Infinite Forge: I Can Devour Everything

Edwyn stood in the cluttered alchemy lab, his silver hair glinting under the flickering magic lamps, his trademark smirk plastered across his face despite the whirlwind of thoughts spinning in his head. Agnes's words had hit him like a rogue fireball.

Join the Alchemy Faction? He'd come to drop off a bottle of Red Quicksilver, not to get scouted like some hotshot at a mage tournament. But there was Agnes, towering over him, her sharp eyes gleaming with an intensity that could melt steel, practically preaching about his "natural talent."

"Hold up, lady," Edwyn said, raising a hand with a theatrical flourish. "You're tellin' me I'm some kinda alchemy rockstar? I mean, I know I'm good, but this-" he gestured at the brown glass bottle on the table, "-is just me messin' around with some boom juice. You sure you're not overselling this?"

Agnes's expression didn't waver, her voice steady as a blade. "This Red Quicksilver's purity is exceptional, Edwyn. Even my mentor, Master Joron, would be hard-pressed to match it. You're a natural, whether you admit it or not."

Edwyn's grin widened, but inside, he was reeling. Damn, did the Infinite Forge cook up something too perfect? He leaned against the table, casual as ever, but his mind was doing backflips. "Well, shucks, Agnes, you're gonna make me blush. But, uh, there's a catch, right? I'm just an Initiate. Don't Joron's students need to be Elementary Apprentices or higher?"

Agnes's brow furrowed, and before Edwyn could dodge, a wave of Spiritforce crashed over him like a tidal wave, probing every inch of his being. It wasn't hostile, but it was invasive, like someone rifling through his soul's pockets.

"Impossible," she said, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You're no Initiate. Your Spiritforce is at Elementary Apprentice level."

Edwyn blinked, his grin faltering. "Say what now?" He'd checked his stats just hours ago, 16 Spiritforce, not the 20 needed for Elementary Apprentice. How the hell had he jumped ranks overnight? "You sure your magic radar's not busted?"

Agnes shook her head, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. "You've done something recently, haven't you? Something that spiked your Spiritforce."

Edwyn scratched the back of his neck, his cocky facade slipping for a split second. "Uh, define 'something.' I've been busy, you know, livin' the high life, punching air, tearing pants…" His voice trailed off as he connected the dots. The Bloodline Alchemy. That searing, heart-pounding ritual with the Black Iron Beast's blood. Could that have ramped up his Spiritforce?

Before he could say more, Chayle piped up from his chair, his bald head gleaming like a polished orb under the lamplight.

"Bet it's the feedback effect," he said, leaning forward with a know-it-all smirk. "Edwyn, you been dabbling in Bloodline Alchemy lately?"

Edwyn shot him a sidelong glance, his grin returning. "Guilty as charged, shiny. What's this feedback effect you're yammering about?"

Chayle's demeanor shifted, his usual greasy vibe giving way to a scholarly air that almost made him look respectable. "You haven't taken Soul Studies yet, have you?" he said, his voice taking on a lecturing tone. "The Soul School's got it all figured out. Body and soul? They're linked, like two sides of a coin. When one gets a big boost, the other scrambles to catch up to keep things balanced."

Edwyn tilted his head, intrigued despite himself. "So, what, my body got swole from the bloodline, and my soul's like, 'Hold my potion, I gotta level up too'?"

"Exactly," Chayle said, pointing a finger like a professor mid-lecture. "Your physique surged to Intermediate Apprentice level, those Black Iron Beast scales ain't just for show. That kind of jump pulls your Spiritforce along for the ride, so your soul can handle the extra power. Same deal works in reverse: beef up your soul, and your body toughens up to match."

Edwyn let out a low whistle, his grin turning sly. "Well, damn, that's a neat trick. So, if I pump iron like a knight, my Spiritforce could spike too?"

Chayle chuckled, shaking his head. "In theory, sure, but good luck. The human body's got a low ceiling, Grand Knights max out at 29 Physique, and that takes decades. You? You hit Elementary Apprentice in hours with one Bloodline Alchemy session. Knights can't touch that without tapping the Sea of Souls, and without that link, any Spiritforce they gain is just potential, not power."

Edwyn nodded, piecing it together. "So, I'm a badass by accident. Gotta say, I'm not mad about it."

Chayle clapped him on the shoulder, his hand heavy but friendly.

"Don't get cocky, kid. The feedback effect only kicks in when the gap's huge, like now. Your physique's Intermediate, your Spiritforce is Elementary, that's what triggered it. Once you hit full Mage, the thresholds get steeper, like between Rank One and Rank Two. Oh, and Joron? He's got connections with top Alchemists. Join our Faction, and you could swap that bloodline for something even nastier."

Edwyn's grin tightened into a strained smile. Chayle clearly thought he'd slapped together some basic bloodline, not the pure, Infinite Forge-crafted masterpiece coursing through his veins.

