Fendrel's mind over the options for obtaining the ingredients he needed, each option worse than the last. It was either the black market or getting either blackthorns or cabal involved further.

A knock at the door froze him mid-thought as the hinges squealed, before the door creaked open. Man in pristine white robes adorned with the golden sun sigil of the Church of Adria opened the doors with two guards in polished breastplates flanking him.

The church envoy's eyes widened as he took in the barren laboratory. "By the Light..." He stepped inside, boots crunching on the debris that had once been Fendrel's workbench. "This is... most unusual."

Fendrel stepped back against a wall, grateful for the shadows that might hide his altered skin. The glyphs beneath his flesh were painfully obvious despite the dark interior.

"I am Brother Kaelor." The cleric's voice carried the cultured accent of someone higher up. "We detected a surge of death energy from this location." His gaze swept the room. "Would you care to explain what transpired here?"

Fendrel's throat constricted. How did this guy get in? The Blackthorns controlled this building - their influence should have kept the church away. For a cleric to enter their territory meant something had gone terribly wrong.

"How did you get in?" The words scraped out before he could stop them.

Brother Kaelor's eyebrows rose. "The door was unlocked. Given the nature of the energy we sensed, we felt immediate investigation was warranted." He gestured to the empty shelves. "Though I confess, I expected to find more... evidence of whatever ritual caused such a disturbance."

The notification about the Gravebloom Tincture pulsed in Fendrel's vision. Eight hours. He needed to get rid of these people and find ingredients before time ran out.

"There was no ritual." Fendrel's mind raced. "An experiment went wrong. Chemical reaction. Nothing more."

"A chemical reaction that produced necromantic energy?" Brother Kaelor stepped closer, and Fendrel pressed harder against the wall. "That seems unlikely."

"We have been looking for a rouge group of mages turned necromancers." Brother Kaelor's fingers touched pommel of a mace on his belt. "Imagine our surprise when our blessings kicked in four blocks from here."

Fendrel's swallowed lump in his throat, mouth dry.

"We rush over and what do we find?" Brother Kaelor's boots crunched through the debris as he approached. "Our local toxin alchemist who is obviously stepping up in the world." His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "We have been looking for you for a while, Master Solinar. You still owe us for the mess you caused in the church."

The reasonable tone didn't match the stone-cold look in the cleric's eyes. Fendrel recognized that expression - a predator playing with its prey.

"What was it? Mana potions and antidotes?" Brother Kaelor's fingers drummed against his mace. "How did you get mixed up in soul magic?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Fendrel's voice cracked. The glyphs pulsed beneath is skin, revealing his racing heart.

Brother Kaelor hefted his mace. "You better start talking before I send you to whatever devil you made a contract with."

Fendrel opened his mouth to respond when a wet choking sound came from behind them. The guard by the door clutched his throat, face turning purple as he collapsed. The second guard by the window dropped a heartbeat later, blood trickling from his nose.

"What-" Brother Kaelor spun toward Fendrel. His words cut off in a gurgle as he stumbled to his knees, blood spattering the floor. "How... my blessing should have..." He retched, more blood staining his pristine robes. "How did the cleansing fail?"

Text flashed across Fendrel's vision:

[STATUS]: Your poison resisted a cleanse.

[CLASS SKILL LEVEL UP]: Toxin purification resistance 2

Fendrel stared at the cleric writhing on the ground. His body trembled, but something cold and hard settled in his chest. The glyphs under his skin pulsed with an eerie light, casting shadows across Brother Kaelor's blood-stained face.

"You want to live?" The ice in his voice surprised him. He stepped forward, arms shimmering with arcane script.

Blood trickled from Brother Kaelor's mouth. "What did you-"

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"I have an antidote for that poison." Fendrel scooped up several vials from the floor, glass clinking against one another. "But I need new furniture. New brewing set and some ingredients."

Brother Kaelor's face twisted in rage despite the pain. "Are you mad? Church will not stand for this!"

"So you don't want to live." Fendrel's hands shook, but his voice remained steady. He was dead either way if he couldn't brew more toxins. This man's life meant nothing if Fendrel couln't make a deal with him.

Blood bubbled between Brother Kaelor's lips as he forced out the words: "What do you want?"

"Furniture. Table, chairs, shelves, distillation set, brewing set." Fendrel ticked off each item. "Restock of ingredients." He paused, considering. "Contract with church. I'm not a necromancer and have nothing to do with them. But if you detected necromancy here, I need wards."

Brother Kaelor's skin had taken on a grey tinge. "I can't get it fast enough to live."

Fendrel tossed him a bottle. The cleric caught it with trembling hands and drank without hesitation. His face fell as another surge of pain wracked his body.

The status message flashed in Fendrel's vision:

[STATUS]: Your toxin resisted a cleanse.

Brother Kaelor's laugh came out wet and gurgling. "You really are a lunatic, Solinar."

