Chapter 467: Divine Spell: Corpse Construction

There were only these three constructs in the entire arena?

For a moment, Ambrose felt as if the sky were collapsing.

This was it? How was he supposed to build an army of heroic spirits? How was he supposed to rent them out as mercenaries? He'd been planning to pull this elite force out while Lyon and the orcs were busy tearing each other apart, and rake in a fortune in the process.

Three. Just three. No matter how strong they were individually, three constructs couldn't decide the outcome of a war. A mercenary force that couldn't shift the tide of a battle was only good for burning through an enemy spellcaster's mana reserves, at best.

It was like showing up to negotiate with the orcs with only a single magitech cannon in hand. They wouldn't even bother humoring him.

Ambrose's original plan had been an entire artillery battalion of magitech cannons, the kind that could level cities. With that, even a single engagement would mean a fortune on his part.

Three heroic spirits alone wouldn't do anything, and the maintenance costs alone might run him into the red!

Keeping Arthur Lyon fighting at full power, after all, didn't come cheap.

Damn it. This was a real loss.

Ambrose maintained a neutral expression, but Thanos saw straight through him and burst out laughing. "That's what I wanted to see! An expression that clearly shows that you're taking a loss, but are too proud to admit it!"

Ambrose: "..."

Ambrose wasn't the only one who fell silent. Even Arthur, standing nearby, looked faintly startled. Was this really the brutal and terrifying Lord of Storms? He sounded more like an overgrown child.

As for Ariel, despite remaining devoutly prostrated on the ground, she couldn't entirely suppress her own shock either.

"Is this really what the deity I worship is like...?" Thanos had always been a god of few words, his pronouncements simple and direct, carrying nothing but solemn authority.

And yet here he was in front of this lich, acting like a mischievous child who'd just pulled off a successful prank.

Neither Ariel nor Arthur fully understood Ambrose's current standing among the gods. Levitra, Tiamat, Loss, Shara, Sariel—an entire roster of goddesses had stumbled in their dealings with this lich. On the strength of that record alone, the other gods had practically decided Ambrose deserved godhood purely for his silver tongue.

Presumably, the only reason why Ambrose hadn't yet received a nudge toward ascension was simply because Aion had no interest in adding yet another god of deceit to the divine roster.

And now Thanos had managed to get one over on this very lich. That was worth some bragging rights.

What was more, in the near future, this same lich was going to deliver the kouto goddess to him, gift-wrapped. If the other gods ever found out, Thanos would be known as the first deity to successfully put this lich to work on his own behalf.

As he basked in that thought, Ambrose let out a long sigh. "It was indeed a loss. You got me."

Thanos sounded surprised. "Hm? You concede defeat rather gracefully."

Ambrose said calmly, "Win or lose, the facts don't change just because someone refuses to admit them. I'm a lich. I don't have a desperate, face-saving streak that makes me refuse to acknowledge defeat to the bitter end. Besides, losing to the great Lord of Storms is hardly shameful. What mortal could possibly surpass you?"

Thanos was delighted by this. He practically glowed with satisfaction.

He was exactly right. A great god outperforming a mortal was simply the natural order of things. The lich must have accepted such a truth completely!

"Ha! Excellent—you're far more entertaining than those mortals who keep their pride even staring death in the face. A true warrior doesn't run from defeat, but rather faces it head-on. Precious few mortals have that kind of self-awareness. Since you've conceded so readily, I won't be a stingy god about it. You've passed the Destruction trial. You deserve a proper reward."

Three beams of light burst from Thanos's projection and settled before Ambrose.

"In the old days, my faithful would progress through ten escalating tiers within each trial, and only the final victor would receive my reward. But since the last of this arena's strength has now been thoroughly defeated by your group, the prize is yours to claim."

Ambrose reflected privately that gods like Thanos were easy enough to read. Give him something worth a second glance, then flatter him a little at the right moment, and the deity would become remarkably generous.

It had to be said that Thanos was, by far, the most generous god Ambrose had ever encountered.

He examined the three beams of light carefully. Thanos hadn't hidden anything: the moment Ambrose's senses passed over them, their nature became instantly clear.

The first was an artifact-grade staff, capable of broadly enhancing lightning, frost, and fire-based spells, with three free casts of Chain Lightning built in at no cost.

Ambrose dismissed it after a single glance.

A staff like that held no real use for him. Given enough gold, the Golden Throne could outclass any supplementary spellcasting equipment on the market.

The second option was a heroic spirit, similar in nature to the three he'd just extracted, perhaps marginally stronger, but only a single unit.

Ambrose hesitated. This prize had some practical value, but going from three to four such spirits didn't seem particularly meaningful either.

It was the third option that genuinely caught his interest: the giant-exclusive divine spell Corpse Construction.

The effect was simple and direct. It allowed the caster to forge a quantity of corpses into that nearly indestructible material he'd seen here and in the desert.

The three giant constructs had withstood Arthur Lyon's very own Sacred Slash and come away with nothing more than a shallow scratch. The material used to build the gates in the subterranean depths of the golden desert was so absurdly resilient that the dwarven kingdom had needed to wait for earthquakes to crack it open before they could even attempt to explore within.

