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~Dead Tired~

A young man stumbles into a deep, lost cavern, he seeks power and prestige, the ability to become someone, anyone, worthy of praise. When he finds an ancient crypt festooned in jewels and precious things he thinks himself the luckiest man alive. And then the lich in that crypt wakes up and kills him. That’s me. I’m the lich. Honestly, I just want to go back to sleep, and there’s no one, no ‘god-emperor,’ sect, or uptight martial artist that’s going to stop me.

KarasuTanken · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
20 Chs

~Chapter Eleven: A Test Subject~

"Do you know what gets to me? This isn't something I  noticed or thought about, not until I was perusing the library of the Four Vemons Sect, but once the thought wormed its way in, I couldn't get rid of it: You had all of the infrastructures in place to share knowledge and to uncover some of the secrets to the universe, and yet you never so much as tried."

***

The library was split into three sections. The first seemed like an open area with a few tables and a wall full of cubby holes into which scrolls were slotted. There were a few shelves here too, with books that seemed like common reference material and dictionaries. It was more of a study hall with a few books than a library proper.

The second section, just through a sliding door, was more of a proper library, with rows of shelves standing tall and proud with a few thousand books on display. This section seemed to be divided into more areas, both by subject and, I suspected, by access rights.

I couldn't fault them that. You didn't give a novice wizard a step-by-step guide to Apocalypse on their first day in your library.

The third library section was hidden. Not that cleverly, but it was hidden. The far wall of the second section had a few enchantments on it, a sort of reversed Charm Person that would make someone turn away from that wall and ignore it.

More enchantments layered atop that--all illusions of one sort or another--created the impression that there was nothing to see there. And on approach, a very weak Fear enchantment would activate. I suspect that there was some trickery with plates under the floor.

This third section only had a fraction of the books in the first two, but these seemed far more precious. Old texts in rotten bindings carefully preserved atop plinths. A few shelves filled with hand-written notebooks, some in a rather poor repair. A few scrolls with golden staffs, sometimes covered in gems.

The sort of books and scrolls that no doubt held the most impressive knowledge that this little sect had gathered.

I was probably not meant to ever see these last ones, and, had the sect been politer and more willing to negotiate, I wouldn't have the opportunity to see them at all.

After all, I could understand wanting to keep some knowledge out of circulation, and I could be respectful towards a kind host.

But alas, that wasn't the case here, so I got to ransack all of their knowledge.

How wonderful!

"Alex," I said.

"Yes, Papa?" Alex asked.

I gestured around, to encompass the three rooms. "We will be remaining here for some time. I believe that I'll need these rooms dusted and cared for and that you assist with any visitors."

"Dusting?" Alex asked. He seemed rather eager. "I can do that! And guests too. If they're nice, I'll bring them to you," he said.

"Certainly. If they're not, place their bodies to the side somewhere out of the way, I'll raise them later."

"Okay, Papa!"

I shooed him off. "Go entertain yourself, I'll be busy for a few moments."

Alex disappeared off to clean or mend clothes or do whatever butler-y task he found suitable. I, in the meantime, walked over to the first section, pulled a reference text off of a shelf and sat at one of the desks.

A minor cantrip to summon a Mage Light ensured that I wouldn't strain my vision. Even with no eyes, I was careful to read with proper illumination, just in case, I might misread something. I settled down and cracked the book open.

I felt a bit of cumulative stress easing off my back as I scanned through tables and long-winded explanatory texts.

Once I was done, I returned to the shelf and picked out the next few books, to save myself the trouble of getting up too often. Soon I was eighteen texts deep, including two dictionaries written a century apart--to keep track of any potential linguistic drift--and was enjoying myself quite thoroughly.

The process is what brought me so much joy, of course. These 'cultivators' obviously lacked even the faintest clue as to how the scientific process worked. It was a shame because it seemed that they had spent countless hours repeating failed methodologies with scant results.

As I progressed further into my studies, I started to form a hypothesis. Unfortunately, it wasn't one I could test immediately.

"Sir Papa Harold?"

I looked up from my current reading--treaties on the use of some form of 'inner magic' called 'qi' to find a shirtless Alex standing by the doorway.

He had some cloth binding around his chest and some dust in his hair.

"Yes? And also, what are you wearing?"

"We have a guest," he said. "They were polite." The butler looked away and ran a thumb over the edge of the binding. "And this makes me feel nice. I'm making proper clothes from the cloth I'm finding."

"That's nice," I said. "Send the guest in."

I was flipping through a preparatory manual of sorts, one that mostly dealt with simple martial motions and a few breathing exercises. It was similar to what I'd seen some Monks practice back before my long rest, though perhaps aimed at a less experienced audience.

The sounds of wet boots squelching their way across the library had me turning to look at the door.

Alex was standing, still shirtless, next to a very familiar young limpet.

She looked worse for wear, her clothes, a sort of simple cloth robe, stuck to her body and still dripping, and her long black hair was a tangled mess. Still, she was grinning at me unreservedly. "Hello Master," the limpet said. "I passed your test. Also, why do you look like a skeleton? Is it an illusion?"

"My test?"

She clenched her little limpet hands and looked at me with burning determination. "Yes, master, your test to see if I was willing to become your apprentice."

