The Lich Without a Soul Vessel

Father Storm gave a small hum. "Why not use quiet contemplation to observe the secrets held in all things? The Creator has given divinity to everything — He exists within all creation, made manifest in unique ways. Only beneath His radiance will the mysteries of all things reveal themselves."

The words never denied the Creator outright, but they turned Him into something closer to a philosophical principle — evidence, in its way, of just how deep the priest's thinking had run, brushing against something the Church would surely consider heretical. A depersonalized, philosophical god, one uninterested in the affairs of ordinary human life.

Evan understood then that this was more a philosopher than a mage seeking new frontiers. In a philosopher's eyes, a god's existence wasn't strictly necessary at all — even reverence for the divine, even treating god as the root of everything, ultimately came down to searching for some deeper meaning of existence. A seeker of magical truth thought differently, trusting in himself instead, much like the scientists of Evan's old life — and Jessica, by now, had earned the right to that title herself.

Something drew Evan to the man without quite knowing why. He smiled. "Honored Father, your thinking runs deep. I wonder what you make of forbidden species like werewolves?"

The question wasn't really about werewolves at all — Evan cared far more about another creature born from human transformation, the lich. He meant to test how far Father Storm's thinking strayed from orthodox belief.

Father Storm glanced at Evan, then let his gaze drift toward the distant mountains under the moonlight. "The world of the divine lies beyond what mortals like us can comprehend. Perhaps the Creator's methods only reveal how small we truly are. A world of sin and punishment may be exactly what the Creator requires — doesn't that only speak to His greatness?"

Evan smiled. The man seemed lost in his own uncertainty too, and Evan borrowed a line from an old philosopher of magical theory back on Earth — Hegel. "What is real is rational."

Father Storm fell silent, sinking into thought. From two distant peaks, wolf-howls rose, drawing steadily closer. Johns said, "It seems this isn't an isolated case. There's a whole pack of them out here."

"We'll take the left peak," Evan said. "You two take the right."

"Agreed." Johns moved at once. Father Storm gave Evan one more look, saying nothing, and followed after him. Johns moved with tremendous speed, and yet the seemingly unhurried priest kept pace with him effortlessly.

Evan watched the two figures go, a flicker of something sharp in his eyes.

"We're heading to the other peak. What are you staring at Father Storm's back for?" Jessica asked.

"He's a genuinely frightening man — and yet people write him off as a failure. I hope I never have to face him as an enemy — though some part of me wants to test him regardless, to see exactly what he's come to understand over these thirty years," Evan said, almost to himself.

"Did you take something you shouldn't have? He's just a priest — closer to a senior mage's level, by my reckoning. How could he possibly stand as your equal? Don't forget, you're an Arcanist," Jessica said, puzzled. Xiaoshuang nodded along.

"Notice anything unusual about him following Johns just now?" Evan asked with a small smile.

"Nothing unusual. Following Johns makes sense — after all, he trained him," Jessica said, frowning, before suddenly exclaiming, "Wait — he was walking so slowly. How was he keeping pace with Johns at all?"

"There you have it. Everything about him looks perfectly ordinary — even the effect he produces looks ordinary. People overlook him without meaning to. Is that man frightening or not?" Evan said, pleased that Jessica had finally caught it herself.

"I was wrong about him. He's a master hiding in plain sight. Why would the Church exile a man like that out here?" Jessica asked, the obvious question.

"The Church didn't exile him. He came here on his own — likely his thinking set him apart enough that he needed somewhere quiet to reflect, to cultivate in peace. The Church itself may not even know," Evan said, already running toward the peak. Jessica hurried after him.

Both had cast Haste, moving fast — but before they reached the summit, two werewolves came charging at them head-on, moving on all fours like true wolves, astonishingly quick. At the sight of the two mages, they reared up onto their hind legs, eyes glowing red, drool running from their jaws. Clearly newly turned, likely no higher than Bloodfang tier, their minds not fully their own. Was there a higher-ranked werewolf leading them somewhere nearby? Evan's brow furrowed.

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"Werewolves. This isn't your territory. Your kind belongs in the northern wastes," Jessica called out — clearly to no effect at all.

One of the werewolves growled, low and guttural. "Humans. You dare show yourselves here. I'll eat you both!"

They lunged, each choosing a target. On the full moon, in their raw early stage, their savagery ran high, howling as their transformation continued mid-charge. Evan stepped forward, one small pace, swinging his cane like a knight's mace. The werewolf charging at him howled and seemed to throw itself straight into the blow — some instinct urging it to dodge, but Evan's cane caught it square in the chest anyway. It let out an agonized shriek, flung backward through the air, twitching once or twice unconsciously as it landed.

