Chapter 452: Honey and Poison
Chapter 452: Honey and Poison
When Sariel called Ambrose mad, he was genuinely taken aback.
"Do devils actually turn down invitations like this?" he asked her. "Abducting a goddess should be a lucrative deal by your standards."
Sariel's tone became grave. "Mortal, you clearly underestimate what a god is. Blobdilpulp is a deity with her own divine realm. Is your understanding of a divine realm really nothing more than a place in which to hide?"
Ambrose had to admit that his knowledge here was limited. What the Lady of Mists had shared with him on the subject was only a brief overview: that a divine realm was something all gods required, an inviolable sanctuary, the key to insulating oneself from strife and preserving one's identity.
"If it's simply a matter of locating the divine realm, that's already been accounted for. You needn't concern yourself with that part. All I'd need from you is to go in and apprehend the goddess."
Sariel responded with a slow, disappointed shake of her head. "Mortal wisdom... Even you, it seems, do not truly understand what a god is. A divine realm is not merely a hiding place. It is the very embodiment of a god's power.
"I know you possess an extradimensional space where you control the flow of time, yes? That is the embryonic form of a divine realm. A god commands everything within theirs. In your private space, you dictate how time passes, and no creature can resist that save for a deity or a unique race such as the time dragons.
"A divine realm is something of an altogether higher order: not only time, but matter, natural law, and everything else besides, all governed absolutely by the god within."
Ambrose was silent for a moment. "So a god within their own divine realm becomes incomparably powerful. Even an intermediate divinity would possess a might that surpasses all other gods within that domain."
"Correct," said Sariel. "The gods' divine domains grant them corresponding power. What makes Blobdilpulp truly fearsome is not her raw strength, but the chaos of her inner world. Even I, if I were to enter her divine realm without the proper preparations, would be reduced to a raving lunatic in an instant, stripped entirely of my capacity for rational thought.
"I know you have been keeping Thanos company of late. Thanos opened the gates of his divine realm to all the gods. In principle, any of them can enter freely. There are plenty of greater divinities out there, and other powerful gods acting in concert could certainly match him, but only so long as they don't fight him inside his divine realm.
"Were a hundred Choralans to enter his Tower of Ruin, they would be reduced to ash by endless lightning.
"Neither I nor Tiamat would accept this harebrained invitation of yours, because it simply cannot be done."
That last declaration made Ambrose laugh out loud. "So there really are contracts even devils won't take. I learn something new every day."
Sariel remained unmoved. "Provoking me with words won't work either. I'm a devil, not some mindless demon who only knows how to slaughter."
"Actually," Ambrose said, "you and I both know that for all the power a divine realm confers, countless gods have fallen throughout history, including figures of great renown and formidable strength. A divine realm is certainly an advantage, but it's not absolute. So it isn't truly impossible. You simply don't dare, or you're angling for a higher price. Sariel, when you once marched into Hell alone with your knights at your side, did you not know, even then, that you were walking into territory a devil controlled as his own divine realm?"
Hellfire blazed in Sariel's eyes. An enormous pressure descended on Ambrose, making his mechanized body creak and groan under the weight.
"You are asking to die, lich."
This was the deepest wound of Sariel's existence, the memory she could least bear to revisit. No one ever dared to raise it in her presence. How did this lich have the audacity to drive a blade into that scar?
Ambrose didn't flinch. He met her gaze with absolute calm. "You talk about 'mortals' constantly, and yet, in terms of conviction, you fall short of mortals. Sariel, everyone who lives long enough carries centuries of suffering in their past. You are a god, exalted above all mortalkind in power, but is all you hold over them nothing more than raw strength?"
Sariel was made only more furious by these words. The infernal flames blazed hot enough that Ambrose's mechanized frame was beginning to melt at the edges, but in the end, the flames were gradually snuffed out. No real harm was done to either his body or his soul.
Sariel glared at him with undisguised menace. "Lich, you survive only because of Aion's rules. The day will come when you reach the limits of what a mortal can be. The moment you cross into godhood, I will teach you to regret crossing me."
The fates of Loss and Shara had already become common knowledge. Sariel had no intention of following in their footsteps.
Ambrose let out a quiet sigh.
"You've misread me. I wasn't trying to provoke you into anger to dull your thinking—at least, not this time. I have already died once. That experience made the value of life very clear to me, which is why I never stake my own existence on a gamble. As with this situation, I could simply find a quiet spot, dig a hole, and wait it out.
