The First Lich Lord
Chapter 73

Jones had been surprisingly accommodating with the request for the life potion in his liquor. He didn’t ask me questions, which made me assume he knew what that meant. Regardless, he didn’t seem to care. Raven had encountered one person trailing me, but with her distracting them in her lynx form she made them lose track of where I was before she returned and joined us at the inn.

I explained to Jones, Maxwell, and Raven what I’d seen in there as I drank. They all joined me shortly afterward. “What do you think is going on for sure?”

I shrugged, trying really hard not to slur my words, having drank a bit too much too fast. “My guess is they’re using some variation of blood magic to modify the people they’re kidnapping off the streets.”

“Like that sword we encountered?” Maxwell asked.

“Nope,” I exaggerated my head shake. “Magic felt wrong for that, there were something else mixed in.”

Jones sat back in his chair, his drink hardly touched—he was clearly far more used to this kind of stuff than I was. “For an undead, I’m surprised you’re so squeamish about this.”

I had enough alcohol in me that my inhibitions were gone to a certain level. “I’m not your regular undead.” I let out a laugh. “Far from regular.”

Jones frowned at me and then shrugged. “Just as long as you’re sobered up enough for your attack tonight, I don’t care. You’ve confirmed what I’ve heard, and that’s what I needed. Though it is rather alarming that they appear to be a part of a larger organization that we know nothing about.”

“Well,” Raven had a very hungry smile on her face. “By tomorrow morning, they’ll just be a memory.”

***

By the time the evening came all of us had sobered up. Part of me wondered if I was a bad influence. In some ways, Raven was less than two months old and she was already drinking. What kind of responsible adult did that make me?

We were just outside the warehouse in the street. The doors weren’t open, there were no lights showing on the second floor, and I was certain there were guards walking the streets.

“Let’s get to it.” Wanting full access to magic, I’d let my illusion spell fall. In the twilight of the evening, I appeared as nothing more than a dark, cloaked figure. Even if someone saw me in the warehouse, at a glance it wasn’t obvious that I was a Lich. Most people assumed I was undead, and from Jones’s reaction, maybe the undead were more common than I realized. Especially in the criminal world. It also didn’t matter because I didn’t plan on leaving any survivors this night.

The greatest mercy I could give to those abominations below was a swift death at the sharp end of Mercy.

***

I strode down the street with long confident strides, letting my cloak billow around me, and my head covered with my cowl. Raven was beside me, and Maxwell began to build his song. He started with the soft melodic tone and what sounded like a steel xylophone. When I looked over, he was just playing his guitar, but there was a small, glowing rune on it.

The song echoed off the silent street. A few people looked our way, drawn by the music. But my stride and the aura we must’ve been giving off sent them scurrying into the night. If you lived in this part of town, you likely had an inkling of what was about to go down.

Maxwell’s sense of timing was impeccable. He reached the beginning electric guitar and drum solo for “Nightmare” from Avenged Sevenfold right as I kicked open the doors of the warehouse with an explosive blast of death magic.

Though the impressive entrance was lost on the empty room, shouts of alarm came from above. They’d seen us coming no doubt, but I doubted they expected a frontal assault. As soon as we were through, I shoved the doors shut behind me and barred them with a fragment of the broken beam. It wasn’t as strong as before but would serve the purpose. Raven had already disappeared into the shadows as men stormed down a set of wooden stairs.

Light began to fill the room as torches they bore were used to light lanterns high above. Maxwell’s song continued to grow, and as his voice rang out the first lyrics, I twirled Mercy and hurled it at the first goon.

The blade slammed into his chest, and before he collapsed, I summoned it back to my hand, leaving a trail of blood in the air. I rushed forward, Maxwell’s music already amplifying my every move. None of these men were heavily armored, most of them wearing cloth clothes and wielding simple daggers and short swords. With this in mind, I reshaped Mercy into a long, slender curved blade.

I poured magic into Mercy, charging it with a more powerful version of the spell I’d used when I first turned against Olattee to save the enclave. Dark magic burned down the length of its shaft as I twirled it. None of these foes were powerful, but there were many of them.

Nearly a dozen people tried to attack me. But enhanced by Maxwell’s music and pouring death energy through my body, I was far more powerful than they were. I guessed their levels were around thirty, and with their numbers, that should’ve been enough to counter me. However, I was not alone.

A spell fell across the crowd as dark magic twirled from the ground and snaked at their feet, slowing and tripping them. Raven had cast her first spell. Combined with my skill with Mercy and the powerful spells tied around my blade they stood no chance.

That’s not to say blows didn’t land. These goons simply didn’t wield weapons that were truly effective against me. Slashing damage, as you know, does not do much against bone.

Before the first body hit the ground it was already rising as an undead minion under my control. Death energy coursed through my body, enhancing my new minions.

I slipped out of my cloak in a turn and let it billow in the air as I spun and rammed Mercy through the collarbone of another man. The cloak would only get in my way, and the black armor I now wore turned aside many blows, and those that reached through failed to replace soft flesh to bite.

The men started screaming, and the flickering light of my visage snarled back at them. My eyes burned with eldritch purple fire that cast the room before me in eerie, shifting shadows as I cut down man after man. When the spell on Mercy ended, there were only a few more goons remaining, so I did not recast the spell. Eight zombies cornered the men and they were torn apart.

Unfortunately, the zombies created by the spell were not as powerful as I could manage, but the three new corpses would provide good fodder for a new minion.

“Raven, scout upstairs please,” I said. Though I did not know where she was, I knew she would hear me. With a mental command, I directed the zombies to guard the stairs leading down. Maxwell’s song ended, proving the fight had been quick.

I tossed the three bodies in a pile and began to cast another spell. Death magic swirled around me and flew into the pile, tearing the flesh and bones apart.

Thinking about some of the abilities I had, I focused on enhancing the power and durability. As death magic flowed out of me into the spell, wisps of death energy joined it. Two powerful legs, thicker around than my torso, formed. From there I created a short body with a cluster of six eyes mounted in the middle of the chest. On that short stout body, four arms connected, each reinforced with extra bone and muscle. Death energy filled the creature and rivulets of power seeped into different parts as the flesh darkened.

Once it was finished, a small descriptor popped up before me and I smiled.

Undead Construct

Level: 50

Bludgeoner

This construct has been enhanced for greater power and durability, created by Ezekiel the Lich.

There was more information, but it didn’t really matter. It was interesting that there was a name, there isn’t always a name unless you specifically named your creation.

By the time I was finished, Raven had made her way back down. “I found the man you described, he’s dead now. There wasn’t much else of interest up there.”

“Good.” I looked to the stairs, dreading what would come next.

The effects of Maxwell’s song enhancing my body were still going as I headed toward the stairs. Even still, he began to play another. Somehow it matched the mood as I gritted my teeth and hardened what I had left for a heart.