Alchemy Homunculus Novels & Stories

If they are fantasy creatures, why do they exist! It was then that another man neatly dressed in a white shirt behind him came forward. “Congratulations Alpha Ken, the summoning was successful. You have shown again how much of a boon you are to the werewolf race.” “Indeed it was,” Though he did reply to the man, he was disrespectful in a way. As he was by no means moving his gaze away from Evelyn. It was as if it was stuck on her wanting to suck her in. The other man frowned only for it to disappear at the next moment as he shrugged.

CHAPTER 15 Slouching Towards Bethlehem Jon came back to the beginning. For eighty one days, the beast was fed. Crixen Runeburner, in human flesh, ate, drank, fucked, and shit in the mausoleum below Goodleburg Cemetery. All the cousins below, several hundred of the St. Fond family, continued non-stop until they were hollowed-out zombies, merely a shell for their magical egos.

"In the Demon Realm, these are called Carcurus; they are low-level creatures that find a victim and stick themself on a host sucking the life force out of them." "So, they are like you and Arlo?" "Sort of, but once the host loses its life energy, the carcurus will use it as its body like a puppet." That's fucking creepy. "How the hell did this happen?" "My guess, even though these boys only took a whiff of the miasma, it didn't have the chance to turn the boys into ferals. Those hunks got there on time." When Saye says hunks, she is referring to Dominic and Malik.

Elex said to Teresa, who nodded. "How can we stop these chimeras?" Evera inquired. " They detach their tendrils from somewhere." Teresa mumbled, pointing to the massive cocoon above them, "I believe that's where their nutrients and literally everything they need to live is, if we kill it, they die." The thing seemed to be alive, pounding like a human heart. "The horcs we encountered at Symar had that red glow, do you think it's that gemstone?" Elex asked, looking at the thing carefully. It had a red glow emitting from its centre.

I watch with my eyebrows furrowed as Greed lifts the slug into the air, showing the rest of the Grand Alkhemi. A servant quickly runs up to me with a bowl of water and a clean rag. She begins brushing the puke off my thighs, trying her best to clean me up. But I simply move her away. I don't care about the vomit on my body. The only thing that bothers me is the parasite. I am the god of Alkhemi. I created everything there is in the Kingdom. Both the good and the bad. How could there have been a parasite I had no idea about? It is impossible.

I won’t be able to be the mom Grace needs me to be. “Why are you crying, Almara?” Roman asks. “I said I got it.” He exclaims with the joy of a child. He seems to have no doubt that it might be too late. Then I remember it’s because he’s never been told ‘no’ before. All the ingredients are gathered. Spit from the councilmen, garlic cloves, quartz dust, even blood from Noah sits in a small glass jar that must’ve been delivered during the time we we’re gone.

"I won't let them harm us." Aunt Cleo's voice sliced through the air like a warning bell, her words laced with urgency and gravity. "Aqua, you need to grasp the true threat of the coven. They're not just ordinary casters. Each possesses unique abilities, ranging from unnaturally swift regeneration and inhuman strength to the sinister power to manipulate creatures and even people, turning them into spies. Some even boast of an unnerving form of immortality, extending their lives far beyond the natural order. And worst of all, they have the terrifying capability to absorb the powers of other casters."

He could see the sincerity in the Night Howlers’ eyes, the shared burden of protecting the balance of the realms. The alpha explained that the Night Howlers’ power was intrinsically linked to the health of the ley lines. The entity’s corruption had weakened them, leaving them vulnerable. They needed to restore the flow of energy, to replenish their strength. This required a combination of ancient rituals, precise manipulation of the ley lines, and a rare herb that grew only in a hidden valley high in the treacherous peaks of the Dragon’s Teeth mountains.

Aunt Drucella says, pushing the book in front of me. I stare at the picture in front of me. A creature, built like a man, with the head of a wolf covered in scales with tiny furry hairs sprouting from its hedges. A primate with claws instead of fingers. I still can't understand. “What am I staring at?” “A Monogroth, A creature of darkness magic, created by Behemoth. It was last seen during the great war.” Greg says. “And was killed by your ancestor,” Aunt Drucella added.

There were hundreds. They were smaller, thinner, and utterly hairless, their pale, translucent bodies packed tightly together like a swarm of albino bats hanging over an open grave. Their six-inch ivory finger-needles were linked together, forming a living, breathing ceiling of bone and hungry mouthparts, all pulsing in rhythm with the brass pump in Malachi”s chest. They were the failure pool of the High Sanctum. The discarded, half-formed biological abominations that Dominic”s inquisitors had swept down the drains for twenty years, left to feast on the runoff of the Third Vault until they became a singular, hive-minded organism.