From Hogwarts to Strixhaven.

Chapter 648 The Prisoner of the Oath (10000 completed)

Irina bit her red lips with her pearly teeth, swaying gracefully to avoid Ivy's hand, and subtly restored the neckline of her gauze dress to its original position: "Didn't you notice anything? What a pity. I didn't lie at all about that wound~"

"Perhaps a more detailed examination is needed. Maybe I should make some auxiliary instruments first." Ivy raised his hand and pondered for a moment. According to general thinking, if a wound is not in the flesh, it is very likely in the soul. Not to mention that he had just witnessed Nugennis, the human soul that had been transformed into a demon.

If someone can modify a human soul, leaving a wound in Illinika's soul wouldn't be difficult. However, Ivy isn't yet certain what connection that wound has to the power of mythology.

That extraordinary, versatile power now appears to be not exclusive to gods and heroes; even demons can benefit from its enhancement. If someone were to artificially implant mythical power into certain beings through methods like soul surgery, Ivy would spare no expense in praising them and bringing them to his side, not only to acquire the knowledge but also to gain the talent to thoroughly study and master it from scratch.

"Then you can take your time preparing, I'm going to work on my creative projects." Illini gave Ivy a sidelong glance, then swayed her hips and left with a seductive air.

"This woman is so damn sweet." Ivy clenched her fist, banishing the image of the superstar Chelias from her mind, and continued to immerse herself in thinking about magical knowledge.

Previously, when Ivy was studying souls, she would directly extract them from the bodies of the experimental subjects and fix them in place with magic for careful study. She had never encountered a subject like this before, where she had to ensure the survival of the subject while studying its soul.

It is only right to develop a new set of experimental equipment for this unique subject, but this is something that cannot be rushed, at least not something that should be done while the Crusaders are on the march.

So, Ivy had no choice but to study the phylactery of a certain lich.

Zecharius's wand constantly exuded an aura of death; its chilling energy caused the moisture in the surrounding air to condense into larger droplets, forming wisps of white mist that slowly fell down.

The outward manifestation of this power is a ghastly green light, which is extremely similar to the Killing Curse that can directly expel the soul from the body.

Just by holding it, Ivy felt that she could use the power within the wand to strip away the soul of some unfortunate soul at any moment.

A golden light, as bright as the rising sun, shot from Ivy's eyes, suppressing the deathly aura within the Life Box with a single glance. For the undead and necromancy, the power of the sun is their natural nemesis. Even though the [Sun Lord's] [Eye of Radiance] transcends multiple levels, it still works on this Life Box.

The dark spirit lurking within the wand withdrew, no longer attempting to extend its tentacles to probe Ivy's mind.

Unfortunately, Ivy wasn't going to let it go so easily. The golden light shooting from her eyes seamlessly switched to a deep, dark purple, and her tangible gaze curved out, catching the dark tentacles that were trying to retract into her wand.

A spark ignited from the darkness.

It was a firefly, held gently in the hand of a young mage. The cold light emanating from its rear end did nothing to dispel the darkness, but it was enough to illuminate the stone wall behind the young man.

There were others here—young, scarred Crusader mages, wielding battle wands, with fresh signs of battle everywhere.

Ivy heard a muffled thud from above, followed by the demon's furious scream.

The mages struggled to their feet, gripped their wands, and prepared for another battle.

Ivy noticed that her perspective had shifted to a higher level. The owner of this memory stood up from the ground, stepped out of the darkness, and appeared in the faint light of the fireflies.

Ivy heard the owner of this memory speak in a deep, cold voice to the other battle mages: "The New Sanctuary has fallen. You have fulfilled your duty. Now, leave. This battle belongs to me, not to you. Telton..."

The young man holding a firefly became the focus of the monks' attention.

The owner of the memory looked at him and said, “I will die today, leaving my friends behind. Take my wand and deliver it to Cannaburi. When the situation is most dire, let a worthy Crusader return it to me, and I will know that my fellow believers need me and rise up to help them. Even death cannot stop me.”

The memories rummaged through the dark tentacles were interrupted; the life box in Ivy's hand seemed to have completely lost its power, and even the wisps of cold air that drifted down gradually disappeared.

However, Ivy knew very well that she had not destroyed the Life Box; it was merely accumulating power and temporarily feigning weakness.

“New Sanctuary, Lost Church.” Ivy chewed on the two names of the same place, a satisfied glint in her eyes. “Another reason to go there.”

The Crusaders helped each other as they trudged through the snow-covered ground, climbed the steep slope before them, and gazed at the dilapidated outlines of the buildings amidst the wind and snow.

The weather in the area affected by the World's Tragedy is always unpredictable and erratic.

The Crusaders gained a new understanding of this conclusion.

The Fifth Holy War began in the Human Month of 4715 in the Ebasalom calendar, which, in more easily understood terms, is August.