"Thanos can rage all he likes. The worst he can do is disrupt my ventures and torment my friends. For an immortal lich, time smooths everything over. All I need to do is withdraw into my private space. I can make one day inside be equivalent to one year outside. If need be, I'll wait centuries and start over again. What's so difficult about that?"
Sariel frowned, genuinely confused. "What exactly are you trying to say?"
"Over the past few centuries, I have started over more times than I can count. I once sold away the knowledge I treasured most, but lacked the courage to own the consequences, and so I lost the glory that should have been mine. I submitted to fate, and in countless brushes with death, I chose to give up on myself. It wasn't that I didn't want glory. I simply didn't want to bear the responsibility that came with it—so I told myself I preferred simplicity, and believed my own lie.
"I spent centuries drifting, and the reason I never stopped failing was that I lacked the will to see things through. Every time, I'd come so close, then meet some obstacle I couldn't handle and turn away.
"This time, I'm deliberately choosing the hardest path available to me. I want to accomplish what no mortal has ever done, rather than surrender to an overwhelming fate the way I once did.
"I've had enough of this endless cycle. This time, I intend to stand at the pinnacle of this world, and neither mortal nor god will interfere with what I am building. I am willing to spend everything I have, and fight with everything I am. Sariel, I am inviting you to be part of a story that will be written into history.
"I hope you will become a participant in it, not a mere bystander. I hope you still have that courage you once carried."
Ambrose finished speaking and simply looked at her, as if everything that needed to be said had been said, and all that remained was for Sariel to make her choice.
Sariel's hand moved to the sword at her hip. Her fingers closed around the hilt tightly enough that, the next instant, it seemed as though she might draw it and take Ambrose's head.
In the end, the blazing sword left its scabbard, but it did not fall on Ambrose. Instead, it drove into the ground at his feet.
"Twenty million soul-coins of the highest quality. If you accept these terms, pick up this sword. I'll lend you my power."
Without a moment's hesitation, Ambrose reached out and drew the sword.
Hellfire erupted from the blade and poured into his body. In that instant, Ambrose felt a surge of power unlike anything he had ever experienced, a hundred times stronger than what he commanded through the Golden Throne.
No wonder any god could crush his soul with a finger. The gap in raw power was absolute.
"Is this the power of divinity?!"
"Hmph. Now that you feel the difference, it's not too late to back out. Though you'll still owe me the soul-coins."
Ambrose ignored the taunt and hung the blazing sword at his hip. Every trace of hellfire vanished at once; the divine weapon became dark and unassuming, barely worth a second glance.
"Rest assured," he said. "I run a respectable business. I never default on what I owe."
That composed reply, for some reason, gave Sariel pause.
Many years ago, she had been just as mad as this lich. That same recklessness, that same fearlessness—that was what had led her to march into Hell with her knights.
It was a pity that she had met with betrayal. Her only retreat had been cut off. The devils had taken her, and subjected her to torments that stretched across uncounted years.
Looking back now, perhaps she should never have prepared a way to retreat at all.
Death itself was not frightening. What was frightening was the knowledge that one's soul would carry forever the memory of that anguished, wretched regret.
By that standard, this lich had the better of her. At least he saw the crux of the issue.
"I'll pass your message along to Tiamat," Sariel said. "Whether she agrees is not something I can guarantee. You've killed too many astral red dragons. She's been keeping a tally."
Ambrose laughed freely. "One million soul-coins per dragon, as both compensation and a hiring fee. Ask her what she thinks."
"A million per dragon? You—" Sariel stopped abruptly. "Wait. Sixty astral red dragons. You'd be giving Tiamat sixty million? My asking price was twenty million. What is the meaning of this?!"
Sariel could not accept that arithmetic. It would mean she was valued below Tiamat, and she was the ruler of the first layer of Hell. How could she possibly be worth less?
"That's exactly why I'm asking you to relay the message," Ambrose said, unbothered. "I'm quoting you a million. If you can convince her to settle for a hundred thousand, you can keep the remaining nine hundred thousand. You're an Archduchess of Hell. Stop thinking like a street brawler, or your reputation will start to sound like a demon's. This is an opportunity I'm handing you: would you rather the bards remember you as a cunning dealmaker who turned a tidy profit, or as a brute?"
Sariel's jaw dropped. She had struck deals with mortals many times. But this was the first time any mortal had ever offered her an opportunity quite like this one.
Take a cut at Tiamat's expense? Who could possibly resist?
"Damn you," Sariel said through gritted teeth. "That tongue of yours has been soaking in honey and poison both. Fine, I'll do it. I'll see to it that Tiamat walks straight into your trap."