The Perfect Weapon

[The Butcher]

The power contained in Alcazar's tome was frightening. Ramza traced his fingers along the dark red, leathery cover, the smell of brimstone assaulting his senses. It was demon skin. The young Red Wizard eagerly, but carefully, pushed the cover open with his soft, pale fingers, like a thief daring his way through a door at night for the promise of treasure. Each of the delicate pages were crafted from the flayed flesh and skin of countless elves - all more ancient than Ramza could imagine, and their torment so legendary before their demise that the young Red Wizard could feel the echoes of their agony with each turn of the page. The evil of the tome was clear, and its power was magnified by the arcane runes and calligraphy all scribed in the blood of an elder wyrm. This was the power of necromancy.

Ramza pushed the tome away to collect himself. His ebonwood desk was uncharacteristically clean, this tome being his only focus for the past several tendays. The algorithms were beautiful. How simply they expressed the complex nature of capturing, fostering, and utilizing the energy of life itself. Is this the kind of knowledge and power gained from being apprenticed to Szass Tam? Or has the Khazark always been this brilliant?

Even though Ramza was a child prodigy, casting his first spell at the age of two, and even though he had never forgone his diligent studies, the gap that remained between Alcazar and himself was clear. Mizrahi, Graf, James, Thresh - none of the fool wizards of the backwater valley could hold a candle against Ramza's talent and ability; however, Alcazar, a true, Mulan-blooded Red Wizard. . . that is who Ramza faced. A dramatic sigh spilled past Ramza's full lips as he planted his elbow on the desk and massaged his forehead with a pinching motion. The humming of the tanks brought a moment of solace to Ramza's wracked mind, looking over to admire the physique of the captured Dryad.

"My progress cannot be hindered. I must match Alcazar's abilities - surpass them. With this work, I can create the perfect construct - but at a grave cost," Ramza muttered, gazing into the forlorn eyes of the Dryad. He explained to the Dryad, as if it cared, "it is a foul, but necessary, cost that is beneath me, so I have sent another to collect it. However, with this, I can create both a phylactery and a control rod."

Ramza gathered his resolve, pulling the tome back to him.

"With this, I can begin to make the perfect weapon - a weapon that would bring envy to even the ancient empire of Netheril."

[The Butcher]

Days later, the air about the laboratory is disturbed as a Thayan Knight pushes open the door.

"Your Omnipotence," he addressed, as Ramza ordered him to, "the crystal has been delivered, as you wished."

The young wizard's annoyance of being disturbed quickly dissolved at the mention of the crystal.

"Excellent. Give it here."

The stoic knight produced a crimson cloth within his black, gauntleted hand, and offered it over to Ramza while falling to a single knee. Ramza took the cloth with his pale, soft hands and pushed open the cloth to reveal a bright crystal, swarming with life. Mirth dressed Ramza's lips as he gave the knight a dismissive wave with the back of his hand, the knight obliging immediately and departing to guard the door's entrance.

"The soul of a Legionnaire - a lawful one. Its sincerity to its sworn duty to protect this valley has kept it bound here, and now through my work, it may yet get another chance to protect this valley again." Ramza lifts the crystal orb up high to better measure its potency.

"It is powerful, too." Ramza rolled the crystal between his forefingers and thumb, allowing his mind to wonder on who it could have been. A famous Centurio, perhaps? Or merely an undervalued, but nonetheless powerful, soldier? A fascinating thought, but it did not matter.

Ramza's soft steps barely echoed across the immaculate tiled floor as he moved across the room to a nearby stone panel, placing the gem in a hemispherical groove. As soon as the orb was seated, the panel lit up. Hidden runes burned bright phosphorescent blue and ran down its length until meeting the floor, where the arcane forces poured into conduits that fed into a lifeless husk of a human-sized golem made of silver.

The husk lumbered forward with a single, heavy step. The golem slowly turned its chin downward so its lifeless, hollow eyes could regard Ramza, taking in the visage of the grinning Red Wizard, determining friend or foe. Its silvery flesh began to ripple and shake, as if it were water becoming increasingly disturbed. The flesh continued to ebb and flow, eventually taking on colors and textures foreign to its original form: pinks and whites meshing together to form flesh, mimicking the form of a nude, male body; deep reds and intricate golds wrapped around the creature, forming fabrics that dressed it; finally, life was breathed into its hollow eyes, luminous blue orbs taking its place. Eventually, Ramza was facing a perfect replica of himself.

"Yes. All according to calculations. The improved crystal and more appropriate soul should fix the previous malfunctions, which will allow for demonstrations and testing."

Ramza reached up to touch the golem's face, like a mother might with its child. "However, this is only the beginning, isn't it?"

"At this capacity, you are powerful, but can still be taken down by a list of Sundren's finest adventurers. However, once I perfect the process of refining Sundrite - once I can get the purity of the sample to 99.993% - you truly will be the perfect weapon."