Chapter 528: A Falling-Out Between Master and Student

Sariel had no idea that her favorite warrior was currently starting a war of her own. Not long ago, she would have been thrilled to see exactly how far Milena would go.

If Milena really did manage to unify this stretch of wasteland, Sariel would have gladly granted her legitimate rule over it, making her a true lord of Hell in her own right.

But for now, Sariel had far more pressing concerns—namely, hounding Mammon day after day to find some way to revive Ambrose.

The lich's soul was growing weaker by the day. Even left completely untouched, it kept dissipating on its own. At this rate, before long, there would be nothing left of it, not even fragments.

Mammon was just as anxious. As the ruler of the third layer of Hell, one of the oldest and most senior devils in existence, and unquestionably the wealthiest being in all of Hell, even he still found it maddeningly difficult to get an audience with Cranvor, the God of Death, or Oguma, the Lord of Knowledge.

Cranvor wasn't particularly hard to approach personally, but his position was simply too sensitive. As the God of Death, his every word and action carried consequences that would ripple outward, and he had to weigh his influence carefully. After repeatedly causing trouble and drawing warning after warning from Aion, Cranvor had gone quiet for a long stretch. Every message Mammon tried to send him vanished without a trace, with no response whatsoever.

If the God of Death's domain hadn't kept running smoothly regardless, Mammon might have started worrying that Cranvor had been dragged off somewhere again.

The God of Death wouldn't answer; Oguma was harder still to reach.

The Lord of Knowledge was a god of absolute neutrality, and quite possibly the most nearly "omniscient" being in existence short of Aion itself. The birth of any new piece of knowledge, anywhere, registered instantly in Oguma's awareness, and whether that knowledge was permitted to spread at all was entirely his call to make.

In principle, if some brilliant mage invented an entirely new spell, Oguma had every right to weigh in. And if he were to object, even the Goddess of Magic would have to defer to him and seal the spell away.

Take, for instance, the scroll Ambrose had once used: Let the World Forget Me. That spell had only made others forget his ability to cast powerful illusions. If Oguma had intervened, he could go far further: erasing everyone's memory of the event entirely, or even wiping the very concept of illusion magic from existence, reducing every mage who'd ever studied it to a fool overnight.

There was precedent, too. When the City of Alchemists once ran a string of experiments that crossed all ethical boundaries, Oguma had sealed away the intelligence of every alchemist involved, stalling the field's progress for years. When the City of Alchemists later repeated the offense, Oguma personally decided to intervene and punish them, determined to make clear that certain forbidden knowledge simply had no place existing in the world.

In the end, it was only the God of Alchemy's intervention that turned what would have been total annihilation into mere exile.

Still, Oguma held firmly to his principle of absolute neutrality. He'd once deeply despised the Lady of Mists' domain of deception and trickery, yet he never once laid a finger on that goddess, purely because Leyla, the Lady of Mists, had never actively sabotaged the spread of knowledge itself.

Cymric, the Prince of Lies, was another matter entirely. Oguma genuinely hated him, because Cymric had repeatedly faked evidence that Leyla was still alive, spread deliberate falsehoods, and quietly siphoned off the faith Leyla had left behind.

Distorting truth and spreading false knowledge was precisely the behavior Oguma despised most.

Cymric, being a powerful god in his own right, could hide well enough to avoid Oguma's wrath if he chose to. But he never dared show himself openly either, since the Lord of Knowledge's retaliation would follow swiftly whenever he did—and that had badly damaged Cymric's mortal following over time.

If Cymric hadn't needed so little faith to sustain himself, he likely would have struggled just to hold onto his standing as a greater divinity at all.

In short, Oguma operated entirely on his own principles. Even if Mammon offered up his entire fortune, Oguma wouldn't so much as glance his way. He'd sooner go listen to whatever new composition some mortal bard had come up with.

Unfortunately, Mammon's domain was staffed entirely by number-crunching goblins. Bards rarely ever ventured down into Hell in the first place, and there wasn't a single artist anywhere in all of Hell talented enough to catch Oguma's attention.

Just as Mammon's frustration was mounting, a god came calling on him unannounced.

The God of Alchemy, a deity who'd become increasingly impossible to ignore lately, manifested an avatar and descended into Hell to pay Mammon a personal visit.

The moment Mammon heard the God of Alchemy had come calling, his massive belly actually trembled.

This particular god, rumored to be on close terms with Oguma himself, showing up out of nowhere... Could this, too, be about the lich?

It was common knowledge among the gods that the God of Alchemy's relationship with the lich ran unusually deep, deep enough, in fact, to exceed the ordinary bond between a deity and their chosen. But no one knew the details; only scattered fragments of rumor ever made the rounds.

Could the God of Alchemy have come to buy the lich's soul?

Mammon let out a greedy chuckle. If that were really the case, he could squeeze this deity for everything he was worth.

To Mammon's surprise, though, the God of Alchemy hadn't come to negotiate for the soul's return at all. Instead, he'd brought Mammon a strange device.

The device now sat directly in front of both Mammon and Sariel.

It resembled some kind of alchemical reactor, though on a much larger scale, its bizarre alloy shell studded all over with unusual crystalline growths.

Sariel frowned. "The God of Alchemy claims that simply placing the lich's soul inside this thing will restore it?"

Mammon nodded. "I don't fully understand the specifics either, but that's roughly the gist of it. The lich would be revived in an entirely new form."

Sariel reached out to run a hand along the massive alchemical reactor. She could sense countless intricate energy circuits woven through it, incorporating the structures of numerous different forms of divine magic. Most of it she could follow individually, but all combined, it was utterly incomprehensible.

"Alchemy really has gotten absurdly advanced..."

