“There,” Sage said with a heavy sigh. “Done.”
In the past several hours she had returned to flipping through notes. This time it had not only been Vanus’ research, but Bori’s as well. She had also delved a few times into the Cryptmaker’s materials; all to make sure there were no defects with the modified ritual circle. After all the time she had spent making adjustments to the ritual, taking cues from the spells used to temporarily strengthen undead, she was mostly sure she had eliminated the negative effects of the ritual. Undead this ritual was used on would no longer break down.
That said… she raised the sheet with a perfected circle to eye-level and frowned. It’s rank is too low.
It was to be expected. The ritual was created by a 5<sup>th</sup> Order necromancer, meaning it could only effect undead up to a certain standard. For those with Grade 5 and 4 bodies, they could successfully be upgraded. For Grade 3s however, she had her doubts. A ritual equivalent to a 5<sup>th</sup> Order spell was unlikely to elevate the undead physique to a level equivalent to the 7<sup>th</sup> Order, the senior tiers.
Casting a side glance on the cave floor, she released a snort before putting the paper away.
With Jarris and Anith’s comatose forms on the floor, testing whether they could make a Grade 2 undead with the ritual was within reach. Sage had not bothered with suggesting they try though. She honestly did not care whether it would work or not. Her aim had been ironing out the previous flaws of the ritual; whether or not it worked beyond what it was supposed to, was none of her business. Though, if the old fart was smart, he would not try. In the realm of Summoning and Contracting, it was common consensus that bonding with a creature beyond oneself was a recipe for disaster. Only the truly desperate or insane made the attempt; like Bori with his ritual.
No matter the precautions the geezer had placed upon the ritual, if it had worked the way it was supposed to and he had summoned a Netherkin- for example, the wraith- unless the creature bore him no ill will, it would have still ended badly. Sure, the wraith had only been in the 5<sup>th</sup> Order while Bori had been a rank higher. It was a Netherkin though; its grade was bound to improve at some point. According to the notes of the geezer himself, Netherkin would reach at least the 9<sup>th</sup> Order or Grade 1, way beyond what he would have been able to handle.
At least the ritual worked on Rick, she thought; her eyes darting to the new pale and compliant minion who was back in his gear; Sage had no use for the trio’s items, so she had gifted them to the necromancer. But that was because he was a Grade 4. As for Anith and Jarris, since they already possessed Grade 3 physiques, the old fart should be satisfied with simply adding them to his undead retinue. After all, the more accomplished Bori only had two minions with physiques above Grade 5 and none at Grade 3.
Turning her eyes back to the unconscious duo, she sighed once more. This was to be their fate. Truthfully, she held nothing against them- well, Rick and Jarris at least- but this was better than having them running back to Io and returning with more mercenaries, or worse. She was not up for fighting pyromantic Vestravan priests or a Transcendent.
“You should leave this place,” she turned to the old fart. “I don’t think anyone’s sniffed it out yet, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
Why had he even set up a place so close to the capital? Although Sage was curious, it was not enough to ask. Matters that did not concern her did not garner enough interest to delve into. Besides, everyone had their own reasons; seclusionist individuals such as necromancers were likely not fond of those who pried into their affairs.
“Hm,” the old fart scratched his chin in contemplation. “I wath actually thinking the thame thing. Now that the ritual hath been perfected, there ith no more reathon to stay here.”
With that, he began clearing out the shelves, placing the materials on the table. In that moment he must have forgotten the fact that she was averse to the scent of his zombies because he called them back inside via [Dimension Door]; fortunately, she was quick to realise his intention and opted once more to stop breathing. The zombies then began assisting Vanus in gathering his stuff, some of which were located in another cavern linked to the one they currently resided in by a crack too small for anything bigger than a rat to squeeze through; but, with a second [Dimension Door], they were able to enter and gather everything. It seemed the sealed off room was where the old fart rested.
Minutes passed in which she observed silently before the necromancer and his helpers had gathered everything.
“Everything’th in order,” Vanus proclaimed. Then, turning to her, he asked. “What about you?”
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“I’ll return to Io,” she replied, this time grappling to keep her features straight while the ghoulish rotting stench violated her oral and nasal cavities. “But I will send you off first. There are just so many people your band of zombies can avoid before you are spotted. Better if I take you to the wherever your [Teleport]ation circle leads to. But before I do that I need to know where it leads to.”
“A cavern in the Frost Wilderness,” the old fart revealed without qualms.
“In the north?” Although the question was rhetorical, the necromancer nodded all the same.
