The heavy iron doors of the 9th floor slammed shut behind them, sealing the slaughtered dungeon bosses in darkness. Kaelen, Seraphina, and Lyriel stepped back onto the smooth obsidian floor of their 10th-floor Sanctuary.

Kaelen felt entirely different. The surge of reaching Level 60 had fundamentally altered his Abyssal Core. His mana capacity had doubled, and the dark void energy circulating through his veins felt dense and heavy, like liquid iron.

He walked over to the newly constructed Alchemical Synthesis Forge—a massive, intricate station made of dark stone, equipped with enchanted crystal vials, glowing subterranean burners, and automated distillation tubes.

’It is beautiful,’ Seraphina said through their mental link, her golden eyes admiring the complex machinery. ’But neither of us possess the Alchemist class. We cannot operate it.’

’Which is why we are going hunting tonight,’ Kaelen replied smoothly. ’Seraphina, remain here. Guard the Primordial Core. If any stray dungeon beasts or Church Inquisition patrols somehow breach the Sanctuary, kill them immediately.’

Seraphina slammed her armored fist against her chest in a rigid, perfect salute. "By my life, Master. The Abyss shall remain pure."

Kaelen turned to the elven assassin. "Lyriel. You are with me."

Lyriel simply bowed her head and seamlessly merged into the darkness cast by Kaelen’s heavy black cloak. The 50% synergy increase from their deep resonance made her presence feel like a natural extension of his own soul.

Kaelen activated the Weaver’s Shadow-Ring. The terrifying violet glow in his eyes faded into a dull, forgettable brown, and his sharp, handsome features softened into those of a perfectly average Bronze-rank mercenary.

He stepped onto the glowing purple Abyssal Waypoint. "Take us up."

The magic flashed violently, and Kaelen reappeared in the damp, silent cave hidden within the Whispering Woods.

Outside, it was past midnight. Aethelgard was shrouded in a thick, cloudy darkness. The capital was usually rowdy, but tonight, an eerie silence hung over the streets.

’Master, the Church patrols are heavily reinforced,’ Lyriel reported smoothly from his shadow as Kaelen climbed the outer stone wall of the city. ’I count three squads of silver-armored Inquisitors sweeping the merchant district. The Vanguard Captain’s bounty has them on high alert.’

’Let them search,’ Kaelen replied mentally, effortlessly pulling himself over the stone parapet and dropping silently into a dark alleyway. ’They are looking for a silver-haired elf and a heretic. They are not looking for a Bronze-rank nobody.’

Kaelen navigated the winding, dirty streets of the lower slums with ease. He bypassed the wealthy districts entirely and headed straight for the poorest, most neglected sector of the capital—the Fallen Noble district.

Black Ash Alley was a miserable, rotting place. The smell of cheap alcohol and raw sewage filled the air. At the very dead-end of the narrow street stood a dilapidated, leaning wooden shack. The sign hanging above the door was cracked in half, barely displaying a faded potion bottle.

Faint, flickering green light spilled out from the cracks in the wooden window shutters. Kaelen could hear the distinct sound of glass shattering inside, followed by a frustrated, tearful scream.

Kaelen pushed the unlocked wooden door open and stepped inside, immediately locking it behind him.

The workshop was an absolute disaster. Broken glass beakers, charred alchemy books, and spilled, foul-smelling ingredients covered the floor. In the center of the room, standing over a bubbling iron cauldron, was Elara Valerius.

She had taken off her ruined, expensive silk dress and was wearing a stained leather apron over a simple white tunic. Her beautiful crimson-red hair was a messy, tangled bird’s nest, and her emerald-green eyes were red and puffy from crying.

She stared desperately into the cauldron as the bright blue liquid inside violently boiled, turning into a hissing, toxic purple sludge.

"Damn it!" Elara screamed, slamming her small fists against the wooden table. "Why?! The temperature was perfect! The mana flow was stable! Why does it keep rotting?!"

"Because you are using standard fire mana to heat a cauldron that is infected by a dark curse," Kaelen’s deep, calm voice echoed from the doorway.

