Chapter 20: The Lich Viz’s Request

Re-written date: 7 / 2 / 2025

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Chapter 20: The Lich Viz's Request

After leaving the crowded Adventurer's Guild behind, Edward followed the cloaked woman alone. Since the client had specifically requested a Grand Mage, this clearly wasn't a job just anyone could handle—it had to be a matter of advanced magic. Bringing anyone else along would only get in the way.

Once the surroundings quieted and they were finally alone, the woman glanced back nervously and asked, "Can you really bring me to a Grand Mage?"

She leaned in a little too close, nearly pressing into his personal space. Feeling a little suffocated, Edward placed a hand on her shoulder to gently push her back and nodded.

"Relax. I accepted your request, didn't I? I'll see it through. I'm Edward Durin, by the way. Mind telling me why this job must be done by a Grand Mage?"

In this world, mage held significant status, yes—but that was more due to their rarity than raw destructive power. The flashy Explosion spell Edward had helped Helena cast the other day looked impressive, but few mages had the mana reserves and mental stability to pull off something like that without collapsing afterward.

As a result, most mages didn't take part in battlefields or join adventuring parties. They stayed in the Mage Tower, conducting research or lending their talents to national-level projects. You couldn't find them milling around Adventurer's Guilds for the same reason you wouldn't expect a scientist to be manning the local help desk.

That's why someone walking into the Guild, asking for a Grand Mage of all things, was either completely clueless… or had a very serious reason.

Hearing his question, the woman hesitated. After a moment, she pulled down her hood, revealing a nervous but determined expression.

"My name is Viz. I'm truly sorry—I can't go into the full details just yet, but please believe me. I mean no harm. I'm simply trying to find a skilled Grand Mage to help with… a friend's problem."

Edward narrowed his eyes.

"A friend's problem? You're a lich—you still have friends?"

"…"

The woman—Viz—froze in place, clearly not expecting him to blurt out her true identity. But Edward didn't give her time to stew in shock.

He continued flatly, "Your cloak's enchanted, sure—it masks the aura of undeath well. But it also blocks out the aura of life. Maybe an ordinary person wouldn't notice, but to someone like me, it's as obvious as… I don't know, a pair of bright red underwear hanging on the windowsill."

"Uhh…"

She blinked, not sure how to respond to that extremely odd analogy. Viz instinctively took a step back, but seeing that Edward didn't look hostile, she blinked in surprise and asked, "Wait… you're the Edward Durin? The genius who made a name for himself at the Mage Tower five years ago?"

"You know about me?"

"Of course. Five years ago… I was still alive. I only became a lich recently, after an accident during a magical experiment."

"I see…"

"…Aren't you afraid of me? I am a lich…"

"Surprised, maybe. But afraid? Not really," Edward said with a shrug.

"You might've been a high ranked mage in life, but I don't know what kind of ritual or mishap turned you into a lich—and you clearly didn't complete the process properly. At best, you're a half-baked undead with half-baked magic to match. Now, if you were a true lich-level necromancer, dripping with death aura, I might take you seriously. But you?"

He looked her over again and gave a short sigh.

"You're barely even lukewarm."

Indeed, while undeath granted eternal life, it came with heavy costs. Once the body decayed, a lich often ended up weaker than they had been in life. That's the real reason why, despite many seasoned mages knowing how to perform the ritual, few ever actually attempted it.

Sure, the law officially prohibited self-transformation into undead—but if it truly brought power and immortality, that law would've been broken by half the continent already. The truth was far less glamorous: there were no perfect shortcuts. Only equal exchange.

Becoming undead meant giving up part of your power and mind. That was the cold reality. And so, most chose to avoid the path altogether.

Of course, there was a loophole—if you gave up traditional elemental magic and specialized in necromancy instead, then yes, the traits of undeath could make progression much easier. But that came with its own risks and taboos. Most people didn't even want to think about studying necromancy, let alone practice it.

"…So you're not planning to report this to the Church or the Knight Orders?" Viz asked hesitantly.

Edward shrugged.

"Nah. There's no point, and it's a waste of time. You don't seem like the type to pose any threat to human society anyway. Only the fanatics in the Church would scream bloody murder over someone like you."

Viz blinked in surprise. Then, to Edward's amusement, she actually looked… relieved. She let out a long breath and offered a small smile.

"Thank goodness… I was really afraid that if my identity got out, I'd end up being hunted again. You're right—I am a lich. And the friend I need help with… is none other than the Headless Knight."

"…The Headless Knight?"