Note to self: next time, throw in some impurities to avoid looking like a freakshow genius.

Agnes cut in, her voice sharp. "Enough, Chayle. Let the kid decide for himself." She nudged Chayle aside, giving Edwyn space to breathe. "Choosing a mentor's a big deal, Edwyn. Academy rules make switching tricky, if you pick wrong, you might end up mentorless, and that's a death sentence for an Apprentice's career."

Edwyn leaned back, crossing his arms with a playful smirk. "No pressure, huh? Alright, gimme a sec to let my genius brain process this."

He paced the room, his boots clicking against the stone floor, the air thick with the scent of chemicals and old parchment. Joining Joron's faction sounded like a golden ticket, Mana Stones, lab access, and a shot at learning from a master. But Chayle's sales pitch had a whiff of snake oil, and Agnes's intensity made him wonder if he was signing up for more than he bargained for. Still, he wasn't one to back down from a challenge.

After a few minutes, he stopped, spinning on his heel to face Agnes. "Alright, I'm in. Sign me up for Joron's Alchemy Faction. Let's see if the old man's as good as you say."

Agnes's lips twitched, almost a smile. "Good choice. Let's go meet him." She clapped her hands once, and a gust of mana swirled around them, lifting them off the ground. Edwyn let out a whoop as they shot upward, the tower's floors blurring past in a kaleidoscope of stone and runes.

"Damn, Agnes, you don't mess around!" he shouted over the rush of wind, his grin wide as they soared toward the 99th floor.

The Central Black Tower's top floor was a fortress of arcane power, its walls pulsing with protective runes that thrummed like a heartbeat. They landed in front of a massive iron door, its surface etched with sigils that glowed faintly, promising pain to anyone dumb enough to try breaking in. Agnes pushed it open, and Edwyn followed, his bravado unshaken despite the oppressive weight of magic pressing against his skin.

The lab inside was a mad scientist's dream. Black brick walls, carved with intricate runes, absorbed the light from flickering magic lamps, casting the room in a perpetual twilight. A massive obsidian platform dominated the center, its surface scarred from countless experiments. To the right, metal shelves groaned under the weight of glass containers, each filled with yellow fluid preserving grotesque organs, tentacles, claws, and things Edwyn couldn't name. To the left, walls were plastered with anatomical diagrams, their lines glowing faintly with embedded mana. A towering bookshelf loomed behind a cluttered desk, stuffed with dusty tomes, scrolls, and manuscripts that looked older than the tower itself.

At the desk stood an old man, his white hair wild and his bushy beard streaked with ash. Master Joron, the Black Tower's premier Alchemist, looked like a kindly grandfather, until you met his eyes. Deep within his pupils, clusters of tiny compound eyes glinted, like a spider's gaze trapped in a human face. Edwyn suppressed a shiver but kept his grin in place.

"Yo, old man, nice setup. You brew potions or summon demons in here?"

Joron didn't react to the quip, his attention fixed on a pile of research papers. A low roar echoed from the platform, where a chimeric beast, part lion, part serpent, all nightmare, convulsed and collapsed into a heap of disintegrating flesh. Joron sighed, rubbing his temples, and summoned a flame that reduced the remains to ash in seconds.

"Another failure," he muttered, his voice gravelly with frustration. "What's missing from my teacher's notes?"

Agnes stepped forward, placing the brown glass bottle on the obsidian table. "Mentor, I've found an alchemical prodigy. This is Edwyn, and he refined this Red Quicksilver."

Joron's compound eyes flicked to the bottle, then to Edwyn. He opened it with a flick of his wrist, extracting a drop of Quicksilver with a thread of mana. The shimmering liquid hovered, its purity almost blinding. "Impressive," he said, his tone neutral but his eyes narrowing. He activated the drop, and it detonated with a sharp crack, sending a ripple through the air. "This purity is rare. Very rare."

Edwyn felt those eerie eyes bore into him, stripping away layers, clothes, skin, soul. He forced a laugh, leaning back with a cocky tilt. "What, you gonna read my fortune too? I'm an open book, old man."

Joron's gaze lingered, unblinking. "Bloodline Alchemy. Elementary Apprentice, freshly achieved. To refine Red Quicksilver at this stage… yes, I'd call that genius." He set the bottle down, his movements deliberate. "Agnes, you want him as your junior, I presume? I trust your judgment, but rules are rules."

He reached into a drawer without looking, pulling out a crystal orb that pulsed with faint light. "Create this item," he said, tossing it to Edwyn, who caught it with a flourish. "Succeed, and you're in. Fail, and you're out. Simple as that."

Edwyn spun the orb in his hand, his grin sharp as a blade. "Oh, it's on, old man. Let's see if your test can keep up with me." Inside, his heart raced, this was his shot, and he wasn't about to blow it.