Evan dispatched his opponent with a single strike and paused to watch Jessica's fight. She'd prepared well in advance — the moment her werewolf lunged, she pointed and murmured a few strange syllables, and a mental shield snapped into being before it. It slammed into the shield with a crack, the shield's blue-green glow rippling under the impact without breaking.

She followed at once with another incantation, summoning her Legend Beast — eyes, nose, mouth all present. The moment it appeared, the mental shield dissolved harmlessly, and a beam of white light shot from the beast's mouth. There was a wet crack, the werewolf let out an agonized howl, and collapsed dead on the spot.

Jessica turned to find Evan already watching her. She gave a small smile, and with a flick of her hand, stored both werewolf corpses away in her ring.

Evan shook his head. She really had become something of a research fanatic. Just then, he felt eyes on him — someone watching. He looked up toward the ridge ahead and caught a shape standing there. He triggered Eagle Eye at once, a spell meant for long-range viewing, his own eyes shifting shape to bring the distant figure into focus, magnifying up to eightfold.

He made out a werewolf standing on the ridge, watching them. But something about it felt off. Before he could think it through, his body was already moving, fast enough that even under the moonlight, faint afterimages trailed behind him.

Evan surged forward at speed. Jessica startled and pushed herself to keep up, but this time she couldn't match his pace at all. Evan pressed on regardless, straight for the ridge, and Jessica followed as best she could, having caught sight of the same figure herself.

Evan reached the summit to find the werewolf hadn't moved. Its eyes still burned red, though it carried none of the raw savagery he'd sensed from the others.

"You're the one who killed my subordinates?" the werewolf asked, perfectly calm.

Evan answered flatly. "None of you should be here at all. I'm curious — how did you make it through such densely populated territory to attack people out here? Is this pack your own doing?"

"Your kind came here. Why shouldn't we? This land is sparsely settled, and humans have already claimed vast stretches of fertile territory elsewhere. Why shouldn't we come here too? Since that's how it is — I'll kill you." The werewolf's mood shifted abruptly into rage. Something struck Evan as wrong, though he couldn't quite place what.

Before he could think it through further, the werewolf let out a savage roar, its arms already transformed, ten fingers sharp as blades, its body blurring into an afterimage as it lunged. Clearly a cut above the Bloodfangs — its movements carried a chilling weight of pressure that would have made a weaker opponent flinch outright, and even one a tier above it might have found their full strength blunted by it.

Evan drew his blade with a ring of steel and took one small step forward — barely a step at all, and yet somehow he stood directly in front of the creature. Blade-light flared violently, and in an instant, he seemed to vanish entirely — not truly vanished, but from the werewolf's angle, perfectly obscured by the flare of light itself, caught in a blind spot. To the werewolf, it looked as though Evan had simply merged into the light.

The fur along the werewolf's back stood on end at once. It let out a howl and lunged backward, claws slashing at the blade-light as it retreated. Steel rang against claw, and one claw snapped off entirely, a few tufts of fur drifting loose. Fast as its retreat had been, a thin cut still opened along its arm.

Jessica reached the ridge just as the werewolf fell back. Xiaoshuang, airborne above, resumed her usual routine — small fists pumping, shouting with obvious delight, "Get him! Get him!" — the very picture of a violent little fairy without a shred of grace to her. Jessica found it genuinely odd; nothing about the fairies she'd read about matched this creature at all. Clearly the books had gotten quite a lot wrong.

A confused flicker crossed the werewolf's mind — was this all some dream? How had it ended up at the southern edge of the continent? It had always despised humans — why did none of this feel like its own doing?

The thought vanished as quickly as it had come, and the beast's fury surged back at once. This cursed moon. It let out a long howl, muscles bulging like something rising from a grave, entirely beyond its own control. It snatched up a nearby boulder and hurled it at Evan, who answered with a casual Grand Disintegration, the stone crumbling apart before it ever reached him.

The werewolf lunged again, and Evan's blade-light rose to meet it, flaring cold and sharp. Lost in its rage, the creature moved on pure instinct — twisting its body reflexively, and the blade drove straight into its flesh. The searing pain snapped it back to clarity in an instant. Fully awake now, an image surfaced in its mind — a tall, handsome young man, golden-haired and blue-eyed, smiling as he drew close, ingratiating. It remembered feeling dazed, disoriented, and somehow following him south without quite understanding why.

Understanding hit it all at once. It had fallen prey to that young man's scheme.