Chapter 451: Have You Finally Lost Your Mind?
Chapter 451: Have You Finally Lost Your Mind?
The moment the Goddess of Wealth was mentioned, Ambrose was all ears.
Wauleen, the Goddess of Wealth, was known by many titles: Friend of Merchants, Goddess of Trade, Patron of Traders. Over the years, Ambrose's greatest ambition had been to become the chosen of the Goddess of Magic, with Wauleen a close second.
By now, he had completely given up on the Goddess of Magic, and his interest had shifted entirely toward making the acquaintance of this particular deity.
Unfortunately, even after all these years, she had never once descended to chat with him.
"What exactly happened to the Goddess of Wealth?" Ambrose asked, genuinely curious. "As you said yourself, Master, I should have become her chosen long ago."
The God of Alchemy explained, "She is asleep. A great while back, she was captured by a powerful demon from the Abyss. After enduring long imprisonment, she barely managed to escape. She eventually took her revenge upon that demon, but the toll on her divine power was severe enough to send her into slumber. The lack of growth in commerce across the material plane these past years is directly connected to Wauleen's long sleep."
"Then how did you find her?" Ambrose asked, puzzled.
"That is not something you need to know." The God of Alchemy seemed disinclined to discuss the matter further. "I am working on a way to wake her. What I need is for you to continue expanding your commercial empire. The kingdom-wide alchemical factory plan you proposed already exceeds the boundaries of what this world was originally meant to accommodate, and that is enormously beneficial for Wauleen. I can sense her power beginning to stir. Just a little more, and she will wake."
Ambrose had never imagined that the Goddess of Wealth had actually been imprisoned by an abyssal demon. He was fairly certain that had never been recorded in any book.
And the God of Alchemy wasn't saying a word about how he knew Wauleen in the first place. That silence made Ambrose slightly suspicious. Was there any chance his master had been involved in her falling unconscious? Surely he hadn't been the one to imprison her in the first place?
Then again, neither he nor his master were paragons of virtue. Swindling mortals or gods was all the same to them. Neither shared a shred of moral compunction.
Ambrose could only take the God of Alchemy at his word. He agreed.
"I'll be making a trade with the Lords of Hell soon enough. The soul-coin transactions may help lend some strength to Wauleen's recovery."
The God of Alchemy nodded. "They certainly can. All commercial exchange shares the same essential nature, and whether you're trading in gold or in souls makes no difference. But this time, aim for a genuine win-win. Wauleen needs commerce to flourish, not a single capitalist monopolizing every industry."
"Now you're asking a lot of me," Ambrose said, mildly aggrieved.
The God of Alchemy shot him a long-suffering look. "Is mutual benefit that demanding for you? Listen to yourself. At this rate, even if Wauleen wakes up, she'll never choose you as her chosen."
"Fine, fine. I'll try."
Ambrose knew well enough that he was going to these people asking for a favor. There was no point in being too heavy-handed about it.
This time, he would make a genuine effort at a real win-win.
"One last question, Master. Do you know how to locate this shrimp-headed goddess? A deity ensconced in her divine realm won't be easy to find, will she?" Ambrose asked.
The God of Alchemy nodded. "Indeed. All I know is that her divine realm lies in the elemental plane of water, an extraordinarily vast world. Pinpointing her realm will be extremely difficult. That said, it's not entirely impossible. With a lead in mind, I can invent an alchemical artifact to address the problem."
"Are you that impressive?" Ambrose exclaimed.
"Your master doesn't spend his days lying around doing nothing, you know. Changes in the concept of alchemy bring growth in divine power. Naturally, I'm capable of more than I once was."
Ambrose promptly asked: "Can you make an artifact that just grabs the kouto goddess Blobdilpulp and delivers her gift-wrapped to Thanos?"
The God of Alchemy looked at him with undisguised contempt. "Why not just forge you a divine spark to elevate you above all other gods while I'm at it?"
"If you were willing, I wouldn't say no."
"If I had such a thing, do you think I'd waste it on you?!" The God of Alchemy terminated the communication without further ceremony.
With the conversation over, Ambrose didn't linger. The real business was still ahead. It was time to have a long-overdue talk with those two Archduchesses of Hell.
Summoning Tiamat required a mass blood sacrifice, but for Sariel, placing Milena at the center of a summoning circle would suffice.
As it happened, Black Rose had already told Ambrose that the site selection for the Ragetide Kingdom's alchemical factory was complete, and it was past time he paid a visit.
Coin Island had already established a direct teleportation array to the Ragetide Kingdom. Ambrose stepped through without delay.
