***
To let the Behemoth do its magic, I first needed to create enough space.
That didn't take long. A few spells to melt the snow, a few to remove the trees and stones by the roots, and a few to even out the ground afterwards.
Then I just had to move the behemoth into the center of the new clearing, cast a modified 'dust removal spell on it' as a precaution, and access the hidden 'control panel'.
Then, after pushing a few levers on the side of the wagon, in the hidden compartment, the only thing left was to step aside, and watch it happen.
The literal magic inside the wagon lit up to my senses, and I could see the construction starting to shift.
By itself, in its normal state, the Behemoth looked like an intricate, giant, rectangular box made out of some darkened metal and wood, separated into odd segments and compartments without clear latches or locks, that had a driver seat, wheels, and other necessities for travel latched unto it.
An odd-looking carriage without any visible door to get inside, that's the general first impression its shape made.
But now, it was becoming something else.
The transformation began with a deep grinding sound as the primary gear mechanism engaged. I could hear the main spring unwinding somewhere deep within the structure, its stored tension finally released after months of travel. The wagon's base split along predetermined seams, sections sliding outward on tracks hidden beneath the undercarriage. Each movement was deliberate, measured, and very slow, the clockwork mechanisms clicking through their sequences with mechanical precision.
The wheels, massive constructions of iron-reinforced oak, rotated inward on pivoting axles before locking into new positions. Their spokes telescoped outward, extending until they met the ground at calculated angles. These would serve as the corner supports, their broad bases already fitted with adjustable plates that could conform to slightly uneven terrain. The axles themselves detached and reconfigured, becoming cross-beams that would support the eventual flooring.
Above, the wagon's roof sections folded downward rather than upward. Each panel moved on a series of brass hinges and joints, unfolding in segments like an enormous puzzle box opening in reverse. The enchantments here were subtle, merely ensuring the metal joints moved smoothly and had the needed durability. As each section reached its designated position, I heard the satisfying click of locking mechanisms engaging.
The sides of the wagon proved most intricate. What had appeared to be solid walls were actually dozens of interconnected segments. They spread outward on extending arms, each piece rotating and sliding along grooved channels until they formed the skeletal framework of walls. The spacing between supports was exact, so it was easy to fill with compressed stone or timber I could acquire with magic. Small brackets and joints protruded at regular intervals, ready to secure whatever building materials I chose.
The hidden compartments remained cleverly concealed within what was becoming the foundation platform. The floor of the wagon had dropped and spread, creating a raised foundation about two feet off the ground. Beneath this, accessible through hatches that would be hidden under the eventual flooring, my delicate equipment remained secure in its cushioned, enchantment-stabilized chambers.
What still fascinated me was the ingenuity of the weight distribution. As sections moved, counterweights hidden within the frame shifted automatically, maintaining balance throughout the transformation. These were purely mechanical, utilizing a complex system of pulleys and weighted pendulums that responded to the changing configuration. Magic here only acted to make this miracle possible in the realm of material science and the kinetic energy needed for the clockwork to work, but everything else was clockwork engineering.
The entire process took nearly fifteen minutes. The final structure stood as a rectangular frame, 8 to 10 meters, with posts rising 4 meters along the walls. It was modest but sufficient for my needs. The frame was all darkened steel and treated hardwood, with anti-rust enchanted bronze fittings at every joint. The corner posts were thick enough to support a second story if needed, though I planned only for a single level with a high ceiling for my laboratory work.
I circled the structure slowly, examining the craftsmanship and the first truly successful deployment in the field. Every joint showed tool marks from master smiths, woodworkers, and enchanters. The frame hummed faintly where the enchantments ran through metal channels, ready to accept and distribute magical weight once I added walls and roofing. These would help with climate control and structural integrity, but the fundamental strength came from the mechanical design itself.
The cargo golems stood motionless where I had commanded them to wait; involving them in construction was pointless.
After looking around for a bit, I found the primary control mechanism, now repositioned at what would become the main entrance. The brass indicators had locked properly into place; if they didn't, I would've known which part of the mechanism malfunctioned.
And once again, since beginning this journey, I felt genuine satisfaction just basking in the pure perfection of the structure. The Behemoth had transformed exactly as the guild masters had promised. Their claims had not been an exaggeration, which, logically, I already knew... and still expected the structure to fail the moment I was trying to deploy it when I needed it.
