The Extra's Rise-Chapter 149: Lich (3)

I exhaled, letting the tension ebb away for a moment. This was it. Months of preparation, of theory, of gathering impossible materials, all leading to this exact moment. Everything was in place. I had spent countless hours practicing the necessary mana threads, weaving them over and over again to connect the Source, Skull, and Skeleton. I understood the theory, the mana programming, and every microscopic detail of the process like the back of my hand.

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Now, I had to put it all into action.

On the table before me lay the culmination of those efforts: the scarlet Blood Wyvern Skeleton, gleaming faintly under the laboratory lights, its ominous presence filling the room. This was no ordinary skeleton—it had been compressed and meticulously processed to serve as the foundation for my Lich’s Body. Next to it, the Skull of an Arch Lich—etched with ancient, unreadable runes that seemed to hum with their own energy. A gift from King Alastor Creighton, Rachel’s father, it practically radiated raw, terrifying power. And finally, there was the Basilisk Heart. It pulsed faintly, as though even in death, its essence refused to fully fade. This would form the Lich’s Soul, the nexus of its very being.

Everything I needed to create something few had ever dared to even dream of was here. The tools, the materials, the knowledge—and me. Now, I just had to bring it all together. No pressure.

I inhaled deeply, activating Lucent Harmony. A tingling warmth spread through my arms as the glowing sigils of Luna’s power emerged, wrapping around me like a second skin. My mana shifted, first turning to silver, bright and pure. Then, with a focused effort, I let it deepen, darken, twisting into the deep, rich black of my Black Star. My White Star remained dormant, silent and still, as it had to be. The two could never work together—an immutable law of mana.

Professor Gravemore stood to the side, arms crossed, his sharp eyes scrutinizing every move I made. He didn’t say a word, waiting for me to take the first step.

I reached for the blood of the mana beast that Vakrt had provided—a viscous, crimson liquid that shimmered faintly with latent power. This blood wasn’t just symbolic; it was the conductor for the mana threads that would bind the components together. I dipped my fingers into it and began tracing the summoning circle onto the table.

The circle’s design had been meticulously crafted by Vakrt’s finest necromancers. Complex sigils intertwined with delicate arcs and sharp angles, the geometry precise and unforgiving. Each stroke had to be perfect, each line imbued with just the right amount of mana. There was no room for error.

The room was silent, save for the faint hum of my mana and the rhythmic drip of the blood as I worked. The sigils began to glow faintly as I completed each section, the circle coming alive under my hands.

"Good," Professor Gravemore murmured, his voice low and steady. "The symmetry is perfect. Keep going."

I didn’t respond, too focused to speak. My fingers moved almost of their own accord, guided by instinct and precision as I completed the final sigil. The circle flared for a brief moment before settling into a steady, ominous glow.

"Perfect," Professor Gravemore said, nodding in approval. "Now, move on to the Skeleton."

I exhaled, wiping the sweat from my brow. That was the easy part, I told myself. Now came the true challenge.

I placed my hand on the Blood Wyvern Skeleton, closing my eyes to better focus. The moment my mana made contact, I felt it—a dense, complex web of programming already inscribed into the bones by Vakrt’s necromancers. It was intricate, elegant, and perfectly aligned to serve as the Body aspect of the Lich. My job was to expand upon it, to add the necessary layers of programming to make it functional, to breathe the first semblance of "life" into it.

The Skeleton felt cold under my hand, an almost unnatural chill that seemed to seep into my very core. I concentrated, letting my mana flow along the pre-existing lines of programming, tracing them carefully. It was like walking a tightrope. One misstep, one miscalculation, and the entire structure could collapse.

"Slowly," Professor Gravemore instructed, his voice steady. "Feel the flow of the programming. Understand it before you modify it."

I nodded, though I didn’t dare open my eyes. Slowly, painstakingly, I began to add my own lines of mana-code. These weren’t just random additions—they were carefully planned threads designed to enhance the Skeleton’s capacity, to allow it to integrate seamlessly with the Source and Skull later. Each thread had to be anchored perfectly, each connection aligned to the larger framework. It was like adding stitches to an impossibly complex tapestry, one that was already a masterpiece in its own right.

Time seemed to blur as I worked. Minutes turned into hours, each moment filled with relentless focus. My mana reserves drained steadily, the strain beginning to weigh on me. My hands trembled slightly, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

Finally, I placed the last thread, the mana-code flaring briefly as it settled into place. I pulled my hand back, breathing heavily. The Skeleton now shimmered faintly, the programming complete—for now.