The Ragetide Kingdom looked much the same as he remembered, except that the honor guard sent to receive him was rather more impressive than expected. Looking over the formation, which was proud, disciplined, and full of energy, Ambrose was mildly surprised. They seemed sharper than before, in both bearing and spirit.
Black Rose and Ariel stood side by side, two entirely different beauties, their presence immediately drawing the eye.
Ambrose was considerate enough not to spoil the scene. He approached as a black-haired youth and exchanged greetings with them.
Ariel had already seen this form of his before and wasn't particularly surprised. If anything, she looked quietly relieved.
Cooperating with a lich was, after all, not particularly palatable. There had been no shortage of opposition within the Ragetide Kingdom, though the striking appearances of Black Rose and Princess Milena had done something to temper the hostility of those most antagonistic toward the undead.
People could hardly be faulted for judging by appearances. When you didn't know someone, first impressions were everything.
The fact that Ambrose could appear in human form would at least put those critics somewhat at ease.
"This lich is quite courteous," Ariel thought to herself. "He clearly does seek genuine partnership with the Ragetide Kingdom."
Ambrose was in no rush. He proceeded methodically to tour the candidate sites for the alchemical factory.
Because the factory complex Ambrose intended to build was large, the island where the capital stood simply didn't have enough flat terrain to accommodate it. Accordingly, the construction had been preliminarily divided across two islands. The ground had been largely leveled, and the design drawings had been commissioned and completed—the plans themselves were without issue. But after reviewing the overall layout, Ambrose turned to Ariel.
"If the factory is split across two separate islands, the intermediate transport of materials becomes a problem. It doesn't just add cost, but also introduces unnecessary waste and attrition."
The Ragetide Kingdom was the primary production center for dragon-derived materials. These precious magical components were generally delicate by nature; any carelessness in transit could compromise their efficacy. Every additional leg of transportation meant additional losses, and that was simply not acceptable.
"I apologize," Ariel said. "The Ragetide Kingdom is an island nation, and we don't have a great deal of flat land to begin with. Unless we were to relocate civilian settlements, we simply cannot find enough terrain for the factory in one place."
This had been Ariel's most prominent concern. There had been voices within the kingdom urging that part of the residential districts be demolished to make room for the factory.
But the capital was already densely settled with very little room to spare. Do that, and a great many people would be left homeless.
The ministers hadn't given the residents a second thought: they had seen the terms being offered and their eyes had lit up immediately. Only Ariel, overruling the majority, had managed to get the factory split in two.
Yet even that, it seemed, wasn't enough to satisfy the lich.
Ambrose watched Ariel in silence. It had only been a little while since he had last seen her, but the princess looked far more aged. There were new signs of weariness on her face. The Ragetide Kingdom was a small nation. Was it really that exhausting to govern?
"Master Megaman, are you dissatisfied with the current design?"
Ambrose's silence made Ariel tense. The lich before her was a benefactor who could feed the entire Ragetide Kingdom. The last thing she wanted was for him to walk away displeased. But she also couldn't bring herself to put those residents out on the street.
"Don't worry," Ambrose said. "I understand your predicament, so I'll solve the problem myself. I'll modify the open ground a bit. No objections to that, surely?"
"Of course not," Ariel said quickly.
The site had already been leveled and prepared. Master Megaman was welcome to modify it however he saw fit.
The Golden Throne emerged behind Ambrose, diminished to roughly half its usual scale. As his hands moved in sweeping arcs, the earth trembled. A vast mass of sand and rock surged up from the seafloor, connecting seamlessly with the existing coastal plot.
"Terraform?!" Ariel exclaimed in shock.
Though she was a stormpriest rather than a mage, as a spellcaster, she understood exactly what tier of magic this was—a spell with the genuine power to move mountains and fill seas.
Until then, she had known only that Ambrose was an extraordinarily formidable lich. She hadn't imagined he could cast a spell that transcended the very limits of mortal capability.
Ambrose watched the Golden Throne shrink again and thought little of it. Compared to what he had spent out at sea, expanding a patch of shoreline barely registered.
The sooner the factory situation was sorted, the sooner this place could start generating steady returns.
"Now," Ambrose said to Ariel, "there should be sufficient area to build the factory. I trust the Ragetide Kingdom will cooperate in revising the plans accordingly."
"Thank you! We'll redesign everything to your specifications immediately!" Ariel exclaimed.
She hadn't expected the problem she'd been fretting over to be resolved so quickly. "This Master Megaman is surprisingly easy to work with," she thought, and felt a fresh surge of confidence in the Ragetide Kingdom's future.
