The Extra's Rise-Chapter 127: Vakrt (3)

After I wrapped up my work with the Vakrt team, Rose caught my arm and flashed one of her ever-persistent smiles. "How about a tour of the facility?" she offered. "Since you’re here, might as well see what other treasures we have for necromancers and dark mages."

"I’m not exactly a necromancer," I pointed out, falling into step beside her. "And technically, I’m more of a… hybrid dark mage with a touch of insanity."

She snorted. "Semantics. You’re building a Lich from scratch, Arthur. That puts you squarely in the club, whether you like it or not. Come on, let me show you what our empire of gloom has to offer."

We walked through a sleek, futuristic corridor lit with soft blue light, the walls lined with display cases that held items ranging from mundane dark mana trinkets to artifacts that pulsed faintly with power. Each case had a holographic label hovering beside it, listing specifications and astronomical price tags that could make even a dragon choke on its hoard.

"You know," Rose began, her voice taking on that breezy, conversational tone she used when she wanted to drop something heavy on me, "when you successfully create your Lich, you’ll be one of only about five hundred people in the world with one."

I paused, glancing at her. "Five hundred? I’d have thought there’d be more."

"Only Ascendant-rankers and above can even hope to make something like that," she said, running her fingers along the edge of a display case housing a cracked bone flute. The air around it hummed faintly, like it was desperate for someone to play it. "And even then, most of them don’t bother. It’s too costly, too risky. You’re… well, let’s just say you’re an exception to the rule."

"Yeah, but mine won’t exactly be a top-tier Lich at the start," I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck. "And I’m sacrificing my potential as a full necromancer to make this work."

Rose shrugged, her auburn hair catching the light like flickering embers. "That’s perfect for you, though. You’re not a necromancer at heart, Arthur. You’re a… let’s call it a strategic innovator. And besides," she added with a smirk, "you can at least have another summon down the line, right? Any thoughts on what that might be?"

"Not yet," I said, shaking my head. "I’d need to reach at least Ascendant-rank before I can even consider a second summon. Right now, all my focus is on the Lich."

"Fair enough," she said. "But you should still look around. It never hurts to know what’s out there."

She led me into a cavernous room filled with towering shelves that seemed to stretch into infinity. This was the heart of Vakrt’s inventory, a treasure trove of materials and tools for those willing—or insane enough—to dabble in the darker arts. Each shelf was lined with glowing orbs, shimmering powders, and preserved body parts sealed in transparent cases. Some items were labeled with mundane descriptions, like Nightshade Powder or Void Dust, while others bore ominous titles like Echo of the Forgotten or Fang of the Abyss.

"Over here," Rose said, steering me toward a corner section labeled Rare and Experimental Materials. "This is where we keep the good stuff."

"Define ’good,’" I muttered, eyeing a jar containing what looked disturbingly like an eyeball suspended in golden liquid. The label read: All-Seeing Eye of Moragos, Last Gazer of the East.

"You’d be surprised," Rose replied, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "For example, this." She pointed to a gleaming, obsidian shard encased in a glass cube. "Shard of Midnight. Perfect for amplifying shadow-based attacks or creating temporary zones of absolute darkness. But the real kicker? It can also be used to disrupt light-based spells."

"Useful," I admitted, though my attention was drawn to a set of skeletal hands displayed nearby. They were arranged in a way that suggested they had once been clutching something, and the faint aura of desperation still clung to them.

"Also, if you do need a Staff for the Lich, we offer one," Rose said, steering us toward a more secluded area of the exhibit hall. Her tone had shifted slightly—less casual, more conspiratorial—as if she were about to reveal the crown jewel of Vakrt’s collection.

We turned a corner, and the atmosphere changed entirely. The lighting dimmed, focusing all attention on a single display case in the center of the room. Suspended within, rotating slowly as if it were savoring its own grandeur, was a staff unlike any I’d ever seen.

