The First Lich Lord
Chapter 36

It took Max and I several days of travel to make our way back to my cabin. Though the ice on the lake had been thick, it was mostly thawed. Again, proof that Rhea had been right about how quickly the warm rains melted the snow.

It was late, so we decided to wait in my cabin until the next day. Raven was curled up in my bed and raised her head sleepily when we walked in. She huffed at us as if to say, “That took you a while.”

Maxwell logged out to grab some food in the real world. With time compression, that gave him about two hours before needing to log back in. I spent the night trying to settle my mind. The scenes and events from the fight in the village still haunted me.

The next day, we launched my canoe and paddled down the lake. There were still chunks of ice floating in the frigid water, so we had to be careful not to hit any. The jagged ice would easily tear a hole through the thin skin of my canoe.

We got to town as the sun was rising in the east, shining down the length of the valley. The sleepy little village of Omark was quite picturesque in the early rays of sunlight.

I headed for the temple first, Maxwell following. The new head priest for the village should be here by now. Maxwell went inside while I waited outside. It took him a while before he returned, followed by a priest I didn’t recognize in heavily embroidered robes.

“You know, it’s a real pain that you won’t come into the temple. Making me leave my office just to come see you.” The unknown priest greeted me with a scornful tone. “Rhea did inform me you have been useful, so I guess I’ll make an exception.”

“Father Mathis,” Maxwell said in a tight voice, it was clear he wasn’t a fan of this new priest. “This is Ezekiel. Like I said inside, we’re here to report on the demon village in the mountains that Rhea sent us to take care of.”

“Ah, yes,” Father Mathis nodded. “I had a note about that. She should be ashamed it took her so long to notice such an evil presence in the area.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily call it in the area,” I contradicted him. “It took almost four days of travel for us to make it there.”

“So?” Mathis shot me an annoyed look. “Any diligent priest of Olattee should have noticed it right away.”

I ground my teeth—Maxwell did the same. Rhea had been kind to us, and it was hard to hear this self-important man criticize her. I studied him closely. He had pale skin and little beady eyes—though I do admit that could be me being biased. He carried himself with an air that made it seem like he thought he was better than everyone around him.

“Either way, the village has been—” I paused, not wanting to be crass. “Removed.” Maxwell and I had already decided not to say anything about the single-family that survived.

“You mean you killed all the residents?” Mathis smiled—that smile made me sick. “Good. If you will write down instructions on how to get there, I’ll send a group of my priests to make sure the areas consecrated so their foul magic does not corrupt the region. Even in death, demons are a problem.”

Having reported the completion of our mission, I received a prompt confirming it was done. After accepting, I left. “Maxwell, come to my house later, I feel like drinking.”

“I did not say you could go,” Father Mathis called.

“And I don’t recall asking your permission.” I continued without stopping.

“I’ll replace you later,” Maxwell assured me.

He remained to talk to Father Mathis, and I wondered how the bard could stand the bloated priest. Maybe he was making a new insulting jingle to go along with Mathis. Returning home, I entertained myself by imagining what that jingle could be.

***

I spent the day setting my dock back up and using some holy water Rhea had given me as a quest reward to mix a brew. Being undead meant I was immune to poison, as you know, so mixing in holy water was my only option to make it effective. I still couldn’t taste, so even if it was the nastiest drink in the world, it wouldn’t matter. As long as it was strong, I didn’t care.

To that end, I had the local brewery distill a keg of mead until it was almost pure ethanol—it was something like 151 proof. I mixed the half-and-half with the holy water and buoyed it in the frigid lake water to chill. While I couldn’t taste, I still noticed temperatures. After that was done, I spent the rest the day fishing. Might not have a need for the food, but I enjoyed fishing.

As it turned out, the fish were still waking up from winter, and I didn’t get a single bite. Maxwell showed up in the late afternoon. He’d purchased a canoe for traveling up the lake, and in it was a keg of mead.

“Mathis really doesn’t like you,” he said, tying his canoe to the dock and lifting the keg out. “It’s almost like he can detect what you are.”

I shot Maxwell an alarmed look.

“I’m kidding!” Maxwell assured me. “There’s no way he’s a powerful enough priest to be able to tell.”

I shook my head. “If I had a heart, you would’ve just given me a heart attack.”

“I could tell. That illusion is quite effective at showing how you would actually react—Now, where can I put this down?”

I gestured to a stump near a campfire I’d already gotten going, and Maxwell set the keg there. “I figured it’s a nice enough night that with a fire we’ll be fine.”

“Maybe for you,” Maxwell said doubtfully. “You can’t even feel the cold.” Maxwell poured himself a cup of his mead, and settled in, taking a large swallow. “What are you going to drink?”

“Don’t worry, I have something.” I smiled mischievously, getting a cup of my concoction and holding it out to him.