The Frost Wilderness was exactly as it sounded, a frozen hellscape teeming with Ice-attribute Arcane Beasts. Rumoured to be grounds of the tigers, Atasha’s brood. It was not exactly the forbidden den that the Overgrowth was, but its landscape and reputation were frightening enough that humans had opted not to settle there. I guess that’s the reason why he has a hideout there. No one would catch the old fart there.
When she got onto the circle, she did not hesitate to activate it. Unlike with Vanus, she met the qualification to use the circle properly, therefore only a portion of her mana was taken and not whatever else the old fart would have had to sacrifice to make the [Teleport]ation work. Probably his vitality, if she had to guess. The old man must have a Blood Magic spell in his arsenal.
Less than an instant after the circle activated, the scene around her changed. The place she [Teleport]ed to was unlit, but her eyes adjusted quickly. The small cavern was gone, replaced by a large one spotting a ceiling three metres above her, with frozen stalactites hanging from it. Like Vanus’ other hideout, this one too had shelves, seats, a table and what looked like a bed; all made of stone. There was a pond located in the middle of the place, though- like everything in sight- it was frozen. Lastly, she noted a boulder resting up a slope, most likely blocking the entrance to the cave.
Seeing that there was no immediate threat in the vicinity, Sage opened a [Gate] leading to the grotto. She only needed to wait for a couple of seconds before the necromancer and his zombies shuffled through with his belongings and the comatose duo. The first thing Vanus did upon crossing over was look around before releasing a sigh of relief, which then morphed to a grateful look when he gazed at her.
“You’re welcome,” she responded. “I assume you’ll be staying here for a while.”
“Yeth,” the old necromancer replied heartily. “Thinth there’th no more reathon to work on the ritual, I will find thomething elth to do. Perhapth I’ll take a look at the Conversion Ritual. Like you thaid, if I’m lucky it could be the path to the higher Orderth.”
“Okay,” she said, waving her hand. “I’ll be off now.”
With that she stepped into the [Gate] and closed it.
As soon as the [Gate] disappeared the cat popped out of the shadows, stretched, yowled, and stared at her with its near-luminous emerald orbs. “You were awfully nice to him.”
She shrugged in response. “It’s no skin off my back.”
“And?” Nyx was unconvinced by her answer.
“And…” she bent down to scooped him into her arms. “I’ll need him later. After all, how else are we get to the Banquet?”
The Umbral Banquet would be held in some place called Burth, a location she had never heard of. It was probably not in the north-western region either. It could be on the other side of the continent for all she knew, and that was a distance she would not be able to cover in a month. The only viable way to reach the place was by going with Vanus… and go he would.
Now that the old fart was no longer occupied with his ritual, it would not take long for him to realise that opting out of the event was not something he could do; not when the host could infer his exact location. Since a Transcendent had appeared before him to deliver the invitation, refusing to go was nothing less than spitting in the Deathless King’s face. The old fart would probably not even be able to make his refusal known. Sage was certain that when the day came, another of the lich’s minions would head out once more to pick up everyone. When that happened, only other Ultra Order necromancers would be able to refuse.
Deathless King must have a lot of mana to do so many pick-ups, she could not help think. There were probably hundreds, if not thousands, of necromancers in existence. Unless he had 9<sup>th</sup> Order sorcerer minions, there was no way he would be able to accomplish it even if he was a Transcendent magician. Since he is who he is, he probably does.
Holding Nyx in her arms, she traversed the shadows and appeared outside the grotto, where the heat of the autumn sun fell upon them. The flaming sphere was almost at its peak, signifying that she had spent more time in the cave than she realised. Taking a whiff of the fresh air she had been starved of the last couple of hours, she savoured it for a moment before taking a quick look back and casting [Quake]. The localised tremors destroyed the entrance and most likely the inside, burying all evidence of Vanus’ dwelling; it would be a problem for her if they could use the place to trace him.
With that done she changed into long black pants with matching boots and a t-shirt. These she covered up with a white fur coat and matching hat. After using a red scarf to cover everything from nose to neck, she was ready to return to Io.
“Already?” the cat whined. “Can’t we stay longer. I don’t want to see bastard Isaac so soon.”
“If his presence nauseates you, then stay in the shadows,” she scolded him. “Or go to the brat. The two of you seem to be getting along lately.”
“Jealous Master?” the cat turned to face her and his expression was almost a leer.
She scoffed in response.
“No need to worry Master,” he spoke in a false consoling voice. “Despite how hideous you are, you will always be my favourite.”
“You will never be my favourite,” she retorted. “The bastard’s more bearable than you.”
Hearing this cat’s eyes began to glisten. “Master-”
But she was not having it. Ignoring his pleading eyes, she quickly said. “Let’s get going.”
And with that she [Teleport]ed.