"Have you heard about that 'Grade-8 Tinker's Workshop'? They handle alchemical repairs and material refinent fast—and most importantly, it's cheap. If you've got sothing that needs work, it's worth a visit."
On a bustling street, an alchemist out gathering materials enthusiastically recomnded Wang Yu's shop to an acquaintance.
"‘Grade-8 Tinker'? That sounds more like a chanic's trade na than an actual profession. Are you sure the place even exists?"
His acquaintance sounded skeptical. In Skyborne City, rumors rarely took root unless they were truthful. The alchemists and scholars in the city weren't easily misled—they were all sharp minds, and guided by a keen sense of reason besides.
Still, a phrase like "cheap and high-quality" was exceedingly rare in this city of gears and spellcraft.
"It's real! I haven't needed their services myself, but I've seen the line—there are tons of alchemists waiting their turn outside.
"The owner used to handle requests so quickly that there was no need to line up, but a few guilds caught wind of it and have started hauling out their stockpiles of old projects to be fixed. The sheer workload slowed everything down, so now you have to wait your turn."
The acquaintance glanced at the alchemist, now more convinced than not.
"I suppose I'll go take a look. I do have a few things that need nding..."
That acquaintance made his way toward the workshop, but as he turned the corner into the street, he noticed a group of people erging with mildly disappointed expressions.
Curious, he walked farther in and spotted the slightly out-of-place stone hut nestled along the roadside.
A wooden sign above the door read "Grade-8 Tinker's Workshop," just as described, but now there was a smaller placard right beneath it: Temporarily Closed.
"Pity. So those people leaving must've been waiting here."
Shaking his head, he turned and left. With the shop closed, there was little else of value along that street.
anwhile, within the workshop, Wang Yu set down a large wooden crate on the counter with a thump. The crate was neatly packed with glass vials containing a vibrant red liquid. Under the glow of a mana crystal lamp, the rose-colored liquid shimred with a beauty all its own.
"Liquid redstone, 64 units total, 100 credits apiece."
Wang Yu clapped the crate with a grin as he spoke to the alchemist standing before him, Isaac.
The alchemist had a sharp rcantile instinct. Leveraging his rapport with Wang Yu, he figured out which materials the latter could process the fastest. Then he'd gather up the raw materials in bulk, hand them off to Wang Yu, advertise broadly, add a little markup, and pocket the difference.
Wang Yu didn't mind in the slightest. In fact, he welcod the efficiency. Many custors brought in ti-consuming jobs, but Isaac always delivered large batches of easily processed materials—quick work for decent pay. A perfect win-win.
"You're really closing up?"
Isaac transferred the funds to Wang Yu through the Magiweb, a note of regret in his voice.
He didn't understand Wang Yu's processing thods, but the speed and quality was undeniable. In just a week or so, Isaac had earned what would normally have taken him the whole year, simply by trading on the price gap.
He sighed. His quick money-making strategy was done for, it seed.
"For now, yeah. Money's always nice, but I've got other things to do. Still, working with you's been good business. If I pick this up again, I'll give you priority."
Wang Yu tucked away his identity card and replied with casual ease.
"Much appreciated. I'll be waiting."
Satisfied, Isaac left the Grade-8 Tinker's Workshop, crate in hand.
"Let's see... this cash flow's outrageous." Wang Yu glanced at the balance on his identity card and grinned. Isaac's latest batch had earned him another 5,000 credits. With the combined profits from those materials, the casual custors, and the work commissioned by various guilds, he, Avia, and Sieg now had over 150,000 credits to their na.
A large balance always brought a sense of satisfaction, no matter the situation.
If they had chosen to continue running the workshop, business would only have bood further. But Wang Yu was nothing if not focused. He hadn't co to Skyborne City for gold. Once they secured the necessary funds, he wouldn't hesitate to shut things down and move on to the next phase of their plan.
He stepped through the curtain into the back of the workshop, now densely packed. Workbenches, alchemical instrunts, journals overflowing with disassembled schematics—it was a tight, efficient space.
He didn't see Avia or Sieg, but didn't think much of it. Adjusting the Perfect Fractal lens over his right eye, he sent a ssage to her.
[Is the pocket dinsion within the Seed of Eden all set up?]
[It's done. The air's circulating and regenerating. There's still no gravity, but we can just simulate that with a gravity spell.]
The response arrived alongside the shimring portal of a Gate of Phases. Avia and Sieg stepped through together.
"Let's move everything in. No need for housing anymore—this can be our new base and lab."
Avia flashed Wang Yu a peace sign. She was clearly quite pleased with what they'd accomplished.
Wang Yu had handed Avia the Seed of Eden a while back. Once bound to her, its internal space, once no bigger than a fingertip, had rapidly expanded into a stable cube ten ters across on each side.
As its bearer, Avia could open a dinsional rift to enter the seed freely. And after extensive research, she had developed a Gate of Phases that allowed easy access for others as well.
Initially, it had been a dark, airless void without even gravity. But thanks to her and Sieg's efforts, that space had now been transford.
Wang Yu picked up a table from the workshop and carried it through the portal.
"Not bad at all."
He surveyed the interior with a whistle of appreciation.
