Morning sunlight cut through the towering windows of the magnificent Prescott Mansion, slicing through marble floors with sharp lines of gold. Dust motes drifted lazily in the air catching the light like tiny stars trapped inside the room. Aadam Prescott sat at the grand desk in his new office, surrounded by tomes bound in aged leather, glass vials filled with iridescent liquids, and scattered sketches of arcane symbols. The room smelled faintly of cedar, parchment, and a tang of metallic residue from old experiments—an intoxicating blend that seemed to invigorate him.A life like this is really beautiful, he thought within himself. Everything is just coming to me easily...both knowledge and wealthy and power.He leaned back in his chair, tapping a silver pen against a blank sheet of paper, watching the skyline of city sprawled below like a living chessboard. The city was still reeling from yesterday's revelation. Aadam, the former Eden, had declared the existence of alchemy to the wh

The government's skyscraper loomed like a silent Titan over the city, windows reflecting the rising sun in blinding streaks of brilliant gold and steel. Inside, the air smelled of polished wood, sterilized glass, and the faint tang of military-grade disinfectants.Aadam Prescott walked through the lobby with the calm confidence of a man who owned not just the room, but the narrative itself. His stature was poised, exuding a domineering presence.His reputation had preceded him. Alchemy was no longer a secret whispered in shadowed chambers—it was reality, and the government had taken note. His Dantian formula, revealed to the public as a scientific marvel, had drawn the attention of the military and research divisions alike. Yet what they didn't know—and what he would never reveal—was that the Dark Stone, the true source of his power, remained hidden. He didn't want the entire world coming after him. He was not powerful yet.Aadam entered the conference room, where three senior officia

The alley was silent, but the air vibrated with a tension that felt almost alive. Rain drizzled lightly, creating puddles that reflected the jagged neon lights of the city, now distorted by the dark veins pulsing across the three men's bodies. Each movement they made sent ripples through the shadows, and even the stray wind seemed to bend away from their raw Nether energy.Jeffery Flamel pulled his hoodie tighter around his frame, sending calm and centered. His mastery of Qi and Ether hummed beneath his skin, a subtle golden aura radiating outward, barely visible but undeniably present. He observed the three men with a calculating eye, noting how their power surged and twisted unpredictably.Raw strength without understanding, he thought, narrowing his gaze. Chaos without purpose is a threat to everything... and to themselves.The tallest of the three growled, veins black and writhing, and stepped forward, fists cracking with jagged Nether. "We... we are strong! Nothing can stop us no

The alley shivered under the tension of barely—contained energy. Rain splashed against the cracked concrete, glinting off the black veins that snaked like living ink across the the men's mutated forms. Each twitch, each pulse of muscle, sent ripples of Nether surging through them, but their eyes—wild and uncomprehending—showed the truth: they had no idea how to wield what they possessed.Jeffery Flamel breathed evenly, hood shadowing his face, holding aura of Qi and Ether flickering subtly around him. His mind raced, calculating movements, anticipating reactions. The more they struggle, the more they destabilize themselves. This is both a threat and an opportunity."You think power is what makes you masters," Jeffery said softly, voice calm but cutting through the charged air, "but you are children in storm-tossed bodies. That is the difference between creation and annihilation.""That's total bullshit, old man!" the tallest snarled, fists lashing, black veins writhing violently. "I..

The rain-soaked alleys were Kael and Jace' perpetual purgatory—a labyrinth of crumbling brick, neon reflections, and desperation. They grew up on scraps, sleeping on rooftops on in abandoned buildings, their fists clenched tight against a world that didn't care. Kael, wiry and sharp-eyed, lost his mother to a factory fire no one cared to investigate; the smell of charred flesh lingered in his nightmares. Jace, tall and scarred, was abandoned by a father too drunk to remember him, left to fend against the cold with a broken rib and a fading scream. No safety nets. No chances. Just hunger, anger, and the wrong side of the law.They fell into a gang out of necessity, running errands, pulling small jobs—until the night they got caught in a sting. Petty crimes led to a beatdown in a cramped police cell, bruises mingling with the stench of piss and lost hope. That was when they met Ronan. Ronan, who had a taste for the high-stakes, introduced them to the Crimson Vein—a cheap, brutal cocktai