Academic gathering with a lich

"Maintain the integrity of the skeleton, and if necessary, you may try suturing. Next, you need to prepare a five-petaled nightshade. Most nightshades have four petals, but a five-petaled nightshade signifies it contains the fifth element, spirit. It's said to be the favorite flower personally cultivated by the Goddess of Death, and sects that worshipped the Death God used to carry this nightshade as a sign of respect. It is the only material we need for our ritual."

Dragon Professor took out a five-petaled nightshade as an example, which was more enchanting than any Lyle had seen, with an extraordinary bright purple color, "Place the flower in the body's oral cavity, or inside the skull, to serve as a conduit."

"Then comes the incantation..." The Dragon Professor read a short passage like singing a song, indistinguishable, somewhat like a mix between ancient Egyptian and ancient Latin, the words revealing agitation. If one were a bystander, hearing such language, there would only be one feeling, that is, evil."

"Today is a practical lesson, so I need a student to demonstrate. Now, I will first teach you the pronunciation of Emodic..."

Dragon Professor started explaining the details of Emodic pronunciation and some tips, which was not difficult. For Lyle, who knew Chinese, learning a short foreign phrase was much simpler.

After ten minutes, Lyle became the first qualified person.

"Excellent, Plague Doctor, you are adept like no beginner! I am certain you will perform an impressive corporeal resurrection spell for everyone."

Having no choice but to comply, Lyle turned his gaze to the tiny dog skeleton on the table.

"I have prepared the materials for you, Magic Wand; you can first use mine, it definitely obeys."

Dragon Professor placed the five-petaled nightshade on the table and took out a short staff, less than a meter in length, from the bag.

This was nothing like the magic wand Lyle had imagined, which wasn't unacceptable to him.

The wand was pure white, slender and clean, resembling ivory in material, with a palm-sized sapphire embedded in the tip.

Lyle had originally imagined the magic wand would be a series of bone segments connected together, topped with a skull, and perhaps adorned with many bizarre decorations as a Shamanic Staff.

Good thing it wasn't. "Your wand is very beautiful."

"Thank you, it's my femur, polished," he replied.

Still human bone, huh? Taking the wand with a grudge, its attractive appearance greatly reduced his feeling of repulsion.

The Bone Rod was not heavy, its touch was even somewhat soft. It was special, certainly not just a stick. Even through his gloves, Lyle could feel it, a warm sensation, as if his mind had gained something extra. His perception seemed to stretch out into the surrounding air like tentacles, touching some invisible magic. Now, he might be able to do it; he felt almost omnipotent in his current state.

He stuffed the nightshade into the skull of the little dog, with the purple petals just visible through the eye sockets.

Hovering the Bone Rod above the dog's skull, Lyle saw shadows clinging to the bones at his command.

He began chanting the incantation.

A chill arose from his mind, flowing through his body—neck, torso, arms, palms, fingers, through the rod, reaching the bones on the table.

Pop! Like the sound of a bottle cap being opened.

The nightshade caught fire.

The flame was a faint blue Rootless Fire.

The fire consumed the flower, with flames beginning to lick the bones.

Creak, creak, with such sounds, the little dog's limbs began to move, eventually enabling it to stand up. Finally, the flames in the eye sockets came together in two streams, forming the eyes of the Undead Hound.

The Undead Hound turned its body, facing Lyle and watching him calmly.

Lyle could feel the connection between himself and the Undead Hound—he might be able to control it.

"Should I bark?"

The dog spoke.

The sharp voice echoed in the silent room, surrounded by pairs of eyes silently watching it.

"You've succeeded, Plague Doctor. Incredible. I even prepared myself to console you. You are more talented than I imagined. To succeed on the first try is definitely a great start to your mystical career. And you've fortuitously awakened a small dog with enough will."

No, I don't think this is a dog; since when do dogs talk?

"But, sir, the dog spoke," Lyle protested.

"Of course, because it was woken by you, Plague Doctor, it naturally shares part of your consciousness, so speaking is just its instinct."

"I see." The Undead Hound completed the quick response and started shaking its head on its own.

"Oh, he seems to have a strong sense of self-awareness." Dragon Professor was full of curiosity, his heart undoubtedly filled with joy and anticipation.

"I'm starting to get curious about this little dog's past life; it must have been rich."

"Hello, little dog, can you tell me your name? The one your previous master used to call you."

"Of course, I am the Death Hound of Prince Arthas of Lordaeron, Alphonse."

Lyle's hand twitched.

You're lying, taking advantage of their ignorance of Warcraft, this is a lie.

Lyle was sure that the soul of the transmigrator and the spell that revived this corpse had some kind of strange and mystical reaction.

The resurrected bones concocted their own stories based on their past experiences.

This is bad.

It greatly increases the possibility of the transmigrator's identity being exposed, I must quickly control it to shut up.

"Prince Arthas of Lordaeron? I don't seem to have heard of this name..."

"Of course, it is a continent quite far from here, so distant that you have no way of knowing, the world we call Azeroth."

"Ah, an unknown new continent."

Can't control it! The undead I resurrected has defied me from the start! What then is my connection to it?

Lyle began to use that connection in his mind.

The vision expanded, and Lyle saw Mr. Dragon approaching, along with his own slender skeleton, watching its jaw open and shut, beginning to tell the tale of Azeroth.

I have entered the body of the Undead Hound.

You have come, master.

Another voice emerged from the mind, just like the Undead Hound's.

Wait until I finish telling the story, I'll shut up immediately.

Lyle was able to communicate with it.

No, stop talking right now, shut up!

Oh come on, it's just a story, just pulling one over on them, no big deal, relax.

The dog seemed like a carefree optimist who doesn't mind stirring up trouble, oblivious to Lyle's insistence.

Lyle confirmed it, communicable, projectable, uncontrollable.

Lyle lacked the verbal skills to change the actions of these undead, nor the ability to intimidate this boastful dead dog.

Forget it.

Do as you please, Alphonse.

Thank you for your great wisdom, master.

Lyle didn't linger in Alphonse's body; his consciousness returned to his own, becoming a silent observer.

"My former master, Arthas, was once a Paladin, but conspiracy and plague shrouded his nation and changed him. To cleanse the demons, he took up the cursed sword Frostmourne, only to be twisted into an evil Death Knight himself. He returned to his nation, killed his own father the king, and in the end, became the ruler of the Northrend Snowfields, the lord of the Undead Scourge, the Lich King. He spread pain and plague across the entire world..."

...

"What became of him in the end?"

"He was defeated by a group of heroes and the power of the Holy Light, entering a true eternal rest, and before my eyes, all was dark."

Mr. Dragon couldn't help but clap his hands, "That's a fantastic story, thank you very much, Mr. Alphonse. The story you brought has a certain educational value. Classmates, as Alphonse said, the truth proves that only keeping a low profile is the right way forward, not stirring up trouble outside, spreading hatred and fear like that Lich King. Everyone should understand their true thoughts, know what your heart truly desires."

"Once again, thank you for your story, Mr. Alphonse."

Mr. Dragon even led the class in giving the Undead Hound a round of applause.

Lyle, going with the flow, clapped his hands for the dog full of tall tales.

"No need to be polite, oh, by the way, if there's nothing else, I'll be going now, it seems my magic isn't enough, my body can't hold out, hmm, I'm done for, goodbye."

Alphonse lay on the desk, the flames in his pupils gradually extinguishing.