Chapter Twelve: Departed Souls

"Roar...!"
As life ebbed away, the dead opened their eyes and let out a low, beastlike growl. Their gaze grew as dull as dusty glass beads, and the power of death swept through their bodies in an instant, granting them new life.
"Excellent, it seems everything went well."
Watching those risen, now shambling orcish corpses, Jen nodded in satisfaction. This trip had not been in vain; not only had he disposed of a mind flayer, but he'd also acquired a few new subordinates. They might not amount to much, but a little was better than nothing.
As for that half-dark elf...
Jen glanced at the still-unconscious Vilna, but said nothing, quickly turning away and heading toward the crystalline forest before him. For now, the reward was what mattered most. That little dark elf lab rat could wait; there would be plenty of time for experiments later.
Upon reaching the crystal forest, Jen realized it hadn't formed naturally. Beneath the sealed crystalline trees lay a structure resembling an altar. The mind flayer had been standing guard atop it when it attacked Jen and his companions.
"Now this makes sense..."
At the sight of the altar, Jen nodded. Mind flayers were a subspecies of monster that usually dwelled in the Abyss; unless summoned, Jen couldn't imagine why one would linger in this forsaken corner of the Underdark, let alone be forced into hibernation from lack of food. If not for those suicidal gray dwarves, the thing might have slept until the end of days.
Clearly, the mind flayer had been summoned to guard something.
The altar wasn't tall; Jen and Enoya climbed the steps and soon reached the top. There, a bizarre scene met their eyes.
At the altar's center, a skeleton garbed in tattered robes sat upright in a stone chair. Its left hand rested on the armrest, while its right clutched a book bound in jet-black leather. All around lay stone tables and various magical artifacts, broken and decayed with age. Judging by their condition, aside from those originally here, the rest must have been spoils from the mind flayer.
"Looks like he was a mage in life..."
Standing before the skeleton, Jen narrowed his eyes, studying the unlucky soul with a flash of surprise. It was understandable—the skeleton was peculiar indeed.
Generally, bones were white. But this one was strange: the left half was ordinary bone, but the right was pure crystal. At first glance, it looked like a lifelike human skeleton carved from crystal.
Most ignorant adventurers would have been wary, but Jen and Enoya were unconcerned. Jen's vast knowledge and Enoya's nature as an undead let them see at once that this poor soul was thoroughly dead. The skeleton before them was nothing but refuse.
So Jen, without hesitation, strode up and plucked the book from its skeletal hand, thumbing through it. On the very first page, a series of beautiful, slightly unfamiliar letters caught his eye.
"The Year of Autumn Frost, December First..."
It was written in the common tongue.
Jen glanced at the skeleton. He'd studied much in the Pandemonium Library and instantly recognized the script as the standard human common of this world. In other words, the skeleton was almost certainly human.
Further entries confirmed Jen's guess.
According to the diary, the skeleton had once been a nobleman named Landon Draco. His story was unremarkable, much like the tragic protagonists of the web novels Jen once read. It began with a beautiful childhood fiancée and a happy family; then the family fell, the fiancée was taken by a minotaur, the estate seized, the title lost, and only with the help of loyal retainers did Landon escape disaster. Next came the usual web novel arc: learning magic to grow stronger, finding new love, adventuring, gathering allies and experience, all for revenge—following the well-worn path to ultimate victory and happiness.

