This Lich Requests More Remuneration

Chapter 63: Chapter 63 The Power of Mortals Chapter 63: Chapter 63 The Power of Mortals In an open space, three hundred mortals who had been well-fed and rested loudly recited the liturgy praising the Lord of the Dawn.

As they reached the line “willing to devote everything to the purification of evil,” a faint Holy Light began to emanate from within them, condensing into many humanoid figures entirely composed of light.

Some of these figures were particularly dazzling and lifelike, while others were dim.

But without exception, they had all mastered the power of the Holy Light, and it had taken only three days.

However, after the Holy Light materialized, many began to show white hair and a few more wrinkles on their faces.

Masstar looked at the scene before him with considerable satisfaction.

This was the purpose of the three hundred mortals: to sacrifice their lifespan as the price to summon the Celestial Guardians, transforming from fragile mortals into mighty warriors in a short time.

It was impossible for mortals to become capable warriors in just a few days, unless they paid a tremendous price.

Masstar brought a piece of magical equipment named the Crown of Faith from the Laine Empire, capable of gathering the Power of Faith to open the passage to the heavens and borrow the power of the Holy Light, a replica of the True Divine Artifact, the Rosanda Crown.

The three hundred did not disappoint Masstar; after hearing the teachings of the Lord of the Dawn, they all became followers of this Deity. Perhaps their faith was not devout enough, but the Lord of the Dawn would never deceive you; the response of the power of the Holy Light was the best proof.

If the faith was not devout enough, if the training time was insufficient, no problem—as long as one was willing, life could be exchanged as the price to summon the power of the Holy Light to perform Divine Arts.

Summoning the Celestial Guardians was the advice Masstar gave them.

About ten years of lifespan could control these Celestial Guardians for twenty minutes in battle.

Each Celestial Guardian was an experienced elite warrior, completely made of the energy of the Holy Light, immune to most low-level magic, without vital points, fearless, and more importantly, they could counter most types of the undead.

Masstar did not hide the side effects of this method at all.

To activate the replica divine artifact, the sacrifice had to be completely voluntary; using spells to brainwash them or forcing them to offer themselves up was useless.

The Lord of the Dawn refuses human sacrifices but does not reject self-sacrifice.

These mortals were all too aware of the consequences, but it was just ten years of life after all. A person who was well-fed and clothed could live for at least sixty years, while as a serf or under these lords, the average lifespan was only thirty years.

Why not exchange a lifespan that was never truly their own for a brighter future?

This was also why Masstar only wanted the young and strong; those who were too old simply did not have enough lifespan to sacrifice and would die during practice.

“Release your consciousness and merge it with the will of the Celestial Guardians, and you will be able to master thoroughly refined techniques in a short time. Remember, every second is bought with your life. Any slacking or delay consumes your life and reduces your chances of survival. If you want to live, if you want to become a true human again, then give it your all.”

Masstar pointed out very seriously how the mortals should control the projections of the Celestial Guardians, without wasting a single second.

These several hundred blurry figures began to carry out various tactical maneuvers under Masstar’s command, and in less than a minute, the sluggish movements became smooth—they had thoroughly mastered the method of controlling the projections of the Celestial Guardians.

Finally, under Masstar’s command, these Celestial Guardians merged completely into one, becoming a ten-meter-tall Giant of Light.

A platinum-colored greatsword swung, and the holy light burst forth like a cannon, tearing open a hundred-meter-long fissure in the ground.

Although it only had the strength for a single strike, this light giant should have been sufficient to deal with those annoying low-tier undead, such as skeleton zombies—no matter how many came, they were but cannon fodder.

If that lich had been just a bit weaker, the light giant could have even hacked its way through the castle’s gates, allowing Masstar and his companions to enter.

The only regret was that the two adventurers who had gone to scout the castle had not returned; it seemed their chances were slim.

“Tomorrow at noon, we will begin our assault on the undead’s castle. Success or failure hinges on this moment. Rest assured, I will charge with you,” he said.

Masstar told everyone to go and rest, and once all the mortals had left, a paladin approached Masstar’s side and said, “Captain, that boy named Geronimo has good talent. Shouldn’t we send him back alone?”

What was implied was not to let Geronimo join the battle, but to send him back to Laine for training instead. In no time he would be able to become a qualified paladin without having to resort to self-harm to wield the power of the holy light.

Masstar knew his companion wasn’t mistaken; Geronimo’s talent was indeed remarkable, much stronger than that of average people in controlling the holy light, with less consumption, and the Celestial Guardians he conjured were even more powerful.

But Masstar shook his head and said, “No need. With one less person’s strength, their chances of surviving decrease. I promised to let them fight for their future, and I can’t exempt Geronimo from this trial just because his talent is better. Mankind should bathe in the holy light fairly. However, if this kid does survive, I will personally train him and make him a member of the Conviction Knight Order.”

“Alright, we should rest up too. The first assault begins at noon tomorrow, and I hope we can take out that lich with one charge,” he said.

Masstar led everyone back to Alchemy City, telling the others to rest while he returned to the Iron Slag Ashes Bar.

Tomorrow would be his first attempt to subdue a legendary undead, and although the young paladin had thought of every possible way to ensure victory, he was still a bit nervous with the big battle imminent.

Masstar needed a drink and wanted to gather some information at the bar—perhaps there would be some valuable findings.

As he strolled again on South Cross Star Boulevard, there seemed to be more pedestrians than last time, although many were non-human races who looked at Masstar, the paladin, with unfriendly eyes.

Masstar was used to it; he ignored these hostile glances and walked into the bar.

The patrons were indeed more numerous tonight, and although the bar was half-full, it was as quiet as if everyone had their own concerns.

Masstar did not think anything of it; in his days in Alchemy City, he had seen too many people burdened with worries—after all, with the economy not doing so well, it was natural for people’s expressions to be grim.

Approaching the bar counter, Masstar said to the orcish bartender, “The usual—two rum drinks.”

In the past few days, Masstar had become a near-daily visitor, growing quite familiar with the orcish bartender. Although he still didn’t quite like the bartender’s race, Masstar could now manage a tone devoid of discrimination—a rarity indeed.

The orcish bartender, following his routine, poured him a glass of rum and then asked, “By yourself again today? Why don’t you bring more people to help out my business? I heard you bought several hundred serfs.”

Masstar chuckled, “Your shoddy bar is too much of a rip-off. I can afford drinks alone, but if I brought three hundred people, I’d have to pawn my armor.”

The orcish bartender cleaned several bottles without a hint of displeasure, casually placing them on the counter before responding, “Then you should at least bring your fellow paladins. Drinking alone every time, you’re too stingy to be a boss.”

After saying this, the orcish bartender refilled Masstar’s glass.

“They were busy today, but tomorrow we might come and have a good drink,” Masstar downed the rum again and then asked, “Is there a discount today? Why are there so many people?”

The orcish bartender sighed without answering Masstar’s question, and instead said to him, “Being the boss, you shouldn’t be too stingy. Otherwise, in a real pinch, nobody’s going to be able to save you.”

Just as Masstar felt something was off, a wave of dizziness and blurred vision struck… Not good, those two drinks were poisoned!