Fendrel traced the edge of the metal tag with his thumb. "Do you deal in information?"

The blacksmith's expression shifted, muscles tightening around his jaw. "Depends what kind of information."

"I need to send a message to the rebels."

Steel gray eyes locked onto Fendrel's face, studying every detail. "For someone I never heard about, you seem to be aware of many things. Solinar, was it?"

Fendrel inclined his head.

"What kind of message?"

The glyphs under Fendrel's skin pulsed with a dull ache. "They have six hours to arrange the meeting they wanted. Blackthorns are aware of their movements." His mind spun ideas as he talked.

"Not in my lab." The blacksmith's fingers drummed against his bicep. "It's constantly watched by way too many groups."

"So where?"

Fendrel paused mid-step, turning to face the man. "Well, that is up to them."

Fendrel started writing the list, the parchment worn at the edges from constant handling. The ingredients for Gravebloom Tincture formed only a fraction of what he needed. His eyes traced down the columns of items: crushed moonflower petals, crystallized mana shards, purified water - components for basic healing and mana potions.

The list continued with specialized equipment: mana-infused glass containers, warded copper tubing, crystalline condensers. The prices made his coin purse feel lighter just looking at them.

"These too." He slid the complete list across the workbench.

The blacksmith's eyebrows rose as he read. "Mana containment equipment? That's restricted merchandise."

"How much?"

"Triple the market rate, minimum. And I'll need time to source some of these items." The man's finger tapped against the mana distillation chamber. "This one especially."

Fendrel nodded. The fact that he didn't say it was impossible spoke volumes.

Fendrel had an inkling that he is maybe one or two levels from needing the mana potions. He somehow avoided it until now, but the new form felt far more demanding. On top of it the glyphs were essentially mana conduits and his body was riddled with them now.

Without proper equipment to handle volatile mana essence, he risked contaminating the entire district with raw mana.

"How long?"

"Three days for the basic equipment. A week for the specialized items. The ingredients can be delivered by tomorrow." The blacksmith folded the list with practiced precision.

"I will take fifteen gold up front." There was something more beyond those words. Almost as if the man was testing him.

Fendrel pulled out the coins without hesitation, metal clinking against wood as he set them on the table.

The glyphs pulsed again, stronger this time. Five hours remained until he needed the Gravebloom Tincture. He couldn't risk to wait on everything from one place.

Without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving the warmth of the house behind.

Fendrel wove through the marketplace crowds, his new skin tingling with each brush against passing strangers. The glyphs carved into his flesh pulsed with a steady rhythm, like a second heartbeat. He checked off items from his codex list as he acquired them - witherbloom powder from an herb vendor, shadecap spores from a fungus specialist, nightshade essence from a shifty-eyed merchant.

The upper district proved far more accommodating and it helped that he was looking mostly for standard materials, albeit in higher quantitates.

[CODEX]

Gravebloom Tincture

Ingredients:

* Witherbloom Mushroom Powder, 20 grams

* Ash of shadecap spores, 10 grams

* Nightshade essence, 13 drops

* Essence of blackwillow ash, 9 drops

* Crushed Bluecap Mushroom, 40 grams

[FORM STATUS]: Form's required substance: Reinforced Gravebloom Tincture: Dose required in 5 hours.

The strange calm persisted as he navigated the streets. His hands remained steady, his breath even. The transformation's influence had perhaps altered more than just his flesh.

A hooded figure lingered too long at a stall he passed. Another seemed to mirror his path from across the square. Fendrel kept his pace measured, neither hurrying nor dawdling.

"Fresh ash! Whitewood, blackwood, all kinds!" A vendor called out.

Fendrel paused, hope rising. "Blackwillow?"

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The vendor shook his head. "Sold out weeks ago. Try the temple district."

Four hours remained when Fendrel stood before his workshop, arms laden with supplies but still missing the crucial ingredient. The church gates loomed in his mind.

Do I really have to go there?

He pushed open the door, expecting to find the mess he'd left behind. Instead, gleaming equipment lined freshly installed shelves. New workbenches stood where the old ones had been destroyed. The floor had been scrubbed clean of the transformation's aftermath.

"About time." The cleric's voice cracked.

Fendrel turned. The man paced near the back wall, collar pulled high but not quite hiding the purple veins creeping up his neck like twisted vines. His skin had taken on a grayish tinge.

"You did all this?" Fendrel set his supplies on the nearest bench.

The cleric's fingers twitched against his robes. "Figured if we are going to die here, might as well make it presentable."

Fendrel walked along the new shelving, fingers trailing across polished wood. Each shelf held neatly arranged equipment - mortars, pestles, measuring scales, and distillation apparatus. He stopped at a rack lined with fancy crystal vials, their contents shimmering in the workshop's light. His eyes widened at the array of essences, far more than needed for the tincture.

"I assume we need to discuss terms." Fendrel turned to face Kaelor, whose surprise flickered across his gray-tinged features. "You can't expect me to believe you'll simply walk away once you have your antidote."

Kaelor's fingers dug into his thighs, purple veins stark against his pale skin. "You have something else in mind?"

Fendrel leaned against the workbench, considering his options. "I could send the antidote through one of your church-run brothels."

A muscle twitched in Kaelor's jaw. His composure cracked for just a moment before he regained control.

Fendrel's eyes darted to the new equipment surrounding them - easily worth a small fortune, acquired and installed within hours.

