods could seemingly spy on the innermost thoughts of their believers?

These doubts quickly passed. William didn’t have time to ponder these questions. He moved on, asking another question instead.

“I heard that Nehe once returned to Holy Tree City more than a thousand years ago. The reason was that he hoped to regain his title as a forest druid and left dejectedly after being rejected… What happened back then? Don’t tell me that it’s a clause in the confidentiality contract?”

William knew there was more to the story than what he’d heard. The Inverse Entropy barrier in the tree hole was most likely set up by Nehe himself.

The other party hesitated before finally speaking, “This is a story only known by the Holy Tree Matriarch’s Listeners. It’s a scar that Ravenwood Forest would never wish to mention again, but I think you have the right to know, being the savior of Ravenwood and the leader of the Doomsday Watcher’s Judgment.”

As they walked on the winding path to the surface, Ebony revealed the truth to William. It was two years after William’s disappearance, in the 880th year of the Platinum Calendar. It was a story that had no official records…

…

“Nehe’s legacy…”

William thought about the story Ebony had told him, a bitter smile forming on his lips as he shook his head.

“I knew it. That guy would never leave without a backup plan. He wouldn’t leave the Vic Continent without a fight, not after being used by those bastards…”

William muttered to himself before looking up at the person in front of him.

“So, I might have already sensed it, but you’re not alive, are you?”

The woman on the Withering Throne was silent. She slowly removed her veil and placed it on the armrest.

As the veil was lifted, William saw her pale face. The smoky aura of death surrounding her was impossible to hide.

Floral Kane, the Holy Tree Duke recognized by the empire, Lord of Holy Tree City, Ravenwood Forest’s Watcher, the Matriarch’s Chosen, Madam of the Wild…

The supreme ruler of Emerald Province with countless illustrious titles was, in fact, an undying lich.

It was a cruel irony.

The Lich Conversion spell was banned by the Mage Guild, who were the most accepting of necromancy spells, due to its extreme evil nature.

The caster obtained fake eternal life by separating their soul from their body and sealed it in a phylactery.

But in doing so, they lost the possibility of reincarnation. Their soul and body would constantly decay, and they had to rely on plundering other life forms to maintain their existence.

A lich’s body and soul would constantly decay—the decay of the body needed to be replenished by devouring fresh bodies, and the decay of the soul needed the devouring of souls that had yet to dissipate to mend it.

Over time, the speed at which their bodies and souls decayed increased, and they had to plunder more and more to survive. Their desire for life became stronger, and unless they entered an eternal slumber, their rationality would eventually deteriorate, and they would become nothing more than mindless monsters who fed on flesh and souls.

A thousand years ago, liches were regarded as evil even in an era that was accepting of Undead magic. Yet, in Emerald Province, the leader, the Holy Tree Duke, was actually a lich.

It was absurd, like a gang member becoming the boss of a hostile organization after going undercover.

...

Finding it absurd meant that this should have been impossible.

It was impossible that the forest druids—even if the criteria was for them to be blind—wouldn’t discover that the person sitting on the Withering Throne was a lich.

Theoretically, it shouldn’t have been possible.

However…

“The spell you used to transform into a lich, it’s an improved version created by Nehe, isn’t it?”

William pressed further.

Since he had already said so, the other party nodded and admitted it.

“I never expected Mr. Frost Lich’s research to also be left in the Blackwater Swamp. That means you’re the one truly in control of the Blackwater Province, behind Vincent and Nizemar. No wonder you dare to stand against the empire on your own,” she said, sizing up the accessories on William’s body, hoping to see him remove something that would reveal that he shared an essence similar to hers.

It was clear she thought William was a disciple from the same sect as herself.

It was a reasonable assumption, as only Nehe, who had earned the title of Frost Lich, and Yeats, who claimed to have mastered all peak spells, had used Inverse Entropy in history. But because there had been no actual sightings, most in academia dismissed Yeats’ claims as unfounded.

Floral scrutinized William a few times, using Emulated Eyes of God to search for any signs of the undead on his body. When she found nothing, she asked in confusion, “If you’re Mr. Frost Lich’s heir, why aren’t you a lich?”

...

William brushed aside her question.

“That’s beside the point. I’ve confirmed that you possess Nehe’s legacy, so I want to ask you something, or should I say, give you another chance.”

“What chance?” the other party asked.

“What do I need to offer to buy everything, including your loyalty?”