Alchemy Equipment Oblivion Novels & Stories

Julian (from balcony above, smirking): “I’ll guard the sarmale.” Tunnel spiraled down into crystal-lit cavern. Seven pedestals glowed—each holding a legendary artifact. 1. Hellebore Mist Blade – katana, mist-forged, 47 hellebores etched along the fuller. 2. Blackened Silver Shard – 47 hellebores, fractured, pulsing shadow. 3. Shadow Invisibility Cloak – liquid night, folded like silk. 4. Hellebore Dagger – twin to the blade, smaller, venom-green edge.

Deep beneath the earth, Elias stood in a chamber of shimmering silver and jagged obsidian. The air was so hot it was singeing his lungs. Before him sat the "Heart of the North"—a massive, crystalline formation that acted as the mountain’s spiritual and geological anchor. The Alchemist’s thermal charges were hummed around the crystal, glowing a violent, angry red. Elias didn't hesitate. He let the obsidian monster out. His skin turned to stone, his wings unfurling to scrape the ceiling of the cavern. He wrapped his massive arms around the crystal, his grey-gold veins glowing so brightly they illuminated the entire mine shaft. He wasn't just holding the rock; he was absorbing the heat.

K’ Kian was a corrupt, slippery fish who always cleaned up his trail even if he had to cover it up with the blood of others. Mr Tibe was a man — maybe an entity with how hard it was to lay eyes on him — who sold everything illegal, with roots of power embedded so deep in the state, his empire might still be standing after I’d take him down. But that's okay, if I have to cut down every fucking branch myself, then that's what I'll do. I'd already lost someone to that, and while I didn't have any more siblings, I had a mom. And she had friends that had siblings.

Taking the offered beverage gratefully, I take a long, deep sip and begin explaining. The first pile has a few old books, an athame, green velvet robes, and a leather-bound journal. There are also a few crystals and other focus items. The second pile has the mirror, a variety of silks, some unusual dresses, and a jewelry box full of very interesting, very powerful gems set into rings and amulets. There is one ring in particular that caught my eye, a fire opal set in gold. It still glows with an inner fire, signifying that it is still receiving energy from somewhere. But where? And from whom?

Chaos wanted him to create a special accessory, a ring or bracelet that was often used by novice alchemists which had the Synthesis effect within it! With the Synthesis effect, Chaos hoped that he might become capable of fusing Skills. The materials needed to craft this item were not expensive and were already available within what could be extracted from the resource-producing Colossus monsters, so it was just a matter of time before Chaos could get his hands into one of these accessories.

“I’ll send Tracer the list of crafting materials I need before logging out to prepare lunch. However, these gears will not get you to the hellish final boss on floor twenty.” Having seen what the demon lord could do, Zen wondered how the party of four climbed half of the labyrinth stage. It was like using a piece of rock to cut sushi. The Minotaur Boss’ loot was the best for crafting armour in preparation for clearing the labyrinth floors. Anything more would be too difficult for Party Freedom as they lacked combat firepower to farm more difficult monsters. Ideally, Zen wanted the loot from higher floors that the party had not reached. Gargoyle loot was extremely valuable because they could

"I know your little handmaiden is trying to record this on a memory crystal from the corner. I won't touch you, so you can save your breath." Yeva’s handmaiden flushes, lowering her crystal in embarrassment. "Ugly wretch," Yeva snarls, sitting upright with a sneer. "Who would waste their memory stones recording your pathetic face?" "Excellent," I shrug, pointing to the satchel. "Then let us talk business." Yeva’s eyes widen as the satchel spills open, revealing rare, high-grade silk cloaks, premium elixirs, and gold-trimmed leather armor bearing the stamp of the finest craftsman in the territory.

Elara’s POV The pack house was in chaos. Screams and howls echoed from outside as shadow creatures slammed against the protective barriers. The Obsidian Curse was no longer content to stay inside me — it was calling its own kind. Black tendrils of darkness slithered through the forest, attacking the outer walls, searching for weakness.

"But if he has hired the Silver-Mercenaries... if he has found a way to weaponize the 'Rot' of the North, then the Stronghold is no longer a sanctuary. It’s a target." He walked over to a massive, circular basin in the corner of the room. It was carved from a single block of unpolished obsidian, the surface filled with a liquid that looked like liquid shadow. This was the Obsidian Mirror, the ancient scrying tool of the South—a relic that could see across distance, and more dangerously, across time. "You need to know what we are fighting, Elara," Malachi said, gesturing to the basin. "Kaelen’s scouts can't get close enough to the black fog without losing their minds. But your lineage... your

The eyes are wrong, the irises gone, replaced entirely by the red light that Severan's reanimated essence produces when it burns through a vessel that was not designed to contain it. The amplification relic hangs at Kaelen's throat. Lucian recognizes it from the eastern border reports, smaller in person than imagination made it, a dark stone set in silver metalwork that predates anything currently crafted in either race's tradition, the heartstone's origin visible in the way it resonates with Lucian's own power even across the temple floor. The resonance is not comfortable. It is the resonance of the same source encountered in opposition, the family resemblance between weapons made from the