He wants to live, and he needs me for that.

"No." Kaelor's voice came out rough. He settled into a chair by the workbench, though his rigid posture betrayed his discomfort. "You'll hand it to me here. Men loyal to me wait outside, watching every exit. Neither of us leaves until I walk out alive."

Sweat beaded on Kaelor's forehead as he spoke. The poison's effects were progressing, and they both knew it. The veins in his neck had spread further, creating a web-like pattern across his skin.

Fendrel's gaze fixed on the spreading purple veins across Kaelor's skin. Time slipped away like sand through his fingers - both for the tincture he needed and the dying man before him.

"I need to check your condition." Fendrel stepped toward the seated man. "I have no idea what I poisoned you with."

Kaelor's face twisted with murderous rage as Fendrel reached for his palm. The cleric's skin burned hot beneath Fendrel's touch, but he held still, likely knowing his life depended on it.

[STATUS]

NAME: Kaelar Baler

CLASS: Adria's Holy Cleric

RACE: Human

ACTIVE EFFECTS: Eclipsebane Toxin contamination - Stage: 2/3 Advanced. Partially suppressed.

Fuck.

The world tilted for a moment as Fendrel processed the information. His mind raced back to the chaos before his transformation - he'd only had access to one toxin then.

His eyes darted to his updated codex, confirming his fears:

[CODEX]

* Glyph Healing Potion

* Glyph Mana Recovery Potion

* Shadowroot Draught

* Rotvine Fire Glyph Elixir

* Soulcoil Essence

* Venomshourd Extract

* Eclipsebane Toxin

* Witherfang Resin

* Gravebloom Tincture

* Ashrot Infusion

The new formulas swam before his eyes, extraordinary and confusing. But none of that mattered now. The reality was that there wasn't enough time to develop and test an antidote. Not with Eclipsebane working its way through Kaelor's system.

Kaelor's fingers dug into the workbench, knuckles white. "Well?"

"No problem, I know which it is and how to solve it." Fendrel's mouth felt dry. "It will just take couple hours to make."

He turned toward the shelves, but Kaelor's hand shot out, fingers digging into Fendrel's forearm. The cleric's grip burned like ice.

"I'm not dying here myself, Alchemist. I will kill you before I die."

Fendrel gave a stiff nod, prying his arm free. At the crystal vial shelf, his fingers traced the bottles until he found three containing Essence of blackwillow ash. The liquid inside seemed to absorb the workshop's light.

He placed the vials in the activation chamber, adjusting the brass dials with practiced precision. Steam hissed through copper pipes as the chamber heated. Sweat trickled down Fendrel's back - not from the heat, but from Kaelor's unwavering stare burning into him.

The first stage of the layered infusion required focus. Fendrel measured each drop, watching the liquids swirl together in precise ratios. His hands moved automatically through the motions while his mind raced through calculations.

Adjusting the ratios.

Kaelor's breathing grew more labored with each passing minute. The purple veins had spread past his collar now, creeping up his jaw like twisted vines. His eyes never left Fendrel's hands.

"That's not how it's done." Kaelor's voice cracked as Fendrel began the second layer. "The Church teaches-"

"The Church teaches how to make healing potions and holy water," Fendrel cut in, carefully tilting the next vial. "This is something else entirely."

The second hour dragged by as Fendrel worked through the final stages. His muscles ached from maintaining the precise movements required for the layered infusion. One wrong motion would ruin everything.

Kaelor shifted in his chair, knuckles white where they gripped the armrests. His eyes narrowed as Fendrel began filling the final vials with the completed mixture.

"Stop." Kaelor lurched forward. "You're making too many doses."

Fendrel's hand froze mid-pour, the thick liquid settling in the second vial. The familiar notifications flashed across his vision, confirming what he already knew.

[CRAFTING SUCCESS]: Gravebloom Tincture brewed successfully. Residual amount: 50%

[CRAFTING SUCCESS]: Gravebloom Tincture brewed successfully. Residual amount: 0%

He set down the mixture, pushing both vials across the workbench toward Kaelor.

"Done."

Kaelor's eyes narrowed as he studied the purple liquid. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for one of the vials, pulling the cork free. The sickly-sweet scent of decay filled the air between them. He paused, the vial halfway to his lips.

"This is antidote right?"

Fendrel managed a short nod, not trusting his voice. His throat felt tight as he watched the cleric's internal struggle play across his face.

"You first Alchemist." Kaelor thrust the open vial toward him. Sweat beaded on his forehead, the purple veins now a stark web across his skin. "You think I'm dumb? This doesn't smell like healing but like death. If you want to die so badly I will let you go by your own creation."

Fendrel pressed his lips together, fighting back the urge to smile. He reached out slowly, almost hesitantly, taking the vial from Kaelor's shaking hand. The glass felt cool against his fingers. He kept his eyes locked on Kaelor's face as he lifted the vial and drank.

The familiar taste of rot and grave soil coated his tongue. The notifications appeared immediately:

[EFFECT] You have been poisoned.

[EFFECT] Form has been reinforced.

[PASSIVE SKILL ADVANCEMENT] Poison resistance + Toxin resistance -> Toxicity resistance reinforcement (Immune to Tincture grade potions)

[FORM STATUS]: Form has been successfully reinforced: Next dose required in 9 hours.

A wave of calm washed over Fendrel as the Tincture worked through his system. He stood perfectly still, watching as Kaelor waited for him to drop dead.