Transmutation

Humanity has often sought to distance itself from the mere label of "animal," fueled by an age-old superiority complex born from their dominion over the natural world. Yet, there exist truths that transcend such lofty distinctions—such as instinctive fear.

In the face of genuine, life-threatening danger, a primal chill courses through their veins, an icy terror that lingers, an eternal reminder of their vulnerability. And in the presence of an apex predator, a nightmarish entity conjured from the darkest corners of the subconscious, fear becomes an inescapable reality.

As the entire crew stood petrified, their hearts and breaths harmonized in eerie synchrony, the looming figure amidst them remained idle, as if an ominous sentinel.

The green-haired woman, her senses returning with rapid desperation, fumbled frantically in search of something concealed within her attire. Her trembling hand inched closer to unveiling its hidden prize, but the sinister figure sprung into action with unnatural swiftness. 

With its arm ascended, a projectile erupted from one of its fingers, forming a dire trajectory that culminated in a gaping maw through the center of her skull.

She collapsed to the floor with a gruesome, echoing thud, her once-lively green hair now drenched in a disgusting and nauseating shade of crimson, a grotesque sight of terror and death that etched itself into the memories of all who bore witness.

As the lifeless form of the green-haired woman crumpled to the floor, a paralyzing terror seized many of the remaining crew members, causing their faces to lose all semblance of color, painted with an inconceivable dread that sent them fleeing in utter panic.

Yet, amidst this nightmarish scene, a handful of souls resisted the overwhelming urge to escape. Instead, they steeled themselves, their trembling hands clutching swords and whatever weapons they could find, and ventured forth to confront the ominous entity that now stood before them.

The sinister Devil, encased in its grotesque armor of bone and shrouded in ravenous flames, transformed into a macabre harbinger of death. 

With a long, sinuous bone spear in hand, it embarked on a maddening dance of annihilation, cleaving through any unfortunate soul that crossed its malevolent path.

Heads were severed with brutal efficiency, limbs amputated with merciless precision, bodies reduced to smoldering ashes, and skulls shattered into countless shards too numerous to count. The scene that unfolded was a gruesome show of depraved massacre.

After a few heart-pounding moments, the devastating rampage of the demonic entity ceased. Its eye sockets, shrouded in darkness, fixed upon the staircase leading to the basement's entrance. 

Seated there was a mysterious figure adorned in robes of shimmering silver. The hood that concealed their visage permitted no light to escape, allowing only the lower half of their face to be revealed.

The concealed features of the figure presented an angular jaw, thin lips, and an enigmatic smile that clung to their concealed expression.

"So, he has indeed sent someone," the figure mused, his voice exuding a raspy magnetic allure, hinting at untold secrets of mysticism. "As predicted. At long last, I can bring an end to this tiresome pursuit."

Before the ominous Devil could launch itself at this unexpected interloper, the wooden planks beneath its feet came to life, moving as if animated by a sinister will. They coiled around its ankles, legs, chest, and arms, as though the very vessel itself had risen to defend against this terrifying invader.

Bound by these snaking wooden chains, the Devil unleashed its dark green flames, attempting to incinerate the encroaching threat. Yet, as the flames bore down upon the timber, tiny bronze-hued sparks crackled to life within the conflagration, snuffing it out as if by arcane decree.

"Fire is ineffectual against me. I thought he would have warned you," the robed figure remarked with a note of disdain as he observed the Devil's futile struggles.

However, just as he made that statement, a brilliant, starlight-like glow erupted in front of the Devil, materializing into a mystical tome bearing enigmatic words upon its cover: "I came, I saw, I recorded."

As the book manifested, the wooden planks ensnaring the Devil inexplicably lost their efficacy, as though their ability to move had been 'stolen'.

"Hmm? Scribe powers?" The robed figure voiced his surprise at the celestial spectacle enveloping the Devil, his right hand ascending to his chin in a contemplative manner.

"You show the powers of a Sequence 6 Devil from the Abyss Pathway, and yet you wield the abilities of a Scribe, how's that?" the robed figure mused, his query directed at the Devil. 

However, the Devil appeared wholly indifferent to the inquiry, launching further bone projectiles with unwavering determination.

As the pale bullets surged from the Devil's fingers, they traced sinister black lines through the air, bearing a malevolence that seemed born of ancient curses.

The mysterious, hooded figure remained resolutely composed, his contemplative smile betraying an unnerving calm in the face of imminent danger.

Just as the bone projectiles were on the verge of striking his shrouded countenance, they vanished in a show of bronze sparks, seemingly transitioning from a solid state to a gaseous one.

