Alchemy Homunculus Novels & Stories

"Omniscient Harmony" is capable of accommodating diverse traits and facilitating their transformation during use! An exceptional foundational talent for alchemists, particularly for those with grand ambitions and extraordinary aptitudes, For alchemists nurtured by the great forces of the Star Realm, the first sub-ability they seek is undoubtedly Omniscient Harmony. In certain circles of advanced alchemists, possessing the Omniscient Harmony talent serves as a crucial criterion for evaluating one's origins and potential, profoundly influencing how other alchemists perceive and treat you.

"Whooom!" Tongues of golden fire with licks of blue started cropping from under those bones as crunches of shattering skulls filled the room. Tom was still wondering where the whole ceremony was heading to when abruptly a huge mass of dark energy that hugely resembles a congregation of dark smoke drifted from the mass of burning bones and flesh and started morphing into the similitude of a man. With eyes widened to the point of pain Tom watched this bewildering scene in stark contrast to the composed and nonchalant demeanor of Horemakhet who was standing straight like a spear having his hands behind his back as he spoke…

Elric stopped at a page with a brown smudge across the bottom, which held a recipe titled "Lich Eternal". It was a horrible spell calling for items Aelfric had never heard of, not to mention a hefty blood sacrifice. It called for something called "Claimed Chimera claw", and "Horbus Moreas pollin". He could hardly make out the directions, but the notes scribbled at the bottom of the page read "Consciousness lost 8 hours. Eyes bled briefly upon waking. Stimuli are strange. Hard surfaces feel malleable, I am unbreathing, though my heart beats still.

With anger, he looked up at Aleph. “What did you do to me?!”. He yelled. Aleph smirked slightly. He didn’t reply him because sooner or later, he’ll find out what he did. The first result of his attack started from Abaddon’s horn. The only horn he had left on his head had started to rotten. Abaddon felt it and he shouted. He attempted to grab it but a sharp pain bolted through his arms, he dropped the hand again but not without seeing golden like veins growing fast on his arms.

He was a man who looked like he had been carved from parched bone, his eyes milky with cataracts but sharp with malice. ​He held a chalice of "Liquid Noon"—a decoction of Sun-Stone and poppy. I knew the chemistry. It was designed to suppress the hippocampus, the part of the brain that holds onto faces, voices, and the scent of a mate’s skin. ​"I am not thirsty," I said, my voice sounding thin in the vast, echoing ritual chamber. ​Solas stepped out of the shadows. He was dressed in robes of pure white, a crown of literal flames dancing above his brow. The sheer pressure of his Alpha aura was enough to make the air feel like cooling lead.

Worry and fear were etched all over her face, and before I asked her what was wrong, I caught a shadow from the corner of my eyes. My eyes narrowed at a tall, mysterious-looking man standing by the door behind my dad, who at first I thought was Hunter. But when I looked closer, I realized it was not him, but the spitting image of Hunter Ysrael. No, the original image and father of Hunter Ysrael, Alpha Marcus of the Cruelcrest Hounds pack. He was wearing all black, from the bulky leather coat, black slacks, to black ankle boots. Anyone would mistake him as a nightcrawler if he keeps popping up in the shadows. But more importantly, what is he doing here?

He smiles as he watches the head of the clan and everyone around that room dead and bathing with their blood that put him in utmost content. He who sacrifices his very soul and is bound into the chains and clutches of that God. The master of the dead, a necromancer, and an alchemist. He who is supposed to be dead yet is alive and continues to like a cycle of a jellyfish and two. He is greeted as his very creation and façade of an older sister, replies. “As your very wish, master.”

However, an opportunity had arisen. Alchemists in the maritime immortal regions devised a new alchemical method using the inner cores of dark beasts. It was well-known that dark beasts from grade two onwards produced inner cores, and these inner cores were used in training. Immortals would absorb the aura essence within the cores, however, they had discovered that the aura essence inside was unevenly distributed and had a very low absorption rate, which was seen as a significant waste. After several generations of effort, the maritime immortal regions mastered a breakthrough technology: using inner cores of dark beasts to craft celestial pills.

"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.

I left out the part about him having wolfsbane in his system though, that's a personal thing that I don't quite understand yet. "Maybe…" She mutters. "I like this side of him better though. Makes you think he might actually make a half decent Alpha." The rest of the day seems to fly by and before I know it, I'm sitting around the dinner table with my parents, wondering if Abaddon will be in my room when I go back upstairs. My dad suddenly goes tense, stopping a story about an angry cat trying to stand up to him in wolf form, mid sentence. Initially I thought he was being dramatic, but when he quickly stands up and slips his shoes on, I assume it's something to do with work.