Steampunk Era: Mad Abield

"I thought someone like you, a high-order lich, wouldn’t even pay attention to Prairie Elf threats," Donald said, standing in the middle of the street and smoking his cigarette, as he remarked to the lich before him.

"Even if I am legendary, I must hold at least a minimum level of respect for the Prairie Elves and their master. Otherwise, destruction and death will be the most pressing issues I have to face," Ails replied, taking the tobacco Donald offered. He lit it for himself, took a puff, and with a sigh amid the smoke, he reminisced, "Good stuff, reminds me of when I was still alive, young and watching the nobles smoke these, naively thinking perhaps this time they would leave me a cigarette butt."

"I never imagined you had your downfalls," Donald said in surprise—he had always remembered liches as the epitome of aloof nobility, and to see one as approachable as Ails was something he had never encountered in his many years.

"A lich is born in two ways: one is from the ashes regenerated on top of bones, losing everything from before, retaining only instinct; the other, like me, chose to become a lich while still alive... Hence, I still cling to the pleasures only the living can have—fine food, women, and even after another thousand years, I think they will remain my favorites."

"I envy you. In our world, people with Mage talents are few and far between. To become a Transcendent like a Mage, some even resort to drinking Magic Potions," Donald lamented because he was someone without Spell Talent and could only become a shadow assassin. He had fallen once but eventually reclaimed himself. However, the time he served Chaos had inflicted indelible harm on him.

"Magic Potion, I have heard of it. It’s not something unique to your world of Abield but truth be told, the development of Magic Potions there is still quite primitive, my friend. To drink Magic Potion and become a Mage, it’s no different from committing suicide by poisoning. Such artificially induced Mages can only obtain Spiritual Energy through chemicals and rely on various casting materials to communicate with the void. If they’re unlucky enough to encounter Chaos, who eats whom is a very real question," Ails continued, taking another puff of his cigarette before looking at Donald, "I feel that the old fellow is overly concerned with that kid from your world. So, out of goodwill as a regular customer, I personally advise you to stay far away from that kid. I’m experienced and understand those pointy ears better than you—they are harmless to anyone who doesn’t impede their path of righteousness. But if you become a rock that must be moved, then you’re as good as dead."

"Thank you, I understand."

"You’re the first to thank me after I became a lich, how interesting... Well, little brother, I’ll take my leave," the lich said, turning and walking away into the distance.

"Goodbye."

"Yes, goodbye. I hope to see you in the shop next time."