"Powdered fang of a blood-type beast lord, dryad's sap, a vial of crimson dew."
The voice that spoke was calm, pleasant, but distant. Cold in a way that felt deliberate.
She stood in front of a table, dressed in a loose-fitting silver gown. The fabric shimmered gently in the light, like liquid rays of moonlight. It didn't do much to conceal her ethereal beauty, though there was something off about her complexion, it was unnaturally pale.
A tiny silver bird, no larger than a palm and with two pairs of delicate wings, flitted around her. One by one, it dropped each ingredient she named into a slender glass vial, its movements precise and practiced.
About two meters behind her, a man stood quietly, his posture straight and solemn. Every so often, the air around him would ripple just briefly, before settling again, as if attempting to conceal his presence without disturbing the Lady as she worked.
His eyes occasionally wandered, taking in the breathtaking scenery of the garden around him. It was more forest than garden, dominated by a majestic, silver-colored tree at its center. Surrounding it were herbs and trees glowing faintly with spiritual light—each one a rare, high-grade spiritual plant.
'Any single herb here could spark a bloodbath out in the world', he thought, scanning the surroundings. So why is there no visible security?'
Then he chuckled to himself.
Well, anyone foolish enough to steal from the Yue Qui… must either be an idiot... or suicidally bold.
The Lady took the glass vial in hand and began to swirl it gently. The materials inside gradually dissolved, and if one looked closely, they would notice a soft silver glow rising from her palm, threading into the vial, subtly guiding the fusion of its contents. Bit by bit, the liquid shifted hue deepening into a dark crimson, almost black.
"Blood Root Heart," she whispered.
But even before the words fully left her lips, the tiny silver bird as if reading her intent, had already returned, clutching the requested material in its talons.
It looked like a peach, though unnaturally crimson, as if it bled from beneath its skin. The moment it neared her hand, the sweet, heady scent of the fruit filled the air, thick and cloying, almost intoxicating.
She took it delicately and sliced through its center. Immediately, the aroma deepened. Then, lifting the vial, she poured the crimson mixture directly into the heart of the fruit.
The moment the liquid touched the flesh, the fruit pulsed.
Time around it seemed to falter—then rewind. Its torn tissues knit themselves together, slow but certain. The cut closed, and with it, the fruit began to glow softly.
Raising it with both hands, the silver light from her body brightened radiating like moonlight on a still lake, serene yet deeply unnatural.
DUN-DUN. DUN-DUN.
At that moment, the fruit seemed to embody its name, it began to throb, softly at first, mimicking the steady beat of a living heart. The very air shifted. The sky dimmed, and sudden gusts of wind rolled through the garden.
The man felt a strange tightness in his chest. His heartbeat faltered, then fell in sync with the pulsing fruit. His surroundings blurred, and for a terrifying second, his vision filled with the looming image of a massive, prehistoric beast. Its jaws opened wide, primordial and endless, as if to swallow him whole.
"Kwame. Summon your beast."
The ethereal voice rang out again, calm but commanding. It cut through the illusion like light through fog.
Snapping back to himself with a shudder, Kwame stumbled a half-step back. If she hadn't called out...
A cold sweat broke out along his spine. He dared not dwell on what might've happened had he stayed in that illusion any longer.
Wiping his forehead discreetly, he reached out with his mind. A shimmer answered his call, a silver-forged grimoire flickered into view beside him. Its pages turned on their own, then stopped.
Etched on the revealed page: the image of a tiger, crouched and ready, its eyes alight with primal fury.
The air beside him shimmered, then tore like water splitting. A beast stepped through, tiger-like in shape, sleek and agile rather than bulky. Standing just a meter tall at the shoulder.
Its coat was pitch black, marred by blood-red stripes that glowed faintly like embers in the dark. This was a Prowler, a beast with a perfect-quality bloodline, feared for its ruthlessness and uncanny stealth.
The moment it emerged, it let out a low, rumbling growl. The air thickened, laced with an aura unique to predators—raw, proud, and tinged with bloodlust.
