In the pitch-black dungeon, Ambrose cast Terraform.

This time, however, there was no convenient fool to supply him with vast amounts of magic, so he could only burn through the gold stored in the Golden Throne.

It was extravagance in the truest sense, but if he wanted to transform this subterranean city quickly, there was no other choice.

The world became a canvas. With a mere gesture, Ambrose could reshape it at will.

"First, I'll dig up the entire city."

His fingers scythed through the air. Sand and stone that had lain undisturbed for ages loosened at once. What would have taken dozens of shovel strikes to chip away now flowed like water, sliding free and pouring into the empty structures below.

His perception spread outward, and the buried city began to reveal its true form.

Just as he had guessed, it was a massive five-pointed city. In scale, it rivaled the main district of Alkhemia, and was large enough to house hundreds of thousands... though considering its original inhabitants had been giants, it would probably hold fewer than ten thousand of them.

What pleased Ambrose most was that, wherever the sand receded, gold gleamed.

The giants had truly loved their gold. At the very heart of the city stood a statue cast entirely from it.

Unfortunately, centuries of pressure had warped it beyond recognition. Only a vague humanoid outline remained.

Even so, Ambrose estimated that the total amount of gold here easily exceeded a hundred million coins' worth.

"No wonder dwarves get rich digging up tombs. If a single underground city holds this much, just how much have they amassed after all these years?"

For a moment, Ambrose felt an urge to pay a visit to the dwarven treasury. It might just be the most satisfying experience of his life.

Excavation was only the first step. Next, he would bring the city back to life.

"First, proper ventilation."

With a flick of his will, two perpetual air currents formed above the city, sweeping away the stagnant air and replacing it with something clean and breathable.

"Next, a clean water source."

At the center of the city, clear water surged upward, forming a grand fountain. Streams flowed outward, washing away dust and grime, as if the city itself were being reborn.

Harvey stood beside him, staring in awe. "This is like creating a world... Master, isn't this the power of the gods?"

He had never even heard of Terraform before. How was this any different from divinity?

Was this truly something a mere legendary mage could achieve?

Ambrose shook his head. "Compared to gods? Not even close. You think this water came from nothing? All I've done is redirect underground water sources into the city. Same with the wind. Didn't you notice the temperature change? Magma flows around the outskirts in a carefully guided pattern, creating a temperature differential in the southwest corner. That's what drives the airflow.

"Terraform can't create something from nothing. It only alters the environment. True gods can rewrite the laws of the world itself."

The Golden Desert was an example: it was just a slight alteration in the air that changed how sunlight refracted. The orcish mountains were another. The so-called eternal thunderclouds were simply storms that had been made perpetual.

And then there was the blessing Catherine had received: invulnerability under moonlight. That kind of absolute, conceptual protection, was what it meant to truly alter the rules of reality.

Though Harvey understood the explanation, he replied, "Even so... it looks like divine power to me."

No matter how talented he was, his past had been spent scraping along the very bottom of society. He couldn't even handle Hastin's fists. His perspective was still limited.

Ambrose snorted. "If you're going to be my student, you'll have to broaden your horizons. With your talent, it won't be difficult to become a legend. Judge the gods when you get there."

Harvey nodded. He was eagerly anticipating such a future, but having already "died" once, he didn't react with childish excitement.

"Master, why rebuild the city like this? Undead don't need air or water."

He didn't ask whether this was for his sake. He knew better. If it were just for him, Ambrose would've told him to dig a well himself, not spend mountains of gold conjuring a fountain.

Ambrose answered plainly, "Because I'm turning this place into an alchemy factory. Ventilation and clean water are essential."

"An alchemy factory?"

"Mm. I need gold. Not the sort of pocket change you get from gambling, but hundreds of millions. With the fall of Alkhemia, the entire continent's supply of alchemical products has been disrupted. People might fear alchemy now, but they can't live without potions. Soon, demand will outstrip supply. That's when we can make a fortune."

Once tasted, luxury was hard to abandon. Alchemy had long been woven into the fabric of the world. Now that Alkhemia was gone, most high-tier alchemists were dead, and the survivors had become fugitives, there would be significant demand and short supply of alchemy products.

Profit was guaranteed. But Ambrose left one thing unsaid.