"I suspect that there may have been some sort of grand misunderstanding. The blame for such may rest on me. After all, as the greater intellect between the two of us, it should fall upon me to ensure that you understand things."

"I'm ready to learn," the limpet said.

"Hmm, yes, that's nice. Then perhaps this lesson is one you should take to heart: I have no intention of being your teacher or master."

"But--" she began.

"Teleport."

I cleared my throat and returned to my text. "Thank you, Alex," I said.

"It's my honour, Bone Papa." Alex bowed at the waist. "I will return to my duties."

"Mmm," I dismissed.

These books, which I would at the very least skim, seemed to be more focused on the martial application of the so-called four arts. It was still possible to see the bare bones of the style though. As Weiyuan had mentioned, there were four aspects to it. The alchemical wasn't mentioned in the texts I was looking over, but the other three, the use of poisons and venoms in combat and the application of exceptionally simple earth-elemental abilities, we're all here.

I suspected that as I moved on, I would uncover more advanced versions of these initial steps.

So the sect at least had a rudimentary system through which they could teach their students. A sort of step-by-step ladder. There were occasional mentions of 'breakthroughs' and other such things that seemed to rely on feel. These felt off to me.

I was only when I reached within one of my pocket dimensions where I stored some books that it all clicked.

There was no mention of levels.

Feats were there, certainly, if couched in different terms, and the books designed to teach some skill or another were rather obvious, but none of them mentioned the level or stat requirements.

An oversight?

No, that was possible with one book, perhaps two, but I was well into a tenth of the books with still no mention.

Purposeful removal?

Far more likely, but that begged the question: why?

The sunset long before I had read so much as a quarter of the books in the first two sections. Their treatises on the creation of poisons and certain detrimental alchemical solutions, at least, were wonderfully interesting.

It seemed that my knowledge of the craft mostly carried over, but the existing plant life had changed somewhat. New, volatile plants now existed in the region that could be used to create wonderfully dangerous concoctions.

I made a note to raid the sect's alchemical pantry before leaving, and perhaps their armoury as well.

Someone knocked on the door leading into the library.

I looked up, noting that the stars were well and truly in the sky outside of the library's windows and that perhaps I should have cast a few more Mage Lights as the room was rather poorly lit with no sunlight.

"Enter," I said.

Alex stepped in.

I stared.

My butler was now wearing an all-black outfit. A large frilly skirt that dipped down to near his ankles, and a square-cut bodice that showed off his clavicles. His arms were mostly bare thanks to the sleeves of his outfit, which were little more than lacey poofs.

He had also found a lace-covered white apron and a small ruffled bonnet. "Alex," I began.

"Yes, Papa?"

"What are you wearing?"

"It's a maid outfit." Alex grabbed the hems and spun around once before curtsying. "Do you like it?"

"Where did you find it?" I asked. The style of clothing worn around here did not lend itself to that kind of outfit.

"I made it," Alex said with evident pride.

I coughed. "You... maid it?" I asked.

"Yes."

I bottled up my 'Oh hohoho' for later. It wouldn't do to insult Alex's skills. "Very well. Why did you disturb me?"

"We have a guest!"

"Is it the limpet?" I asked.

Alex nodded, his bonnet bobbing between his cat ears. "It is."

I considered telling Alex to kick her out himself. Maybe dragging her to the lake and tossing her in would send a clearer message. But then... "Send her in," I said.

Alex curtsied and left the room. A minute later he returned accompanied by the limpet. She was missing the topmost layer of her dress, and a boot. She was also dripping water all over the floor.

"Welcome back," I said.

The limpet eyed me for a long while through stained glasses. "You don't want me as an apprentice, do you?" she asked.

"That is exactly correct," I said.

The limpet's shoulders slumped and she hugged her satchel close. "Oh."

It was my turn to eye her for a moment. "Why, exactly, did you want to become my apprentice?"

She swallowed, and I could tell she was tamping down on any hope. "I... it's a selfish reason," she said.

"Go on."

"I want to be stronger," she said. "I want to be... someone. I... where I'm from, girls can't be anyone, but I read a lot of books, and I heard a bunch of stories, and I don't want that. The only way to be someone is to be strong and... and none of the sects that I visited want anything to do with me. I just wanted to learn. To be like the people in the books."

"What level are you?" I asked. I could, and would, cast an Observe, but not just yet.

"Huh?" she asked. "I... I don't know what that means? Sorry."

A few more things clicked into place and I found myself nodding. "Do you know what the path to power is like?"

She nodded, then shook her head.

"Do you know where my power comes from?"

"I... you defeated the entire sect. Everyone's talking about it."

"That's not where, that's how much," I said.

The limpet shook her head. "No, I'm sorry."

"It comes from rigorous study and an academic mind. You seem to have the one, but lack the other."

If anything, she slumped even more. "Okay. I'll leave, you don't need to throw me into the lake again."

"One moment," I said. "I don't need an apprentice, but I do need a test subject." One that was obstinate and capable of enduring great pain.

Her eyes flashed, and I knew her answer before she delivered it.

***

Answer to the last riddle: Your left hand

Today's riddle: Poor people have it. Rich people need it. If you eat it, you'll sick or maybe die. What is it?

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