Lich for Hire

From the very beginning, Ambrose had never intended to play along with Alkhemia's script.

Once he knew they meant to kill him, he would never walk willingly into their trap. Multiple phylacteries were only one of many safeguards. Even this body was something he could discard without hesitation.

So the moment he tricked Gustavo Flynn away, he struck without mercy.

For the vast majority of spellcasters, Fireball was the strongest spell they could reliably wield: fast to cast, devastating in power, wide in area, efficient in cost, and highly reliable.

Across the continent, the infamous Three-Fireball Cult preached a simple creed: anyone who could cast three large Fireballs within six seconds, without bloodline talents, potions, or equipment, qualified for initiation.

The requirement sounded modest, but three Fireballs was more than enough to kill the overwhelming majority of creatures in the world. Even a legend, caught unprepared, would be grievously injured.

Ambrose cast three Fireballs. The vast chamber housing the teleportation array instantly became a sea of flames. Three alchemists and the guarding automata on either side were blown to pieces.

Only one lucky soul survived, apparently equipped with a defensive magic item that had erected a shield at the moment of impact, barely sparing his life.

But that mercy only made his fate worse. By then, Ambrose had already pulled out a burst-fire magitech rifle and emptied the magazine into him.