All six sides of the cube-like space were now plated in tal. Soft, even light spilled from mana lamps installed at each corner. The whole space glead, clean and functional.
It still felt a little empty, but several alchemical apparatuses had already been moved in. Noelle sat beside them, diligently studying under Sieg's guidance.
Once everything from the workshop was transferred over, this place would officially beco their true lab—a secure haven for research and secrecy.
"Opening a channel to the undead plane costs 50,000 credits. Once we're ready, we can apply for a transit gate at the Beacon Bridge. Professor, are the coordinates Aurelian gave you still good?"
Wang Yu turned toward Sieg, who had followed him through the portal. They had no intention of delaying. The sooner they contacted the silver dragon Aurelian, the better—delays only bred complications, especially when a legend like Sieg's sister was involved.
"Quite. Aurelian left coordinates that can be used directly from Beacon Bridge.
"But we still need to prepare. Visitors are suppressed on a foreign plane, and the stronger we are, the stronger the suppression. The undead plane is relatively safe, but we may still face unforeseen threats.
"You once had an alchemical firearm and a grimoire that allowed you to cast spells, right? Skyborne City has the best alchemical equipnt around. You should find ti to remake them—alchemical tools will be an imnse help to us."
Though Sieg was visibly excited at the prospect of reuniting with his long-lost sister, that anticipation did not shake the steadiness that defined him. Prepare first—then act.
"Alright."
Wang Yu gave a curt nod, stepped back through the gate, and continued moving equipnt into the pocket dinsion.
Far to the north, by the northern edge of the continent that bordered the Endless Sea, lay the Sea of Frost beyond the St. Anna Snowfields. Icebergs drifted endlessly across its frigid expanse, rising and falling with the waves stirred by relentless gales.
And when those glacial waves crested, when droplets of seawater broke into the air, they froze instantly into glittering shards that were swept away by the wind. So rained down on the snowfields, adding to centuries of frost that never lted. Others settled atop distant icebergs, replenishing the mass they lost from collisions and fracturing.
No life grew here. No soul made their ho in this frozen no-man's-land.
Only a handful of elental beings lingered within this sea of silence. Even the direwolves, apex predators of the north, would et their end here—they would be preserved forevermore as statues of ice.
A low, distant bell tolled. The sound rang strangely clear in this storm-wracked emptiness, where wind and waves had raged without end for centuries. Though the bell was not loud, it reverberated across the sea, echoing outward in all directions, stifling every other noise in a quiet, surreal command.
As the bell continued to toll, the wind began to fall still. The crashing of waves quieted. The Sea of Frost, which had remained wild and tumultuous for centuries, fell into an eerie calm.
A faint mist began to rise from the sea's surface. Pale gray, tinged with an unnatural shadowy black, it spread quickly, blanketing the entire coastline.
Nothing could be seen in this fog. Only under direct sunlight could one glimpse the vague outlines of icebergs shifting within.
And beneath the bell's lingering tone ca another sound: the rhythmic dip of oars in water.
The cadence was soft, but just like the bell, inexplicably distinct. Each splash was crystal-clear in the silence. The shadows within the fog began to writhe. Their forms shifted with the light, twisting into unnatural, uncomfortable shapes that unsettled the senses.
It felt as though the shadows might coalesce into sothing dreadful at any mont—into a chaotic mist ready to burst forth and drag down anyone foolish enough to look too long.
Not that anyone stood watch on this coast. There were no eyes nor ears here, no one to suffer unease from such irrational dread.
But that begged the question—who could have summoned the fog? Who stilled the wind and sea? Who rowed, unseen, within this all-consuming mist?
Could it be sothing from the Endless Sea? Perhaps. To this day, the five great races had explored only a fraction of its depths. They likely knew more about the Abyss than about the world that lay beneath these waters.
No matter how cold the Sea of Frost's surface was, deep below, there might yet be pockets of warmth and sanctuary. What kind of life grew there, no one knew. Not here, not on land.
It wasn't an illusion. The sounds of rowing and tolling were growing clearer as whatever lay hidden within the fog drew ever closer to shore.
Wood struck ice. Sothing bumped against the frozen shore, crunching through layers of frost, scraping against gravel and stone. The scraping continued for a ti, then stilled. Whatever had landed had co to a stop.
Then ca footsteps, not one, but several.
From within the mist ca a hoarse voice, so old and weary it was impossible to tell if it belonged to man or woman.
"The scent is faint now... the seal's presence has waned. The powers we left behind are nearly gone. Ti erodes all things, no matter how strong the prison or the chains."
Another voice replied, just as hoarse, just as distant. "Ti may devour what we left behind... but our hatred and His sins shall never fade. We believed what we did would sever Him from the world forever. And yet—why now? Why has His power returned?"
The bell continued to toll, low and slow, as if ti itself marched with it.
"In the depths of night... in the hatred hidden beneath the shadows... no matter how many tis He rises, we shall bring His end."
Their voices grew quieter, drifting with the fog, as if their speakers had already begun to walk away.
When the mist finally began to recede, only a single weathered wooden boat remained on the shore, half-frozen into the icy bank. Of those who had co rowing through the sea and fog, not a single trace remained.
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