Lich for Hire-Chapter 29: Prophecy of Godhood

"How much gold can you offer?"

When Ambrose asked that question, both Naomi and the hag froze in disbelief. Even the hag herself hadn't expected negotiations to go this smoothly.

It took her a few seconds to process Ambrose's response before she blurted out excitedly, "You want gold? Fine! I can give you five thousand gold!"

Naomi's stomach dropped. Five thousand? Would this lich really betray her for a mere five thousand gold?

"No way," she reassured herself. "We agreed on ten thousand. The druids' offer is still higher, right?"

Ambrose, however, didn't bite. He just said coolly, "Only five thousand? That's not enough. The druids offered me fifty thousand."

Naomi: "..."

So much for that comforting thought. Turns out this lich could lie as easily as he breathed... wait.

The hag actually looked startled. Fifty thousand? That was absurd! Even if she butchered every druid and sold their hides and bones, it wouldn't get her anywhere close to fifty thousand gold.

"Ohoho! You're a worse liar than I am, lich. I won't waste time. I can go up to twenty thousand, final offer. Deal or not?"

Naomi's heart skipped a beat. Twenty thousand was double her own offer!

And knowing this lich's personality... he might actually take it.

And then, as if to confirm her worst fears, Ambrose suddenly turned around and flicked his staff toward her.

Before Naomi could react, the small idol of Sylvanas in her hand was yanked away by an invisible force.

She looked up to see a glowing, spectral arm floating in the air.

Mage Hand. A basic spell, as common as Ray of Frost—almost every caster knew it. But to cast it that fast took real skill.

Naomi's lack of combat experience didn't help; she'd never imagined the lich would turn on her that quickly. The idol had barely left her grip before Ambrose's next spell struck.

A lattice of dark red light materialized around her, forming a glowing cage. Naomi realized with horror that she couldn't even twitch a finger.

Human Stasis was a fairly advanced spell that was particularly effective against humanoids. Until it wore off, Naomi was as helpless as a statue.

Ambrose calmly turned back to the hag. "I'll hand you the druid while you hand me the gold. Oh, and I'm taking the idol of Sylvanas myself."

The hag gave a raspy, delighted cackle. Out of the shadows crawled a few misshapen rats, carrying a tiny spatial pouch on their backs.

Ambrose guided his Mage Hand to lift it cautiously, examining it from every angle before opening it. No traps. Good.

But after counting the gold, his brows furrowed. "Why are there only eighteen thousand?"

The hag snapped, "That bag's worth at least three or four thousand itself! You're really quibbling over two thousand gold?!"

Ambrose sighed dramatically. "Fine. I'll take a loss. Consider it a discount."

The hag nearly exploded. This lich had no shame whatsoever! If she could beat him, she'd have ripped him apart and made him into a toilet seat by now.

From within the illusion, the trapped druids saw everything clearly. Van Jones, the dark-skinned druid, clenched his fists so tightly they cracked. To see Naomi frozen like that made his blood boil.

But he was powerless. All he could do was pray silently: "Undead truly are vile, deceitful creatures! Sylvanas, O great father, please save your faithful!"

No divine light came. No thunderous punishment fell from above. Ambrose and the hag stood there perfectly fine, entirely un-smited.

After pocketing the pouch, however, Ambrose didn't immediately hand Naomi over. Instead, he began, "Things sure are busy in Alkhemia lately. First paladins from the Lyon Empire, then druids and even hags crawling through the sewers. What's everyone doing down here? What's so special about this dump?"

The hag chuckled darkly. "You really don't know? With your power, you must be someone important even among undead. Haven't you heard the prophecy? They say the sewers of Alkhemia hide a divine secret. Whoever finds it can ascend into a god."

"Huh?"

Ambrose looked at her like she'd just said the moon was made of cheese. "You're telling me this cesspit is where you can become a god?"

Hearing the mockery in his tone, the hag bristled. "You think it's fake?"

Ambrose didn't answer. He just shifted the topic casually. "So, have you found any clues to godhood?"

The hag sneered. "Even if I did, you think I'd tell you? Would you even believe me?"

"Fair point," said Ambrose, nodding. "Guess there's nothing more to ask."

That was when the hag realized that something was wrong. A chill ran down her spine. Every instinct screamed danger.

She was shrouded in darkness, her escape spell already primed. Fleeing was what hags did best—that was how she'd survived this long.

She didn't hesitate. The instant her intuition flared, she triggered the spell.

The spell allowed her to teleport to a random location within a few hundred meters. In these winding sewers, even ten meters could mean several walls and tunnels between her and her enemy. She'd be safe.

But when the light of the spell faded, she found herself standing directly in front of Ambrose, barely ten meters away.

"Impossible!" she gasped.

Out of hundreds of possible spots, how could she have landed right in front of him?

Panicking, she cast another teleport. Her execution was perfect. There was no delay, no flaw.

And yet, she reappeared barely a meter from where she started.

Ambrose floated there silently as she blinked around like a flickering lantern, teleporting over and over—but every time, she stayed trapped in the same spot.

The hag's voice trembled. "A spell that overrides teleportation... Are you a diviner?!"

Ambrose smiled faintly. "Impressive. Someone still knows about divination. I thought the art lost to time."

The hag's stomach dropped. Teleportation, her biggest trump card, was useless. She couldn't escape. Her only option now was to fight.

But before she could even lift a hand to cast, Ambrose's staff glowed. Light washed over her.

A second later, she began to laugh.

It started as a snicker, then a giggle, then full-blown, uncontrollable, body-wracking laughter.

She bent over, coughing, choking, blood flecking her lips, until she collapsed. Even then, she continued laughing hysterically, writhing on the filthy floor.

Natasha's Uproarious Laughter was a simple control spell, but one that was brutally effective. Once caught in it, you could do nothing but laugh yourself half to death.

As the hag convulsed, the red glow trapping Naomi finally faded away.

Ambrose turned to the dazed druid. "Alright. The hag's under control. Your people should be safe now."

Naomi just stared at him blankly, unable to tell what was real anymore.

"What are you spacing out for?" Ambrose said lightly. "Did you really think I'd break our deal?"

"But... you took her gold," Naomi said softly. "And I haven't paid you yet..."

Ambrose grinned. "Hahaha! You think I'd let her keep it? Once I kill her, the gold would still be mine either way. I was just baiting her to learn what secret this sewer's hiding."

Naomi's worldview shattered a little more with every word. This world was far too terrifying. She wanted to go home.