The OP Lich is a Returnee, Chapter 145 (Patreon)

Chapter 145 – Dedication

Of course, I couldn’t go directly to the temple for the dedication. As the one commissioning the temple’s construction (or reconstruction, in this case), I had certain responsibilities to fulfill. This was a temple to the Goddess of the Hunt, after all.

The primary responsibility I had, after ensuring that the workers and priest overseeing the construction were protected, was to provide a suitable sacrifice to Murena. The sacrifice had to be a creature that I had captured live in a hunt, using my own skills and talents instead of having someone else do the deed for me. Naturally, I didn’t have a hunting license, but if I cared about the laws of nations, my interactions with the US and Russia would have been very different. Laws only mattered if there was something that those who made and enforced the laws could do to punish you, and no force on Earth could do that with me.

In the twilight before nightfall, I slipped out, to the great river, and began running across the water, looking for something specific. For a dedication of one of her temples, Murena demanded that the sacrifice be a predator, a hunter, born to the land where the temple would be placed. I did not have the time, or patience, to find a cobra in the wild, but there was another predator just as iconic in the mind of those who knew anything of Egypt, and named after the river itself.

I sensed my quarry beneath me, and smiled as it tried to turn hunter into the hunted. I caught its opening lung with one hand, grabbing the beast by the snout and stopping it dead in its tracks. The ambush predator tried to resist, to escape, but I was far too strong for a creature that barely accessed mana for anything except increasing its bite force and strength of its teeth and jaws to the point where they could bite a hole in a warship’s hull. Once I had subdued the creature, I teleported directly to the temple.

My companions were already there, waiting for me, since I’d told them to meet me at the temple. I also saw Kontar Safar, the representative from Egyptian government who had met me before. I’d invited him to attend the dedication, so that he might report to his masters about just what the ceremony entailed. I knew that the government was still nervous about the temple, and what it would mean for them moving forward. Having an actual Goddess making her presence known in the world was something few people living today had ever seen, after all.

My eyes first fell upon the temple, rebuilt in all its glory. The building’s style was… unusual, at least compared to traditional architecture for this area. Grey stone marked the rebuilt temple as being most decidedly different from anything in the area, obviously, but that was not the only thing that set it apart. A colonnade that would seem fitting upon the Parthenon was fused with what looked like Gothic walls and arches, and set in such a way that the natural flows of mana began to aspect themselves around the site, as with Feng Shui. And, upon the rooftop, there stood a statue of Murena herself, almost six meters tall, and holding aloft her mithral bow, pointed at the sky, an arrow on the metal string. That arrow was tipped with an arrowhead of pure orichalcum, and, when the dedication was finished, I knew that it would shine like a beacon so long as Murena’s connection to the temple was maintained.

I suddenly realized that I was still dripping from my brief swim in the river. A simple spell dried the water from my armor and bones. As I looked around, I could see shock in the eyes of the mortals, even those who knew me well. It was one thing to know that I was the Lich Queen, with magic beyond anything they could easily comprehend, but it was quite another to see me, in my full regalia, carrying a six-meter-long Nile crocodile over one shoulder, and not even struggling with its 1000 kilograms of scales, muscle, and bone, while it tried in vain to escape me.

“Lady Akagawa,” Safar said, gently, “I hope you know that hunting Nile crocodiles is illegal. While their numbers have increased since the Awakening, they are still protected in much of Africa, including here in Egypt.”

“Do not worry, Mr. Safar. I did not hunt for crocodiles. This beast, however, thought that it could hunt me as I was taking a stroll down the river. As such, it has volunteered to be part of the dedication ceremony for this temple. I can promise you, however, that it will not be killed during the ceremony. Indeed, it will likely live far beyond even its typical lifespan because of what will happen here this night. You see, part of the dedication of a temple to Murena includes having a predator of the local land bound to serve as a guardian.”

Safar breathed a sigh of relief. “All right. While I doubt the beast was any threat to you, acting in response to a crocodile attack is permitted under the law. Of course, most who find themselves facing such a formidable specimen would have little chance of surviving long enough to even try and respond, but putting things like that will be enough to prevent any unpleasantness, especially if the animal will not be killed.”

“Ah, your Majesty. I see you have brought the final piece for the dedication, as the Goddess requires,” said a soft, low voice. I looked in that direction, and saw Dannet Duskblade, High Priest of Murena for Athelia-That-Was, dressed in his formal robes. Because he had sheltered me when, as a newborn lich, I fled the palace, I had taken special care when raising him after he fell during a battle between the nobles trying to take the crown, turning him into a more advanced version of a zombie. He retained his flesh, as well as his mind, and possessed full freedom of movement, without the weaknesses of a ghoul or vampire.

Making such an undead was only slightly more complicated than creating the normal types. However, it only worked on beings who had bodies that were not too badly damaged, either from injury or decomposition, and were beyond a certain point in their cultivation of mana before they were killed and then raised. It was also not a process that could be done in large numbers, meaning that it was something reserved for special souls. Like a High Priest of the Goddess who was one’s patron, for instance.