Seeing it work as intended was a good reminder that cynicism can be unfounded. This framework, by design, could be assembled and disassembled countless times, following the same mechanical sequence, without degradation of its essential components. Worth every gold piece, indeed.
If anything jams, I also have extensive user and repair manuals. Hopefully, the compartment that holds them won't jam its release mechanism.
I did spend a lot of time memorizing the manuals and asking questions about how to do field repair, but the professional's advice boiled down to 'pray nothing actually important breaks', because half of the mechanisms in the machine are custom-made, and while I have spares for most brittle and small parts, I don't have a spare for every component. Otherwise, I would've been dragging a second Behemoth behind.
The machine was an engineering marvel, and owning it filled me with a sinful and unfortunate sense of pride that I nonetheless couldn't help but revel in, a little bit.
Now all that was left was to collect timber and compress stone into bricks with my magic, and I could start putting the finishing touches.
***
I noticed the Teuflisch's presence a few hours into the construction, while using a folk spell to peel the wooden logs into boards, and applying varnish to them.
The golems were still hauling the logs from the surrounding area. I was about done with the walls by now; the logs golems carried now were for the furniture.
I myself was sitting inside the empty 'house', on a small wood-working bench that rose upwards from the 'floor' with a push of a lever, and could just as easily be hidden back.
I cannot express in words just how convenient and amazing it was to be able to have and store away workstations like that.
"Excuse me for coming unannounced," The necromancer spoke up awkwardly, as he left a couple of skeletons who escorted him behind, approaching and looking at the transformed Behemoth in wonder, "What... what is this contraption, exactly?"
"The craftsmen insisted on calling it Behemoth," I replied in greeting, placing a few planks aside, "The concept was initially a mobile laboratory. But with the budget I provided them, they decided to turn it into a mobile house."
Literally in this case. I would've been completely content with simply having a living space inside the wagon, but no, they went with a 'wagon transforming into a permanent house' idea.
I didn't complain once I realized it allows me to store and summon all my bulky equipment and workstations on demand with a push of a lever.
I did, however, shudder at what those people could do if they were given Lego.
"Must've cost a fortune!" The man said, squinting a bit next to an exposed rod at the wall, examining the glyphs, "Those are some masterwork enchantments, too. What are they powered by, magi-ore?"
I shook my head.
"No, I power it directly. It was a custom order, so I saw no point in asking to install alternative means." There was no reason to make it usable for non-mages or even other mages. Magi-ore referred to a number of different crystals, ores, and other minerals that preserved and contained magical energy. Usually used for daily-used enchanted items.
Seeing my gaze, the necromancer looked a bit flushed and scratched his cheek.
"Sorry if I interrupted. Do you need any help?" He gestured at the boards I specifically set aside for the floor, "Your golems seem a bit too big to install those inside. I can have my creations help."
I blinked, considering him for a moment. There was no practical reason to refuse; it was getting a bit late. I would like to finish the house before sundown, else Teuflisch will have a legitimate excuse to offer me his house for the night.
"Do you have any clay tiles? Or anything I can use for tiles to finish the roof?" I asked him simply.
Teuflisch pursed his lips thoughtfully, then shook his head with an apologetic expression. "Unfortunately, no. I've been using thatch for my own repairs. Though..." He paused, glancing at the framework overhead. "There's a clay deposit about half a kilometer northeast, near the old streambed. There was a village there once, from what I could tell. I can swear there were still some broken shards of pottery scattered around."
I nodded, making a mental note. "That will suffice. I can shape and fire them with magic." Though I will have to go tomorrow.
"Today I can just use wood, and plug the holes with dirt and snow."
"Practical," he observed, then gestured to his skeletons. "Well, let me at least help with what we can manage now."
With a casual wave of his hand and a pulse of mana, the skeletons moved forward in perfect synchronization. Their movements were fluid, almost graceful, as they began collecting the floorboards I had prepared. Each skeleton picked up planks with mechanical precision, passing them along a quickly assembled chain that reminded me of an assembly line.
For a moment, I was lost in thought, thinking what an industrial revolution in a society with normalized necromancy will look like. Probably with a lot fewer children losing limbs.
I watched them work for a moment, noting the efficiency of their coordination. "Your control is quite refined," I observed. "How many can you maintain simultaneously?"
