Venomknight curled into himself a bit. I could see in his remaining human eye that he was cautious, scared, and somehow exhausted. But, even if he wanted to say these things to me, he fought against a greater power than himself, and therefore could do nothing of his own free will besides speak occasionally. He was a prisoner.

When I cast Enthrall, the master-level spell that required a willing, living being to agree with being my servant, I felt that there were two consciousnesses within Venomknight. Figured… So, I cast it twice, on both minds. One outright rejected it, and the other took a while, but eventually agreed.

Once that happened, I could feel the presence of the other mind like it was in my party, but it was more detailed and comprehensive. Alright. Let’s see now. I unsheathed my sword and sliced at the bottom of the torso, separating it with ease, then I cast Chronoheal on the torso. Normal human legs began regrowing, and the exoskeleton was falling off as time went by. Gross couldn’t even begin to describe it.

Once the spell was over, the oversized scorpion died. Next to the deformed carcass appeared a neatly folded black robe, a staff, and some ration. It, it dropped loot. My mind was flipping out. How is this not a fucking game?! But… I looked at the butt-naked old man who laid unconscious and at the scorpion’s corpse and body pieces. I decided to throw everything in my inventory and proceeded to the red light with the man floating behind Dreadhoof and I via Telekinesis.

Once I entered the red beam, we went from the dastardly hot desert climate to a frozen tundra. Great. I used Synthesis to create some thick blankets and clothing out of the copious amounts of snow all around me and clothed him before he had a chance to wake up. I imagined waking up to a lich putting on boxer briefs on me would’ve been less than pleasant.

The tundra had expected enemies like yetis, polar bears, wolves, and strange magical ice apparitions. Because I had the man with me, I wasted no time in dispatching my enemies. But he still managed to wake up while I was in the middle of fighting an apparition.

I quickly took him to a cave. He was still rather aware of me and didn’t fail to avert his eyes elsewhere, even while I did something as menial as make breakfast. His hair and beard were as white as the snow in this damn wasteland, and just as abundant; he desperately needed a barber. I planned to give him his freedom, so I didn’t want to pilot my female vessel in front of him and reveal my identity.

He was famished, and the pleasing aroma made his starvation even worse. Yet, he refused to touch my delicious – probably – grilled cheese sandwich, egg omelet, and bacon with hot chocolate. How dare you, bitch?! I can hardly fucking resist this, but you, who’s starving, don’t want it? I’ve never felt so insulted in my life. “Relax, man. Why would I save your life then poison you? I’m a lich, but I’m not a psycho. Just eat.”

He was rather taken aback by my manner of speaking, but he understood well enough. Even though he began eating, his eyes were still glued to me. “Forgive me. A mons—being, such as yourself, saving a man, that’s unheard of. But I am grateful. I thank you.” He performed a gratus.

I made a portal back to Ivora. “Here. You can return to Ivora with this. Once you’re there, I’ll release the spell, and you’ll be free to live however you want.”

He looked at the portal with widened eyes, then at me, then back to the portal. “I-it has been, over a century now. The people I know are long dead. Instead, if I may be so bold, I would wish to stay at your side, and swear fealty to you, as my new lord.”

I checked the spell again to ensure I didn’t fuck it up. Enthrall basically tampered with a being’s reward system. For thralls caught under the Enthrall spell, pleasing and serving a master would hit their brain with mad amounts of feel-good brain juices like dopamine, serotonin, and all that science stuff. However, the caster of the spell could control how strong the reward system was, and therefore a thrall could range from being a regular worker, to being a junkie that gets high on servitude.

Indeed, the level I set it to was negligible, so his offer to serve me was of his own volition. “Why? You realize your family and friends might have kids alive still, right? I’m sure you can find people if you look.”

“Yes,” he sat upright instead of slouching, “that may be true. However, my honor and pride as a knight is the one thing I have not lost. Every man needs a purpose, a meaning, a vision to work towards. Even if I go back home, it’s not guaranteed I’ll have a purposeful life. Instead of chancing it, I much rather rely on something tangible, concrete, and raise my sword in the name of the one that saved me from a fate only death could undo. My skills as a knight were once unmatched; please, let me prove myself to you.”

Ugh. I’m the Lich God, man. I don’t need your skills. I sat and thought of a use for him, but came up with nothing. Meh, well, if he wants to do it, then why not? I brought the scorpion corpse back out and Synthesized it into armor for him, then Synthesized the staff it dropped into a longsword, which he said was his favorite weapon.

He had reservations about even touching the monster’s corpse, but decided to wear it as a badge of triumph, a reminder to himself that he had the mental constitution to keep his sanity for a lifetime in what he described as torture without rest. The matte black plate armor was as striking as could be with the symbol of a scorpion on the breastplate. He gripped the dark green longsword and mentally reminisced for an awkwardly long time.

He got down on a knee, clutched the handle of his sword and let it stand upright in front of him. “I shall never forget what you did for me this day. I, Einar the Unbreakable swear my fealty to you, My Lord.”