“Alterhuman viscera and ritual blood.” Fler’Gan interjected, too engrossed to realize how tense the tone of the conversation had gotten. His mouth tendrils wriggled in study as he stared at the bloody mess on Medula’s arms. “You are in the final stages of heart construction.
The design and farme of the heart has already been conceptualized – you need only to fill it in with realm compatible flesh.
As I see now, it is Alterhuman flesh. The presence of ritual blood, a perfect alchemical mixture of your essence and mortal lifeblood, only proves this further. All that is left for you now is to begin the ritual to transfer your consciousness.
And a full heart? Not a simple shard? It seems you are looking for a permanent host.”
“Ah, now here is an academic I can talk to,” said Medula, her body language easing up. “And one versed in the ritualistic arts, too. Shame you did not show yourself here earlier, Mind Eater. And a wonder you are still around. I thought the goddess purged ritualists quite thoroughly.”
“Believe me, demoness, I am here in spite of the goddess’s efforts, not from a lack of them,” said Fler’Gan.
“I can imagine.” Medula gave Fler’Gan an appraising, vaguely appreciative look, about as appreciative as her deadpan stare could muster. “Hounded on both sides by enforcers of the Elder Mind seeking to purge strays and paladins of the One Light. Quite troublesome.”
“And yet here I am now. In pursuit of knowledge that never ends.”
“Here you are,” repeated Medula. “And here I am, requesting a body such that I may finally leave this prison and continue my own search. How are we on that quest, Usurper?”
“Five days off. I trust that living a thousand years has given you the patience to wait that long, right?” said Aldrich.
“Of course, of course.” Medula flicked her wrists, and dimensional shimmers rippled about her arms, fading away the viscera and blood until they were spotless clean. “Now then, what do you wish from me? That is why you are here, no? To wish something of me? As if I am some genie?”
“More useful than the genie I have already,” said Aldrich. “I need you to appraise that.”
Fler’Gan held up the case.
“Fler’Gan will appraise it on his own, but I’d like a second opinion too,” said Aldrich.
“And appraisals are not my specialty, even if, as a generalist, I do know a little of the field. I am sure a demon of knowledge such as you are capable of far more,” said Fler’Gan.
“Flattery has long since ceased to work on me,” said Medula.
“I do wonder why,” said Valera, pointedly. “Perhaps, maybe, your attitude draws little of them.”
Medula leered at Valera, the two women engaging in a locked horns staredown.
“Where’s the Death Lord?” said Aldrich, defusing the situation. “I can usually sense her presence, even if she’s not right here. But today, it’s faint, if not nonexistant.”
“In meditation,” said Medula. “As you know, Rella sustains a large portion of the Necropolis’s magical energy needs. Every so often, Mel will take Rella’s spot as conduit to alleviate her boredom and clear her mind. She says sitting in that swell of energy is like feeling the crash of a waterfall above the head.
Calming in a chaotic way.
In the meanwhile, I as Curator oversee the operations of the Necropolis.”
“So…Rella is out and about?” said Aldrich. He did not forget the last time he met the demigoddess and her promise of a good time that sounded all to much like a threat.
“Training, yes, so you do not need to place your worries upon her.”
“Training?” Valera asked. “For what? You face no enemies here.”
“The last we met, I recall your dear master issuing a potential threat against us,” said Medula. “And Rella is our greatest war power behind the Death Lord herself. I have seen some of this new ream of yours, Usurper, and I must say: if you believe it will stop Rella, you are sorely mistaken.”
“Or you’re severely underestimating it. I would have thought you the last person to make a judgement call before knowing how all the chips fell,” said Aldrich.
Rella was strong, no doubt about it. At level 90 with boss tier stat multipliers and resistances, she was an absolute juggernaut of a physical powerhouse. Her necro-lightning could also probably threaten to one shot the vast majority of Alters and variants in the Alter world.
Suffice to say Rella was easily at the level of the high-end S class. Considering the magic she had, magic that nobody in the Alter world was used to, and she would be one of the most dangerous threats the world had ever seen.
However, the world was big and far more mysterious than Aldrich thought it once was. There were Alters or items with special, unique powers that could probably handle Rella in a roundabout way that did not involve matching her in brute force.
“I am simply bluffing, Usurper. Like you were. Do not think so hard about what I said,” said Medula. “The Death Lord has taken too much of a liking to you. She will not let Rella rampage about. Nor would I. She would destroy and leave nothing for me to study.”
“A liking, hm?” whispered Valera under her breath.
“Yes, a deep, carnal, burning liking,” said Medula, voice still deadpan, eyes dead serious. “She yearns for nothing more than to rip your master from your grasp and make him hers for all eternity.”
Valera cracked a tooth with how hard she clenched her fangs.
Medula, for once, laughed. “Ah, Mel was right. It is easy to tease you.” She whirled around, her coat tails flapping behind her. “Come. I will teleport you all to my study. I can begin your appraisal there and finalize the details of my new incarnation.”
“So it was a jest? About the Death Lord and my master?” said Valera as she and everyone else stepped behind Medula.
“Who knows?” Medula smiled ever so faintly before she snapped her fingers, and white light engulfed the group, teleporting them away.