Fendrel pulled another vial from his pocket, the glass cold against his palm. "That's my insurance." He lifted the second bottle, its contents shimmering with an unsettling glow. "This is your lifeline. You can kill me after you drink it, hope your church can cleanse the toxin."

His fingers traced the glowing script beneath his skin. "But remember what happened when your healers tried to save the Blackthorn girl. I was a lot worse at what I do back then."

Brother Kaelor's face drained of what little color remained. Blood dripped from his chin onto his white robes, spreading in dark circles. His eyes darted between the vial and Fendrel's face, searching for any sign of deception.

Fendrel had no idea if this cleric knew about Elena Blackthorn. He wasn't even certain if the toxin coursing through the man's veins was slow-acting or not. But judging by Kaelor's expression, the cleric didn't know either.

Fendrel tossed the second bottle. It arced through the air, glass catching the dim light. Brother Kaelor snatched it with shaking hands and yanked out the cork. He hesitated for a heartbeat before pressing it to his lips.

The relief that washed over Kaelor's face as he swallowed made Fendrel's shoulders loosen. When the cleric didn't immediately lunge for his throat, Fendrel let out a slow breath.

"You have five hours." Fendrel's voice came out steadier than he felt. "Get it done, or the deal's off. You can hope for the best after that."

Brother Kaelor pushed himself to his feet, robes heavy with blood. He cast one last look at his fallen companions before stumbling out the door without a word.

The silence that followed pressed against Fendrel's ears. Two dead guards lay sprawled on his floor, their faces frozen in expressions of shock and pain. His hands began to shake as the reality of what he'd done crashed over him.

----------------------------------------

Fendrel knelt beside the bodies, his fingers trembling as he searched their pouches. The metallic stench of blood filled his nostrils while he worked, pocketing copper and silver coins along with a few vials of holy water. A small notebook bound in leather caught his attention - names and dates, nothing useful.

Dawn painted the sky in pale shades when he slipped out of the building. The streets stretched empty before him, his footsteps echoing off cobblestones as he made his way toward the Artisan District. His vision blurred from exhaustion, mind foggy after the sleepless night.

The Ashen Anvil emerged from morning mist after an hour of searching. Smoke curled from its chimney despite the early hour. Fendrel tested the door handle - it swung open without resistance.

Warmth and the scent of fresh bread washed over him as he stepped inside. A man and woman sat at a rough-hewn table, soup bowls steaming before them. They froze mid-conversation, staring at him with expressions caught between shock and disbelief.

The man recovered first, surging to his feet. "What in blazes are you doing in my house?" He snatched up a hammer from a nearby workbench, knuckles white around the handle.

"My apologies for the intrusion. I was directed here about placing an order." The words tumbled out as Fendrel raised his hands.

"You were told to just walk the fuck in??"

The woman backed toward a staircase, her fingers wrapping around the handle of a long kitchen knife. Children's voices drifted down from above, followed by the creak of floorboards.

Cold sweat broke out across Fendrel's forehead. "The door was unlocked. I didn't know it would just open - I should have knocked."

"Who sent you?" The man advanced, hammer raised.

"No one. I'm Fendrel Solinar. I was told to come here when I needed to make another order."

The blacksmith's face hardened. "Never heard of you."

Relief flooded through Fendrel's body. "That makes me happier than you can imagine."

"What do you want?" The man lowered the hammer but kept it gripped tight.

Fendrel lowered his arms, scanning the room. "You wouldn't happen to have paper?"

Small feet thundered down the wooden stairs. Two children, a boy and girl no older than ten, peered around the corner. Their eyes went wide at the sight of Fendrel.

"Is he a guest?" The girl asked, clutching her brother's sleeve.

"Not really a guest," Fendrel started, but the blacksmith cut him off.

"He's a new neighbor. Lost one." The man's voice softened when addressing his children.

Fendrel's throat tightened. "Right. Neighbor."

The blacksmith jerked his head toward a side door. "Come with me and don't touch anything."

They stepped through into an adjacent workshop. A large furnace dominated one wall, stacked with fresh wood but cold and dark. Metal implements hung from hooks, catching what little morning light filtered through the dusty windows. The air smelled of coal and iron.

"Write down what you want, leave money on the table and leave before I decide to add you to my kindling." The blacksmith crossed his arms.

"It's sort of a rush order." Fendrel shifted his weight.

"You really have no fucking idea where you are, do you?"

Fendrel pressed his lips together, saying nothing.

The blacksmith tilted his head. "Just to be clear - you do have the tag?"

Fendrel's fingers found the small metal piece in his pocket. He held it up, watching the dim light catch the engraving - an unbalanced scale with an anvil weighing down one side.

"This is the biggest hub to source herbalist and alchemist ingredients in the whole city of Kerneke." The blacksmith's voice dropped to barely above a whisper.

"Blacksmith?" Fendrel asked.

A hint of pride crept into the man's voice. "Who else?"