Alchemist Homunculus Novels & Stories

“Damon somehow was hit with a blood curling curse, but it doesn’t seem like just one thing. I need to get some blood from the wound to find out what exactly was put into this… and who else was there?” “I was…” I answered. “What did the alchemist look like?” Look like? I could barely see his face. He just looked like the grim reaper with his undead army. “I didn’t get a close look at him. He just had on all black, it didn’t even look like a cloak or anything. It just look like black clouds… or something. He just looked dark, I didn’t see his eyes or his face. And I think he was practicing necromancy.”

Chandler said after taking a sip of tea. He had been asking for Fane's sake, but he was curious himself as well. Mr. Simmons nodded, "You remember quite well. That year, we did accept twenty students." He let out a dry laugh while saying, "Yet, there was only one who was able to become a sixth-grade alchemist. There are so few people who can understand the Way of the Pill and condense pill auras. "It's so hard to produce even one sixth-grade alchemist, let alone seventh or eighth-grade ones… There is only one eighth-grade alchemist in Heavenly Pills. The eighth-grade alchemist is basically the living ancestor. He doesn't trouble himself with general affairs."

"End this. Now. Or I will feed you to your own dogs." ​"My dogs? No, Rhea. They are your brothers. Your cousins. Anyone who wandered too far south in the last ten years," the Alchemist said, finally turning to face her. "Do you know how hard it is to stabilize the Silver Bane DNA? It’s so... stubborn. So prideful. It took me years to find the catalyst. Do you know what it was?" ​He stepped closer, and Rhea felt a wave of nausea. He smelled of formaldehyde and dead lilies.

Within a few hours, several fifth-grade high-rank alchemists had become sixth-grade alchemists. Though sixth-grade alchemists might seem like nothing special for talented individuals like Severin and Daniella, they nonetheless formed the backbone of Southsky's four major sects. After all, only alchemists of such a caliber could supply crucial pills such as Throughspirit Pills and Crystal Spring Pills that were needed by paragons.

As he waved his fingers of his right hand, dozens of Chinese characters fell and sealed all the twelve green pills. Pills had souls, especially high-level ones, which were crystal refined from countless divine herbs. Alchemy itself was a process of creation, so the divine pills refined by real alchemists were conscious elves with souls. From the moment they were created, they would flee quickly if they were not sealed. Ding Hao spread out his palm. Twelve crystal longan-sized round elixirs, like jade, restrained their brilliance and quietly lay on Ding Hao's palm, emitting their divinity.

Alchemists were bustling about in their work robes, carrying bottles of liquid, raw materials, and notebooks. “The same atmosphere,” I murmured, still smiling sweetly. My mood was excellent lately due to the smooth progress of the Moon Market project. Serel was already waiting in the meeting room with Hessel, the Head Alchemist of Silvergrove pack, and fifteen other alchemists. They greeted me respectfully. “Luna,” Hessel said, bowing briefly. “We have completed the initial prototype of the Silvergrove Mortar.” My eyes lit up. “Show me.”

“First, you must remove your waist belt and submit it to me. Do it quickly, because my pal over there doesn't have much patience left.” Rhaizen Gale followed the instructions. He flung his belt, which contained all of his potions and elixirs, over to the Lorth mage. The mage said, "Good." He then proceeded to stomp the vials and beakers under his feet, ensuring that they were all smashed. He knew the chemicals could only react when they were cast by an alchemist who had consumed a mutagen that caused them to tap into the manna fields, so he could stomp on them as much as he wanted because he knew they were nonreactive and couldn't harm him.

And what are those things standing around them’ ‘ Alvaro’s gone after him,’ Jake snarled ‘ and those things are death-eaters. That is the name given to the most ardent followers of Torelli. The group consists primarily of wizards and witches who are pure-blood supremacists and who practiced the black magic with the least care, with malevolence, and without regard, neither with reverence or respect to the law of wizardry. They are his primal force and his mark is blazoned on their forehead. That’s what summons them to congregate in such fast manner’ At this, anxiety seized Jesse

More hungry. And floating above him, suspended in some kind of magical field, was a baby. Not my baby. This one looked maybe six months old, with black hair and red eyes that matched Malachar's. "What the fuck," I breathed. "A homunculus," Dante said beside me, his voice tight. "He created an artificial vessel to test the ritual on." "It's not working though," Taylor pointed out. "Look—the baby's disintegrating." He was right. The homunculus was literally falling apart, chunks of its body turning to ash and floating away.

Granted, she used it mostly with bridge trolls, but I hoped it'd work now. The homunculus moved into the hallway, a hunched and deformed figure of what looked like a man. He raised a skeletal finger at me, half the flesh torn away as if he'd eaten it. His voice was a croak, like his vocal cords were charred away. "Only you." I threw four more rubies. The creature regarded them before picking them up, biting into one and then raised its twisted face. "All of you then." I smiled. "Thank you," I gave a small head bow at it.