Chapter 437: An Old Friend Is Worried for Your Safety

When Ambrose handed over the divine coin with an expression of visible anguish, Gustavo Flynn was almost disoriented.

Was this lich actually acting? The tremor in his voice was far too convincing.

Ambrose wasn't acting. He had given up half his future profit for the sake of the development of alchemy, gritting his teeth and allowing the God of Alchemy to merely double, rather than triple, the conversion rate.

How much gold would that be worth?

Earning less than anticipated was practically the same as losing money.

So no matter how well Gustavo Flynn knew Ambrose, no matter how skilled he was at reading people, what Ambrose was displaying right now was entirely real. A divine truth-detection spell wouldn't have found fault with it.

"This coin is yours now. Its function is to add the "undead" attribute to any material. Each conversion will require a significant quantity of gold that varies depending on the materials you use. That's a price set by the God of Alchemy."

Ambrose looked as if he were bereaved. He clearly did not wish to discuss the matter further.

Gustavo Flynn found himself almost sympathetic. He appeared to have genuinely extracted a concession from this lich. But why had the lich been so agreeable? He had never seen the lich accept a losing deal under any circumstances. You could threaten him with holy light, and he still wouldn't yield.

"Tell me honestly, why are you giving me this coin? Don't say it's generosity, and don't say it's friendship."

Gustavo Flynn had developed something of a traumatic response around Ambrose. Having been maneuvered by the latter so many times before, if he didn't get a satisfying answer, he would sooner throw the coin away than accept Ambrose's terms.

Ambrose sighed. "You know me well, Flynn. I won't bother with excuses. The reason I'm willing to give up this core asset is entirely because of the God of Alchemy. This boon was bestowed by the God of Alchemy, and can be reclaimed at any time.

"When you brought up the idea of collaboration, the God of Alchemy took notice. He won't pass up an opportunity to extend alchemy's influence. You know what happened in Alkhemia. Those events set his divine power back considerably, and now that there's a chance to recover it, he isn't going to let it go. Flynn, you're the new President of the Alchemists' Council. Your influence on alchemy matters enormously. Do you understand now?"

It was a coherent explanation, but Gustavo Flynn still found himself pressing the point: "Even so, given your habits, wouldn't you normally hide this reasoning and use it to squeeze an even higher price out of me?"

Ambrose turned the question back on him: "Do you actually have any money left for me to squeeze?"

Gustavo Flynn went still. How much did this lich know?

As it turned out, Ambrose knew everything. Despite having been nowhere near dwarven territory recently, his intelligence from that kingdom had never dried up.

Isabel was still embedded in the dwarven kingdom, and she had grown into a figure of considerable standing. Gustavo Flynn had, more than once, contemplated taking her on as an apprentice, though Ambrose had already secured that distinction for himself.

With Isabel's elevated position and her inclusion into the upper echelons of the Alchemists' Council, she had a thorough understanding of the organization's internal situation. And so Ambrose had heard about Gustavo Flynn's financial difficulties through Isabel.

It wasn't that Flynn had no money. A legendary alchemist could always keep himself fed and comfortable. He simply had no resources for dealings of any real scale. The Council itself was perpetually strained: its steady earnings were being used to steadily pay off its debts.

In that situation, Ambrose naming an extortionate price would have been pointless. Gustavo Flynn wasn't about to sell himself into bondage to raise funds. Ambrose knew the man too well for that.

"Flynn," Ambrose continued, "we both know each other well. I genuinely don't want to give this away for nothing. But this is the God of Alchemy's directive, and I, as a mortal, genuinely cannot refuse.

"Since you have no wealth to speak of, I may as well let you owe me a favor instead. The goodwill of a legendary alchemist is worth considerably more than whatever is currently in your wallet. Even though I still feel like I'm taking a significant loss, at least I can minimize the damage. Would you say that's fair?"

With Ambrose laying it out this plainly, Gustavo Flynn's remaining doubts dissolved.

It all made sense, unless the God of Alchemy was in on the scheme. But that wasn't possible. As Ambrose had said, Flynn, as Council President, represented alchemy in the mortal world. The God of Alchemy naturally stood on the same side as him.

"Very well," Gustavo Flynn said. "I'll remember this favor. I'll cover your shipping costs as agreed. As for future sales, we'll hammer out a detailed profit-sharing contract once I test out this coin's conversion efficiency."

Ambrose gave a blank-faced nod. "You'd better find buyers quickly. Until I start seeing that money back, my soul will know no peace. I'll be a danger to myself and others."

Gustavo Flynn looked at the pained expression on the lich's face and couldn't help but laugh. Even this lich had his bad days.

Praise the God of Alchemy—this was the most sensible thing any deity had ever done!

"Don't worry," Flynn said. "I'm short on funds too. And as it happens, the dwarven king has already propositioned me about our new products. The dwarven kingdom may have lost most of what it had, but it never lacked for gold."

This was no empty boast. Every level of the dwarven kingdom burned with resentment over being driven from their homeland by Lyon. Now that Lyon showed signs of coming apart from within, the dwarven king could barely restrain the impulse to fan the flames and take back what rightfully belonged to the dwarves. But the dwarven military was simply not a match for Lyon's paladin legions.