"It depends a lot on what you mean. If we are talking the most basic undead, forty-seven at present capacity," Teuflisch replied, a hint of pride creeping into his voice before he caught himself and added more modestly, "Though raising more when needed isn't an issue, providing there is material. But I can only keep forty-seven recharged comfortably, while having enough mana for other daily needs. If I go over that limit, maybe for an hour I can have more active." He smiled a bit bashfully, "There is... well, a term we use, 'honor guard', for the constructs we work on consistently. We tinker with them, improve them, and apply additional enchantments to them; they are like special projects, while the rest are just tools. I only have ten such undead, and I usually keep them deactivated; they are a bit too draining to constantly maintain."
"That's still incredibly impressive." I stood, brushing wood shavings from my clothing. "All of my golems are personalized, but with my current level of mastery, I won't even consider having more than two. Simply too annoying to keep functional and repair."
"Aha-ha, and that's how I can tell you aren't a golemomancer at heart," He chuckled genuinely, shaking his head. "Different philosophies, to our breed, maintenance on that scale is a given," he said with a small, amused smile, watching as his skeletons began fitting the boards into place. "Necromancy isn't any less difficult or demanding in nuances than golemomancy, you know? These..." He gestured at his creations. "While I don't work on them every night, they're still all handcrafted; they may look the same to you, but I remember where I found and raised each of them." He scratched his head awkwardly, "Most are actually from the surrounding area; there are a lot of ancient burial sites on this peninsula."
I raised an eyebrow, turning to him.
"Won't the bones at that age be practically useless?" I asked, genuinely curious, knowing the usual wear and tear bodies like that usually sustain. Dig an ancient enough grave, and chances are you won't find a skeleton, but bone dust.
"There are multiple spells to restore the bones, actually." Teuflisch answered enthusiastically, "Also, a few ways to temper them and... a few spells to change the colouring. Any necromancer who is worth anything at all won't be relying only on the quality of the materials, you know!"
I nodded along, actually quite intrigued, finding further parallels with golemomancy.
"Any interesting tricks you can show off without giving away secrets of the trade?"
He chuckled, calling one skeleton forth.
"I can think of a few..."
The work proceeded quickly, even with his demonstrations, which I carefully noted down in my memory. There were some fascinating templates at work, which he explained and powered slowly for me, while creating a visual aid, the closest thing I've yet to see approaching 'healing magic' via conventional means, and not Goddess's Magic. The skeletons moved with tireless efficiency, fitting each board precisely where it needed to go. I applied the sealing spells as they worked, waterproofing the wood and binding it to the frame. Teuflisch observed the enchantments with obvious interest but didn't interrupt with questions.
Within an hour, the flooring was complete. The skeletons had even installed the trapdoors that concealed access to the hidden compartments below. I tested one, lifting it to reveal the cushioned chamber where my more delicate instruments were stored.
"Clever design," Teuflisch commented, peering over my shoulder. "The whole thing, I mean. Must have taken years to plan."
"A decade of correspondence with various guilds," I confirmed, lowering the trapdoor back into place. It sealed with barely a visible seam. "The actual construction took four years, and I was slowly burning through my savings as I funded the project." And I still wouldn't have had enough money if not for a certain mythical monster serving as a precious ore piñata.
He whistled softly. "And you've been traveling with it since?"
"Three months now." I moved to examine the wall supports, running my hand along the joints. Everything had locked properly into place. "Though this is the first time I've fully deployed it, besides the tests."
"Well, it certainly makes my hut look rather primitive by comparison," he said with self-deprecating humor. "Though I suppose I never intended to stay here permanently."
I glanced at him. "How much longer do you expect to search?"
His expression grew distant for a moment. "Hard to say. The texts were... imprecise about the location. Could be another few months, could be years." He shrugged, the gesture carrying a weight of resignation. "But I've come this far."
I didn't press further. Everyone had their own obsessions, their own driving purposes. His search for a specific dungeon was no more unusual than my own need to catalog and dissect every monster species I encountered. I am sure the cause for his search was no less important for him than my own is to me.
The sun was beginning to set, painting the snow-covered clearing in shades of orange and pink. My golems had finished hauling the logs and now stood motionless at the edge of the clearing, waiting for new commands.
"I should let you finish," Teuflisch said, apparently noticing the dying light. "Will you need anything else for tonight?"
"No, this is sufficient. I can manage the roof tomorrow." I paused, then added, "Thank you for the assistance."
He waved off the gratitude. "Neighbors should help each other, even out here." A small smile crossed his face. "Besides, it's been... pleasant, having someone to talk with who doesn't immediately assume I'm a demon who tortures the immortal souls of innocent people out of wickedness. Or suspects me in raising an army of the dead to conquer the lands of the living." He joked awkwardly, yet glancing at me nervously.
