Ashen Dragon-Chapter 407 - 330 Lich’s Diary (I)
Chapter 407: Chapter 330 Lich’s Diary (I)
Bewildering Valley, Soulcry Castle.
Aside from the low murmurs of wandering souls, there was also a faint scratching sound— a pen was scribbling furiously in a book, yet no one held it.
Upon closer inspection, one would notice that the pen was made from a human finger bone, and the book was bound in sheets of smooth skin.
The pen was dipped in fresh blood, and each stroke, each character it wrote was in a bright red hue, gradually darkening into deep crimson as the blood dried.
“New Calendar 1786, September 12th, clear. Today, I harvested thirteen fresh souls, but among those who intruded into Bewildering Valley, seven or eight appeared to be soul-less, which is very strange.”
“Recently, these kinds of beings have been appearing more frequently, they seem to be called… Starfallen.”
“The disturbances are increasing. That Red Dragon has unified Anzeta. I need to be more cautious, absolutely must not let it discover me. The spell formations in Antonio City have all been cleared away.”
“Perhaps… I should activate the Stealth Array to hide this place, but the soul reserves are running low— if the Life Box isn’t sacrificed to for a long time, I will turn into a Half-Lich, let alone the pursuit of stable immortality.”
“Maybe it’s time to consider slumber.”
“Wait, it seems someone has intruded into the Death Tomb…”
The pen made of finger bone suddenly halted.
The pages bound in human skin slowly closed, and on the cover, a sewn elderly face resembled Orestes’s visage in life, with several blood-red words carved on the forehead— “The Great, Immortal Orestes’s Journal”.
In the dim and cold secret chamber, viscera, flesh, and bones were scattered everywhere, with blood spreading and solidifying on the ground.
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On those black bone racks were placed various potions, scrolls, numerous spellbooks, several wands, and even a couple of magic wands.
Liches collected spells and magical items; they loved to hoard anything related to “immortality,” their lifelong pursuit.
“Someone dared to intrude into my tomb at this moment…”
“That is not a good thing.”
Amidst the flickering dust and blood mist, the owner of Soulcry Castle, the master of Bewildering Valley— Orestes, finally appeared.
A lich’s appearance was a gaunt human form, skeletal and emaciated with rotting flesh clinging to the bones.
Their eyes had long decayed, leaving only tiny points of light and necromantic mist swirling in the hollow sockets.
He wore the red, bejeweled robes of his previous life, but time had rendered the once magnificent attire tattered and decayed— though he himself was apparently oblivious to this.
Liches pursued strength at any cost, unless it involved them directly, they showed no interest in the affairs of living creatures.
They often devised plans stretching over years, decades, or even centuries to achieve maximum outcomes, as they had freed themselves from death’s shadow.
Orestes was no different.
Although he cared little about the mortal realm, the recent commotion in Anzeta was too significant, affecting even him— he had even considered sinking Bewildering Valley into the earth to avoid possible intrusions.
Orestes extended his skeletal arm, took the crystal skull from the rack, and spoke in a chilling tone:
“Just who could it be…”
“Let me see, which poor fool is seeking their own death this time.”
The Life Box was where a lich’s soul resided.
Without destroying the Life Box, no one could kill a lich.
When a lich’s body was destroyed, its will and mind would be drawn out of the lifeless corpse.
Days later, a new body for the lich would form from the shimmering dust emanating from the Life Box.
Since damage to the Life Box could cause a lich to face permanent death, they often concealed the box in highly guarded and well-hidden locations— and Orestes had chosen the Death Worshipper’s Tomb.
It was once the resting place of Bishop Milco, teeming with countless high-ranking undead creatures and hundreds of traps and high-tier enchantment formations laid by Orestes himself.
Orestes felt particularly confident about the safety of the Life Box. Even a legendary mage arriving in person could not easily obtain it.
“…”
“Ah~~”
The soul within the crystal skull wailed, and a necromantic fog formed a magic image at the skullcap.
“Is it you?”
“Ignorant mortal.”
The image showed a human noble in lavish robes. Besides his strikingly handsome looks, he seemed no different from those adventurers who had perished in the tomb.
Yet, for some reason, upon seeing this man, Orestes felt a sudden unease— despite having an empty chest void of a heart.
“Why is this happening…”
“No, this threat needs to be eliminated.”
Orestes gently stroked the crystal skull, and necromantic black mist spread from his palm.
Far away in the Death Worshipper’s Tomb, stone gargoyles with wings stirred, shedding stone flakes from their skin— these were gargoyles, predators that enjoyed torturing their prey, responsible for countless deaths of intruders.
But the man in the image suddenly smiled, and his pale golden eyes displayed a deep gaze, as if piercing through space.
“Did he see me?”
Orestes suddenly had this thought.
For a spellcaster of his level, intuition was often strikingly accurate, sometimes better than precise calculations.
Luckily, that feeling vanished as quickly as it came.
The man in the image seemed to shift his gaze, focusing on his enemy before him.
Not only the gargoyles, but countless foul-smelling ghouls emerged from the Tomb’s coffers and corners, and hideous specters floated in the air, rushing towards the distant human.
“Ooooo…”
More rustling noises arose, interspersed with wails, scraping sounds, and footsteps…
The Death Armor lifted its coffin lid, gripped the rusty great sword, and issued a low battle cry from within the armor’s gaps.
A bodacious predator crawled out from a pile of decomposing corpses, its face a twisted mask of frenzy and terror.
The heavy stone doors slowly shut.
Even light from Heavenly Mountain had difficulty penetrating underground.
In the narrow burial chamber, hundreds of various undead creatures surged from all directions, surrounding the lone adventurer. The thick death aura filled the chamber— it seemed like an inescapable doom.
Even a bishop of the Amanata Church would not dare claim they could leave such peril unscathed.
Hundreds and thousands of adventurers had intruded over the centuries, but all met their demise here, becoming food for this devouring tomb.
The chamber rarely saw living beings inside.
These undead creatures, ravenous to the core, would even devour each other.
Sensing the intrusion from outside, their greed and hunger for the living became uncontrollable, eager to devour this fresh soul completely.
“That’s it…”
“Kill him, kill him.”
“Strip his skin and flesh, crush his bones, devour his soul…”
Orestes’s deep voice echoed.
Anyone daring to enter the tomb and attempting to claim his immortality faced his most venomous curse.
He relished seeing the terrified, despairing faces of these people, the ultimate homage to his undying life.
Yet, the man in the image gave a dismissive smirk.
“Tsk tsk, so many…”
He meticulously adjusted the collar of his fine robe, then slowly raised his right hand.
“Boom—”
