In the College of Eternal Life, in the Capital City of Exitus, in the island nation of Kingsland, the nation of the Enelim, a congregation of well-maintained, well-groomed liches stood around a jar of plasma. Not lightning or fire mind you, but plasma, exactly like the kind found in human blood.

It was, in fact, human plasma.

“Remarkable,” The Dean said, the blue fire in his eye sockets flaring with emotion. His undead gaze shifted from the first jar then to the second, which held a living green gel.

A Jelly, an evolutionary cousin of the Slime. Not the common kind of Jelly one would find out in the field, I might add, this was a special domestic variety. The kind only high leveled ranchers could manage, and only when they had a special license from their host nation.

“I could scarcely believe it when I read your paper on the subject,” the Dean continued, taking his eyes off the two jars and looking at his colleges.

Two other liches, a single techno-lich, and an extremely old man in scholar's robes leaning heavily on a wooden walking stick were examining the specimens. The old man wheezed and gave a weak smile to The Dean.

“It was just as surprising to me, I assure you of that,” he wheezed, then began hacking violently. Blood was mixed with the saliva, and the assembled liches leaned in with eager, approving looks on their faces. The old man recovered and one of the liches gave him a sympathetic, gentle pat on the back.

“Any day now Trellius,” a regular lich said, “we can hardly believe you've held on this long. Just get it over with already!”

The old man shot the lich a dirty look and the assembled undead chuckled.

“You know as well as I,” Trellius said, “why I must endure.”

“I'm only joking,” the lich said, “it is admirable you spend your final days in research.”

“They are not my final days. I will naturally, after my death, take a six month leave of absence, but I will be returning shortly after that.”

A young man entered the room with a glass case, a set of human shin bones on display.

“My final days. . . so long ago, yet so clearly remembered,” The Dean said, then indicated the young living scholar to place the case next to the sample of human plasma, “I spent them with my grandchildren I believe.”

“Reckless,” Trellius said, “very reckless. Unless you had a ritual hall set up in your home?”

“Naturally,” the Dean said.

“Wasteful then,” Trellius said, and the assembled undead laughed again.

“I think he's nervous it won't work,” the techno-lich said, his undead body seamlessly merged with technology.

“I have every confidence in our Necromancers, and in my own ability,” Trellius said, growing a bit red in the face, then devolving into another fit of coughs. He really seemed to be forcing them, like he was intentionally trying to over-strain himself.

“Oh don't do that,” the Dean said, his head leaned back as he laughed, “no, no Trellius, you must die naturally, ah ha ha ha,” his laugh was dry, but genuine.

“I did the same thing in my last week,” another lich said, and the undead began to howl with laughter. Trellius gave them all a baleful glare.

“Your discomfort will soon end, trust me, you should savor the pain and the frailty of life while it is still yours. It ends, and this,” the Dean said, indicating his own undead form, “is forever.”

“I think he was pointing to his robes,” the techno-lich said.

“He thinks he'll be dean forever, the arrogance!” another lich said in jest, and there was chuckling all around, including from Trellius.

“Quite enough, quite enough,” the old dying man said, sounding a bit cheered, “you're all here because of my conclusions after the autopsies of the dead humans in our lands. First, a bit of history; the slime.”

The dead were, as a general rule, never bored; but they all knew about the slime. It was a well studied monster, but they respected their colleague enough to listen.

“As you all well know, the slime is one of the most morphologically diverse organisms in The World. This is owed in part to its low intelligence, and its asexual and sexual reproductive abilities. Its slime, however, is the real reason it is valued. Slimes, and their sub-species, are specialized organisms and their specialization is mana retention.”

Nods all around, these were all professors in the College of Eternal Life, and Trellius wasn't breaking any new ground here.

“Their slime can be processed in any number of ways, and I will not waste my final breaths listing them. The grade varies from species to species, and typically, the higher the grade, the more difficult the slime is to deal with. This,” he said, and held up the jar of green gel, “and this,” he held up the jar of human plasma, “are nearly equal in their ability to retain mana.”

“And the bones?”

“Similarly graded. The human corpse is useful in every way, there is nothing inside of them below the B-grade. Further, each of them possess a Quasar class soul. Ponder that, and the sudden glut of cheap, powerful souls on the market makes complete sense.”

“Your paper mentioned their disposition and reproduction, but never specified. Are you suggesting what I believe you are? Further, are the rumors that they are [Magical] true? I read the newsletter the same as all of us, but still I can scarcely believe it..” the Dean stated, and the assembled liches nodded. It was why they were all here after all.

“They are [Magical], yes.”

“I always thought that was a Sunlet exclusive ability,” Trellius said.

“So did I, but it isn’t so. Apparently it was originally created by humans during the time of the Primordial War, when they were exiled to The World the first time.”

“And their recovery time?”

“Months.”

“By the grave, what a remarkable organism. Your suggestion Trellius?”

“They are intelligent, agreeable, and reproduce like goblins,” Trellius said, and laughed a laugh which was nearly wicked, “in other words gentlemen, they are the perfect species to be farmed.”

The liches pondered it.

“I have heard reports the humans transform when they activate their levels. Fairies? Remarkable, their value cannot be overstated.”

“Indeed,” Trellius said, “I propose we offer the humans the same corpse contracts we offer our own citizens, abyss, why stop there, let's offer them full citizenship in Kingsland, immediately. They will love the Kintergarten.”

“I will bring it before the Eternal Assembly at once,” the Dean said seriously, and then stood.

“Trellius, you are going to be a fine lich. I will be personally overseeing your transformation,” the Dean said, then patted the living man on the shoulder with a bony hand.

“A fine lich,” the techno-lich said and patted him as well. The other scholars and professors repeated the process.

Kingsland, home of the Enelim, a nation of Necromancy and undead. The citizens live a life of plenty, supported by the undead, and when they die, their contribution to the nation begins. Every adventurers guild in The World has a booth with an Enelim representative behind it, a man who will promise a monthly payout in exchange for a corpse contract.

Most adventurers took them as well, because all they had to do was submit to a yearly physical and keep their bodies in good shape. When they died, their bodies were taken by Kingsland and resurrected, and the corpse contract began paying for itself.

The living were ruled by a king, and the dead were ruled by the College. Two nations, one on top of the other. A land where the dead served the living, and the living served the dead.

That day, an edict was put forth which would shake The World.

'From this day forth, the illegal poaching of the Human species shall be met with an official censure of the College of Eternal Life, and a full trade embargo with the nations in which these crimes are perpetrated.

All human beings are hereby offered full citizenship to the nation of Kingsland, with all benefits and responsibilities that entails.'

It was the way the dead men who dreamed they ruled the world liked things. Short, to the point, and inconvenient for their enemies.