It wasn't hard to interpret the gestures; he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, and expected more condemnation.
"If you could've bound souls to those carcasses, we would've had another discussion. But this isn't a magic known to men. Besides, forty-three skeletons make for a poor army of darkness; you have a long way to go before you can be crowned a new Demon King," I observed dryly.
That drew a genuine laugh from him. "Indeed. I'll need at least fifty before I can properly threaten even a small village."
"Depends on the village," I said after a moment of thought, "There are some hunters and warriors who can probably single-handedly stop your army of bodies."
"That too." He called his skeletons back with another gesture, and they fell into formation behind him with practiced ease. "I'll leave you to your evening, then. If you need anything, my home is just through those trees." He pointed southwest. "About a ten-minute walk."
I nodded. "I am aware."
He turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, and Albert? Welcome to the neighborhood, such as it is."
With that, he departed, his skeletal entourage following in perfect step. I watched them disappear into the darkening forest before turning back to my partially completed house.
The frame stood solid against the evening sky, a skeleton of dark metal and treated wood waiting to be given flesh. Tomorrow I will gather clay for the roof tiles and perhaps reinforce the walls further. But for tonight, this would suffice.
I entered through what would become the main door and found the mechanism that controlled the internal lighting. With a push, soft magical illumination filled the space, emanating from carefully placed crystals embedded in the frame. Another luxury, but a practical one.
Settling onto the workbench again, I pulled out my journal and writing materials. There was still much to document about today's progress, and my thoughts were clearer when committed to paper.
Outside, the winter wind picked up, whistling through the gaps in the incomplete walls. But the foundation was solid, the frame was strong, and for the first time in months, I had something approaching a proper workspace.
The fruit of civilization was an addictive one.
The following is a diary entry.
***
...over the last weeks, the weather worsened consistently. My initial decision to establish a base of operation didn't prove to be a mistake; advancing in this climate would've been torturous.
Teuflisch keeps visiting. I can tell that he simply yearns for any company, but I can't find it in myself to find his presence annoying. He is a treasure trove in an area of magic I know nothing about, and he consistently proved himself to be an expert in the field, despite his relatively young age. He also freely shared supplies and items he had in his storage, waving away any attempts to repay him so far, and he did so again today, sharing some of the leathers and furs he had for the furniture I've been building.
As much as I am impressed with the young necromancer, I also know I need to be at least a little cautious. He was already surprised by the broad assortment of spells and skills I had, carpentry, construction, and such. He didn't ask me about my age yet, but I imagine it's a matter of time.
I will see if I can acquire some subjects around here when the blizzards die down.
…
***
A bird-like monster that suspiciously sounded and looked like a giant bald eagle, trashed desperately in the magical restraints made out of light, right up until I gently touched it, applying the Resonant Soul.
Immediately, it dropped, unresponsive.
Back when I only developed Resonant Soul, the monsters' bodies would twitch and move in their 'sleep', as they relived their visions. Even I did, when under the effect of my own curse. The spell was long modified to avoid that issue.
"What is this spell?" Teuflisch asked curiously, as his undead ceased holding onto the beast.
Necromancy in battle was fascinating to behold. The skeletons broke under the monster's attacks, but... with a few spells of the necromancer, he could make them twist themselves back in shape. A constant, regenerating meat-shield... bone-shield, to be more precise.
The necromancer himself didn't sound disturbed or unsettled, just mildly curious.
It wasn't unexpected; while he could feel my mana engage, it's not like he could see the templates I was weaving, there is no way he could recognize a curse for a curse, not without experiencing it on himself.
"It's a pacifying spell I developed," I answered honestly, "Contact-based and rather potent."
I stepped away from the beast and gestured for the golems to approach.
Now for the transportation.
Over the last week, Teuflisch and I talked about a variety of topics, and among others, he showed some interest in my research. Once I explained exactly what I was doing, for some reason, he was taken with the idea and asked if I could share some details. In response, I just passed him some of my notes and a copy of the book we composed with 'S', who recently had a finalized draft sent to me for approval.
When he caught up on the reading a little bit, he politely, yet excitedly, requested to accompany me and see me work first-hand.
I didn't really mind, mostly because I was curious if he could provide any outside perspective to my dissection process. 'S' only helped with the methodology and theory, but I wanted someone who also worked with delicate magical tinkering to see if there is anything about the vivisection itself that can be improved upon.
