Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 239 - 226 My Friend

The lump of flesh on the table moved at will, much like the lessons once experienced. With a sharp blade, an incision was made, revealing the truth buried beneath the flesh and blood. The life that surged through the blood vividly and the will that struggled at the broken bone’s edge.

None of these emerged from the mass of flesh before Lyle, which resembled a red bun that was the same inside out, lacking the intricate construction of a human body—it was merely a facade, a layer of skin driven by Magic Power.

It would not tell us the truth; it needed us to shape its truth. Lyle set down the gleaming silver knife, his black gloves dirtied by blood. Even with the cover of herbs, one could still smell a faint hint of rust.

Looking at his own palms, made clumsy by the gloves, Lyle adopted the caution he had used in past experiments.

"Nia."

The tiny tendrils spreading out were like a swarm of snakes slithering on his body, weaving a flowing net on Lyle’s arm. The tendrils climbed onto his own palm, forming another glove, a sinister one. As his own Magic Power surged and extended filaments between his fingers, on the flesh glove, tiny blood threads started to wiggle like parasitic mistletoes growing and dancing around the Magic Power filaments.

Lyle extended his palm and gently touched the inside of the flesh. Much like caressing delicate skin, his moving arm resembled an elegantly dancing dancer. As he moved, the flesh underwent a transformation: the soft parts formed blood vessels, the hard areas extended muscle patterns, and the sensitive spots separated out, pulsing with faint electrical signals to become nerves. The originally solid inner flesh started to swell, forming hidden chambers in unseen areas, and developing organs like fruit growing on plants, hidden within protective pods.

The immense exhaustion from Magic Power consumption did not disturb Lyle. At that moment, watching the sham in his hands continuously changing shapes, he entered a peculiar state of mind, one filled with pride and satisfaction, a heady intoxication. He relished this feeling, as though he was the creator, raising hills and squeezing valleys, directing the springs of life into rivers along the paths he designated. He was like a great artist, a weaver of life, crafting existence.

The thread snapped.

Nia’s tendrils balled Lyle’s hand into a bun, and with the dense net of tendrils sealing it off, not a hint of Magic Power leaked. This was an arrangement the two had agreed upon beforehand. Seeming almost like a mystical phenomenon, every time Lyle would try to shape the internal form of the Flesh Clone, he fell into a state of self-forgetfulness, unaware even as his last bit of Magic Power drained away. To avoid another Magic Power shock, Nia became Lyle’s monitor and fuse.

Lyle looked inside the flesh, where the sculpture of the brain and digestive system was less than half complete—he still had too little Magic Power. The individual organs, not yet formed into a system, would only end up exhausted. With regret, Lyle had the flesh absorb those organ tissues.

"Having dinner with Alianna is really a difficult matter." The scars on the lump of flesh began to heal themselves, as if the splendid display of life from the past two hours was merely a dream.

Lyle tapped his temple; his mind was a bit fuzzy. It seemed he could no longer continue his research for the time being.

"Failed again, Boss."

Three companions set down their parchment filled with dense characters—notes on their observation of Lyle’s manipulations. They were learning the mysteries of flesh for a future grand creation.

"It’s still a lack of Magic Power. I estimate that with about four locks, I should be able to sculpt a perfect human body."

Handling the notes carefully, "The main issue is still the troublesome conditions required to construct the flesh, with the limitation that one must use one’s Magic Power, preventing many substitutes for Magic Power from being used. It’s baffling why there’s such a restriction."

"That, I can understand. The exclusivity born from flesh crafting resembles the incompatibility of organs from different bodies."

"But, aren’t the organs we Necromancers create interchangeable?"

Perhaps I’m imitating the living, Lyle thought to himself for no apparent reason. From death to life, teacher, I might have really embarked on an unusual path.

"Don’t think too much, we still have a class tonight. The boss can’t make it tonight, so we’ve got to be extra spirited. Tonight’s new lesson might be another challenge, and we won’t have a supernova to take the hits for us." 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

Lyle planned to set off early tomorrow morning for the Holy City of Lokarot, so he would not be participating in tonight’s class. Instead, he saved his energy for the journey ahead.

Waving goodbye to his companions, Lyle did not hear their conversations carried by the evening wind.

"Whose class is it tonight?"

"Professor Arnold’s, ’The Miracles of Flesh and Independence’."

Lyle returned to the Cup of Luxury, where the gentleman had been leaning on the balcony these past few nights, playing a melancholic nocturne from home under the glowing crimson moonlight. Lyle stopped to appreciate his music, finding the cool and melodious flute sound more to his liking. Perhaps due to the excessive torment his ears had recently endured, Lyle found the gentleman’s performance much more pleasant to hear, with images of helpless sighs and plaintive pleas emerging in his mind, deepening significantly.

After the song ended, Lyle naturally expressed his appreciation with applause. It was as if he had triggered the gentleman’s memories, prompting him to give Lyle a flautist’s courtesy, a quirky yet playful gesture.

"That was fantastic, sir. You should host your own music performance like Anna does."

The gentleman simply smiled politely a few times, "I only know how to play a few simple tunes. I don’t have the ability or the aspiration to become a performer. Someone like me is better off humming quietly in a secluded corner."

"Let’s drop that subject. I hear you’re setting out on another journey, Plague Doctor."

"Yes, sir. I am heading to Lokarot to participate in a celebration of the Holy Light."

The gentleman paused for a moment, a pause so brief that Lyle didn’t notice.

"Lokarot, Plague Doctor, your identity... it’s too dangerous to go to that kind of place. As your friend, I have to warn you. Lokarot is now the City of Holy Light, and for us, it’s an absolutely dangerous place."

Underneath his mask, Lyle’s smile became visible.

"Thank you for your concern, sir, but I’ve made thorough preparations, so I won’t have any trouble."

Stepping onto the central teleportation circle in the Cup of Luxury, Lyle took one last look at the gentleman.

"A small piece of advice from your friend, sir. The tunes from your homeland and you do not match. A distinguished person from the literary society wouldn’t wallow in self-pity. My friend, try playing some cheerful tunes."

"Even if it sounds bad at first, it’s a new beginning."