Kaelor's trembling fingers gripped the second vial. His eyes darted between Fendrel and the purple liquid, searching for any sign of deception. Finding none, he tilted his head back and drank.
Kaelor's throat worked as he fought to swallow, his face contorting at the putrid taste. The empty vial slipped from his fingers, shattering on the floor.
The effect was immediate.
His eyes went wide, mouth opening in a silent scream as notifications clearly flashed across his vision. The veins in his neck bulged, now a deep violet against his pale skin.
[STATUS] Your Toxin resisted a cleanse
Fendrel watched the man's desperation play over his face. He had little concept of the pain surrounding the poisoning by his concoctions, the first time he ever drank one was a long time ago, now almost distant memory.
The last true agony he'd experienced was the unfinished Eclipsebane toxin. Everything since then had been painless, mostly bringing relief.
Kaelor collapsed, his body wracked with spasms. The Reinforced Gravebloom Tincture worked through his system with brutal efficiency. His fingers clawed at the floorboards, leaving deep scratches in the wood as he tried to fight against the inevitable.
No words came from the dying cleric's mouth, only choked gasps and wet, gurgling sounds. The highest-grade toxin Fendrel could produce showed no mercy.
A strange calm settled over Fendrel as he observed Kaelor's final moments. For the first time since the parasite had invaded his body, since his life had spiraled into chaos, he felt in control. The power to decide another's fate rested in his hands, and the weight of that decision brought an unexpected peace.
Kaelor's movements grew weaker, his body giving up the fight. As the last breath rattled from his lungs, unexpected notifications appeared:
[STATUS] You have killed Holy Cleric of Adria
[EFFECT] Adria took notice of your existence
[STATUS] Adria's mark added to your status
Fendrel bit his lip, staring at the notifications floating in his vision.
What does that mean?
[STATUS]
NAME: Fendrel Solinar
CLASS: Necrotic Etherbane Engraver LEVEL: 1
RACE: Human Bogwraith
FORM: Glyph-Melded
GODS MARK: Adria's Heretic
INTEGRATION: Xytril Nematode LEVEL: 10
The status window expanded before him. His name was the only thing remaining the same, but everything else had transformed over time into something unrecognizable.
The class title alone - Necrotic Etherbane Engraver - sounded like nonsense, a random collection of words that shouldn't exist together.
Death, Glyph weaver and a mythical monster.
He ran his fingers over the glyphs embedded in his skin, tracing their unfamiliar patterns. Human Bogwraith. The term felt wrong in his mind, like oil mixing with water. He'd heard tales of bogwraiths in the swamps, creatures of decay and death that haunted the marshlands. But human? The combination shouldn't be possible.
The Glyph-Melded form designation offered no clarity. In all his years at the Royal Academy, through countless hours spent studying obscure alchemical texts, he'd never encountered anything like it. The glyphs pulsing under his skin kept sending tiny ripples of energy through his flesh.
His gaze fixed on the last two entries.
The mark of a god wasn't meant for someone like him. Those marks belonged to holy warriors and devoted clerics, not failed alchemists hiding in slum laboratories.
Divine marks were supposed to be blessings, rewards for faith and service. But heretic? That word had only one meaning.
It means I'm fucked. Well, I have been for a while, but…
He started pacing the room. "Will the church notice this?"
The body of Brother Kaelor lay cooling on the floor, a stark reminder of what had triggered these changes. Fendrel's mind wandered to Nyssara, the pale woman who'd given him the grimoire that had accelerated his transformation far beyond normal alchemical advancement.
His new class reminded him of her - something about the way it merged death and glyphs into something new.
When is she coming to check on this? If she is, what I think she is, it should be soon, since the cleric noticed.
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Fendrel stared at Kaelor's corpse, wondering what to do with it.
If the guy wasn't lying, then there were people outside watching. His fingers traced the glyphs on his arm, their faint pulse a constant reminder of his transformation.
"Shit." He kicked an empty vial across the floor. The sound echoed through the workshop.
The body needed to disappear, but how? There is nowhere to stash it, burning it would take too long, and dragging it through the streets wasn't an option. His eyes darted to the windows, checking for movement outside.
Focus on what you can control.
He turned to his workbench, pulling out ingredients for another batch of Gravebloom Tincture. The familiar motions steadied his nerves as he measured out the Witherbloom Mushroom Powder.
Nine hours wasn't much time, and even the new set of supplies weren't going to last forever.
The nightshade essence bottle held barely enough for two more batches. He'd used most of his blackwillow ash in the previous mixture, and finding more would mean going out into the city, possibly putting in bulk order at the adventure guild.
The thought made his stomach turn.
At least the healing and mana potions remained simple enough. Basic herbs, purified water, standard brewing process - things easily sourceable. The real difference came from the glyphs he now understood how to incorporate.
Fendrel paused mid-grind, the mortar and pestle hanging in his hands. Could he skip the complex brewing process altogether? His eyes fell on the rack of standard potions that the cleric restocked.
What if I just added the glyphs to existing potions?
Fendrel stared at the mana potion formula in his codex, shaking his head.