Aside from that, today I was planning to take my experiments to a completely new level. Having someone present... felt appropriate. I wasn't expecting success; I was prepared just to demonstrate the procedure and discuss any problems with it.
It didn't take us long to set up in the shop and start the inspection of the captive monster.
The exposed core structure beneath my fingertips pulsed with contained energy, its crystalline formations catching the steady glow from the stabilization crystals embedded in the laboratory's walls. The ambient mana here remained constant, regulated by the house's internal enchantments, which made delicate work not only easier, but also what I would attempt next - possible.
"Cluster twelve responds to tactile stimulation," I noted aloud, watching the reaction ripple through the exposed core as my mana probe traced along its edge, my enchanted quill recording the observations, "Similar formation to the hawks from Tiefholz. I recognize it, this one is responsible for flight, but the density suggests enhanced capabilities."
Teuflisch leaned closer from his position beside the examination table, his earlier awkwardness replaced by focused attention. "The wing structure supports that. Look at the muscle structure." He gestured with a clean scalpel toward the creature's partially dissected wing. "Much more robust than most raptors."
It was his initiative. I understood little in actual flesh, muscle, and bone structures, and such, so I saw no reason to stop him from trying to deduce more about the monster when he requested, as long as he didn't damage it too much.
I nodded, making a mental note as I continued mapping the core's architecture, recognizing familiar and unfamiliar patterns and structures, as I listed them down for the pen to record. The beast remained perfectly still under the influence of the Resonant Soul, not even breathing. Every few minutes, I refreshed the enchantment with a brief touch, maintaining the creature's unconscious state.
"I'm classifying this type of monsters as Aquila Rupestris Variante," I said, using a specifically crafted tool to isolate another cluster within the core. "Mountain eagle variant. The base structure matches other specimens I came across, but there are enough deviations to warrant subspecies designation."
"I see," Teuflisch accepted, then paused. "You're going to attempt the integration now?"
"Yes." I glanced toward the specialized containment vessel resting on the adjacent workbench. Within its crystalline walls, a fragment of another monster's core floated in suspension, preserved in a solution of liquid mana. The piece had come from an avian monster I caught a day earlier, and from what I could isolate, this part was responsible for that monster's ability to create sonic attacks.
The necromancer moved to the observation equipment without being asked. One held a magnifying lens apparatus, another prepared to record measurements from the mana detection crystals.
"Stabilization is holding steady," Teuflisch reported, as he concentrated, attuning himself to the equipment. "Ambient mana shouldn't influence the process, you can proceed."
I retrieved the container and carefully extracted the core fragment using a set of specially created tools as I manually took control of the preservation spell acting upon the piece of the core. As far as the core fragment was concerned, it was still attached to its original monster, which was the whole point of that preservation spell I refined for so long. The piece was no larger than a fingernail, but it pulsed with its own distinct energy signature. The question was whether the eagle's core could accept and integrate foreign magical material, or if the incompatibility would prove fatal. Again.
"Beginning integration attempt," I announced, positioning the fragment near the edge of the eagle's exposed core. Then I produce a small cut in the core with another specialised spell, taking care to aim for a part I know has plenty of connective tissues I can repurpose. The moment the two pieces of crystallized mana came into proximity, nothing happened. No, I have to manually weave tiny mana connections that I can spot with a clairvoyance spell, to connect them, and make the core fragment get powered by the living monster's core.
So I started working.
Something went wrong immediately.
The eagle's core flared brighter, its internal structures shifting as if trying to accommodate the foreign presence. The fragment itself seemed to pulse with mana but out of rhythm.
"Reaction is positive initially," Teuflisch observed, watching the monitoring crystals. "But the energy fluctuations are increasing."
I could predict what will happen next. I knew, logically, that mana connections in the core I could observe were merely the biggest flows of energy; the smaller ones were far too tiny for me to observe, not to mention weave to connect with a new core fragment. I also knew that the core didn't strictly have much extra energy floating around. It was like attaching a new energy-hungry component to a random spot on a motherboard, except this 'motherboard' had no safety features here to prevent energy overdraws or short circuits.
The core's glow intensified further, and I could feel the mounting instability through my probing connections and the bristling array of monitoring spells. The eagle's body began to tremble despite the pacifying spell, its natural magical defenses responding to what they perceived as an invasion.
"Core temperature rising," I noted, feeling the heat through my fingertips. "Loss of energy is likely catastrophic. The integration is being rejected."