“Oh my gosh!” Maxwell dry heaved the second the liquid touched his tongue, and he pushed it back at me. “That has got to be the worst thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“It can’t be that bad,” I laughed, taking a long drink and settling in.

We were enjoying our libations, and I could definitely feel the alcohol affecting me. It was a strange effect. Part of my illusion spell held things I consumed inside my body until I could dispose of it. But even if I wasn’t using the illusion, the presence of the holy water with the alcohol meant that even in my skeletal form, drinking it would affect me. Making a massive mess in the process.

“How would you know?” Maxwell said, rinsing his mouth out with his own mead. “You can’t taste anything. I’d like to give that to my worst enemy.”

“Maybe we should.” I took another long drink. “A new form of torture: really bad alcohol.”

“I’m pretty sure that would be considered a war crime,” Maxwell said.

“Even better,” I toasted him and knocked back what remained in my cup.

Maxwell laughed and matched my toast, refilling his cup. “You know, I really believe you and the Immortals about this world being real. The NPCs have become too self-aware for it to be anything else. Father Mathis feels like any holier than thou priest you might meet back on Earth. He acts like one, talks like one, and poses like one. Before, it was clear that NPCs like him were scripted in how they acted, but now you can’t even tell.”

“Maybe…” The word lolled out, the alcohol and holy water already dulling my mind. I’d been drinking a lot very quickly, and was in that moment thankful I couldn’t get sick to my stomach. “Doesn’t matter to me. I’m stuck here either way.”

“Isn’t that remarkable though?” Maxwell asked, swaying back and forth—or maybe I was swaying. “You’re proof there’s more than one way into this world. And it just further shows it’s real!”

“I really don’t—nope. Don’t recommend doing what I did. S-sometimes, I think I would’ve rather died.”

“Don’t say that,” Maxwell said, concern in his voice. “You have a chance so many would kill for. Don’t waste it.”

“Hadn’t thought about that…” Well, I had. But hearing Maxwell say it reminded me how true it was. Stories about people being teleported to magical worlds from our own had been quite prevalent, and with full dive virtual-reality, people got a taste of it. Except for the few second-chancers, no one truly lived that fantasy. “It’s one of the things I worried about, actually. What happens when what happened to me gets out? Will we see a surge of players becoming Lichs and offing themselves?”

“I’m sure we’ll see some of that,” Maxwell said. “People are always desperate to escape reality. You’ll for sure see it happen.”

“If only they knew this wasn’t escaping reality. It’s a more horrible one,” I said quietly. “I complained a lot about what life was like for me before all of this… Now it doesn’t seem so bad.”

“Well, this is a depressing conversation,” Maxwell said, purposely changing the subject. “You said that poison you’re drinking is a mixture of holy water in what amounted to 151 proof?”

“Something like that,” I said, trying to shake off my straying thoughts. “Mostly just ethanol mixed with holy water.”

“Despite it being disgusting, that seems pretty hard to make,” Maxwell said. “If you change to a skeleton, could you collect what you drink and not have to make more?”

“You know what, that’s a good idea!” I was too drunk at the time to understand I was risking villagers seeing me if someone happened to be coming up to visit. I stood and took off my clothes before dismissing the illusion and becoming the black skeleton I actually was.

“Damn,” Maxwell said. “That’s rather impressive. You’re definitely not a regular skeleton, those black bones aren’t normal. They look way strong.”

I looked down at my body. The bones had grown thicker as I grew in levels. When I had first reincarnated, my skeletal body had seemed incredibly weak. That certainly wasn’t the case anymore. Before I took a drink, I tossed some logs on the fire, getting it going nice and warm to ward off the cold air.

“Might as well try,” I said, and took a deep drink. I expected the fluid to come tumbling down my bony body, but that’s not what happened. “What the heck?” I slurred.

“Step closer to the fire,” Maxwell said, gesturing. “I think I see something.”

Stepping closer, I squinted at myself. My bones weren’t just thicker, they were actually covered by a fibrous material. My chest and torso were now covered in a translucent gray mesh, and where my stomach used to be, there was a small ball of fluid being held in place by an unseen force.

I poked at it, my finger depressing the fine gray mesh. “Whoa!” I drunkenly said.

“Whoa indeed,” Maxwell said in surprise. “That’s a little disturbing… Would you uh, mind putting your clothes back on?”

I looked further down and started in surprise when I saw a faint outline of something I thought I would never have again. I quickly dressed, trying to hide my embarrassment.

“So, uh, what was all of that?” Maxwell asked once I was seated next to the fire again.

“I’m not exactly sure,” I shrugged. “Being a Lich gave me a trait called body of death. Essentially says my heart and stomach had been replaced by things that fuel my body with death energy. I guess the stomach still processes matter.”

“This is too much of a conversation to have right now,” Maxwell said, utterly bewildered and clearly not following what I said. “We should just drink, we can talk about it later.”

We toasted each other.

And to be honest, that’s the last memory I have of that night.