The OP Lich is a Returnee, Chapter 139 (Patreon)

Chapter 139 – Paragons

As I had six times before, I summoned the other Magelords of Risen Athelia, and tasked them with drawing the circles that would guide the magic of the ritual. As they worked, I could not help but grin at how the mighty had fallen. Once, they had been seven of the most powerful mages in Athelia-That-Was, each recognized as the greatest master of their element within the land. Now, they were slaves to my will, forced to work for one of those who they had thought to enslave and control.

The only element not represented by those seven was, of course, Death. Upon my ascendance to lichdom, and later the throne of Risen Athelia, I had surpassed the Magelord of Death, and taken his position within the Athelian Spire, as was my right. The former Magelord of Death was amongst my servants, as were all those who lived in Athelia-That-Was, but it was with slight reluctance that I had bound him to my will. At the very least, I ensured that his death and rebirth into undeath was as painless as possible.

That was the only mercy I could give to Thom Deathspeaker, the former Magelord of Death, and I gave it to him gladly, because he was one of the few who argued against enslaving my class. After we were enslaved, he was also the one who gave me the knowledge needed to attempt my transformation into a lich. I bore him no ill will, but he would not stand aside as my forces took on the last bastions of life in Athelia-That-Was, and so my hand was forced. Even still, I did not torment him, as I did the other Magelords, or the King who became my General.

I set those thoughts aside, for now. I knew that, soon enough, I would need to call upon the Deathspeaker, but, until then, I would leave him to his rest. There would be time for showing him the wonders of this new world once the seals were dealt with.

Soon enough, the circles were drawn, and it was time to begin. At my command, the two volunteers stripped down, and entered the smaller of the two circles. As I directed them, they faced each other, and clasped hands, forming a circuit for the mana to flow through them.

I was gracious enough not to comment on the discomfort in their eyes as they decidedly avoided looking at each other below the neck. Pointing it out to them would not change things, and would only serve to make it more difficult for them to synchronize, especially in front of an audience. I might not be human enough to feel shame or other such emotions anymore, but I had not yet passed so far from my humanity that I did not know how such things, and the stigmas society imposed upon them, could disrupt their concentration, if they let it.

Eventually, though, I could see their mana evening out, and flowing. An Earth Soul and Shaman were good picks for this kind of work, because their mana had a tendency to flow through them in natural patterns already, and they proved this now as they reached synchronization. “”Ready,”” they said as one.

With a nod, I turned away from them, and looked towards the seal itself. My voice joined those of my seven servants in the larger circle about the seal, chanting in High Athelian. We invoked the strength of Earth, and I could feel it resonating around us. Amber light appeared at the core of the white crystal, and began spreading through it, like veins of ore spreading through the mountain’s depths.

CRACK!

The veins of amber had spread through half the crystal, causing it to crack, as expected. Earth mana tumbled forth, like a landslide crashing down the mountainside. As intended, the primary magic circle caught the mana, and focused it, directing it into the smaller one where the two vessels stood, still gazing into each other’s eyes, hands clasped, mana flowing through and between them. The roiling mana descended upon them, and then piled up around them, like a tomb of rock and stone. As the last of their features was buried in rock, their stone prison rose up, and began to spin in the air. Slowly, at first, but steadily gathering speed with all the subtlety of an avalanche.

I chanted along with my mages, and, as I did so, I watched the two vessels carefully. The stone infused itself in them. Flesh changed, becoming stone, petrifying them as surely as if they’d met the gorgon’s gaze. But it did not kill them, nor did it stop their mana from flowing. They were being transformed into creatures of the Earth.

As we had done before, at the other seals, the mana flowed through the circle, guided by the undead hands of the Magelords of the Athelian Spire, under my leadership. Earth was worn away with Wind, and nurtured with Light, Shadow, Water, Fire, Life, and Death. Channeled and focused, so that it did not just stay there placidly or tumble recklessly, but moved with purpose.

The prison of stone changed from crude earth, to granite, and then to marble, before settling on a steel grey color. And then, the spinning began to slow, as the mana from the seal began to ease up, and equalize in the area around us, the pressure released. Finally, the prison stopped, and came to rest upon the ground.

For a moment, nothing happened. I knew from my mana sight that the two vessels were still alive, but to one not gifted with my sight, it looked as though the stone prison was inert, lifeless. And then, it began to crumble, starting at the top, and cascading down the side, until it was no more than a pile of dust upon the floor, which quickly lost its shape and returned to being pure mana.

Where that prison had been now stood two figures that looked as though they had been cast in bronze. Physically, they were perfect examples of the male form, to such a degree that even my undead heart was slightly moved by the sight. They had clearly defined muscles, that flowed naturally with their movements, despite being made of metal, and everything about them was perfection made manifest, even their manhoods, which were large enough to make a porn star envious, yet not to the outrageous proportions of the Troll Patriarch, which was good, because they were only two and a half meters tall, making them taller than a normal human, certainly, but they were not the Troll Patriarch’s height or width to carry a weapon like his without great discomfort.