The power Ambrose had put on display had shaken the world. His new undead variants had naturally become the most sought-after commodity on the market.

The dwarven king had quietly sent envoys to Gustavo Flynn on more than one occasion, asking for information about Ambrose.

Gustavo Flynn knew how lucrative weapons dealing was. But at the time, he had been nothing but a downstream subcontractor, and he had no desire to sit back while Ambrose took the lion's share of the profits.

The dwarven king still didn't know that Ambrose was Isabel's master, because Gustavo Flynn had kept that information a secret. But it probably wouldn't stay that way for long. The Dwarven King was singularly focused on fighting Lyon again; sooner or later, he would find his way to Isabel.

But that was no longer a problem. Ambrose had his Mimetic Soul, and Gustavo Flynn had his coin of undead conversion. They had a basis for genuine partnership, which meant profits could be shared. Gustavo Flynn would push this collaboration forward immediately.

The dwarven kingdom had inherited the majority of Alkhemia's production infrastructure. While it couldn't match the most advanced equipment that had been in the original city's interior, those facilities had been primarily for research and development. The surrounding cities outside the capital had been optimized for production—exactly the kind of mass manufacturing Ambrose required.

Ambrose needed undead casings in large quantities, and that was precisely what Gustavo Flynn did best. He could reach an agreement with the dwarven king today and deliver the first batch of specialized skeletons within ten days.

"How much longer are you going to be out at sea? You might as well come back and join the Council. I'll keep the position of vice president open for you," Gustavo Flynn said. "You're Isabel's master. No one would dare object."

Ambrose smiled. "The reason I'd come back and work with you is to do business. The business at sea is considerably larger, with returns hundreds or thousands of times greater. Which would you choose in my position? But don't worry: I won't let this side of things suffer. Place the orders freely. I have more than enough time."

The time flow in his private space could be adjusted freely. A single day inside yielded enough low-grade Mimetic Souls to satisfy any order from the dwarven kingdom.

Gustavo Flynn listened to this, then frowned. "You're really trying to create a new god? You know what happened to Alkhemia. Is this really worth the risk to you?"

Having reached an agreement with Ambrose, Flynn was now genuinely concerned about his safety. If this lich died, the divine coin in his hands would become useless. Without compatible Mimetic Souls, the aberrant skeletons couldn't even move.

Creating a god—what an intoxicating experiment. But Alkhemia's failure was right there as a cautionary tale. Gustavo Flynn genuinely did not want anything to happen to Ambrose.

While someone remained useful to you, you would naturally want them to live forever. Whether they lived well or not was another matter.

"What are you worried about?" Ambrose said, unbothered. "You lot went about it all wrong. You tried to bypass the rules of divinity and take a shortcut. This is the most traditional method of faith-based ascension in existence, completely in accordance with the rules Aion laid down. Even if deities wanted to interfere, they'd have to do it quietly.

"As for mortal threats, Flynn, who do you think could actually stop me at this point?"

Gustavo Flynn shut his mouth. Times had changed. This lich had genuinely reached another level of power.

The battle at sea had made stepping stones of the githark and the astral red dragons. Lyon's seven legends had been routed by a single paladin acting on Ambrose's behalf. And even after Ambrose publicly declared that the Lord of Dawn stood at his side, no pillar of holy light had come down to incinerate him. Overwhelming strength, formidable backing, and connections threading through every kingdom—Ambrose's claim was no exaggeration. There truly was no one left who could stop him.

Quite the contrary, everyone who heard his name now gave an involuntary shudder, quietly hoping that Master Megaman hadn't noticed the small fortune sitting in their treasury.

"Well, take care of yourself, old friend. I'll be waiting for the day we split the profits."

Gustavo Flynn extended his most sincere wishes, then terminated the magic mirror connection and turned his attention to the divine coin.

He was no necromancer, but finding one among the Council would hardly be difficult. Today, without fail, he would map out the full conversion costs for imbuing any material with the "undead" attribute.

Ambrose himself was satisfied. He had finally gotten the old man on board.

He just hoped Flynn wouldn't bankrupt himself before the money started coming in.

He reopened the battlefield channel on his magic mirror, only to find that the fighting was almost over.

The debut of the undead naval forces had exceeded every expectation. After two failed counterattacks, the shagin had simply retreated.

The seawater's toxicity had apparently alarmed them enough that they wanted no more casualties until they understood what they were dealing with. They had pulled back, leaving fewer than ten thousand dead behind.

Ambrose's own losses were comparable. The Grunt formation had sustained approximately thirty thousand casualties, five Guardian-type units had been lost, and two observation pods required repairs.

And since Gustavo Flynn had absorbed most of the battle's material costs, when Ambrose tallied it all up, even accounting for his own labor, his total expenses came to barely three thousand gold.

Three thousand gold for ten thousand dead shagin. What a return on investment!

Angus Watson reported in. "Master Megaman, our mission has been accomplished. We have won this engagement. Shall we begin clearing the battlefield?"

Ambrose considered it briefly. "Not yet. We still have a fair number of Grunts left, and our neighbors haven't identified their weaknesses yet. Let's keep the momentum going. Next target: sweep through the ixiray territory nearby. It's time to show our merfolk allies what we can do. Otherwise, they're not going to hand over their exiles."

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