Ambrose crushed several artificial souls in his hand. Pure spiritual energy seeped into the hourglass, replenishing the strength of the dormant spirit of Arthur Lyon.
The essence of a heroic spirit was, after all, a soul. Arthur Lyon's inability to regain power stemmed largely from the scarcity of spiritual energy.
And unlike other entities, heroic spirits had no means of restoring themselves by devouring souls. Only someone like Ambrose, who could manipulate such energy, could replenish Arthur Lyon's strength.
Watching him transmute materials into blank souls, James Watson couldn't help but remark, "So that's how those phylacteries were made? I always suspected... You couldn't have slaughtered tens of thousands without anyone noticing."
Ambrose snapped back, "Slaughter tens of thousands? Are you insane? If I'd done that, Alkhemia would've wiped me out long ago. Without a population, who would those alchemists exploit?"
That, in fact, was one of the reasons James Watson had been willing to sign Ambrose's pardon.
If this lich could manufacture blank souls, then perhaps he didn't need to massacre the living to create phylacteries. His sins, comparatively, might be less severe.
Arthur Lyon's spirit emerged once more, stretching as it did so. "I feel... better. Much better than after sleeping for days."
"That would be my doing," Ambrose said without hesitation.
He didn't mind currying favor with the former Holy King. He quite liked Arthur Lyon's personality, and there was no need for them to become enemies in the future.
The moment James Watson saw Arthur Lyon, he froze for over ten seconds, then suddenly dropped to his knees.
"Your Majesty..."
He managed only those two words before his voice broke.
His head bowed deeply as tears fell freely down his face.
James Watson had grown up on tales of this king, the greatest hero, the greatest ruler Lyon had ever known. His entire life and his rise to High Inquisitor had been shaped by the ideals of Arthur Lyon. Every word, every deed—he had held himself to the highest standard in imitation of this man.
The spirit standing before him bore an exact resemblance to his statue in the Lyon Empire. Overcome by emotion, James Watson wept.
The moment Watson knelt, Ambrose subtly shifted position and took out a memory crystal, recording the scene so it looked as though Watson were kneeling before him.
The High Inquisitor of Lyon, kneeling—what a priceless image! On a battlefield, if he were to play this before both armies, the Lyon soldiers might believe that their highest-ranking theocrat had already defected. An incipient war might end without any bloodshed.
Before Watson could raise his head, Ambrose put the crystal away and returned to his original position.
Watson, wholly focused on Arthur Lyon, noticed nothing.
"Your Majesty... to think I could see you with my own eyes in this lifetime... I am truly blessed."
Though calmer, his voice still trembled with emotion.
Arthur Lyon, however, looked distinctly uncomfortable. The old man before him seemed far older than he himself had ever been. Being worshiped like this only made him uneasy.
"Sir, you're mistaken. I'm not your king. I'm only a spirit bearing part of his memories. The man you revere... isn't me."
It took some time before Watson calmed down, though he stubbornly refused to abandon the title of "Your Majesty."
This time, Ambrose didn't leave them alone. Instead, he shifted slightly aside and openly eavesdropped.
Watson knew he couldn't do anything about the lich, so he simply pretended he wasn't there.
"Your Majesty, I've come to bring you home. The Empire needs your guidance."
His foremost mission was clear: to return this spirit to Lyon. He could not allow it to remain in the hands of a lich.
But Arthur Lyon replied, "I've heard that Lyon is the empire I founded, but I feel no real connection to it. Since you're from Lyon, let me ask you something. Why is there such severe racial discrimination in your empire?"
At that, even Ambrose nearly applauded. This was exactly what he'd been waiting for.
He'd like to see how the people of Lyon would explain this to their holy king.
Watson was completely unprepared. He didn't even understand why Arthur Lyon would ask such a question.
"Your Majesty, darkness and light are irreconcilable. The undead are a perversion of death. Liches must slaughter humans to create phylacteries. Zombies crave living flesh. Even the lowest skeleton harbors hatred for the living. Lyon protects humanity, so naturally, we must oppose the undead."
As he spoke, Watson shot Ambrose a glare, suspecting the lich had been sowing discord.
To him, that explanation had been perfectly clear. But Arthur Lyon only frowned. "Do you know that three undead fought beside me against the Dragon Tyrant? Two of them even gave their lives to shield me from the dragon's pursuit. Their souls were dispersed forevermore."
"...What? That... that isn't recorded in the histories."
Watson's eyes widened. He had never heard of this before.
Arthur Lyon frowned more deeply. "Then what exactly do your histories record?"
"They say that Your Majesty was unmatched in valor, that you slew the Dragon Tyrant and freed humanity. As for others... I only know that the Elf King of the Court of the Silver Moon was your ally. The rest are unnamed, and only described as dozens of fallen heroes..."