Their features were all but identical, with the only differences being in their heads and faces, which retained their original shapes. Their eyes, too, were different, for even though each of these bronze figures had brown gems for eyes, the colors were slightly different, matching the hue they had before their transformation. Likewise, their hair retained the same length and style that they had before, but it was no longer made up of individual hairs, but a solid mass of metal, the same as the rest of them. They likely would not be able to change that style for the rest of their lives.

As far as their power went, I could tell that the two of them looked to be roughly as powerful as I was after first being summoned to the other world. Perhaps a bit more. At any rate, I did not see the same linkages between their souls as some of the others who had gone through the ritual, meaning that they likely would not be able to combine their bodies, like the heroes of Light could, for instance.

One interesting thing about them, from what I could see, was that they were both passively drawing on Earth mana from where their feet touched the ground. It was likely that, so long as they kept their feet on the ground, they would have an almost inexhaustible well of power to draw from. If they learned to use it properly, of course.

“Well done, both of you,” I congratulated them, as the mana receded to normal levels, and it was safe to break the circles. “Jairo Venegas! Dante Laguna! As the Lich Queen of Risen Athelia, I, Akagawa Kaori, proclaim the two of you to be the Bronze Paragons, Heroes of Earth! From this day until your last, you shall be visions of perfection in human form. But though you rise above normal men, take care to keep your feet firmly planted upon the ground, and let not your minds get lost in the clouds! For though you may be mighty, ever shall there be those who have power that eclipses yours, and even those weaker than you may find ways to pierce your armor, or drown you in numbers.”

“Thank you, your Majesty,” said Capitán Venegas, bowing slightly to me. “But, do you know what kind of creatures we are now? I can feel the stone beneath my feet like they were flesh, but everything feels… different. And I can see trails of power everywhere, including inside you.”

“Ah, you likely have some version of magesight, since your eyes are no longer mere sacks of liquid used to focus light. I expect that you will find that even total darkness will pose little trouble to you, in the future. As for the lines of power, that is the mana that all things possess. Look at your partner, and then at me, and you will see the difference between a Hero newly forged, and one who has spent forty years increasing her power.”

Subteniente Laguna gasped as he turned from the Capitán to me. “Madre de Dios!” The mortals in the group turned to look at him, but Chihomi and I knew what he saw, and were not surprised. “If we go by power alone, the gulf between us and her Majesty makes the gap between us and the rest look like nothing! Especially when I compare our power to hers, or the child within her,” he said, pointing towards Chihomi.

“That would be the power of my patron, Lord Dagon, you see within me,” she said, voice even. “He has granted me great power, the better to serve as his eyes, ears, hands, and feet within this world. “My child is a fragment of Lord Dagon, removed enough from the unreality in which he moves to safely walk in the mortal world, and not drive men mad at the sight of him.”

I chuckled at that. “Yes, so let that be a lesson to you. Neither of you should get too comfortable with your power, because you are not the strongest beings in existence, and certainly not when compared to those outside of it. However, if you want to know what type of creature you are now, then I believe that you would both be considered living constructs. Your bodies are more akin to golems than anything, but you are not mindless automatons, bound to a creator’s will. You still have your own minds, your own thoughts, and your own emotions, though you may find some things begin to change, in time.”

Venegas frowned, a perfect frown upon his perfectly-sculpted face. “Change? Change how?”

I did not respond to his question directly. Instead, I looked to my disciples. “Naya, you have been with me a while, now. Would you say that my perception of danger, or of general human needs, is the same as yours?”

“Of course not, Mistress. While you know, academically, of human emotions, and remember having them in the past, you’ve shown us more than once that you no longer have such tendencies. And your sense of danger has been altered by your great power and decades of experience. What would be a mere nuisance to you is a deadly peril to even one such as I, much less those who have not had your training.”

Looking back at the Paragons, I nodded, and said, “It is as you heard. I have not been human for quite some time, and my perceptions of the world have shifted accordingly. Another way that I have changed is that, as an undead lich, things like lust, or the desire to have children, are alien to me. As for whether you will suffer the same affliction? It is hard to say. Constructs do not typically have reproductive urges, but with your manhoods given such detail in your transformation, you may prove an exception to that rule, though I have no idea whether you would be able to have children, or what they might become, even if that were true.”

The two Paragons blinked, and then looked down, only now seeming to realize that they were still naked, with everything proudly on display. “Strange,” muttered Laguna. “I didn’t notice, and even now, I feel no urge to cover up. Is this one of the changes, then?”

“Most likely,” I agreed. “If you are anything like the sentient golems I have met before, you will find that covering your forms will be uncomfortable for you. Something about their nature causes golems to wish to display themselves, and are constantly ensuring that their bodies are unsoiled by dirt or grime. I don’t think you’ll be able to convince yourself to keep clothes on, more than a loincloth, if that. You’ll probably also want to learn basic cleaning and polishing spells, for obvious reasons.”

“Well, some type of clothing is definitely going to be mandatory,” Mayor Freixa said, while trying not to stare at the gleaming bodies on display. “There is no way that we can have them just running around, all out in the wind like some exhibitionist streaking across a fútbol field. That simply will not do.”