Even Edward couldn't help showing a flicker of surprise.

Of course he'd heard of that name. Every child in the empire had. The tales of the Headless Knight were infamous—stories of a terrifying, unstoppable undead warrior who wandered the land, seeking vengeance or perhaps simply destruction. No one knew what drove him anymore.

But now, hearing it directly from a lich, Edward felt… oddly lucky.

After all, he'd already been planning to hunt down the legendary Headless Knight to recruit him as a stunt actor. The guy had the perfect visual—a tragic past, absurd power, and zero need for makeup. And now? Edward had the knight and a lich tagging along, all in one sweep.

Jackpot.

As Viz explained further, the truth behind the legends began to come into focus.

Yes, Belldia, the strongest knight of his generation, had indeed fallen in battle—stabbed in the back by an army of undead and resurrected as one of them. But unlike the rumors, he hadn't resisted his transformation. He couldn't. The lich who reanimated him made sure of that, turning Belldia into little more than a puppet—a mindless weapon who slaughtered humans on command.

Over time, his humanity eroded. His thoughts dulled. His heart faded.

He became a walking corpse in the truest sense. Just another war machine.

But fate, as it often did, had other plans.

One day, the lich who controlled Belldia died—killed in some accident or unknown conflict. Normally, such a lich would've prepared a successor, passing along the magical brand used to control their undead soldiers. But for reasons unknown, that didn't happen.

The control spell vanished from the world. And with it, the leash on Belldia's soul snapped.

Freed from bondage for the first time in centuries, Belldia—now no longer the Headless Knight in name alone—escaped from the chaos land and fled back to the human lands.

But centuries had passed.

The world had changed.

And the only thing that greeted him upon his return wasn't cheers or recognition—it was fear. Suspicion. Panic.

The hero once hailed as a symbol of imperial might was now a terrifying monster in the eyes of the people.

People didn't even need to hear his name—just a glimpse of that monstrous visage was enough to send them screaming. The moment Belldia stepped into a town, panic erupted. The Church was alerted. Knight Orders mobilized.

And so, the man who had once believed he could finally lay down his blade… found himself running once more.

It was during one such purge—a joint operation between the Church and the Knight Orders—that Belldia encountered Viz. 

She, too, had been forced to flee after being branded a threat due to her lichhood. In that chaos, she helped Belldia break free of the encirclement. He, in turn, learned that the Church's influence in the southern territory was weak.

And so they came—to the peaceful South.

Peaceful… but no more welcoming to the undead.

Viz's voice was quiet but clear as she recounted their story, her eyes shimmering with sincerity.

"For years, Sir Belldia and I wandered through the South. I had always heard stories about the Headless Knight growing up, and… I was terrified. But after spending time with him, I realized the truth. He wasn't some mindless monster—he was a wise, noble knight. Quirky, yes, but honorable through and through."

She smiled bitterly, pulling her cloak tighter.

"We had heard that Grand Duke Viktor refused to allow the Church too much influence in the South, which made it a rare haven. That's why we came here. But even without the Church… the fear of the undead hasn't vanished. It's hard to blame them. I can pass as a normal human with my cloak, but Sir Belldia…"

She trailed off. 

There was no need to finish the thought. 

Edward could already picture it—panicked villagers, screaming children, guards drawing weapons on sight. The Headless Knight, with his towering frame and missing head, was terrifying even before you considered the legend.

But what came next chilled Edward more than he expected.

"The worst part isn't even the fear," Viz continued, her voice trembling. "Sir Belldia never once complained. Just being back on human soil seemed to make him happy. But a few days ago… the curse inside him flared up."

A curse.

Laid upon him by the same lich who had turned him into a puppet. It had lain dormant for centuries. But now, it stirred—threatening to consume him again.

"I know some theories. I've studied necromancy. I understand the curse. But… my mana isn't strong enough to break it. I tried everything, but nothing worked. That's why I came looking for a Grand Mage. Originally, Sir Belldia didn't want me to do this. He was afraid I'd get hurt."

She clenched her fists, the pain and frustration pouring from her in waves.

"But how could I just let him die? After everything he's been through? After he finally made it home? That's why, Sir Durin, please—I'm begging you. Help him. I'll find a way to repay you, I promise. Just—please—help him live."

Viz's words were not theatrical. There were no tears, no collapsing to her knees. But the raw honesty in her tone hit harder than any sobbing plea could have.

Edward was quiet for a moment. Then he slowly nodded.

"You don't need to beg," he said, simply.

"If there's anything I can do… I'll do it. I'll help him."