As a planet, Grallion has a similar direction of rotation and obliquity to Earth, so the continent of Avestan, located in the Northern Hemisphere, also experiences seasonal changes similar to those on Earth.

Although Montivere and World's Lament are both located at the northernmost edge of the world, it shouldn't be snowing heavily in the middle of summer.

However, the unusual weather actually happened.

However, the unusual weather did not hinder the Crusaders' advance. Victory after victory had transformed their fervor into motivation and their enthusiasm into perseverance, as they forged ahead under the banner of their commander.

The church, built during the Second Holy War, is located on a hilltop, an excellent vantage point. The expansive view not only provides a clear view of Juanze City across the valley but also allows for surveillance of enemies from multiple directions. As Juanze City's stronghold, the troops stationed here bear extremely important responsibilities.

Unfortunately, when the city of Jueze fell, the newly established sanctuary, which was only stationed with a small number of spellcaster troops, also fell quickly, leaving behind only a legend of sacrifice belonging to the martyr Zecharias.

Apart from a few gargoyle and ghoul corpses, there was no living creature in the ruined temple. It seemed that the poor half-demon Nugenis was right. After tricking him into leading his troops, Litumoninagu took away all the remaining forces and executed all those who refused to leave.

“The demons are creating ghouls here…” Paladin Erabeth, who was in charge of cleaning up the fallen church, turned green (though it was hard to see any other color on her face), “using the corpses of the Crusaders as raw materials.”

“I’m afraid I must correct you, paladin,” Regil said curtly. “It’s not ‘using the corpses of the Crusaders as raw materials,’ but using living Crusaders as raw materials. In addition to the ghoul plague, the priests of Kabul also possess the ability to create followers by having mortals eat each other. The skeletons you see are not the mass graves of the Crusaders, but the kitchen waste of the ghouls.”

"Ugh... Do you have to talk like that?!" Irabes struggled to stop herself from vomiting, glaring at the Hell Knight who was only half her height.

“If it weren’t for the fragile mental fortitude of these recruits, I would have used this cold reality to ignite their fury against the demons.” The dwarf, who had lost half his color, scoffed at the paladins’ anger. He turned to Ivy and asked in as respectful a tone as possible, “Lord Doom, when do you think the oath-taking ceremony should take place? Kirani of the Green Raven Knights has already wasted too much breath on the traitor. I’m afraid that if we’re not careful, our former historical advisor, who has caused us considerable losses, will disappear.” The statue of Iomede stood beneath the dilapidated roof of the church, its head and shoulders covered in snow, as if the goddess were dressed in a new garment.

The sword god's holy power had not completely left the temple; on the altar in front of the statue, Iomede's holy emblem was radiating golden light in Ivy's eyes.

“We’ll talk about it after we’ve dealt with everything here,” Ivy said to the golden-armored Erabes, pointing to the statue and the altar in front of it. “After the prayer, move the statues of the goddess; they should be moved to a safer location.”

"Could it be that the goddess is still watching over this place..." Erabes opened his mouth in astonishment, then pounded his chest armor and shouted, "Your will, Your Excellency!"

Ivy nodded and ordered another officer beside her, "Bring the Knight Commander here, Regil. She should be with her comrades who share divine power near the Desna Altar at the foot of the mountain. I'll wait for her in the church's basement."

After confirming that there were no enemies in the fallen church, Ilinica went to pay her respects at the altar of Desna at the foot of the mountain, saying that she did so to draw inspiration from the Star Song.

Ivy thought to herself that perhaps this goddess of stars and dreams would actually think highly of Ilinica, based on the mythical power emanating from her and the Elysium Song that had once been sung in the Gray Army Camp.

The underground passage beneath the church was covered with tattered cobwebs, but compared to the ground structure where the vaults had all disappeared, it looked as if it had just been built.

Instead of heading down the side path, Ivy followed the necromantic power emanating from the darkness and ventured into the deepest part of the basement.

As Ivy opened the dilapidated wooden door, a cloud of foul air, carrying the stench of decaying parchment, assaulted her senses.

This is an underground library, and judging from the sheer number of its collections, it is undoubtedly a very significant archive.

However, Ivy's focus was not on the scrolls shimmering with magical light on the bookshelves, but on the figure deep within the library.

The candle, which had been extinguished for a hundred years, emitted a faint glow once more, but the flickering flame offered no warmth.

For at the deepest part of this underground library stood a human spirit. His attire was in the style common among the Montiver Crusaders a hundred years ago. Though long since decayed, the expensive ornaments indicated his high rank and power, while the simple yet practical cut of his outer garment pointed to his military background.

The undead was trying his best to maintain a dignified and arrogant demeanor in front of Ivy, even though the two had long anticipated this meeting.