Mammon agreed, sounding equally amazed. "Who would have guessed that such a weak god could climb to intermediate divinity in such a short span of time? And the last time I met with his avatar, I had a feeling he'll soon ascend to greater divinity."

Sariel's eyes widened.

"That quickly?"

Mammon said, admiring. "There's no stopping alchemy's growth at this point anymore. Say what you will, but that student of his was something else. No one could have predicted that feeding gold into alchemy would create this unstoppable juggernaut. Alchemy makes gold, so capital pours into alchemy, which makes alchemy even more profitable, which draws in even more capital... Once that snowball starts rolling, nothing can stop it."

The "student" in question was, of course, Ambrose. Alkhemia had certainly made money in the past, but its approach had been purely academic. The alchemists never took commerce seriously, and in fact treated merchants as little more than servants.

Even millionaires had to bow their heads to any random alchemist on sight, or else risk expulsion from Alkhemia entirely.

The scholars' lofty, untouchable status had been rigidly enforced, turning what could have been a mutually beneficial partnership into pure one-sided exploitation. It was Ambrose's arrival that broke that pattern. Not only did he devour every dividend left behind once the old Alkhemia collapsed, he also fused capital and technical skill together seamlessly.

No one else could replicate it, because Ambrose himself had always been both a capitalist and a scholar to begin with.

Given all that, it was hardly surprising that the God of Alchemy had lavished Ambrose with support while the latter was still a mortal. Where else would any god find a follower that good? Other deities practically twisted themselves into knots with envy.

Sariel's frown deepened. "That makes even less sense, then. The God of Alchemy surely knows exactly what we're planning. Why would he possibly help us?"

What good deed could a devil ever be up to? If they were reviving Ambrose's soul, it could only be to torment and exploit him mercilessly, so why would the God of Alchemy possibly hand his star disciple over to become a devil's tool?

Mammon stroked his chin. "You're right. I did try to probe the God of Alchemy's intentions, and he didn't even attempt to buy the soul back from me. That's exceedingly strange."

Sariel asked, puzzled, "You think he's got some scheme in mind? That this device could revive his student and free him from Hell entirely?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Even Oguma himself can't break the rules my dear former father-in-law laid down. Whatever this device actually does, a sinner's soul will stay bound to the Lord of the Nine Hells. At most it'd escape our hands specifically, but it can never simply leave Hell altogether. And as long as he's still trapped down here, we can still hold his unfulfilled contract over his head. How hard could it really be to grab him again?"

Mammon held both deep wariness and deep trust toward his terrifying former father-in-law—trust, specifically, in the sheer, overwhelming authority that kept all of Hell running in stable order. Never mind that the God of Alchemy was currently only an intermediate divinity. Even if he eventually ascended to greater divinity, he still wouldn't be able to break the Lord of the Nine Hells' own rules.

Sariel wasn't so sure. Devils had been smuggling themselves out of Hell for ages now, hadn't they?

Sure, that particular loophole had been left deliberately open by the Lord of the Nine Hells himself, as bait for ambitious devils to exploit, but a loophole was still a loophole. Given how cunning that lich had been in life, could he not have arranged all this with the God of Alchemy beforehand, planning exactly this kind of escape route before he ever died?

If Ambrose slipped out of Hell entirely, dragging him back to fulfill his contract would become a great deal more complicated.

Mammon gestured at the alchemical reactor. "We can't exactly refuse to use it just because we're suspicious. If we don't get him revived soon, we're going to take a massive loss regardless."

Mammon held no particular grudge against Ambrose. Profit was really all he cared about, which made him considerably more decisive about this than Sariel.

Sariel shook her head. "Let's not rush. A couple more days won't make a difference. I'm going to look into this properly first. At the very least, I want to understand what the God of Alchemy is actually thinking."

Sariel spread her wings and left. Less than two days later, she returned—and she'd actually managed to gather quite a bit of information in the meantime.

Mammon asked eagerly, "Well? Did you find out anything?"

Sariel's expression was somewhat mocking. "I found out plenty. I think I've got a decent guess at what's going through the God of Alchemy's head, and the story's a juicy one. Do you know how the God of Alchemy actually became a god in the first place?"

Mammon shook his head. "No idea. Didn't he just appear out of nowhere?"

Sariel shook her head. "No. The real God of Alchemy was actually the lich all along. The current God of Alchemy only ascended by seizing credit for the lich's achievements."

Mammon was startled by that revelation. As a veteran devil, his mind immediately raced through every possible ugly implication.

Mammon rubbed his hands together, practically giddy. "So you're saying the God of Alchemy never actually liked this lich at all? That he's been secretly hoping the man would just die, so his own divine position could finally be secure? If the lich were to fully dissolve for good, that would mean his fate had truly run its course, and Aion's final judgment on him would follow!

"Given everything this lich accomplished in life, Aion could easily revive him and grant him the domain of deception outright without a second thought, but there's an even better chance Aion would have him share the God of Alchemy's own domain upon revival instead. The God of Alchemy would be desperate for us to bring this man back, because that's exactly what would keep Aion from stepping in at all! Ha! Classic story. Student turns on master, master turns on student."

Aion loved a good drama, and enjoyed watching the gods perform for an audience—but rarely intervened directly. Usually, the Supreme God tended to wait until events had already run their course, until nothing could be changed any longer, before finally reshaping the outcome according to his own will.

This lich's situation clearly fit that pattern perfectly. Fate had cast him down into Hell, and the dissolution of his soul might well be meant to be his true ending.

That was exactly the moment Aion might choose to hand down his final verdict. Plenty of gods had ascended through exactly this kind of process.

But if the lords of Hell revived him themselves, then this lich's story wouldn't be over yet at all.

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