Antariel's Misfortune and the Elixir of Immortality
To Antariel's misfortune, William's coronation dragged on even longer than I'd anticipated. And after the ceremony, William summoned me separately.
"I am deeply grateful for Viscount Akasha's assistance."
He'd only recently finished his training as crown prince before ascending to the throne, but blood couldn't be deceived—authority as an absolute ruler was already radiating from him.
"I merely did what was necessary for the Ether Empire."
"I know better than anyone that you need nothing. You simply wish to live peacefully in Akasha Territory. But to offer no reward would weigh on my conscience."
William understood me well. Sure, I said I wanted peace, but I lived far busier than it appeared from the outside—and I didn't expect him to grasp that much. Still, he clearly wanted to give me something. Refusing would be tough.
It might be a ploy to draw me deeper into the central politics, but I'd accept the goodwill as such.
"In that case, I'll accept one thing."
"Anything you desire, I shall grant."
Promising without hearing the request was unwise, but he must have anticipated I wouldn't make outrageous demands.
"There was one project the empire had been pursuing before it was paused."
"Which one do you mean?"
"The New Continent expedition."
"Ah, yes, that one. I recall it was a massive failure that led to its suspension."
Even among the many imperial ventures halted midway, he knew of it. He'd clearly studied hard in the meantime.
"Recognize the New Continent as my territory."
"Pardon?"
William seemed momentarily at a loss, his mind struggling to process it. The New Continent belonged to no one officially. Formally, no one had even set foot there. Asking for such unclaimed land must have baffled him.
"Wouldn't that be a grand reward?"
In truth, it cost him nothing tangible, yet it was enormous. Perfect for the current situation, no?
William pondered briefly, then stood and bowed his head.
"On behalf of the Ether Empire, I offer my respects to your integrity."
Not particularly integrity on my part, but close enough.
Thus, I secured an official document recognizing the New Continent as part of my domain. We agreed not to publicize it. Other nations were pursuing New Continent expeditions too—best avoid needless friction.
Even if one of them diligently researched and arrived in 20 or 30 years, they'd find me there with a massive mansion already built.
Of course, dwarves weren't that lazy; before then, they'd develop airships, and visitors would spot New Continent round-trips in progress.
With imperial palace business wrapped up, it was finally time to rescue Antariel.
Bastet had likely known from the start that Antariel lived on the New Continent and harbored no hostility. Why she'd beaten him half to death anyway was a mystery—humans can't fathom a cat's mind.
Upon arriving, Antariel lay sprawled in the mansion courtyard, beaten to rags, as if he'd been under constant watch.
"You alright?"
I healed him immediately and checked his condition, but he was half out of it. Fixing his shattered bones throughout his body, I watched him rise zombie-like from the ground.
"What in the world is this place? Who... who is that noble lady, and who is that woman?"
He'd nearly said "cat" but caught Bastet's sharp glare from Lily's lap nearby and hastily corrected himself.
Antariel looked utterly bewildered.
"The world's strongest cat. Stronger than me."
"I see. The world's strongest... noble makes sense, then. So there are strongest dogs or strongest mice too?"
No, probably not—he still seemed delirious. Though I had seen the strongest cockroach once.
"And Miss Lily is a descendant of the ancient succubi race. She has charm abilities."
"I'd guessed she had some similar technique. But why are the dwarves unaffected?"
"Ancients have a kind of immunity, apparently. Come to think of it, you're... not human, but not ancient either. A new race?"
"Is that so? I see."
Antariel wore an expression of sudden enlightenment.
"More importantly, strong-willed humans or those used to women aren't hit as hard. Maybe your new race is susceptible to charm. Your mental fortitude seems solid, though... Don't tell me you lack experience with women?"
Instantly, Antariel's purple face flushed crimson.
He did, the poor guy. And Antariel wasn't young by any means. High realm made him look youthful, but I recalled he was over 80.
"Sorry."
I apologized without thinking.
Antariel started to retort, then spread his bat wings and shot into the air.