High on the Lady's shoulder, the tiny silver bird narrowed it's gaze.
It turned its head, locking eyes with the Prowler.
Just one glance.
And in that instant, the fearsome aura surrounding the beast collapsed like a deflated lung. Its ears flattened. It whimpered. Tail tucked low between its legs, the predator shrank back.
It didn't matter that the bird was barely the size of its paw, every instinct screamed that if it so much as twitched wrong, it would be devoured whole, no remains left behind.
"Come."
The Lady's voice was soft, yet carried undeniable authority. She hadn't once looked at the beast, her eyes remained fixed on the floating fruit.
Silver runes and intricate diagrams spun around it, refining the essence within. Gradually, the fruit shrank, its form condensing. And though it became smaller, its presence only grew stronger, its pulse deepened, thrumming like a war drum.
Eventually, it was no bigger than a pill, radiating a fierce crimson glow.
With a casual flick of her finger, the pill shot forward like a streak of light, embedding itself into the forehead of the tiger-like beast. It passed through fur and flesh as if the creature's body were made of mist.
ROOAARR!
A guttural roar erupted from the beast, shaking the leaves around them. Cracks and pops echoed through the air as its bones twisted and snapped.
Clumps of black fur fell away in clumps, but almost immediately, new fur sprouted in their place. This time, it wasn't black, but a deep, bleeding crimson. Its stripes darkened to jet black, shifting and writhing like living vines etched into its skin.
PSSHTT!
With a wet rip, bone spurs tore from its shoulders, jutting out like jagged blades.
The beast howled, its body expanding—one meter, two meters—muscle surging beneath its skin until it stood twice its former size.
Then... silence.
The transformation was complete.
Throwing a glance at the transformed beast, Yue Qui's eyes narrowed slightly.
'Hmm... blood and plant attributes,' she mused, then turned to face Kwame.
"Congratulations, Kwame. Your partner has successfully mutated into a rare quality bloodline beast—the Bloodthorne Tiger."
Kwame bowed deeply, eyes gleaming with gratitude.
"Many thanks, Yue Qui. If there's anything you need from me, just say the word. I'll do my best to see it done."
He stroked the beast's fur, which alternated between silken softness and spiky rigidity. At that moment, he felt exhilarated, like he could even face a king-tier beast if she so commanded.
"There's no need for that. You've already helped me greatly just by bringing me the ether crystal."
She gently lifted the silver bird from her shoulder, cradling it in her palm. It cooed contentedly, pressing itself into her touch like a spoiled pet. With her task complete, she turned and began walking away.
From the trees, a silent figure emerged—a woman dressed in dark robes—who immediately set about cleaning up the instruments and remnants of the ritual. Yue Qui took a few steps, then paused, as if recalling something.
"Oh, one more thing," she said without turning fully. "Go to the Forge Association. Tell that old man that for this year's exam—if anyone finishes within thirty minutes—they're allowed to skip the one-year wait and take the rank two Forge Master test directly."
Kwame nodded, committing the message to memory. But curiosity prickled at him.
"Yue Qui... are you perhaps concerned that the Forge Association isn't drawing enough new talent into the ranks of forge masters?"
She didn't reply at first. Then, just before disappearing into the garden path, she paused.
Shaking her head lightly, she spoke... so softly that only Kwame's enhanced hearing caught it:
"Those other two have already taken disciples. This Empress can't possibly fall behind."
And then she was gone.
Kwame stood there, stunned. His thoughts spun as the weight of her words settled in his chest.
'Yue Qui... one of the Three Grandmaster Forge Masters in the Aricarr Region... wants to take a disciple?'
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile,
"1000 credits for this plant life… Deal."
The shop owner spoke quickly, as if afraid Adeon might suddenly change his mind.
A few passers-by glanced over, their expressions a mix of pity and amusement—like they were watching someone get scammed in broad daylight. Still, no one said a word to stop him.
Yet the boy at the center of it all wore a wide, goofy grin, like he'd just won the lottery.