Chapter 259: Elegiac Society, Assemble! |
Within the subterranean, web-choked city, slaughter wasn't confined solely to the heights of the tower.
In the unseen shadows were entire groups of captives, imprisoned by the drow, sealed inside cells cocooned in thick spider silk.
The drow spoke of overthrowing the tyranny of the undead, but in truth, they were little different themselves. To them, those captives were nothing more than slaves, food, and expendable resources.
In this dark domain, there could be no morality nor mercy, only the law of the jungle, of the strong devouring the weak.
And yet, the slaves who were meant to be flayed and butchered were vanishing one by one.
Something in the darkness appeared to be consuming them.
There were no screams, nor cries for help. Only the faint, sickening sound of chewing, of flesh and bone crushed into nothingness in a way that made one's scalp crawl.
To avoid any trouble, the drow had paralyzed these slaves with poison. Their minds remained conscious, but their bodies could not move. One after another, they died under the assault of the unseen horror, while the others could only watch, and wait, praying they would not be next.
Elsewhere in the city, a drider escorting slaves toward the tower suddenly made an excuse midway and handed the task off to a companion.
The drider re-emerged through a hidden passage connected to the webbed metropolis, thick with wildly overgrown thorns. It stepped inside those thorns without hesitation.
Sharp thorns tore into his massive body, ripping open wound after wound. Foul-smelling blood poured out as a strange crimson glow that illuminated the bramble-filled tunnel.
As he walked, he chanted hymns to pain. The crimson light coiled around him, slowly forming mysterious runes that branded themselves into his flesh, only to vanish moments later.
By the time he emerged from the passage, the thorny growth had withered into dust. The wounds on his body, and the crimson runes, had all disappeared.
But the pain did not.
The agony of being flayed alive had been etched deep into his being. He relived it with every passing moment, yet an uncontrollable smile spread across his face.
Pain is a blessing; pain is power; pain is salvation.
Such was the gift of the Mistress of Pain.
Not all drow worshiped the Spider Queen. With betrayal and cruelty as her creed, it was only natural that traitors existed among her followers.
Ambrose's expectations had been entirely correct. The four goddesses were all scheming, each with multiple contingencies.
They simply did not yet know… that the legendary undead of the Elegiac Society had already set their sights on this web-entangled city.
In a nameless tavern somewhere on the continent, a disheveled bard set down his lyre and staggered out the door.
The patrons collectively sighed in relief. His singing had been unbearable. The sudden silence felt like a divine blessing. They had complained before, but those who did were now hanging from the crooked tree outside.
With devout prayers, they silently thanked whoever had managed to make that bard stop.
Elsewhere, in an ancient, long-forgotten tomb, a desiccated corpse climbed out of its coffin, baring rows of jagged teeth.
"Ah… it's been so long since I tasted fresh flesh…"
Violent dark magic surged into the body. Withered muscles swelled anew and flesh regrew over its skull, yet that monstrous, fang-filled maw remained unchanged.
Far across the seas, deep beneath the ocean, a massive ghost ship lay anchored in a strait.
Teleportation circles aboard the vessel flickered endlessly as grotesque fishman zombies were sent one after another into the Umbral Depths.
Captain Aige instructed them, "It's a pity that the Umbral Depths isn't ideal for my powers. You lot had better perform well. Don't disgrace the name of the Silent Sea Pirate Company."
At the Dragon Graveyard, Gareth and Alabastra stepped onto a teleportation array, followed by a legion of bone dragons.
The Umbral Depths were not considered part of the mainland. The agreement they made with Lyon did not forbid dragons from entering it.
Even if undead couldn't have children after all, this was the Elegiac Society's first group gathering in years. How could they possibly miss out?
Even Heki Stone, among the weakest members of the group, brought along his blood thralls as he headed for the Umbral Depths. He knew he wouldn't be much help in a fight, but at the very least, he had to show himself to his seniors.
Over a dozen teleportation arrays flared to life as members of the Elegiac Society arrived one after another within Black Rose's palace.
Black Rose couldn't help but think that, if the entire Elegiac Society were willing to march with her against Lyon, Lyon would surely fall.
But she knew it was impossible.
She had long been part of the Society and had repeatedly asked for their help in destroying Lyon, no matter the cost.
She had never received a response.
She once thought they simply lacked the strength. Now she understood that they just didn't want to help.
"So why," she wondered, "does everyone come running when something happens to him?"
It wasn't jealousy, but rather contemplation. What was it about Ambrose that could rally the entire Elegiac Society?
Her resolve hardened. She had to become family with him. If his enemies became her enemies, then perhaps the Society would move for her as well.
