The days that followed were a blur of flashes—microphones, signatures, contracts, and figures too large for Jeffery to process at once. Reporters filled the courtyard of the Stirling family manor. Cameras caught his every breath as journalists shouted his name from behind glowing lenses.The potion—officially patented as VitaVernum—had passed every medical and ethical review without a single objection. It was hailed as 'thr biochemical philosopher's stone," a regenerative compound that could heal damaged cells, restore dying organs, and undo the smallest signs of decay.The world was in awe. In shock. And Jeffery Flamel, once the forgotten alchemist in a dimly lit basement with cracked vials and ink-stained noted, had become the face of a new era.He could hardly recognize the man in the mirror. His reflection was sharp, poised, and well-dressed—but his eyes still carried the same tired depth of a man who had seen too much.I can't believe how much I've grown, he thought within himsel

The air was heavy. Too heavy.The silence inside the mansion felt alive—thick with dread, pressing against the walls like an unseen storm. Candle flames flickered violently, their reflections trembling across the marble floor now streaked with spilled wine and panic.Rita lay half-conscious in Jeffery's arms. Her breaths were shallow, uneven—each inhale a war, each exhale a plea.Jeffery's world narrowed to the faint rhythm beneath his fingers. Weak. Fading. It was gradually crumbling."No," he muttered to himself. "Not her. Not now."For one long, terrifying heartbeat, he froze—watching the person who had believed in him when no one else did, slipping away in his arms. A cruel irony: the man who could heal the dying world now knelt helpless before the fragility of one heart.I have to control myself... he thought within himself. Or I will end up getting her killed...With these words, his breath steadied slowly. His jaw clenched. His eyes sharpened."No," he whispered, this time calm

The television lights shimmered across the marble floor, painting the lavish living room in a sheen of artificial gold. The air smelled faintly of expensive cigars and aged wine—the kind of fragrance that usually whispered power, but tonight, it reeked of tension.Cora's hand trembled slightly as she held her glass. The ruby-red liquid inside quivered with it, catching the glare of the TV as the news anchor's voice rang out:"Breaking news: Dr. Jeffery Flamel, the man behind the revolutionary VitaVernum compound, has officially announced his engagement to Rita Stirling—heir of the most prestigious family, the Stirlings. Their engagement has already been done at the Flamel mansion."The world seemed to still.This is impossible, Cora's pupils dilated. How is this happening?!Aadam, her current husband, froze mid-drag, his cigar tip glowing dimly before burning out completely. His robe, embroidered with gold threads, hung loosely on his heavy frame, and his once-confident smirk faded in

The forest was still. Too still.The air clung to Aadam's skin like cold silk, damp and heavy with decay. Even the crickets had fine silent, as if the night itself held its breath—watching, waiting.He stood at the edge of the lake where his rebirth began, the mist curling around his boots like coiling spirits. Every ripple of his heartbeat seemed to echo in the distance, pulsing faintly through the fog, resonating with the power now caged within him.So this is how it feels, Aadam thought within himself, to be powerful and invincible. The power within me seems to be boundless... and unreachable.It was intoxicating—the power he was feeling within him—a melody of ruin sung directly into his bones.The Dark Stone hung from his neck, bound in a crude chain of scorched metal that still smelled faintly of burnt flesh. It pulsed like a second heart, bleeding faint threads of violet light that slithered over his collarbone before fading into his veins. The whispers had grown stronger tonigh

The forest groaned silently. Mist coiled low to the ground, curling around the roots and stones like ghostly serpents. The moon had dimmed behind a veil of unnatural clouds, leaving only the faint shimmer of violet light that pulsed faintly from the earth itself—the lingering echo of a forbidden act.Zoro stepped through the haze, his boots sinking into damp soil. Each step felt heavier, as though the forest resisted his presence. His eyes—sharp, experienced, tainted by decades of dark rituals—flickered with a glint of recognition and fear.He stopped.What the hell just happened here? he thought within himself, his pupils dilating.The clearing before him was silent, yet alive with something unseen. The trees leaned away, their bark cracked and blackened, leaves turned grey as if life itself had been leeched from them. At the center of it all lay the remnants of an atrocity—a circle of scorched ground where energy still shimmered, faint and pulsing like the dying heartbeat of an abys