Yet reality rarely matched ideals.
Landon's cousin, who usurped his title, was no fool. While Landon went off to "level up" and defy fate, his cousin schemed and rose to immense power. By the time Landon marched back with his allies, his cousin stood just beneath the king, second only to the monarch himself.
Predictably, Landon's revenge failed. His allies were crushed by royal forces. Landon himself was nearly killed by a legendary wizard hired by his cousin; only the desperate sacrifice of his second beloved saved him from death.
Broken, Landon turned to necromancy, vowing to become a lich and destroy the nation. But the legendary wizard hounded him relentlessly, forcing Landon to seek a secluded place to recuperate.
That explained the elaborate tomb's design.
In theory, Landon's magical skill should have made lichdom easy. But he was ambitious—he didn't want to become a mere lich. He sought something unique: to use crystal to transform himself into a demigod-lich. That, he believed, would make him unstoppable.
But as everyone knows, what makes a protagonist isn't lucky encounters, but unfailing luck in every gamble.
Sadly, Landon lost his wager.
The rest was simple. Life is full of choices; sometimes a single misstep ruins everything. The half-crystal skeleton was the perfect proof.
"Haste makes waste."
Finishing the diary, Jen sighed. Landon, with his magical prowess, could have succeeded if he'd only been patient. But his greatest flaw was impatience—his enemy was human, and humans rarely lived past a hundred years. Landon could have bided his time, cultivated his power, and taken vengeance when his foe's great-grandchildren were born.
But pressed for time, he gambled.
In a way, it was a quintessential human tragedy.
A melodramatic, unfinished web novel.
That was Jen's sole verdict on Landon's diary. Yet the final entry did catch his interest.
"...My gamble has failed. Death draws near; this is my fate. I know my end is nigh, but if anyone should read these words, I hope you will help fulfill my last wish... As reward, I will give you all that I possess..."
"Ah...!"
As Jen finished reading, a shrill scream burst from the book, and a black misty arm shot out from its pages, clawing toward him!
"Hmph!"
Unfazed, Jen snorted coldly. In a flash, his free left hand darted forward, seizing the shadowy arm in a vice grip. With a jerk, he yanked out a pitch-black figure from the book!
It was a baby—or rather, it appeared to be one. It resembled the malnourished, pot-bellied infants Jen had seen on TV: thin limbs, oversized head, frail body, all swathed in dark mist. Only its wide, staring eyes lent it a ghastly air.
The child gaped at Jen in disbelief.
"You—you—how could you...!?"
"An interesting idea. Pity... it was only an idea..."

Watching the infant's shocked expression, Jen shook his head. He knew exactly what the creature intended. In fact, the moment the arm emerged, Jen had suspected something supernatural. After all, centuries had passed; the skeleton's robe was in tatters, yet this shabby diary was untouched, not even frayed—who could believe there wasn't something sinister within?
The instant the arm shot out, Jen understood. Landon's lich transformation had indeed failed, but he hadn't truly died; rather, he sealed his soul within the diary. Anyone who finished reading it would trigger his soul's appearance, binding it to the reader's with a contract.
Once bound, the two souls could never be parted. Whether Landon puppeteered the victim or devoured their soul would be his choice.
Admittedly, it was a clever plan—much like his idea of forging a demigod-lich from crystal.
But as Jen said, it was only clever in theory.
Anyone else might have fallen for Landon's trap. But Jen was a demon! In this world, contracts either drew on divine or demonic power. As a necromancer, Landon obviously hadn't invoked the gods—his contract's strength came from the infernal. But Jen was of demon royalty himself! Trying to use demonic power to bind a demon lord—was Landon mad?
"Please, spare me... let me go..."
Now, the infant trembled pitifully, face contorted with terror. He wasn't stupid—his adversary had broken the contract and shackled his soul with a mere gesture. That wasn't something just anyone could do!
"Master, I beg you—spare me, and I'll serve you faithfully! My treasures, too, I—"
But Landon never finished, for Jen cut him off.
"A clever idea."
"Eh?"
At the soul's confusion, Jen smiled faintly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
"I said, it's a clever idea—still trying to play tricks, even now. But unfortunately, I don't need you to tell me anything..."
With that, Jen looked up.
"Enoya, he's yours."
"Yes, Master."
Unnoticed, Enoya had silently appeared behind Landon. At Jen's command, the girl smiled sweetly.
In the next instant, her delicate fingers plunged mercilessly into the back of his head.