I Became A Zompirewolf

The battlefield was eerily silent. No more explosions were going off, and no more snarls of the undead could be heard either, for the battlefield had turned into a graveyard for the undead.

The corpses lay on the ground, one with the bodies of a few unlucky people who had not been evacuated in time. The charred corpses were giving off a thick black smoke.

The area was declared unfit for anyone but Ashton to enter. In their final attempt to spread the virus, the undead released a massive cloud of corpsification gas even as they died.

Thankfully Ashton was hovering above and absorbed the gas before people behind the walls could come in contact with it.

A couple of hours later, the battle was over, and Ashton did not even have to raise a finger against the undead. That said, he had met the starting requirements to raise a lich. Now all that remained was to look for a suitable person to be turned into a lich.

[Good luck finding someone who will willingly embrace lich-hood.]

Turning oneself into a lich was much easier than having someone else do it. For this reason, every lich in existence had turned themselves into a lich and not someone else.

After all, random Tom, Dick and Harry wouldn't have the resolve to embrace death and immortality simultaneously. Only someone with nothing to live for and yet everything to experience would be willing to turn themselves into a lich.

"Master, we have gathered the blood of the fallen as you wished," Sven returned with a small vial filled with a viscous black fluid.

Although Sven said the vial contained the blood of the fallen, in reality, the vial only had a drop of blood from everyone who got killed. Anyone who drank the vial's content would turn into an undead being. But not necessarily into a lich.

A final ingredient needed to be added to the vial. It was the blood of a beloved one. The candidate would have to kill the person closest to them as a sign of complete devotion to the task and add their blood into the mix before drinking.

As if things were not complicated enough, the target must be killed using a specific poison. The poison from the Vrucificus flower only blooms twice a year on the night of the blood moon.

This act was supposed to sever any semblance of soul and attachment the candidate might have to the world of the living. According to the grimoire, even after completing these gruelling tasks, one would only turn into a partial lich or a Demilich.

The road to Lich-hood was long and tiring, where a simple mistake could ruin everything. Sacrificing countless souls, killing the people closest to one, and repeating it over and over wasn't something weak-minded individuals could deal with.

Hence the number of liches throughout the galaxy could be counted on fingers.

"Burn the corpses," Ashton waved his hand, and his summons got to work.

Six months; that's how long Ashton had to find a suitable candidate, or else the blood he had gathered would become useless, forcing him to start the process from scratch.

'For now, let's head back and reconnect with everyone.'

[Maybe you'll end up finding some pathetic guy who would be willing to help you.]

'If only you had a body, I wouldn't have to look for a pathetic guy in the first place.'

[Or, you could try looking into a mirror. I assure you, there'll be a pathetic guy in front of you within moments.]

'Of course, there will be. After all, you live inside me.'

[... ceasefire!]

***

"How cheeky can you people be?" Ashton asked Virgil, "Really? A statue? And here I thought you would be too occupied even to remember my face!"

Now that the danger had been averted, Avalina and Virgil decided to give Ashton a tour of Livan. It was then they came across a statue of himself.

By seeing the statue, Ashton could see what the sculptor had tried to do. In an attempt to show Ashton's Zompirewolf side, the sculptor decided to give him furry wolf-like arms while vampiric wings were coming out of his back.

The statue was holding 'Balmond' in one of his hands while half of the face looked oddly misshapen to pay homage to his 'undead' genes. While the genes within Ashton's body lived in harmony, his depiction in the statue did not.

The statue was supposed to symbolise hope for everyone in the hard times. However, judging by how menacing it appears, it's safe to save the statue could only work as a scarecrow, if nothing else.

[They might as well add a Scythe in your other hand.]

"Uh... let's keep moving, shall we?" Virgil awkwardly mumbled and practically pushed Ashton away from the statue.

"I think I have had enough for the day," Ashton replied, "The immediate danger might have been everted, but the source of the problem remains."

The outbreak started in Contingency and spread like wildfire throughout the empire. That said, little to nothing had been done to take care of the root cause of the problem.

"I was afraid you'd say that," Avalina sighed, "the horde you fought today wasn't even 10% of the undead armada."

Ashton nodded as he understood what Avalina was hinting towards. If they were struggling so desperately against 10% of an army, then it was obvious why nothing had been done to take back Contingency.

Everyone was too occupied while ensuring their survival; the thought of fighting back had never crossed their mind. But now things were about to change.

However, jumping to confront the enemy without strategies and understanding of the situation was plainly stupid. Despite being the strongest person on the planet, Ashton wasn't arrogant enough to underestimate an opponent.

Thankfully, he knew the person who would have plenty of intel for him. He might also be useful in raising a lich. After all, who would know how to create a lich than a lich himself?

"Where is 'Forgotten'?"