The spirit seemed to regard speaking first as a sign of weakness, its exposed teeth clenched tightly, demonstrating its master's reserve.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Ivy smiled slightly. "If I'm not mistaken, you must be Master Zecarius."

“Nice to meet you, Crusader.” The undead seemed to relax a little. “Standing before you is the Lich Zecharias, the last guardian of the newly established Sanctuary, and the ruler of this place. I sensed your presence the moment you stepped into my stronghold. Where is my wand? I know it is in your hands. Give it to me, and I will give you a gift according to my oath.”

The lich unleashed his dark energy, seemingly trying to resonate with the phylactery somewhere unknown. However, his attempts were futile. As an artifact created by Ivy through the sacrifice of several gods, the Grimoire of Destruction was powerful enough to block the detection of any human or god, and could even steer the gods' prophecies into chaotic fragments.

"Don't be in such a hurry, Master Zechariah. You have become a lich, which means eternal life, and patience is always the greatest advantage of the long-lived." Ivy never intended to return a lich's life casket; only by mastering the lich's only weakness could one possibly control this undead creature.

For any war, the undead, who do not die, do not feel pain, and require no logistical support, are the best source of manpower.

If the cycle of souls weren't a fundamental law in the world of Grellion, and if there weren't deities responsible for controlling it, Ivy would have already begun secretly raising an army of the undead.

Now, a lich is standing right in front of Ivy, and he has the lich's life box in his hand. As long as he uses this lich as a cover, even if the god who controls the cycle of souls comes knocking, Ivy is confident that he can escape.

He only needs to give the lich vague instructions and not specify how he should complete the task—in this way, the high command of the Crusade will regretfully watch as the power of blasphemy rises from their land and penetrates the heart of the demons.

There are many ways to achieve a goal, and sometimes it doesn't have to be done in a righteous way; shadows can also exist.

However, the lich standing in front of Ivy did not seem to have any tacit understanding with her.

He shouted in an impatient voice, “Give me your wand, humbly beg for my help, and I will not refuse. As long as you can prove yourself a worthy Crusader warrior, I will prepare a ritual to transform you into a lich. You will become immortal, and all people, demons or humans, will bow down before you! And you won’t even have to spend your short life preparing for this great event. By the time I finish preparing the ritual, you won’t have aged a year, and I will be freed from the shackles of my magical oath and leave this damned place. Then we will never see each other again!”

Ivy listened calmly to the lich Zecharias's declaration, then clapped her hands dramatically: "A very tempting proposal, but I refuse."

“Then return my life box to that little girl in the white dress! Under the guidance of my soul, she punished those undead creatures, turning them into pitiful fireworks. She deserves it! Stop wasting my time!” Zechariah’s roar echoed in the basement, the trembling echo shaking off some dust from the cobwebs. “Don’t be so arrogant! Fate decides everything, not me, a prisoner bound by oaths.”

“Let me guess, the young Master Zecarius was afraid that becoming a lich would turn him into a villain, an evil person who did not agree with the ideals of the Crusades. That’s why he made a vow with his soul before the conversion ritual and had his apprentice send out the newly completed life box?” Ivy smiled and shook her head. “Master Zecarius from a hundred years ago guessed correctly. He has indeed completely changed.”

The young man who flickered in the memories of the Life Box, and the old man who guarded the historical relics of the Crusaders in the Tower of Istochoid, were the same person, Terton, Zechariah's apprentice.

For a full century, the Lich's phylactery, along with other relics of the Crusader, remained shelved until Descary launched an attack on Kanaburi and the cultists smuggled the Crusader's artifacts out of the city. Only then did the gears of fate, which had been stagnant for a hundred years, finally begin to turn.

“What a self-righteous fool I was a hundred years ago… If he could have foreseen today’s situation, he probably wouldn’t have made that foolish vow.” Zechariah finally calmed down. After despising his past self, he asked, “What do I have to do for you to return my phylactery or hand it over to another Crusader?”

"I want you to help me complete the Fifth Holy War and to dedicate everything to it—knowledge, power, magic, and will, and everything above and below them."

A large amount of golden light transformed into mist and appeared around Ivy, gradually filling the entire basement and dispelling the necromantic power emanating from the lich.

"Let me introduce myself. I am Ivy Doom, the full military advisor for the Fifth Holy War, a legendary spellcaster, the director of admissions at the Stryhaven Academy of Magic, and also a mythical golden dragon skilled in clearing away the undead."

Golden light condensed behind Ivy into a glowing phantom—a majestic golden dragon. Its scales and horns exuded an aura of formidable power, and the flames that emanated with Ivy's breath made the lich before him feel an immense threat.

It was as if he was facing not just a golden dragon, but a rising sun.

The divine light from that blazing star could undoubtedly destroy the vast majority of the undead, not to mention that his Horcrux was hidden in some unknown corner by the enemy.

(End of this chapter)