"There is a lot of mana being ejected," Teuflisch called out, confirming my suspicions. "Albert..."
I maintained my position, watching as the eagle's core structure began to fracture around the insertion point. Hairline cracks spread outward from where I'd attempted to graft the foreign fragment, each one leaking raw magical energy.
"The core is destabilizing."
"Noted." I carefully withdrew the fragment, cutting the connections, but the damage was already spreading. The eagle's core continued to crack, its internal light flickering as the magical matrix that sustained its existence began to collapse. The piece of core in my hand also started to break down.
"The damage seems to be critical." Teuflisch sounded disappointed, like he almost saw something wonderful, only to witness it fall apart in the last second.
The creature's mana signature started to weaken. The light within its core dimmed to nothing, and the carefully maintained magical structures dissolved into ambient energy that dissipated into the room's stabilization field.
I set down my instruments and stepped back from the table. "Time of death, approximately fourteen minutes after integration attempt began." I paused the basic chronometry spell at that. I will check the exact number later.
Teuflisch made the final notations on his recording tablet while his skeletons began the cleanup process. "The initial compatibility was promising. Perhaps a smaller fragment, or a different insertion point?"
"Possibly." I cleaned my hands with a prepared solution, considering the implications. "The rejection wasn't immediate, which suggests the core matrices aren't entirely incompatible. But the structural stress of maintaining foreign material exceeded the host's capacity. That, and the attachment procedure was far too imperfect."
"Like trying to graft a human arm to a dog," Teuflisch mused. "The muscles and tendons might match, but the framework, the blood, and the body's internal mechanism can't support the change."
"Apt comparison." I moved to record my observations in the research journal. "For a first attempt, the result is promising; the procedure seems to be possible. It's just about refining the work now."
"I am out of my depth here. Grafting tissues between carcasses is much less complicated," Teuflisch admitted a bit awkwardly, scratching his chin, "This procedure, whatever it was, is probably unprecedented. Trying to improve on it will require coming up with completely new methodologies, spells, equipment, techniques..." He trailed off. "Though, I suppose, you already did a lot of that."
I paused in my writing. "Indeed," I glanced at him with renewed interest. "Do you have experience with tissue grafting?"
"Some," he admitted with a slight flush. "Bodies with fleshy bits aren't my chosen forte; they are annoying to work with, but my master had me learn."
"Your master must be quite a mage," I said honestly. Even knowing as little about Necromancy as I did, attaching flesh from one being to another, and having a functional undead as a result, while drawing benefits from the new appendage... sounded difficult. Different people had different mana, and that went for said people's remains too. Building a spell structure around grafted parts must be torture.
"He was," He said quietly, smiling a bit to himself, as the blood started to disintegrate from his hands into black ash, making him glance down at them, "Huh, convenient," He muttered.
A necromancer would say that, I imagine.
"This is mostly how I do my studies," I told him quietly, moving on past the topic he clearly was uncomfortable talking about, "Those," I gestured to the reference journals around, "Are the monsters and the cores I recorded so far. I didn't bother mapping this one out this time, as the focus was on something else, but I will do so with the next such eagle."
"Are you going to keep calling it 'eagle'?" He asked, smiling to himself a bit, amused.
I raise an eyebrow.
"A Nebelspitze Bald Eagle, probably," I said instead, shrugging, "I will check later with the bestiary if this monster is officially recognized and recorded, but until I can verify that, I prefer to use the most intuitive names I can." Besides, the official names usually gave me aneurysm. They were either as basic as my own, or in German.
Suspiciously most monsters named in German were from the mythical era, while monsters, like 'Mountain Blue Saberwolf' would likely be a recently discovered species.
From what I traced so far, German terms is a language tradition rooted in this continent before even the Ancient Empire, it came from the Mythical Era, maybe earlier. It also was only mostly German, some words didn't match.
The necromancer nodded at that.
"I suppose that's fair. However, how would you call the procedure you were attempting today? It should have a name; it may just become a new area in magic."
I didn't expect the question, but I had similar thoughts.
"Spiritual Surgery," I offered simply.
"You certainly did look like a surgeon while you work, and it's self-explanatory, while still suitably mystical. I like it."
As expected, he has some taste.
"There is also the matter of what you are trying to achieve," He said, gently picking up the journal above which my enchanted quill was still floating, "You are trying to give characteristics of one monster to another... that certainly can eventually produce incredibly powerful monsters, but why?" He asked, looking me in the eyes.