"Good work," Professor Gravemore said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "You’ve finished the Body aspect. That was the simplest part, but it was still no small feat. Take a break, Arthur. You’ve earned it."

"Can I afford to?" I asked, my voice tinged with exhaustion.

"You must," he replied firmly. "This process has to be completed within fifty hours, yes, but you’ll need your full strength for the Source and Skull. Your mana reserves are holding up well, but your mind is another matter entirely."

I nodded reluctantly, stepping back from the table. He was right. My mind felt like it had run a marathon, the calculations and focus required for the Skeleton taking their toll. Nearly a quarter of my reserves had been consumed already.

’I wouldn’t have made it this far without reaching White-rank,’ I thought grimly, the realization striking me. If I had tried this even a few weeks ago, I would’ve run out of mana long before completing the Skeleton.

I sank into a nearby chair, closing my eyes as I let my mind rest. The first step was complete, but the hardest work still lay ahead.

After a much-needed rest, I returned to work. My next task was the Mind aspect—infusing the Arch Lich’s Skull.

The Skull rested on the table, its surface faintly glinting under the lab’s soft electric lighting. It was a dull, ivory-white object that radiated an unsettling aura, the kind of object you instinctively avoided looking at for too long. Ancient runes etched into its surface pulsed faintly, remnants of Vakrt’s initial programming.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself as I approached. My Black Star thrummed within me, an endless reservoir of dark mana waiting to be harnessed. Activating it, I allowed the threads of my dark mana to flow into my hands, tingling as it pooled at my fingertips. I placed my hands firmly on the Skull’s surface, feeling its inherent resistance—the vestiges of the Arch Lich’s will lingering like stubborn shadows.

"Start slow," Gravemore said, his voice low and reassuring. "This is where many necromancers falter. Let your mana settle. Don’t overpower it."

I nodded and closed my eyes, focusing. The initial resistance was strong, the Skull testing me, its programming pushing back as though the Arch Lich’s ego still lurked within. But my mana wasn’t just a foreign intruder; it was dominant. Slowly, methodically, I allowed my mana to seep into the existing lines of programming left by Vakrt. Each rune, each line, each curve needed to be overlaid with my own mana, woven together to make the Lich’s Mind my creation, not a relic of the Arch Lich’s past.

The process was like threading a needle while blindfolded. The Skull resisted at every step, the programming lines twisting and shifting as if alive. My mind buzzed with the effort, my focus narrowing to the microscopic level as I traced each mana thread. It was maddeningly precise work, and my hands trembled as I pressed on, forcing the Skull to accept my influence.

"Good," Gravemore murmured, his tone encouraging. "It’s reacting. You’re overriding it."

Minutes turned into hours. Sweat dripped from my temple, pooling on the table beneath me, but I didn’t stop. Each successful thread was a small victory, and with every new line of programming, I could feel the Skull bending to my will. When I finished overlaying Vakrt’s programming with my own, I moved to the next stage—adding new mana programming.

This was where the real challenge began.

Unlike the Skeleton, where the programming was more structural, the Skull’s programming was deeply conceptual. It wasn’t just about giving it commands—it was about defining its identity. The Skull was the Mind of the Lich, the core of its intelligence and decision-making. My programming had to be precise enough to create a functional thought process, yet restrictive enough to ensure the Lich didn’t gain true sentience. Of course, this would only come together with the Source.

I worked meticulously, carving out commands and logical pathways with my mana threads. Each thread glowed faintly as it wove into the existing web of programming, creating something new, something uniquely mine. The Skull began to hum softly, an eerie resonance that filled the lab.

"Impressive," Gravemore commented. "It’s accepting your programming more smoothly than I anticipated. Your control has improved."

I allowed myself a small smile at the praise, though I didn’t dare lose focus. The work was delicate, and a single mistake could unravel hours of progress. I poured everything into the task, my mind burning with the effort as I completed the final lines.

When the last thread snapped into place, the Skull went silent. The faint hum ceased, replaced by a stillness that felt almost... contemplative.

"It’s done," I said, my voice hoarse.

Gravemore stepped forward, examining the Skull with a critical eye. "Remarkable," he muttered. "The flow is seamless. You’ve handled the Mind aspect beautifully."

I allowed myself a moment to breathe, to savor the small victory. But the respite was brief. My gaze drifted to the table, to the object resting at its center: the Basilisk Heart.