He wanted to revive alchemy to restore some of his master's lost power.

More and more gods were entering the fray. The future would only grow more chaotic. And the only real trump card Ambrose possessed was that unreliable master of his.

The God of Alchemy had already fallen in divinity. At this rate, he might not even be able to shield Ambrose when it mattered.

So Ambrose had no choice. He would make alchemy indispensable again, once more the ultimate force of production.

It wouldn't be easy, but he already had a plan.

First, though, he needed to build his factory. And for that, he needed manpower.

Not the kind of low-tier undead that constantly leaked necrotic energy and corrupted everything they touched, no. Those were only fit to produce reagents for necromancy, not potions for the living.

Undead couldn't even farm without producing rot.

At present, he had exactly three usable workers: the brothers Hastin and Hares, and his disciple Harvey.

For now, it would suffice. No technical work was needed yet.

Ambrose handed Harvey a scroll.

"This is the most advanced alchemical factory blueprint salvaged from Alkhemia's archives. Study it carefully. Adapt it to this city. I don't need you to fully understand it, but you will have to structure the entire layout."

Harvey unrolled it and nearly went cross-eyed. It was packed with dense symbols and tangled lines, and more complex than anything he had ever seen.

"Master... I've never studied alchemy."

"Use your brain," Ambrose said flatly. "You're a mage. All your points are in intelligence, aren't they? As a diviner, you've got to trust your instincts. Give it time and you'll figure it out. I couldn't even read when I first studied alchemy, but it still worked out in the end."

Compared to his own beginning as a transmigrator who didn't know the language, Harvey had it easy.

"Then what will you be doing, Master?" Harvey asked.

"Procurement. You think the three of us can craft all that equipment by hand? A single mana extraction furnace would take years to build. Of course we're buying them."

Harvey thought to himself, "Buying them... more like stealing them."

When it came to gold, his master had no morals whatsoever.

"Watch the place. Those two love slacking off, so keep an eye on them, too."

With that, Ambrose shifted into the form of a black-haired youth and flew out of the underground city.

Harvey could only sigh and stare at the blueprint as he tried to make sense of it.

Ambrose, meanwhile, didn't head for the surface. Instead, he veered off through a narrow tunnel and entered another underground city.

As he approached the towering gates, two gargoyles in the shadows lit up with crimson eyes. Stone wings unfurled, baring fangs and claws.

A pale dwarf emerged from the darkness.

"Young man, you shouldn't be here, though your timing is perfect. I haven't tasted young blood in quite some time. Allow me to—" 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

Before he could finish, crimson light pinned him in place.

Minutes later, Heki Stone appeared at the gate.

Heki Stone had the same stocky build and same levitating spell going that put him half a head above Ambrose.

"Hah! If it isn't my old friend. Dropping by without notice?" He waved a hand, releasing his subordinate from the Human Stasis spell.

The vampire immediately melted back into the shadows, not daring to look at Ambrose again.

"Your staff lack manners," Ambrose said solemnly. "They've wounded my pride."

Heki's smile vanished. "Is your pride made of tissue paper? Enough. No one else is here, so cut the act. What do you want?"

"Straight to business, then. I need to place an order for professional-grade alchemical equipment. Can you source it?"

Heki frowned. "How professional?"

Ambrose handed him a long roll of parchment.

After reading it, Heki shook his head. "These are rare. I can get you maybe half, and it won't be cheap."

Ambrose scoffed. "I'm a lich, not a vampire. Don't try to con me. Alkhemia's gone and factories are bankrupting everywhere. Equipment should be flooding the market. How can it be expensive?"

Heki grimaced. This lich was sharper than any vampire, and impossible to fleece.

"Seventy percent of market price," Heki said reluctantly. "But the mana extraction furnace—there's no chance. Those things can't be moved easily. Disassembly requires specialists, and bankrupt factories can't afford that. Most are just left to decay."

Ambrose chuckled. "Seventy? Anything above fifty and I walk. As for the furnace, I'll handle it myself."

Heki's expression darkened. He'd barely get any profit himself at those rates.

He was about to refuse when Ambrose added casually, "I'm planning to build a new Alkhemia. When I do, you'll have priority access to all distribution channels. How does that sound?"