Watson's voice grew quieter as he spoke.
He had never studied history closely before.
Still, it was clear that something was wrong.
Why had the names of Arthur Lyon's comrades been erased? Even the elven king had only been mentioned because he had survived.
Arthur Lyon's face filled with sorrow. "If this is supposedly the empire I founded... then I have betrayed my allies."
Under draconic rule, all intelligent races had been enslaved. Every step Arthur Lyon had taken had been paved with their lives. Their sacrifices had allowed him to confront the Dragon Tyrant.
And yet Lyon itself had become an empire fostering racial supremacy...
That was the cruelest betrayal imaginable.
"Even ignoring the undead, what of the orcs and dwarves? I've heard Lyon has invaded their kingdoms as well."
Arthur Lyon's voice rose as agitation crept in.
Watson hesitated before answering, "The orcs and dwarves... we've always been enemies. We've fought each other for generations. At this point, no one can even say who invaded whom first."
More than a thousand years had passed. Watson himself was only in his sixties. Long before his birth, Lyon had already been at war on all sides. The origins of those conflicts had long been forgotten.
Arthur Lyon shook his head. "What happened? How did Lyon turn into the second Dragon Tyrant?"
"Your Majesty, it's not that extreme," Watson protested quickly. "At least we treat humans well. Otherwise, Lyon could not have achieved such strength."
"The Dragon Tyrant treated dragons well, too," Arthur Lyon shot back, his voice sharp. "But only by enslaving every other race. Tell me, does Lyon still have slaves?"
Watson lowered his head. "Not many... but yes."
"Are they human?"
Silence was Watson's answer. He did not dare meet Arthur Lyon's gaze. Slavery had been abolished in Lyon for humans. Other races, however, were still forced into the most dangerous and grueling labor. Dwarven and orcish prisoners were particularly useful.
Arthur Lyon's face crumpled. "What have I done...? How did my empire become like this?!"
At that moment, Ambrose spoke up. "According to my research, the problem began after Arthur Lyon's death. During his reign, Lyon maintained good relations with other races. It even helped them establish their own kingdoms. In times of disaster, everyone stood together.
"There was no such thing as racial discrimination back then. Other races even lived within Lyon's borders."
Arthur Lyon seized on the words like a drowning man grasping a lifeline. "Is that true? You're not lying to me?"
Ambrose found that reaction curious. Both Heki Stone and the old Elf King had spoken with Arthur Lyon. Hadn't they mentioned this?
Then again, it made sense. One couldn't exactly say, "At your funeral, your descendants nearly came to blows with other races and almost scattered your ashes."
That would have been cruel.
Heki Stone had likely focused on the era of the Dragon Tyrant, only briefly touching on events after Lyon's founding. As for the old elven king, he had probably spent most of the time reminiscing, not having time to broach details of the future before Arthur Lyon had fallen dormant once more.
So Arthur Lyon only knew the broad strokes of the empire—its racial discrimination and rampant warfare—but not its specifics.
Ambrose retrieved a stack of parchments and ancient texts from his private space, materials he'd obtained from Heki Stone. He hadn't had time to study them himself.
Now, they would serve as evidence.
Arthur Lyon flipped through them, quickly realizing he couldn't make sense of the texts, and had Ambrose explain instead.
Quoting Heki Stone's findings, Ambrose laid out the evidence until Arthur Lyon was fully convinced.
Even Watson found himself persuaded. It seemed Lyon had indeed begun to go wrong only after Arthur Lyon's death.
And the turning point... was his funeral.
"There's a tale among the elves," Ambrose added. "After the king's death, demons gathered around his corpse, seeking to tear off pieces and devour them. His queen sacrificed herself to drive them away. It's said to refer to that mysterious funeral."
"That story sounds absurd," Watson refuted. "What demons would dare appear in Lyon at such a time?"
"I don't know," Ambrose replied. "But we can ask someone who does."
"Who?" Watson asked, struggling to follow.
Ambrose smiled faintly. "Isn't it obvious? Why does that story only exist among the elves? Because it was created by one of them. And who is most likely to have created it? Hildas Terra, the old elven king who has lived since the age of the Dragon Tyrant. Everything points to him. We just need to ask him directly."
Arthur Lyon looked stunned. "Hildas? Then why hasn't he told me any of this?"
Ambrose didn't answer. Instead, he walked to the door and pulled it open. The old elven king was already standing outside.
Ambrose looked at him calmly. "You've been listening long enough. Time to tell us the truth, don't you think?" He added with a faint smirk, "And next time, don't try eavesdropping on a lich. We don't rely on sight. Your life force gives you away, whether you like it or not."