With the factory site settled, and the other details already having been worked out between Black Rose and Ariel in advance, Ambrose's role today was largely ceremonial. He was here to sign the magical contract.
Ambrose would supply grain and weapons in exchange for the Ragetide Kingdom's labor, and would additionally provide basic training so that the kingdom's workers could acquire relevant skills.
On the surface, this looked like an arrangement that benefited both parties. What Ariel didn't know was that the "skills" Ambrose intended to teach were specific to this draconic processing factory and useless anywhere else, because he was the only person in the world with access to these materials.
Meanwhile, as Ambrose's grain became the Ragetide Kingdom's primary import, more and more fishermen would be drawn into the factory workforce, and the kingdom's food supply would gradually fall under Ambrose's control.
By the time that process was complete, he would hold the kingdom's lifeline in his hands.
It was a form of bloodless conquest. No one in the Ragetide Kingdom would ever see it coming.
He watched Ariel depart, bright-eyed with hope, then gathered Black Rose and Milena and retreated to their temporary lodgings.
Black Rose had already noticed the changes in the Golden Throne, and asked with concern, "Did things go badly with Thanos?"
Ambrose shook his head. "Thanos was actually quite reasonable."
The Lord of Storms was simply a bored child looking for amusement. He was a hundred times easier to deal with than that kouto goddess. Ambrose gave a brief account of his encounter at sea, then shared his plan to abduct a goddess with both Black Rose and Milena.
Milena's eyes went wide with delight. "How exciting! Kidnapping a goddess! Father, you're absolutely incredible!"
Black Rose shot Milena a reproving look before turning back to Ambrose. "This plan is completely insane. How could you possibly kidnap a goddess?!"
Until now, everything Ambrose had done to deceive divine beings had been through misinformation and misdirection. How would he manage a head-on confrontation?
"Relax, I'm not doing this myself. The whole point is to have other gods do it for me." Ambrose said, perfectly confident.
"But what about the Lords of Hell?" Black Rose pressed. "Can you keep winning against them?"
"I have no choice but to do so, at this point," Ambrose replied quietly, with surprising calm.
The world was in upheaval. Ambrose had walked to the very frontier of power, accumulating influence capable of reshaping entire planes of existence.
The next challenge, naturally, was the gods themselves—just as a journeyman who has finished his apprenticeship must inevitably face harder problems.
There was no retreating now, not unless Ambrose was willing to abandon everything and return to his earlier poverty.
And that was more fearsome than any future he could envision.
Ambrose sketched a perfunctory summoning circle, placed the still-elated Milena at its center, and began the incantation to summon Sariel.
This time, however, Sariel seemed disinclined to respond.
"Hm?" Ambrose said. "What's going on? Milena, have you lost your appeal to Sariel?"
Milena stood in the circle looking thoroughly confused. She had no idea what was happening either.
Undeterred, Ambrose enacted the ritual again. And again, and again—repeating the invocation more than a dozen times before Sariel's projection finally appeared above the circle.
Sariel arrived as she always did, blazing wings burning behind her, her flawless face shattered and reassembled, like porcelain smashed to pieces and glued imperfectly back together.
She raised her right hand. Hellfire roared to life in her palm. The Archduchess of Hell leveled her furious gaze at Ambrose and said: "You accursed lich, you dare summon me again with that slovenly excuse for a ritual?! You had better have a very satisfying explanation for this, or I will deliver upon you the most severe punishment within my authority!"
Ambrose offered a casual chuckle. "Your Grace, we know each other well enough by now. Let's dispense with the formalities, shall we?"
The so-called devil-summoning ritual was, in truth, entirely a matter of the summoned party's mood. Blood sacrifices, self-mutilation—all of that was simply the devils' idea of entertainment, and none of it was actually required to establish contact.
Even Ambrose's perfunctory effort had been perfectly detectable to Sariel. Whether she responded was wholly her choice, and a dozen invocations or so, it seemed, was sufficient to persuade her.
Facing this utterly shameless lich, Sariel could only snarl, "Say what you have to say. Now."
Knowing Sariel's patience was limited, Ambrose cut to the chase. "Your Grace, I have a plan to abduct the kouto goddess Blobdilpulp. I'd like to request your assistance, and I'm prepared to pay in soul-coins."
"Abducting someone? Why would I—" Sariel began, then abruptly stopped, her eyes going wide. "Who did you just say you wanted to abduct?"
Ambrose repeated himself with perfect clarity: "Blobdilpulp, the kouto goddess. I intend to seize her and deliver her to the Lord of Storms."
Sariel stared at him, utterly stunned. "Lich, have you finally lost your mind?"