Author's Note:

Yesterday a chapter added a little tail, I'm afraid some adults won't see it, so I'll repeat it here (less than five hundred words, it won't be billed, don't worry).

The Lich left a slender Adamantite Shortsword outside before the change and carried it into the swamp, unable to attack as a Slime Monster, but not if the other Slime Monster was willing to swallow the sword on its own - the magic attached to the Adamantite Shortsword fought back violently when the Shortsword was corroded, and the scorching flames vaporized the inside of the Melt Monster in a single breath.

- This is probably the toughest refusal ever, commented the Otherworldly Soul.

&&&

The large "jelly" shrank at a rate visible to the naked eye, and through the translucent, gelatin-like skin, the enchanted Adamantite short sword could be seen, which emitted a blue-white light peculiar to Adamantite - the shrunken melt monster shook its body frantically, constantly changing into various strange shapes, and finally spat out the thick, sharp, and hot bone, and finally it sadly "looked" at the "Sweet Person" who was now more than three times its size , with an inexplicable mutter, quickly left the line of sight of the lich and the otherworldly soul in a rolling manner.

The lich-incarnated chocolate mash monster stretched out a tentacle and rolled up the purete dagger with its scorching energy, thrusting it into a body that could neither be called solid nor entirely liquid, and the Otherworldly Soul strangely found himself able to see the sword - just as his eyes had shifted to his body, the dangerous weapon had not been in the Meltberry's stomach for long, but its light was not as bright as before.

- How did you come up with the idea to prepare, um, this?, the Otherworldly Soul asked curiously, and made a gesture that represented an explosion, it didn't know if the lich had read the meaning of the gesture from its own memory, but obviously. It was no more difficult for the undead who had once deciphered countless spell gestures than breathing.

- You're a sorcerer, the lich said casually, but I'd suggest you study the mage's spells and the priests' magic - lest you think your enemies are singing to you when they stand in front of you, chanting incantations and gesturing.

- I'm not a dragon, I'm really sorry, the soul of the other world complained, you have to give me time.

- We're running out of time, said the former undead, and then he hesitated for a moment, but considering that there was not much more to be courted by a second melter. He thought it was a good idea to talk to the idiot once in a while—I was casting a spell that turned our bodies into mud monsters, he explained, and in the swamps, mud monsters were the most feared enemies of all creatures.

- But how do you know we're going to run into a swamp? The Otherworldly Soul asked, "When you were preparing a spell?" You used a prophetic spell?

- I didn't choose this spell because I foresaw that we were going to face a filthy mire, the Lich said, this spell is good for invasion and escape, and the mud monsters are immune to a lot of damage, as you saw before. Also, it can pass through most gaps, even if they're as thin as a piece of parchment or can only fit a beetle's foot, and its weakness is that you can't attack or cast a spell when you use it, otherwise the spell will be dismantled instantly. And your clothes, gear, and other items. As long as you're with you when you cast the spell, they'll also be converted to the Clay state.

- So you left that dagger outside.

- I'll have to be on guard, said the lich, but I'm glad I'm in the swamp. Many creatures like to swallow it in one bite, whatever it is.

- Let me guess that you're not going to be able to do more than that.

-- It's a pleasure. Child, the former immortal hypocritically said, "You have become wiser."

The otherworldly soul grimaced at the depths of the sea of consciousness - is your spell enough?, it asked bluntly, I thought you would never act in a hurry.

- It doesn't take a few spells to chase away a swarm of bats, and I still have scrolls, potions, wands, and staffs, says the lich, but I think I need to remind you that hasty action is not the same thing as making a decision on the fly.

- Oh, the soul of the other world asked, what made you decide on the spot?

The lich kept his mouth shut, for he found himself stupid enough to be coaxed by his cohabitant, and he firmly believed that he had been infected by the stupidity of the fellow.

- Don't forget that we're all in this together, and after a while, the lich says, I'm doing something that is good for both of us.

- I hope you have some moderation, the soul of the other world said helplessly, I don't want to be pulled up suddenly, it doesn't taste very pleasant, just because you have done bad things and want to be locked up in a small black house by that great being who can't even say his name.

- I won't, said the lich.

Then none of them spoke, and the lich manipulated the chocolate mud in the opposite direction of the swamp's flow, some moss or insects that were swept down by the mud and could emit a faint light would occasionally illuminate an area - the flowing swamp was about thousands of feet, and although its depth became somewhat ridiculous after being transferred to this place, the souls of the other world could still roughly estimate its original depth- As you can tell from the monsters that are about to run aground, they are all huge, with claws and fangs, and it is difficult to distinguish the specific species, for example, a monster that looks like a water anaconda, but is covered with crocodile-like scales, has countless tiny tentacles, has no tail, and has a head without eyes and ears at both ends.

And then there are the small creatures that are so dense that they are so strange and strange that when they are crowded together you think they are "one" monsters, and the souls of the other world see a mass of giant legged insects, smaller than the gift of the melt monsters, but they are so numerous that they can feed almost an entire dwarf in a mine, and as for the rest, the souls of the other world are not named at all, but it notices that the lich will capture some of them, trap them in the mud and take them away.

Just when the soul of the other world finally couldn't help it, and wanted to ask if the crab-like creature with red lips could eat it, whether it was good or not, and if it could be eaten, the flow rate of the swamp suddenly accelerated. Even it could feel it hidden in the depths of the sea of knowledge, and the various creatures in the mire were even more mixed, and a piece of fresh reeds flowed around them.

- We're here, said the lich.

- Hmm.

