Marseille Harbor Labyrinth Mystery

Deep Breath

Anti-Alchemical Device. Crunch.

Jean had no time to analyze. The freezing cold emanating from the probe stuck in the deck wasn't just temperature; it was chemical rejection. His newly acquired purification energy jolted, unable to manipulate the water within the frozen zone.

“Damn it,” Jean hissed, stepping back.

The intruder underwater must have fled as soon as the probe was secured. It was a smart, quick, professional tactic—far beyond the capabilities of Le Requin’s thugs. The Neptune Cartel was already moving.

Jean knew he couldn't leave the probe there. It would neutralize his entire new alchemical fortress.

He knelt beside the probe, ignoring the stabbing pain in his recently healed hand. He couldn't transmute the surrounding water, but he could transmute the metal forming the probe itself.

He focused energy on the point where the probe pierced the deck. Not the water, but the ship's brittle iron.

Quick transmutation. Solid transmutation.

The iron around the probe began to hiss, and in the blink of an eye, it turned into dry, brittle salt flakes. Jean grabbed the handle of the probe, which was no longer secured by metal, but by powder.

With a single, harsh yank, Jean ripped it from the deck.

The brittle salt scattered, and the cold water spurting from the hole below became responsive again. Jean immediately channeled energy to seal the hole, transforming the incoming water into hard coral.

He threw the Anti-Alchemical Probe into the sea. As soon as it hit the water, the device exploded with a quiet hiss, its energy absorbed by the newly potent sea alchemy.

“They’re testing the limits,” Jean muttered, breathless. He now stood in the middle of the dilapidated captain’s cabin, atop the fortress he had just defended.

The exhaustion was still present, but far more manageable. The Purification had succeeded.

He had to move fast. He needed to know why such a sophisticated enemy was interested in this dirty Old Port.

Jean closed his eyes, unleashing his new senses. He was no longer searching for the smell of pollution, but for the pulse of alchemical energy. The Nexus.

In an Alchemist's eyes, every body of water is an energy network. In the Mediterranean, that network was complex, but there were points where the ancient energy of Atlantis flowed more strongly.

Jean “scented” the energy flow, letting his mind follow Marseille’s underwater currents. Small currents from sewers, rivers, and bays gathered, and they all led to a single point.

He opened his eyes. The point was in the middle of the Old Port. Beneath Le Requin’s ice warehouse.

“Of course,” Jean hissed. “That shark doesn't know he's sitting on a goldmine.”

The ice warehouse was the largest structure on the pier, used by Le Requin to store catches, frozen narcotics, and contraband. It was the heart of Le Requin’s power. And it was also the heart of Marseille's alchemical energy.

Jean began formulating a plan. He couldn't storm the warehouse frontally. He needed information, logistics, and an opening.

Suddenly, he heard the familiar sound of footsteps on the deck. Not the fearful staggering steps of Damien, but confident, measured strides.

Anton.

Jean turned, ready to strike.

Anton stood in the cabin doorway, wearing a neat leather jacket. He surveyed the deck, now half-covered in alchemical coral and reeking of ozone. He saw the sealed hole in the floor.

“You survived the underwater assault,” Anton said, expressionless. “I have to admit, you’re faster than I thought, Jean Valéry.”

“Did you send them?” Jean asked, his voice cold, ready to summon power for a fight.

Anton raised his hands in a calming gesture. “No. I just sent a signal that there was an ‘anomaly’ here. They responded by sending a quick reaction team. Those weren’t my men. They’re too dense for advanced gear like that.”

“Then what do you want?”

Anton stepped inside, crunching over Jean's transmuted salt flakes. “I came to negotiate, not fight. Look, Jean, I told you. You’re powerful, but you’re strategically blind.”

“I don't need your strategies, traitor.”

“Ah, ‘traitor’,” Anton scoffed. “You still resort to emotional words. I told you, I’m pragmatic. I know you cleansed yourself. I see the clarity in your eyes. Jean Valéry the addict is dead. Now, there is a pure Alchemist.”

Anton pulled out a slim electronic tablet and clicked it on. A three-dimensional map of the Old Port appeared, filled with colored lines indicating energy flow.

“You see this?” Anton pointed to a glowing red spot in the center of the map. “That’s the Nexus. Right under Le Requin’s ice warehouse.”

Jean stared at the map, startled. “You know about this?”

“Of course I know,” Anton replied, leaning the tablet against a pile of rope. “Did you think I stole your notebooks just to make petty salt bombs? No. I was looking for the market. And the biggest market is this Nexus.”

