Lord: Starting from a Goblin Nest

Ghosts are the angry, unrestrained Essences of humanoids, created when something prevents them from passing on. Ghosts bear no connection to their former selves and are doomed to remain in the world forever. Some are also created when a soul is stripped directly from a living body through the power of Dark Magic or a Binding Spirit.

Unlike the often-confused ghosts, Ghosts cannot be redeemed. A ghost can find peace once its unfinished business is complete, but Ghosts have no such chance for rest or redemption. They must remain on the Material Plane, their only end being the destruction of their soul, until they are ultimately forgotten.

Still, it was incomprehensible that so many Ghosts would suddenly appear in the basement of a supposedly ”unremarkable” merchant.

”Even if he killed and buried all the Alchemists and workers here, there’s no way it would add up to this many Ghosts!”

Ron cast Strike Undead again and again, his fingers practically smoking from the effort. Yet the number of Ghosts in the workshop seemed endless, showing no signs of letting up. ’Is there a whole squad of Necromancers Casting in there or something?’

”There’s no one inside!” Delaford exclaimed, dodging and weaving within the spell’s protective radius. He’d tried to charge in several times, only to be forced back. ”Forget living people, I can’t even see a single corpse! Where the hell are all these Ghosts coming from?!”

”Do you see it? That long-necked flask!” Victoria pointed into the pitch-black workshop. ”Can you guys see it? There’s a flask in there releasing an endless stream of Ghosts! Its lid is off!”

”Not all of us have Dark Vision or Night Vision!” Ron yelled, struggling to fend off the Ghosts, which were growing more aggressive as the Spirit Guard was about to expire. ”Silvia, can you get over there and close that thing?”

”I’m not a real Undead Creature, they’ll attack me too!” Silvia sighed. Seizing the last moments of the Spirit Guard’s light, she hurriedly cast a spell. Her form vanished, reappearing moments later inside the workshop. ”I see the flask, but where’s the lid?”

”Secret Technique Lock! Seal it with Secret Technique Lock first, then worry about the lid!” Ron yelled, tossing a small bag of gold powder from his Alchemist’s Backpack. ”These things are just too much of a pain!”

A single Ghost, or even a small group, was nothing to fear. But a relentless, endless swarm like this was nearly impossible to withstand.

To make matters worse, Aive had no way of dealing with them. It was a good thing they’d played it safe and left Andre behind; he would have been even more of a liability.

Ron’s aim must have been true, because a yelp of ”OW!” from Silvia echoed out of the dark workshop, and the number of Ghosts began to rapidly decline. A short while later, Ron’s group had cleared out the last of them and lit a light source inside the workshop.

”Hey, the lid’s over here,” Sera said, having found it. ”But the wax seal on it is broken. I guess that means it’s useless now?”

”Ron consulted his Weaving Introduction, and the Identification Magic provided an answer. ’Once opened in the presence of living beings, this flask automatically releases a total of sixty-six Ghosts. The process halts if all Ghosts are released or if no living beings remain nearby. Once depleted, it becomes an ordinary flask.’ ’It seems to be the legacy of some Necromancer,’ he added. ’Its name is preceded by a long string of personal names. The real question is, how did it end up here?’”

”Maybe one of the Alchemists brought their side hustle to work,” Aive said, fiddling with the now-harmless flask. ”Hendrix might have said he’d search everyone coming and going, but an Alchemist carrying a flask would seem perfectly normal.”

”Jill. That’s the name of the Alchemist at this station,” Victoria said, reading the nameplate on the workbench where the flask had been. ”Looks like we need to find this person and ask him a few questions.”

”That’s assuming he’s still alive,” Delaford grunted, dragging a corpse out from behind the door. ”Guess who I found? Jill!”

”His station is in the very back. The others probably locked the culprit in here when they fled,” Silvia said with a click of her tongue. ”Look at his fingernails, all torn and bloody from scratching at the door. And just look at that wide-eyed stare of pure shock!”

”He must have been consumed by terror right before he died, then had his life force drained by the Ghosts,” Victoria sighed. ”May he rest in peace. But before that, we may need to ask him a few questions.”

The Priest walked over to Jill’s body. An eerie, green flame flickered to life in her eyes. With a series of gestures and incantations, the dead Alchemist’s eyes and mouth slowly opened, and a faint green light, identical to the one in the Priest’s eyes, began to glow from within him.

”Five questions at most. Go ahead.”

”Whoa, Communication with the Dead,” Ron whistled. ”A classic spell. How did you die?”

”Foolish... opened the flask... released the Ghosts...” The corpse’s reply was clipped and vague, the voice seeming to emanate from the air rather than its throat.

”Why did you open it here?”

”Merchant... deceived... catalyst...”

”Looks like this poor bastard got duped into thinking it was some kind of catalyst,” Silvia said, crossing her arms. She turned to the corpse. ”Why would you think that? What kind of catalyst comes in a long-necked flask?”

”Deadline... desperate... clutching at straws...”

It was just as Daniel’s intelligence had suggested: Hendrix was trying to develop a new product, and Jill was likely one of the people in charge. With the deadline looming and no progress to show, the man had made a desperate, foolish move—and paid for it with his life.

”Who sold it to you?”

”Black market... merchant... identity unknown...”

”The black market is always a lifeline, no matter where you are,” Aive snorted. ”But you never know if that line is a noose.”

”Do you remember any of their features?”

”No...”

The flames in Victoria’s eyes abruptly died out, and the corpse slumped back to the floor. No amount of Magic could make it rise again.

”Still not as useful as a living person,” Sera said, nudging the motionless corpse with her foot. ”So in the end, the trail’s gone cold.”

”Not entirely. At least we have a direction,” Ron said. He and Delaford were already searching Jill’s workstation, opening every cabinet, drawer, and hidden compartment. ”I’m going to point out a few key things. Make sure you remember all of them, got it?”

Ron soon found Jill’s research log and began cross-referencing it with the experiments the Alchemist had been conducting.