Chapter 277: Drones and Toxic Weaponry |
Deep within the dim underground city, Ambrose had refitted a massive structure into a weapons testing facility.
A quad-wing drone, smaller than the palm of a hand, lifted off from the ground and sped forward.
Dozens of suspended ropes divided the path ahead into a maze. The drone had to weave through multiple turns before reaching the endpoint, where it was to fire miniature bolts at three targets.
Miniature bolts—just elongated needles, really.
The drone took a full minute to complete its task over a distance of barely fifty meters.
The speed left something to be desired, but its overall performance was solid. It navigated every obstacle cleanly, and its shots struck true.
Next, Ambrose released another device, a small metal aircraft shaped in accordance with aerodynamic principles.
There were no propellers this time. The craft shot forward at high speed, slicing through the course, dodging every obstacle with ease and striking the targets just as accurately.
"Not bad. You really do get what you pay for."
Its advantages were obvious. Not only did it house a more advanced artificial soul, and one engraved with a flight spell at that, it also carried twin miniature jet thrusters.
These were scaled-down versions of the jet propulsion system Ambrose had once used for his own escape.
Their explosive power had been reduced, while their sustained thrust and fine control had been significantly enhanced.
Alkhemia had once attempted to develop similar jet-based flight technology. The speed potential was undeniable, but they had failed to solve the problem of remote control.
In an era without long-distance communication, the only way to transmit information across great distances was through spatial teleportation, and that simply couldn't be miniaturized into a flying device.
Remote-controlled aircraft were, by all conventional logic, impossible.
Alchemists had also experimented with jet-powered airships, but their understanding of aerodynamics was still in its infancy. The result? Their airships tore themselves apart mid-flight as a result of air pressure. The project had stalled, awaiting breakthroughs that might take decades.
By now, however, Ambrose was likely the only one working on such research.
A transmigrator with a background in science and engineering, Ambrose had at least a working grasp of aerodynamics—and more importantly, he could replicate the designs of aircraft from his previous life.
As for control? With artificial souls serving as pilots, he had no need for remote operation at all.
These jets were, in every sense, his exclusive invention. Even the former chairman of the Alchemists' Council would have had to acknowledge Ambrose's brilliance.
Still, the cost was brutal. Spending over two hundred gold on a flying device that could only shoot needles was completely impractical. A ranger raising a raven would get better value on her investment.
The five-gold quad-drone, however, had real potential. With some modifications—greater load capacity, and perhaps a recording crystal—it could serve as a scouting and delivery tool. Make it cheap enough, and adventurers would surely buy it.
As for the jet aircraft, it wasn't entirely useless. Pair it with more destructive weaponry, and its speed and agility would turn it into a nightmare for adventurers.
Setting both devices aside, Ambrose entered another chamber.
This chamber was fully sealed and isolated from the outside world by magical barriers. Several triangular sand lizards had been placed within.
These desert creatures, highly regenerative and extremely resistant to toxins, were extraordinarily resilient. A poison potent enough to kill a hundred humans might merely give them a bad stomachache.
They were the perfect test subjects.
Ambrose wasn't testing conventional poisons, but rather the corrosive dark magic unique to the undead.
Everyone knew skeletons couldn't farm. Their uncontrolled dark magic constantly radiated outward, corrupting all living things. Crops grown near them either rotted or turned toxic. Only with fully sealed protective suits, far more expensive than a hundred human slaves, could this issue be mitigated.
That was why Ambrose had never considered using skeletons for agriculture.
But that same toxicity made their dark magic ideal as a weapon.
The problem was its nature: it spread like radiation.
A basic skeleton constantly emitted this toxic aura, but its effective range was only about half a meter. Worse, exposure had to be sustained for over ten minutes to produce noticeable harm.
Most physical barriers, like armor or even just clothes, significantly reduced its effectiveness.
Against paladins, it was completely nullified by their holy light.
But what if the radiation could bypass all that? What if it entered the body directly?
Ambrose took out a transparent sphere, a fragile membrane enclosing a pocket of air.
It looked like ordinary air, at first glance. But in truth, Ambrose had imbued it with the "corpse" property.
And once it was a "corpse," even air could host a fabricated soul.
The problem was its fragility. Left alone, this "air undead" would dissipate in about ten seconds. It had to be contained until the moment of release.
Once released, its dark magic would immediately diffuse into the surrounding air.
Ambrose tossed two spheres into the barrier. The thin membranes burst on contact with the lizards' spiked bodies.
The invisible "air undead" spilled out before being inhaled straight into their lungs.
The effect was immediate. Dark magic began corroding them from within. The lizards writhed in agony, convulsing violently. After about half an hour, all of them were dead. Their bodies swelled grotesquely before rupturing. Their bellies burst open as foul black blood splattered everywhere.
Even creatures far more resistant than humans couldn't withstand this internal corrosion. As for the living? Ambrose chuckled. Unless their holy light could cleanse their internal organs directly, there would be no saving them.
"Air undead" were weapons beyond any conventional poison, and a perfect killer against all living matter.
Its only drawback was duration. Once dispersed, the "air undead" effectively died, and the dark magic would quickly dissipate.
Within an hour, the effect would vanish entirely. Under direct sunlight, it might not even last more than ten minutes.
The optimal use was obvious. It had to be deployed late at night, perhaps dropped into dense crowds via drones. The casualties would be catastrophic.
"Excellent. Black Rose will take as much of this as I can make."
The cost was laughably low. No special abilities were required for the soul, and air itself was free. Each fist-sized unit cost only a few copper coins.
A production line for bottling air and imbuing it with the corpse attribute was entirely possible.
The only bottleneck was imbuing the air, something only Ambrose himself could perform.
"Tch. My master said this ability once belonged to a legendary alchemist… I'd love to capture him and put him to work."
Grumbling, Ambrose began drafting a procurement list.
Alchemy was a complex discipline. His underground facility specialized in potions, so metal components would need to be outsourced.
He planned to contact Gustavo Flynn, who was likely able to secure the lowest prices. Mass-producing drones was one thing. Scaling up soul fabrication would take more time.
After packing dozens of drones into his personal space, Ambrose prepared to head to the surface for field testing.
A good product needed a market.
He intended to pitch these drones to adventurers as cheap, practical tools with an irresistible bonus: "Praise the God of Alchemy, and get twenty percent off." Faith, after all, had value. The more praise he received, the more quickly the God of Alchemy would regain his strength.
"It's about time I went and checked on Harvey."
Shifting into human form, Ambrose emerged onto the desert surface.
The sands still gleamed like gold, but were equally as worthless in hand. All glitter, no substance.
He made his way to Sweetdew City, the closest settlement to his underground factory. His chosen distributors operated here.
Entering the city, he headed toward the commercial district.
Soon enough, he spotted a lively crowd. With the war situation having stabilized, prosperity had returned to Sweetdew City.
He pushed through the streets and suddenly caught sight of a towering ice sculpture.
Ambrose smiled to himself. Harvey, that clever brat, had carved the God of Alchemy itself. He was advertising and gathering faith in one stroke.
Not bad. Not bad at all. He'd definitely earned some praise.
Passersby glanced at it, but no one gathered around. It had clearly been standing there for quite some time.
How had the ice endured for days without melting?