Ambrose, having learned of the assembly through the Necromantic Codex, immediately left the tower and found a secluded corner of the city to begin drawing a magic circle.
Fortunately, the underground city was vast, and the drow population relatively sparse. Many areas lay abandoned and were even devoid of webs, making it easy to find somewhere to hide.
He chose a ruined temple and got to work.
Hours later, a massive blue portal materialized before him.
This was an enhanced version of a Dimensional Door. Unlike standard teleportation arrays limited by usage counts, this portal connected two locations continuously, like an open passageway. The transfer speed depended only on how fast one could walk through. A spell of this magnitude required the power of the Golden Throne.
It would last roughly three hours, and had cost Ambrose over ten million gold.
If he didn't make ten or even a hundred times that back, it would be a complete loss.
The moment the portal opened, the first to charge through was the Dullahan Gareth.
Riding his eight-legged warhorse in heavy armor, he nearly trampled Ambrose flat upon arrival.
As he emerged, he let out thunderous peals of laughter. "Haha! Long time no see, bro!"
"Shh! Keep it down! The drow will hear!" Ambrose hissed.
But silence was no longer an option.
The portal began spewing forth undead in endless waves. Skeletons were manageable, but the zombies howled constantly. Soon, the noise became deafening. Then a massive dragon skull wedged itself in the portal. The space was already overflowing.
Ambrose quickly realized that stealth was impossible. With this many undead, being unnoticed was out of the question.
But perhaps it was no longer necessary, either.
A dozen shrunken bone dragons squeezed into the undead tide. Lesser skeletons were crushed underfoot and forced out of the temple.
Then came towering abominations, three to four meters tall, stitched together from countless corpses.
Behind them marched death knights, and behind the death knights, vampires. Then, trailing at the far end, were dripping, seawater-soaked fishman zombies.
At their head, one figure beamed upon seeing Ambrose. "Honored guest of the captain, we meet again!"
"Phil? You're here too?!" Ambrose exclaimed, recognizing the half-rotted shagin as one of Aige's squad leaders.
"The captain couldn't come personally, so she sent me."
Before they could reminisce, more figures emerged from the portal.
A ragged bard, an elegant ghoul, Black Rose herself… and Heki Stone, partially hidden from view.
Ambrose hurried over.
He recognized most of them even without any self-introductions. The ghoul was clearly an undead, but as for the bard… He sensed no trace of undead energy from him at all.
Could there really be a living person in the Elegiac Society?
"Honored seniors," Ambrose said politely, "we finally meet. Thank you for your help."
The bard grinned. "No need for courtesy. I was simply bored."
The refined ghoul added, "I don't mind. As long as there's plenty of flesh… though it never truly satisfies."
Ambrose tested the waters. "How might I address you? Using your moniker in the chat might be a little…"
The bard shrugged. "Just call me ‘Poet.' That's how I live my life."
A pity. Ambrose had hoped to glean something from his name.
The ghoul replied casually, "You can call me Yugasi. It's a name I used long ago."
The name was unfamiliar to Ambrose, who knew only of the king of ghouls, Doreisan, grand lord of the Abyss.
Though he hadn't gleaned any useful information out of his two seniors, building rapport was significant enough.
"Senior Poet," Ambrose asked, "what are your plans? With this much commotion, the drow will surely notice soon."
Poet smiled. "Ignore me. I'm only here to recite a poem for the drow. You're the cause of this, and we're here to help you. You take command."
Ambrose nodded. "Lady Rose, you're far more experienced in commanding undead. I'll leave the army to you. As for the rest of the Society, act freely. Please apply as much pressure as possible on the drow.
"As for me… I'll go see what schemes those four goddesses have prepared."
Black Rose frowned. "You're going alone?"
Ambrose nodded. "I still have to fulfill Shara's plan. If I break my promise to a deity, she'll have every reason to punish me."
He had no choice. The dagger had to be used. Of course, whether it killed Trisna or not was another matter.
Black Rose was about to protest when Poet interrupted.
"No need to worry. I'll give him a blessing."
He pulled out his lyre and plucked the strings. A strange melody poured into Ambrose's soul. The chords were unlike anything he had ever heard. Indescribable and unnatural, some notes were impossibly sharp or deep, beyond the instrument's rightful limits. It was as if countless praises and wails had fused into a single, eerie composition. Ambrose felt his soul tremble. It was deeply uncomfortable, so much so that he never wanted to hear such music again.
Less than ten seconds later, the music stopped. "It's done," Poet said. "I've granted you an effect similar to a Death Ward. It will block three fatal attacks."
Ambrose immediately replied, "That was incredible. Encore, please!"