1360 Immense Loot II (Took a week off due to Brother's Wedding)
As the three of them stood there, lost in contemplation, a dark army soldier approached. He was older than most of the others, his hair a distinguished silver gray, neatly combed and pulled back into a tight bun. He carried himself with an air of quiet efficiency, a stark contrast to the chaotic energy that still crackled around the battlefield outside.
He stopped before Michael, snapping a crisp salute.
"My lord," he said, his voice clear and respectful. "We have finished cataloging the loot from this... Azure Citadel, as those Skyhall folks called it." He unrolled a parchment, revealing a meticulously detailed list of items, numbers, and valuations.
"We have recovered... approximately thirty-two million gold coins," he reported, his voice betraying no hint of excitement, as if reciting the daily weather report. "In addition, we have... twelve chests of precious gems, including rubies, sapphires, and emeralds. We've also recovered a significant number of enchanted weapons, armor, and... well, sir, it's quite a lot. The Skyhall folks seemed to have a... fondness for shiny things." He cleared his throat, consulting the parchment again. "We have also uncovered a library containing several thousand scrolls and books, some of which appear to be... quite ancient."
"Thirty-two million, huh?" Michael whistled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Not a bad haul for a day's work."
Lenora, ever the pragmatist, chuckled. "And that's just one palace, boss. Imagine what we'll find in the others." She ran a hand over a jewel-encrusted dagger, her fingers lingering on its sharp edge. "Looks like retirement's looking pretty damn good right about now."
As they were admiring the spoils of war, another dark army soldier hurried into the room. He was younger than the first, his armor still bearing the fresh stains of battle, his face pale beneath his helmet. He carried a thick, leather-bound parchment, its edges frayed, its surface covered in faded ink.
"My lord," he said, his voice a hushed whisper, "you... you need to see this."
He held out the parchment towards Michael, his hand trembling slightly. There was a look of... fear... in his eyes, a raw, primal terror that Michael had rarely seen in his soldiers.
Michael, sensing something was wrong, took the parchment, his gaze skimming over the faded script.
"What is it, boss?" Lenora asked, peering over Michael's shoulder.
"Code Red," Michael muttered, his brow furrowing as he read the ancient text. "Looks like those Skyhall bastards had a... contingency plan. In case of... well, this."
"Shit," he breathed, his voice barely audible.
Lenora, reading over his shoulder, felt a chill run down her spine. The words on the parchment, written in a language that predated even the oldest of the Ancestors, were stark, chilling.
In the event of Skyhall's fall, the Code Red protocol is to be initiated.
"Code Red?" Elidyr frowned, his brow furrowing. "They had a plan for... their own defeat? What kind of plan?"
"Those Skyhall bastards always had a contingency for every damn thing," he muttered, shaking his head. "They were obsessed with control, with planning for every possible outcome."
Michael, however, simply chuckled.
"Let them come," he said, his voice laced with a predatory amusement. "It'll be... entertaining. Besides," he added with a shrug, "the army needs to stay sharp. Been getting a little too comfortable around here lately. A bit of... motivation wouldn't hurt." Nôv(el)B\\jnn
He tossed the parchment onto the table, his gaze shifting towards Lenora.
"You mentioned a library?" he asked, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Lead the way."
"Right this way, boss," Lenora said with a smirk, leading the way out of the treasure room and deeper into the Azure Citadel. They navigated a maze of winding corridors, passed grand halls hung with faded tapestries, and climbed a spiraling staircase of polished marble. The air grew colder, the scent of incense replaced by the musty smell of aged parchment and ancient magic.
Finally, they reached a set of imposing double doors, crafted from dark wood and etched with arcane symbols.
"Alright, boss," Lenora chuckled, throwing her hands up in defeat. "You're the God of Darkness. You call the shots."
"Let's loot these palaces, then we party!" Michael grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
But before they could make plans for their victory bash, Elidyr, who had been browsing the shelves, let out a low whistle.
"My lord, check this out," he said, approaching them with a thick, leather-bound tome in his hands. The book's cover was dark, almost black, and etched with strange symbols that seemed to writhe and shift under his fingertips.
"Found this tucked away in one of the back shelves. Looks like... some kind of necromancy manual. Lots of juicy rituals and spells." He grinned, flipping through the pages.
"Some of these... these could be pretty damn useful."
"Nice find, Elidyr," Michael said, taking the book from him. The leather cover felt dry and brittle beneath his fingertips, the pages stiff and yellowed with age. He handled the book with care, instinctively knowing that even a little too much force could cause it to crumble into dust.
But its age, its fragility, was also what intrigued him. This book, hidden away in the depths of Skyhall's library, held secrets, knowledge that had been lost for centuries, perhaps even millennia. He carefully flipped through the pages, his gaze scanning the faded ink, the intricate diagrams, the arcane symbols that seemed to writhe and twist on the parchment.
Some of the spells were... basic. Run-of-the-mill necromancy stuff. Raising skeletons, summoning ghouls, animating corpses... useful, sure, but nothing groundbreaking.
But as he delved deeper, the spells grew more complex, more powerful, more... forbidden. There were rituals for binding souls, for manipulating the fabric of life and death, for tapping into the raw power of the afterlife.
One spell, in particular, caught his eye.
Transference of Consciousness.
It described a ritual that allowed the caster to temporarily transfer their consciousness into multiple bodies, controlling them as if they were their own. It wasn't a permanent transfer, like his Project Phoenix, which was more of a last-resort, soul-shuttling safety net in case his main body was destroyed. This was something else. A way to extend his awareness, to experience the world through multiple sets of eyes, to control multiple bodies simultaneously.
"This..." Michael muttered, tracing the outline of the spell diagram with his finger. "This could be... interesting."
A slow grin spread across his face.
This spell, this little hidden gem of necromantic knowledge, could be a game-changer. An ace up his sleeve. A way to surprise his enemies, to outmaneuver them, to strike from multiple angles at once.
The possibilities were... intriguing.
The more Michael read about the Transference of Consciousness spell, the more excited he got. He could already picture the possibilities.
Imagine infiltrating a heavily guarded fortress, bypassing all those fancy wards and magical defenses... by simply slipping into the minds of the guards themselves. He could walk right through the front gate, gather intel, maybe even sabotage a few key defenses, all without anyone being the wiser.
He had his Spyders, of course. And his drones. Little mechanical eyes and ears he could send out to scout ahead, to gather information. But he knew, with a sinking certainty, that those wouldn't be enough in the realm of the Gods. Those gods were old, powerful, and paranoid as hell. They'd have defenses against that kind of tech, magical countermeasures that would fry his gadgets before they even got close.
But this spell... this was a whole new level of espionage.
No need for fancy gadgets, no risk of detection... just a little bit of necromantic know-how and a willingness to get up close and personal with the enemy's minds.
"Damn," Michael muttered, a slow grin spreading across his face. "This is... fucking awesome."