Anton crossed his arms. “Le Requin doesn’t know what he has. He just knows it’s a cold place. He thinks it’s his logistical advantage. In fact, it’s the heart of the Mediterranean. The Neptune Cartel knows. They’re pressuring Le Requin, trying to buy him out. Le Requin is an idiot; he thinks he can fight them off.”

“You work for Neptune,” Jean accused.

“I work for myself,” Anton corrected. “Neptune is a major Cartel. They want to control the Mediterranean. But they’re arrogant. They see alchemy as raw magic. You, Jean, you see it as chemistry. That makes you more dangerous.”

Anton sighed. “Listen, you need an opening. You can’t fight Neptune and Le Requin alone, not with just this wreck of a ship. I know all of Le Requin’s ins and outs. I know when their patrols are weak. I know the ice warehouse door codes. I know where he hides the rare minerals he stole from other ships' cargo.”

“You want me to be your mercenary?”

“I want us to be partners,” Anton said, his smile cold. “You need logistics. I need god-tier alchemy. I’ll give you everything you need to breach the ice warehouse, take the minerals, and seize that Nexus. After that, we split the spoils.”

“What do you want from this ‘split’?” Jean asked suspiciously.

“I want the vague parts,” Anton answered casually. “I want access to the knowledge that isn’t in your notebooks. I want to see your transmutations up close. I want to learn how to make that Instant Purification Potion. I want to get better, Jean. I want to be a proper Alchemist.”

Jean stared at Anton. Anton’s jealousy and ambition felt real. But so did his knowledge. Without this logistical intel, Jean would spend days just mapping the ice warehouse.

“You know Le Requin will kill you if he finds out you’re working with me,” Jean said, testing Anton’s loyalty.

“Le Requin will be dead in two weeks, either by you or by Neptune,” Anton retorted sharply. “I’m just choosing the stronger side. And right now, the stronger side is you, the pure Black Sea Alchemist.”

Jean walked over to the map on the tablet, his finger touching the red Nexus point beneath the ice warehouse. “What protection does Le Requin have there?”

Anton smiled faintly. “Just tired, confused guards. And, of course, extreme cold. Le Requin thinks no one can survive sub-zero temperatures for long.”

“Cold won’t stop me,” Jean said. He sensed the alchemical potential in extreme cold energy.

“Of course not,” Anton agreed. “But he has rare minerals stored there. Minerals that could be a stabilizer for your Tier 2 Transmutation Potion. You want to cleanse Marseille? You need those minerals.”

Jean nodded, his decision made. “Fine. I accept your deal. Give me the intel. But if you betray me, I will turn you into a block of salt. A very clean block of salt.”

“Fair enough,” Anton said, sliding the tablet into Jean's hand. “I’ll give you the Salt Fog Potion. It will falsify Le Requin's logistical warehouse data. He'll panic. That will give you an opening.”

Anton pointed to the schedule on the tablet. “Two in the morning tonight. That’s their weakest time.”

Jean took the tablet. “Good. Tonight, I take what’s mine.”

“Be careful, Jean,” Anton warned, as he walked toward the door. “Neptune already smells Le Requin's rot. They will come for that warehouse.”

Anton stopped at the doorway, turning back. “Oh, one more thing. Never try the Instant Purification Potion again. It’s too dangerous. You almost died.”

“I know my limits now,” Jean replied coldly.

Anton shook his head. “No, you don’t. But you will learn. See you at the ice warehouse, Jean. I’ll be your shadow.”

Anton disappeared into the darkness of the pier.

Jean stared at the tablet, then out at the rippling sea. Tonight, he would pierce the heart of Le Requin’s power.

He began planning the Salt Fog Potion. He needed to make it potent enough to affect the entire logistics system. He needed more dissolved salt.

Jean stepped toward the ship’s hull, his hand touching the alchemical coral he had just created. He focused his energy, preparing to transmute more water into pure salt powder.

Suddenly, he felt a subtle vibration beneath his feet. Not the Kraken, not the waves.

Something large, slow, and immensely heavy was moving beneath the port. Deep within the dark water, Jean sensed a new presence. It wasn't a ship. It was a massive machine, turning slowly, approaching the coastline, heading toward the ice warehouse.

The Neptune Cartel wasn’t waiting. They were coming now.

Jean had to move immediately. He had to reach the Nexus before them.

He took a deep breath, grabbing his old rusty canister. He needed the Salt Fog Potion, and he needed a Pain Binding Potion for the guards.

Jean began scraping rust from the pillar. He heard the enormous underwater machine drawing nearer.

He had to make the Salt Fog now.