At the end of the swamp was a narrow tunnel, probably only for one person, not a tall and muscular adult male like Berdwin, and even Memmy and Glenn had to keep their heads down and lean on their sides. Passing through the tunnel is a room, very square, and the walls and ground are polished with smooth rock. Like a room on the ground, with a ragged curtain hanging from the top, with sets of furniture, but no bed, as if for reading and copying, flanked by empty bookshelves, and a mage's copying table was moved to the center of the room, on which lay a large obsidian bowl, from which mud continued to flow. The life it contained was magically reduced to an extremely small size, and it began to grow invisibly as it fell to the ground, but it was no bigger than a thumb finger, and the souls of the other world suspected that they would not regain their original size until they were out of the tunnel. This will prevent the tunnels from being blocked, and allow them to serve as bloodthirsty and ruthless killers in the swamp.

The mud that had accumulated in the room remained at a steady height, and the lich noticed that on the opposite side of the room was a black oak door with an intricate carving, and he dissolved the previous spell. Cast another one, and then cast a third spell to open the door—and then quickly closed it, and some mud rushed out. But it was also pitch black outside, and they didn't encounter any enemies worth mentioning, except for a few resentful spirits floating around idlely, wanting to scream loudly at the sight of the lich, and the former undead flicked their fingers, and invisible forces swept silently, their cries annihilated in their throats.

The Lich couldn't help but sigh, this was one of the many spells he had been able to cast so far, and that the Grey Robe had mastered.

Standing in the deserted hallway, he quietly remembered his abode—each of the lich's mansions had something in common, for example, they would set up portals or rune disks inscribed with teleportation spells in all sorts of places you wouldn't expect, sometimes for their own escape, and sometimes for punishing their apprentices and killing intruders. The copy room used to cast the swamp was not the native master's, and a lich's study and copy room would not be so safe, but it would not be far from his residence - he would need to monitor and appear to his apprentices at all times, warning and torturing them, no, it might be far away for the unsuspected, but it might be a place that can only be reached in a blink of a mind for the undead who presided over the construction of this underground palace.

The lich took a scroll from the dimensional pouch that never left it, tore it open, and the light of magic shimmered in the darkness—the outline of a door revealed.

- The portal, he said, but disappointedly, the portal was damaged and unusable.

He also found a rune disk, which was also capable of teleporting people to a certain place, but the gem on it was cracked, and the power of magic was still flowing, but the lich did not dare to take risks, and he had already deeply understood and felt how terrible the accidents caused by teleportation spells could be.

So the forcibly dismissed lich walked to another room.

&&&

"Asmodeos!" Demon shouted.

He had only waited for a few heartbeats to start getting impatient, his fingers with the jewel ring pounding violently on the table, without the slightest rhythm to speak of, he glared at his fingers, they were like someone else's, not at all obedient, he raised his hand, his fingertips trembled from his fingertips to his wrists, "What's the matter?" he muttered, remembering that not long ago they could make a thousand subtle gestures: "Is it magic?" he asked, "Or poison?"

No, not really, he smiled triumphantly, he was protected, by the sinister thieves and the mighty red robes, and by the priest of the venerable gods, who was safe and secure in the White Tower, more than anyone else.

His hand slid down his waist, he was looking for his whip, in his belt, he was going to chant incantations, he was going to chant the real name of the little devil, he was going to summon it before his eyes, and then he tortured it in every way he could think of, and he couldn't stop listening to its chirping, he groped, but he could only find layer after layer of fat.

The caster screamed angrily, he jerked the table away, trying to jump out of his chair, but finally failed, he was out of breath, chanting the spell syllable by syllable, he thought the spell had failed, but with a crackling sound like static, the little devil with a fluff and a long tail was picked out of the shadows.

"My master," it shrieked urgently, "Your slave is here at your command!"

"It's too slow!" Demon rebuked angrily, trying to cast a spell that would plunge the little devil into flames, but he couldn't remember the spells anymore, and he couldn't find the whip, so he had to throw an empty bottle at the little devil as punishment.

The little devil quickly caught the heavy crystal bottle, which also had a solid gold lid, which made Demont even more angry, and he decided to cut off the little devil's tail after getting the answer he wanted.

Ann Rui...... How's it going?"

"As always," the little devil licked the bottle, and it was a pity that the best rotten liqueur was made, "as always, my esteemed master, with her children." ”

"Is she out of the house?"

"She went for a walk. ”

"Where's the kid?"

"Stay in his cradle. The little devil said slyly.

"Keep an eye on them," said Demon, "but come now—" he smiled viciously, "I'm going to cut off your tail." ”

To his surprise, the little devil stayed where he was, motionless, and instead of obeying his orders, he deliberately stretched out his tail and wagged it.

The Archon of the White Tower's anger rose to its highest point, and the out-of-control flames caused him to call out the little devil's true name.

Asmodeos shuddered, but didn't move, just tensed his long, spiky tail.

If Demont hadn't drunk so much, he might have retained a little precarious sanity, but he had been so dazed by alcohol and Flo's priest that he didn't choose to flee without looking back at the first place—whether by jumping from the tower or tearing open a scroll, but by grabbing a gilded bottle—with a fuchsia fragrant pea flower in it, it staggered down on the little devil to crack it into a pancake.

The little devil was in excruciating pain, but for the little devil the pain could only be a game or a joke, and it could endure it - it stretched out its wings and flew into the air, and its tail pierced Demon's eye, hooked it, and pulled it out and ate it as it did with innocent children.

Demont blinked his remaining eye in surprise: "Impossible," he said, "I have your real name, and you can't hurt me." Hot blood flowed into his lips, and he tasted it, shaking his head: "What a strange nightmare. ”

The belated pain shattered his illusions. (To be continued......)