There was none of his usual timid body language; if anything, he looked quite focused.
For a long moment, I considered his question.
"This is a study, the chemerology..." Another term I knew I would coin, "Is just the beginning. What I am truly trying to do has nothing to do with making monsters powerful," I admitted quietly, thinking about how I can explain what I truly yearned for.
"I want to be able to shape and change cores freely."
I couldn't really say more. Couldn't explain, not truly.
"I want to erase the mystery of what makes a monster, make it something that a man can influence and change at will... to erase the boundary between a monster and a human."
I could see Teuflisch's eyes widening as I said that.
It left a touch of surprise. There was something in how he looked at me that I couldn't understand, something I couldn't interpret. An indescribable cocktail of emotions I couldn't pinpoint to anything particular, which frustrated me greatly.
That day, Teuflisch dropped the subject, but there was a different sort of thoughtfulness behind his eyes as he interacted with me from that day onwards. I elect to ignore it, but I should've known it wouldn't be the end of it.
***
Usually, I spend Sunday in prayer.
For no particular reason, but for self-reflection. Incapable of feeling guilt, I simply recalled all minor and major sins, in actions or thoughts I could recall, and reflected on them as I quietly asked for forgiveness, as I gave my praises to the Lord.
It was a mind-numbing exercise, but not in a bad way. It was freeing to dedicate oneself to a simple task like this, focusing on it and nothing else.
I didn't notice Teuflisch's approach until long after he entered my mana detection range.
I spent exactly two seconds contemplating whether I should interrupt my prayer, but decided against it.
There was no shrine in my house, no icons or an altar, for I didn't believe they were needed. So instead, I meditated in the garden, under the sun and a gentle, biting touch of the winter winds.
The only thing I truly missed from the churches was the smell of incense and the kind words of the priests. But acquiring either one here was impossible; the incenses they used in this world and in their temples smelled differently.
Instead, on repeat, I projected the smell of incense to my memory with Resonant Soul as I prayed, and sometimes a quiet chorus or a sermon.
It was a shame I didn't have that many memorized. I had many regrets about not seeing and not experiencing more as a human, but I knew those were pointless, too.
Teuflisch approached me curiously, but didn't speak up immediately.
Opening my eyes, I simply turned towards him curiously.
"I am sorry if I interrupted you," He said sheepishly, his undead that he usually had accompany him throughout the woods, staying far behind, "Were you meditating?"
Meditation was one of the exercises mages did when training with mana.
"In a sense," I answered, inclining my head. But the half-truth, after I just repented for uttering such things, didn't seem fitting. "I was praying."
Teuflisch looked surprised.
"...pardon my reaction," He corrected himself immediately, as guilt flashed on his face a second after the surprise, "I didn't take you for a religious man," He admitted, shifting a bit in place.
"Why?" I asked in turn.
He seemed a bit embarrassed at first glance, but I knew that wasn't truly the case. The man was simply a bit awkward, especially when questioned in regards to his opinions. He reacted like someone who was used to being brushed aside.
So I gave him time.
"Because you are a learned man who does not make a judgment based on the scripture, I suppose," He said slowly, glancing aside, "The biggest reason is because there are passages about the raising of the dead in it, most of them are not flattering, even if they regard real tales from the Mythical Era. I didn't see any... well, judgment from you, I suppose?" He said awkwardly, glancing at me, as if to confirm my reaction, before continuing, "So I didn't think you would be the kind to spare much thought to religion or... at least some of the values it preaches?"
For a moment, I considered his words. I certainly could see where he was coming from. Since we got to know each other, I imagine I appeared as a cold, unshaken researcher who cared not for the desecration of the dead or the bloody experiments I conducted, even if my subjects were monsters.
He had little grounds to test my morality.
"Allow me to say this: who better knows how wondrous and miraculous is our world, if not a man who dedicates his life to study it?"
I turn towards him slightly. There was a winter hat on my head, neatly concealing my horns, so, for once, I wasn't in constant pain and annoyance interacting with a human.
"The knowledge we painstakingly collect and accumulate as we advance with our magic is scraps compared to the true limits of the creation around us," I continued, musing more to myself than to the necromancer, "The more you learn, the more you realize how deep is the abyss that is existence. We are learned people; it's in how we think that we search for causes, see patterns, and try to make logical sense out of them, so eventually we all come to a choice: either to believe that what surrounds us simply is, and there is no reason to question it, or that there are greater causes and patterns to what surrounds us. A design, perhaps."