The only problem was, this divine spell belonged exclusively to the giants, and casting it required satisfying two conditions simultaneously.

First, the caster had to be a giant. Second, the caster had to be a stormpriest devoted to Thanos. Neither condition could be skipped.

In other words, Ambrose couldn't cast it himself, and even if he handed it to Ariel, she wouldn't be able to learn it either.

But if anyone could learn to cast it, Ambrose could already imagine just how terrifying the effects might be. If the giants could fuse mere flesh and bone into a material this indestructible, what would happen if Ambrose imbued steel with the corpse attribute? Could the God of Alchemy's coin, combined with the spell's effect, produce something genuinely indestructible?

As for how he'd actually manage to cast the spell himself, there had to be some way. At the very least, the spell had a far higher potential ceiling than the other two options.

"Then I'll take this divine spell as my reward. My thanks for your generosity, Lord of Storms."

Ambrose reached out and took hold of the light. The knowledge of Corpse Construction transferred fully into his mind.

The unfortunate catch was that this wasn't really "knowledge" in any conventional sense. Rather, it was closer to a standing request for assistance, perpetually transmitted toward Thanos.

This was the fundamental difference between a priest's divine magic and a mage's spellcraft.

A mage's magic came from understanding the nature of magical energy itself and applying it through his own intellect. As long as the Goddess of Magic didn't actively forbid it, any spell could be cast on the strength of personal ability alone. Divine magic worked entirely differently: it was a request for aid directed at a god. Only if that god granted it could the spell be cast at all. If the god simply ignored the request, the spell was useless, period.

With the reward delivered, Thanos departed without further ceremony, leaving Ambrose, Ariel, and Arthur alone on the platform with three fallen giants.

Ambrose wasted no time stuffing all three corpses into his extradimensional space. Indestructible bodies were bound to come in handy eventually.

Once everything had been packed away, Ariel asked, "Shall we continue forward?"

Ambrose shook his head. "No need. Didn't you hear what Thanos said? The arena's last reserves of strength have already been exhausted. Any githarks still living here are going to figure that out soon enough. This is the only place left where they can survive, so they'll be searching every corner thoroughly. And we've burned through quite a bit of our reserves in that last fight, so we should rest and prepare properly before continuing."

It was only then that Ariel remembered their original purpose: they had come looking for the githarks.

They didn't know how badly the githarks had been depleted in whichever other trial they'd attempted, but the fact that they'd survived this long meant they had almost certainly cleared at least one trial, and found some way to sustain themselves within the arena.

Githarks reportedly reproduced quickly. There was no telling how much their numbers might have grown by now.

The three of them had just fought a serious battle, and a proper rest was indeed overdue.

Ambrose replenished Arthur's soul energy, then withdrew into his extradimensional space to study his newly acquired prize at leisure.

The three heroic spirits he'd disassembled had already been recombined into their original forms. His technique with this kind of extraction was growing steadily more refined.

"Let's see. I already have a giant heroic spirit, and this corpse material is made from giant flesh as well. In theory, that should mean I could create a 'giant' of my own..."

Ambrose turned the idea over carefully. Could he construct his own giant stormpriest from scratch? No one had ever said that undead couldn't serve as clerics. As long as Thanos approved, even a lich could become one of his divine servants. Compared to most other gods, the Lord of Storms seemed remarkably indifferent to questions of race.

Well, why not? Ambrose set about trying to reshape the souls of these heroic spirits, attempting to preserve their faith in Thanos while simultaneously instilling a degree of loyalty to himself.

It was an exceptionally difficult task. One misstep, and the whole effort could easily tip into outright blasphemy.

Still, Ambrose had no choice. He had to realize the potential of the divine spell he had just learned.

Absorbed in the work, Ambrose lost all track of time. Ariel finally had to reach out to him by magic mirror, informing him that the githarks had appeared.

Ambrose emerged from his extradimensional space. He'd spent nearly two accelerated months in there, though the progress had been frustratingly slow.

Faith and loyalty seemed almost impossible to reconcile. You couldn't make a devout believer loyal to a god and loyal to yourself in equal measure, especially not when you were a lich who held remarkably little personal reverence for Thanos to begin with.

"How does Lyon manage it? Loyal to the royal bloodline and loyal to the Lord of Dawn... Ugh, I really wish I could capture a paladin to study sometime."

Grumbling to himself, Ambrose stepped out of his extradimensional space to find a group of githarks already having surrounded Ariel and Arthur.

A substantial number of githarks, however, were already strewn across the ground in disarray. The fighting had already begun, and the githarks were clearly losing.

That was hardly surprising. The group of githarks numbered only about forty, almost certainly without a single legend among them. There was no realistic way they could have stood a chance against Arthur and Ariel.

Ambrose's arrival only stirred up more agitation among the githarks. The enemy before them was simply too powerful. They couldn't decide whether to flee or dig in and fight to the last.

Before stepping out, Ambrose had already shifted back into his human form, the appearance generally best suited to negotiation.

He offered the githarks a faint smile. "No need to be alarmed. I'm here to discuss business."

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