The equipment requirements alone made it impossible. Raw mana had to be contained during the brewing process, or it would leak into the surrounding area. Without proper containment vessels, the toxic residue would poison everything nearby.
The workshop fell into silence as evening crept in. Shadows lengthened across the floor while Fendrel pondered his next move.
The rebels were supposed to contact him, but leaving the lab meant dealing with whoever was watching the building. And he told the blacksmith to let them know not to come here directly.
Someone has to show up first, right?
He sat at the workbench, eyes fixed on the heavy wooden doors. The waiting gnawed at him. Or are they really leaving me alone this time?
A whisper of movement caught his attention. The door cracked open, and Nyssara slipped inside. Shadows seemed to shift and dance around her form as the doors closed behind her. If he hadn't been staring at the entrance for the past half hour, he would have missed her entirely.
"Right."
She froze mid-step, clearly startled by his immediate acknowledgment. "Hello Master Solinar."
Her movements changed, transitioning from absolute silence to the soft brush of boots against wooden planks. A new scent reached him - decay and death poorly masked by heavy perfume. His enhanced senses picked up the distinct layers that his old self would have missed.
Well she is responsible for the alternation of my advancement to this form. I suppose I should be grateful.
"I'm a little at loss," she said, her too-large eyes scanning the workshop. "Have I come at a bad time?"
"No." Fendrel pulled back his sleeve, revealing the network of glyphs etched into his skin. "I made some breakthroughs thanks to your research notes."
Fendrel watched Nyssara's face, enjoying the rare moment of seeing someone else caught off guard. Her owl-like eyes widened further, if that was even possible, as she studied the glyphs etched into his skin. The calm demeanor she maintained cracked, revealing genuine fascination underneath.
She approached his workbench with measured steps, her gaze fixed on his exposed arm. "This is... quite impressive."
"I originally come because of the energy radiating from this place.
"Etheric energy," he confirmed.
"And you managed to contain it?" Her eyes finally met his.
"Not really, considering you and everyone capable of discerning it in the area noticed." Fendrel rolled his sleeve back down. The motion drew her attention to the scattered ingredients across his workspace.
She drummed her fingers against the workbench's edge. "Did you have time to examine the book I left with you?"
Fendrel noted how carefully she avoided mentioning Kaelor's corpse propped in the corner. The dead cleric's presence hung between them yet nobody mentioned it.
"Your research provided the basis for certain modifications in alchemical process." He gestured to his brewing apparatus. "I developed a new toxin variant based on the principles outlined in your notes. More importantly, I finally understand the glyph application process."
"The application process?" Her fingers stilled their rhythmic tapping.
"The integration of runic patterns into organic compounds. Your notes had outlined the glyphs and their interaction with what you called the death essence."
The words spilled from Fendrel's mouth before he could stop them. He explained the intricacies of the binding process, the way certain ingredients resonated with specific glyphs, and how the patterns created channels for etheric energy. Nyssara leaned forward, her attention unwavering as he detailed the complex interactions between components.
The crystals glowed through the darkening room as he dove deeper into the theoretical framework. His hands traced invisible patterns in the air while describing the modifications he'd made to traditional brewing methods. She asked precise questions that revealed her grasp of advanced alchemy, spurring him to elaborate further.
"The resonance between moonspore dust and iron vine creates an anchor point," he explained, sketching quick diagrams on spare parchment. "When properly aligned with the correct glyph sequence-"
"The energy flows through established pathways rather than dispersing." Nyssara completed his thought, her long fingers tracing the pattern he'd drawn.
Time slipped away as they discussed theories and techniques. The conversation flowed naturally, reminding Fendrel of late-night discussions in the academy libraries before everything went wrong. He carefully steered clear of mentioning his transformation or current predicament, focusing instead on the pure academic exchange.
"Could you demonstrate?" She gestured toward his workbench. "I'd love to see the Eclipsebane process firsthand."
Fendrel hesitated only briefly before nodding. He gathered his materials, arranging them in precise order while Nyssara observed from her perch on a nearby stool. The familiar motions of preparation centered him.
He began with the Spiritweave Infusion, his movements fluid and practiced. The components merged under his touch as he wove the ethereal strands through the mixture. The second phase of Essence Tethering followed seamlessly.
The work absorbed him completely. He forgot about the dead cleric in the corner, the watching woman, even his own transformed state. There was only the precise dance of ingredients and energy, the delicate balance of power flowing through carefully constructed channels.
When the final drop fell into the collection vial, the liquid shimmered with an inner light. He stoppered it carefully before presenting it to Nyssara.
She accepted the vial, examining it with obvious appreciation. "Beautiful work." She extended her arm with several folded pages. "These might interest you. Some additional patterns I've documented."
Fendrel accepted the papers, brushing against her cold fingers despite the heat in the room, his eyes catching complex glyph arrangements annotated with detailed notes. When he glanced up on a hunch he barely managed to notice Nyssara slipping through the workshop doors like a shadow.
He stood there, papers in hand, feeling oddly bereft as midnight approached. The workshop seemed emptier somehow, despite the clutter of equipment and ingredients. He looked down at the gift she'd left, trying to ignore the disappointment that tightened his chest.