"I'll fix this issue and return!"
With a line straight out of a third-rate villain, he flew full speed to his cave.
The sweat streaming from his eyes as he fled was surely my imagination.
Back in his cave, Antariel dove into body modification research. I'd left a clone to spy diligently—hoping for results.
Just as peaceful days seemed to return, trouble arose a few days later.
Pulk Nellias, the second-strongest human—master alchemist—had died. Natural causes. He passed in his sleep, so no suffering.
Even with elixirs fooling his body into youth and extending life, he couldn't escape mortal fate.
I'd watched Pulk for quite some time. Since I started making clones, about 30 years shy.
At death, he was 147—plenty for a human.
Yet he'd never completed his lifelong dream: the elixir of immortality.
The moment he died, the clone I'd assigned long-term absorbed his soul. A massive soul, the first in ages.
In the old days, it'd have sent shivers of euphoria through me. Now? Barely a stir.
I teleported to his hidden workshop, gathering all his research notes, experiments, and equipment.
And the most vital: his unfinished elixir of immortality, decades in the making.
Not much of a reward, but I moved his body to his hometown and buried it in a quiet, sunny spot.
I planned to finish the immortality elixir myself.
Whether for me or someone else? I'd decide later. It might take years—by then, everyone around me could be gone.
Or I might die first, lose my human body, and need it no more.
For now, I'd recreate his lab exactly. But where? I settled on the New Continent mansion basement and commissioned the dwarves.
They halted the underground lab order.
"Something else goes there."
"A facility needing basement space?"
"Of course. An airship needs its engine room."
What now?
"Airship? That mansion?"
"Yes. Didn't you know?"
What were these guys building? It looked like a regular mansion.
I'd assumed dwarves weren't making airships. Mistake.
"Was the one you arrived on like this?"
"No, much smaller. It crashed because it was tiny, so we're making this one bigger."
Not the size—it was the clash of two gods' aftermath.
Anyway, separate alchemy lab needed.
"Build a separate lab then."
"Give us blueprints, and we'll replicate it."
Drawing them was simple. I sketched on the spot and handed them over. The dwarves huddled, consulted, and modified—turning my design into something several times larger.
"This size work?"
"Isn't it excessive?"
"Has to be that big to call it a lab."
"Fine, do it that way. But prioritize the lab."
Experts know best. Bigger lab didn't hurt me.
Then Bastet snuck up, quipped, and scampered off.
[Trying to make more useless junk, huh?]
She knew about the elixir? As a god, sure—but she spoke like she'd seen it before. Odd.
While dwarves built the new alchemy lab, changes stirred on the New Continent.
Sprouts finally emerged around the mansion. Bastet's influence? I scattered beach grass seeds, and they sprouted too.
Once the soil purified more, small fields could work.
At Lily's request, we brought a dozen chicks. New Continent's first livestock—honored.
Charmed? They trailed Lily like a mother hen.
Bastet, ousted from Lily's lap, swatted chicks with her tail in irritation but didn't kill them.
Meanwhile, Akasha Territory boomed daily. Land was getting scarce.
The continent's—nay, the Ether Empire's—richest, best-to-live-in domain.
Why? Not just competent managers, though that helped.
The real reason: good people thrived here.
Bad apples couldn't survive. No corrupt officials, no thugs, no shady merchants scamming for profit.
Crime meant punishment regardless of status—no innocents wronged.
Simply: don't sin, work hard, and thrive. Jobs aplenty, fair pay.
Building such a place was no easy feat. Scholars from the capital studied it in vain.
My clones patrolled every corner, making it possible.
Someday limits might hit, or I'd quit—but for now, it endured.
As Akasha grew, neighbors suffered most. Why stay in misery next to paradise? Free folk migrated.
Ousted riffraff and crooks infested neighbors, spiraling vice.
The backlash brewed. Neighboring lords hated Akasha but feared its might and my influence—no direct attacks.
Then a few gathered, hatching a petty, vile scheme.