I tilted my head just a little bit, without summoning any deceiving expression to twist my face.
"I am arrogant. So instead of choosing to cease to question, I chose to keep thinking and asking. But when you have a question with no answer, you have to make a choice what to believe in, so you can start to walk the road, until you are proven differently." For a moment, I considered what I already said, and what I still wanted to say.
"I am not a religious man." As I was not a man, not as he understood it, "I simply chose to have faith, because it is kind."
"It's a bit difficult for me to view it that way," Teuflisch acknowledged after a long pause. I could see that he considered my words without brushing them aside immediately, "Fundamentally, the religion is the people who preach it, and I had my fair share of trouble with priests. Even if the Goddess's Magic is useful, the scripture doesn't ask for worship, and a lot of principles and judgments that the Church believes to be absolute are simply derived from stories told there." He sounded quite angry, maybe upset.
There was more to it than simple dislike, I think.
"I've read the scriptures. Some of them," I learned the written language using them, after all, "Had interesting lessons; but most were shrouded in overcomplicated, poetized allegories," Like the chapter about the time-traveling bird. "The religion I follow has nothing to do with the Goddess of Creation, however."
That seemed to genuinely take Teuflisch aback.
"Another religion? I... don't quite think I've heard this often," He said, seemingly a bit intrigued as he approached.
It clearly was an invitation to share, even if an unspoken one.
For a moment, I hesitated. I am not qualified to preach His Word; I can barely live abiding by it.
Then another thought reached me, that I couldn't help but find humorous in its own, twisted way.
Between the two worlds, I am the longest living practicing Christian, aside from His Son, am I not?
"It's difficult to explain concisely," I finally said, as Teuflisch sat on the small bench under the roof of the house, while I kept sitting on a rock near it. "I have faith that there is a God who made the world and everything else that exists, and that he is kind and caring. I have faith that he loves all of us. But preaching the word about him..." I hesitated before shaking my head, "It is a difficult thing to do, unless someone is willing to truly listen."
The necromancer listened to me attentively; he did not interrupt, nor did I see dismissal on his face.
"So far, your God does not sound so different from The Goddess of Creation," He told me, and I appreciated the honesty.
"Maybe. I am not familiar with the common interpretations of the goddess of creation, only with the scriptures themselves." I admitted, and from the scriptures I did read, she was like an overarching presence over events and the stories, yet, unlike the Bible, there were no clear messages, not a single chapter that was her imparting a lesson. Merely stories she was involved with. "I suppose the message eluded me."
Teuflisch chuckled, equally amused and awkward.
"That's not a rare opinion, actually. Much like the spells of the Divine Magic, many commandments and direct messages addressing those reading were derived through numerology and ciphers." He shook his head a bit, "Just reading the scriptures is like reading fascinating fairy tales with poetry and prose."
I suspected that much; it would've been rather odd if the Church of this world had completely made up the fundamental values of their religion from nothing.
Personally, I disliked this. Whoever wrote the scriptures wasn't trying to spread their word openly; they encrypted and concealed it. I am sure some Gematriasts in my shoes would've been weeping in joy as they could actually derive real spells and messages hidden in the tomes on purpose, but creating your scriptures into puzzles barred many of their messages from the common men.
However, I can't make a definitive judgment. The Goddess' Magic is capable of even crossing through time, at least according to the story of Frieren. It might have been possible that the being who wrote the scriptures also had the ability to peer into the future, and her cipher was meant to be solved and broken precisely when needed.
Those were pointless guesses, however.
"What would you say are the defining principles of your belief?" He asked, seemingly quite curious.
I considered his question carefully for a long moment.
I stared into the snow under the rock I sat on, seeing some snowflakes slowly drift, carried by the wind. It took me over a minute to decide.
"It's that the world is imperfect by design." I finally said, my voice quiet yet steady, "That there is much suffering and sin in it. That living, sometimes, leads to sin with no alternatives you can see. And that, despite all of that, there is always forgiveness, and always a cause to strive to live by the laws that may be too good for the world we inhabit."
I looked up into his eyes.
"Because just trying your best to live up to His love is enough. By that alone, you make the world kinder."
Teuflisch didn't answer me, leaving us both to our thoughts.
Author Notes: I am very happy about this chapter overall; it's a slow one, but I set up everything I wanted with it. It will get a bit more exciting soon.
But please tell me what you guys think.