"As you know," Rose began, her voice dropping into a practiced cadence that hinted at how many times she’d delivered this pitch, "the Staff doesn’t just tie the three Aspects together. It’s also the Lich’s window to the world. It grants spatial awareness, enhances its ability to control its surroundings, and acts as a stabilizing force for the Soul aspect. A proper Staff is crucial if you want your Lich to function as more than just a glorified skeleton mage."

She gestured toward the staff in the exhibit, her hand lingering mid-air as if to emphasize its importance. "I recommend this one."

I stepped closer, reading the small holographic display that hovered beside it. "Eternight Staff."

The staff itself was a masterpiece of design—an elegant spiral of black and silver metal, tipped with a jagged shard of obsidian that pulsed faintly with a dark, rhythmic glow. Veins of light snaked through its shaft, pulsing faintly like it was alive. It looked less like a weapon and more like something pulled from the hands of a deity, forged in the heart of a dying star.

"It’s an Ancient-grade artifact," Rose explained, her voice carrying the kind of reverence one might use to describe a mythical beast. "Recovered from the border of the Western continent. It’s incredibly high-level, even for an Ancient-grade artifact. Perfect for your... unique aspirations. If you want to build something as ridiculous as an Arch Lich, this is what you’ll need."

"And it’s compatible?" I asked, peering at the staff’s faintly glowing tip. "No issues with integration?"

"Artifacts like this are surprisingly flexible," she said. "Limiting them is much easier than, say, modifying a Skeleton or Source. You could tune this down to work for an eight-star Lich now and unleash its full potential later when you... well, grow into it." She smirked.

"Alright," I said cautiously, already dreading the price. "How much?"

"Fifteen billion," she replied smoothly, as if she were talking about pocket change. Then, with a casual wave of her hand, she added, "But for you, I’ll knock it down to thirteen billion. Friends and family discount."

I blinked. "Thirteen billion is a discount?"

Rose laughed, her auburn hair catching the dim light as she leaned closer. "It’s an Ancient-grade artifact, Arthur. High-level even among its kind. These things don’t exactly grow on trees."

She wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t make the number any less staggering. Thirteen billion dollars for a staff. It was more than most nations’ annual budgets. But as my eyes drifted back to the Eternight Staff, I couldn’t deny its allure. The artifact seemed to hum with untapped potential, its glow promising a power that was almost within reach.

Updated from freewёbnoνel.com.

"Alright," I said finally. "But about my payments—I’m already paying for the Skeleton in monthly installments. Can we keep that going and just add the Staff to the same schedule? I’ll pay the remainder in a lump sum once the I get the moneye."

Rose tilted her head, thinking for a moment before shrugging. "Sure. The contract we made is flexible enough to handle that. You owe us twenty-nine billion for the Skeleton, right? Adding the Staff will bump it up to forty-two billion, but the terms won’t change."

"Thank you," I said, and this time, the gratitude in my voice wasn’t just politeness. Rose had gone above and beyond to make this ridiculous endeavor of mine possible.

"Don’t thank me yet," she said with a grin. "You still owe Vakrt a fortune, and I’ll personally make sure you pay every last cent."

I laughed, shaking my head as we moved on to the next exhibit.

The rest of the tour was a blur of artifacts, magical tools, and materials that I could only dream of affording. Rose continued pointing out items with the enthusiasm of someone who’d grown up in this world. She explained the history of a preserved dragon claw here, the uses of Voidglass dust there. There was even a set of enchanted bindings labeled Chains of Eternal Silence, designed to suppress rogue summons. It was equal parts fascinating and overwhelming.

By the time we left Vakrt’s headquarters, the sun had dipped low on the horizon, painting Avalon City in hues of gold and crimson. We stepped into the self-driving car that would take us back to the warp gate.

"Rose," I said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over us. "Thank you. For everything."

She looked at me, her expression softer than usual. "Don’t mention it, Arthur. Just promise me one thing."

"What’s that?"

She grinned. "When you finally create this insane Lich of yours, let me be the first to see it. I need to witness the moment it either becomes the most brilliant creation in history—or blows up in your face."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Deal."