“Yes, Huntmaster Duskblade,” I said, calling him by his traditional title. In conversation, every priest of Murena was called ‘Hunter’ or ‘Huntress’, while the priest in charge of a temple was called ‘Huntmaster’ or ‘Huntmistress’. Even if one was a High Priest for an entire country, they were still called Huntmaster in conversation, with titles like High Priest being saved for formal introductions and the like.

“Very good. I know that you never worshipped Murena in your heart, but it still pleases this old man to see you know the proper rites. And, thankfully, the former guardian, back in Risen Athelia, was also a semiaquatic creature, so the guardian’s den will not need much changing. By the way, what happened to the former guardian, when the temple was torn down?”

“I had it brought to another temple of Murena, in the city of Vacete, in the land of Scaula, where my forces first fought those of the Demon King. When I explained that I intended to return to my world, and that I was taking the temple in Arela apart stone by stone to spare it from the force of the Ritual of Returning. They accepted the guardian, so I have some hope that the beast lives yet.”

“Ah, yes, Vacete. They were one of the few cities you warned about what was to come, right?”

“They showed trust, in that first moment, when my forces came to start the long war. And, despite what their kingdom did, the people of that city did not forget to keep growing their own strength. They trusted me, but they refused to rely solely on me, and never tried to make demands of me, which I respected. And so, I gave them what warning I could.”

The High Priest nodded. “Your vengeance against our world was justified. You did not force the nations to choose as they did. They had twenty years to strengthen their kingdoms, rather than letting them grow weak and idle. Two decades to find a better way than using slave collars to bind people’s souls. They will either rise, stronger than before, without relying on heroes from another world to do their fighting for them, or they will fall, and, eventually, new civilizations will rise in their place. As it should be.”

He paused, and then said, “But now, let us begin the ceremony. Please, place our guardian-to-be within the circle, your Majesty.”

I nodded, and placed the massive crocodile down, as gently as I could, and backed out of the circle before its magic flared. The crocodile began to shake off the bestial fear that had paralyzed it once it realized that it could not escape me, but the circle the High Priest had prepared was ready, and kept it from escaping, or lashing out at any of the others present. Stepping to the focal point of the array surrounding the circle, the High Priest began chanting in the Godstongue, the language that was said to have been created by the gods themselves, and was only used in rituals these days.

That was not out of mere superstition, however. The language itself was laced with magic. Every sentence spoken was like a spell in miniature, helping to change the world to fit what was said. Carelessly using the Godstongue could cause untold devastation, if the mana cost didn’t kill you because you uttered a phrase that required more mana than you could channel, and it burned you up from the inside out.

Actually, it was from understanding the nature of the Godstongue that the ancient wisdom spread across Onerth that one should always use a different language for magic than they did for speaking. If you trained your mind so that it knew that, when you spoke in Athelian, there was no intent to do magic, then that language was ‘safe’ to converse idly in. Using High Athelian for magic required you to not only have intent, but also focus more upon your words, so that you could properly translate between your normal language and the one you cast spells in. This wisdom applied doubly to the Godstongue, where the language was not so much spoken as invoked.

All around, the stone began to glow silver-black, as power flowed from the array, into the temple itself. Every statue, bas-relief, and carving upon the walls, doors, and columns of the temple shone with the same silver-black light, as the power of a goddess began to flow into it. This was why temples were so important to the gods of Onerth. They both anchored and enhanced their powers in ways that most mortals did not understand, even if they were part of the priesthood.

Murena’s will was flowing into this place, and becoming one with it. So long as it remained, she would remain, and vice-versus. A temple could not be destroyed unless it was first deconsecrated, and a god could not die unless all their temples were destroyed. Even if a temple was lost, and forgotten by all, even those immortals who may have lived when it was known, the god enshrined there could not fully die. They might diminish, and be forgotten, but all it would take was the temple being found, and they could rise again.

This also explained why the different religions were not big on the whole ‘wipe out the nonbelievers’ thing. That tended to promote bad feelings, and often left one’s followers open to committing barbaric acts against the ‘unworthy’, which left fertile ground for a god to return, should a lost temple be found. And gods were known for holding grudges if you wronged them directly.

Thankfully, the only god who I knew had me on their shit list was Ludon, the God of Slavers. With everything I did to ensure that the Slave Collars were wiped out on Onerth, I knew he would be pissed with me. Oh, and Yesis, God of Demons, was probably furious with the way I’d left the Demon lands destitute and devastated, especially since several of his temples were deconsecrated and destroyed during my razing of Haerth and the ’freed’ lands. OK, there were probably more, given how I’d ensured that Onerth was going to have the mother of all bad days once I left, but they were nice and safely in another world, which meant I probably didn’t have to worry about them anytime soon.

My train of thought cut off as the High Priest’s chanting rose to a crescendo, and then cut off at the climax. Every stone of the temple was traced in silver and black. The symbol of Murena glowed upon the crocodile’s scales, to go with the fact that the beast had grown to almost eight meters in length. And, as I looked up, the soft white glow of the arrow upon the statue shone in the night, promising Mercy to those who saw it, one way or another.

“Well done, my faithful servant, and my young arrow.”

I turned to the sound of the familiar voice, and saw Murena standing there, beside me, clad in hunter’s clothes, just as the statue above showed her, with bow in hand. I bowed my head respectfully, and said, “It is good to see you once again, Lady Murena. I take it you are pleased with the work?”