Elara gasped and spun around. Panic flashed in her eyes as she grabbed a sharp, jagged glass dagger from the table, pointing it directly at Kaelen with trembling hands.

"Who are you?!" she demanded, trying to sound brave, though her voice wavered pitifully. "Get out of my shop! I have nothing left to steal! My rivals already took everything, my family exiled me, and I am bankrupt. Get out!"

Kaelen slowly pulled back his tattered black hood.

"I am not here to steal from you, Elara Valerius," Kaelen said smoothly, taking a slow step forward. "I am here to hire you."

Elara let out a bitter, broken laugh. "Hire me? Are you blind, mercenary? I have the Mana-Rot Hex! Every single potion I try to brew instantly turns into lethal poison! I cannot even make a simple healing draught to save a dying rat. I am a worthless Alchemist."

"You are a Level 40 Genius Alchemist who was unfairly sabotaged by greedy rivals," Kaelen corrected her, his dull brown disguise eyes locking onto hers. He stepped closer, completely ignoring the glass dagger pointed at his chest. "I possess a massive surplus of high-tier monster cores, and I need a private Alchemist to refine them into permanent stat-boosting elixirs. I do not care about your ruined reputation."

Elara’s breath hitched. She looked at this strange, dominant man in disbelief. "Did you not hear me? I am cursed! The Church Priests said the hex is completely permanent. It is grafted directly into my mana veins. Only a High Cardinal could cure it, and they refused me!"

Kaelen smirked darkly. He finally stood right in front of her. With a casual, lightning-fast flick of his wrist, he slapped the glass dagger out of her hand. It shattered harmlessly against the far wall.

Elara gasped, stumbling backward until her lower back hit the wooden alchemy table.

"The Church Priests are weak fools who don’t understand true magic," Kaelen whispered, leaning in close.

He deactivated his Weaver’s Shadow-Ring.

Instantly, his dull disguise melted away. His sharp, handsome jawline returned, and his eyes ignited with a terrifying, glowing violet light. His Abyssal Aura flooded the tiny, cramped workshop, releasing a heavy, suffocating pressure that made Elara’s knees buckle.

Elara’s emerald eyes widened in absolute shock. The pure, dark void mana radiating from his tall, heavily muscled body was intoxicating. It was the absolute opposite of the holy magic she had been taught to worship.

"I can completely devour the curse inside your veins," Kaelen promised, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. "I can restore your genius, fund your research with endless resources, and help you completely destroy the rivals who stole your life."

Tears welled up in Elara’s eyes. It was the first time in months anyone had offered her hope instead of mockery. "Y-You can really cure me? But... why? What do you want in return?"

Kaelen reached into his spatial inventory. He pulled out the glowing, pristine Flawless Rot-Wyrm Core and placed it onto the table beside her. Then, he set down a small crystal vial containing the Wyrm Heart-Blood.

The raw, overwhelming magical pressure radiating from the Level 75 dragon materials made Elara stop breathing. Her Alchemist instincts screamed at her. These were mythic-tier ingredients, the kind of materials that legendary elixirs were made from.

"My Sanctuary requires an Alchemist," Kaelen growled softly, reaching out and gently tilting her chin up with his large, calloused hand so she was forced to look into his glowing violet eyes. "I will break your curse, Elara. I will give you materials that other Alchemists can only dream of. But in exchange, your alchemy, your mind, and your life belong to me. Permanently."

Elara stared into his eyes. She felt the terrifying, dominant weight of his aura. He was a Heretic. A monster hiding in human skin. If the Church found out she was associating with him, she would be burned at the stake.

But as she looked at the ruined sludge in her cauldron, and then at the priceless Wyrm core on her table, her decision was already made. She was a Genius Alchemist. She would rather burn in hell than live as a failure.

"Save me," Elara whispered desperately, completely abandoning her pride. She leaned into his touch, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Break this curse, and I will brew whatever you desire."

Kaelen smiled. It was a wicked, predatory smile.

"A wise choice," Kaelen whispered. "Now, hold still. Void magic is incredibly violent. Devouring a curse directly from your mana veins is going to hurt."