The robed man, his curiosity piqued by the Devil's bewildering abilities, seemed nonchalant about the previously fired bullets. His scholarly fascination with the puzzle before him was palpable, ignoring the immediate peril.

"Well, who cares right? I'll be able to know the answer after I conduct some experiments on you"

The Devil, sensing that his opponent was not to be trifled with, contemplated a strategic withdrawal, but before he could enact his escape plan, the area was bathed in bronze-hued glimmers of arcane magic. The otherworldly power they radiated surpassed even the comprehension of the most adept Warlocks.

In an instant, the Devil's pallid flesh transformed into an ashen grey, the flames that enshrouded him extinguished, and his body was subjected to a paralyzing restraint.

"You see, I have long desired to study the petrification of Unaging Demonesses," the robed figure commented, his words loaded with a curious, intellectual zeal. "After all, even I can maintain this state for no longer than five months, let alone eternity."

The Devil's metamorphosis into a stone statue was agonizingly swift, the transformation requiring no more than a few seconds to reach its completion.

With that, the figure slowly walked up to the ominous statue, his pace slow and composed, like the main actor of a great piece.

"Fascinating, your body has been transformed into a powerful fighting machine. Even when I do not sense any characteristics in you, there's still something else, something different." As his steps approached the transformed statue, they suddenly halted.

"As expected. You didn't come here only by yourself." The robed man turned his head to the corpse of the previous youth who was talking to the green-haired lady before the massacre.

The corpse was mangled beyond recognition, with nothing but shattered pieces of bone and brain matter where the head should be.

However, the cadaver was going through an inconceivable mutation of flesh and blood. With seemingly squirming maggots under its skin, it was slowly getting up from the ground, as if still possessing the same vitality it had in life.

"Rose Bishop. Zombie. Even Warlock. Have you studied some rituals to use the powers of all those pathways? Or perhaps you have Beyonders with such powers under you? Maybe Sealed Artifacts? What a terrifying monster you are, Devil." The robbed man kept speaking while looking at the corpse, his curiosity-filled eyes displaying a bronze hue.

The horrifying cadaver slowly pushed itself from the ground, fragments of bone and flesh slowly floated toward him, and after a mere thirty seconds, the headless corpse had a head once again.

As the frigid eyes looked in the robbed man's direction, a low and dark voice resounded inside the cabin, "Good evening, Lewis."

Hearing his name being called by that voice, the robbed man had a calm chuckle escape his lips, "Haha… Oh my, The Great Devil finally appears to this little Alchemist once more. Should I be honored to have you here tonight, Edwards?"

His tone was devoid of any form of respect as if mocking the zombified corpse in front of him, mocking the man controlling the cadaver in the shadows.

"You should know, Edwards. I'm not the same Trasmuter you found on the pier that day." As he spoke sparkles of bronze energy flowed around him, as if showing the supreme powers this figure possessed.

"Do you really believe you have what it takes to fight godhood? You should know a mere anti-divination spell won't keep me from finding you, even more so when you gave me such a beautiful lead in the form of a zombie." 

The entire boat came alive, the ropes around started slithering like snakes, the planks creaking and flapping as demonic eels, the windows had strange faces etched upon them, and the ceiling appeared to be opening many crevices in the forms of eyes and mouths.

As the man awaited the corpse's fear and despair in front of his insufferable power, what soon came was nothing but a *Sigh.

"I expected you to become a Saint of Transmutation long ago, Lewis. The fact you did it a few weeks after our previous encounter changes nothing." The corpse had a gloomy and terrifying aura as if a creature born from the realms of darkness.

The ropes around the boat suddenly moved with great speed. They coiled around the corpse as if snakes, constricting the dead body to rupture and break apart instantly, its cold blood painting the surroundings a shade of dark silver.

"Haha! Do not act aloof in front of me, Ethan Edwards! I've achieved godhood, there's nothing you can do to hide! Even if you use these measly puppets, I'll turn them all into cinders!!!" The dark and silvery blood burst into flames of bronze color with Lewis' voice.

However, that ominous and demonic voice kept resounding in the ship, with a variety of different mangled corpses rising from their previous positions, all speaking in the same tone, as if controlled by the same being.

"It's futile, Lewis. My control over the dead is far stronger than what you can imagine, only a Saint from the Death Pathway can best me in that regard. No matter what, you won't find me through these cadavers at all"

As soon as the corpses spoke, their bodies crumbled in a show of bronze lights, as if their molecular structure had been altered by some indescribable power.

"Arrogant! I've spent years of my life researching the lengths of alchemy and change, you cannot compare to me in mysticism knowledge at all."

"It seems even after reaching Sequence 4 you still maintain your narrow-minded perspective."

From the crevices of the wooden planks, drops of silvery blood started gushing out like torrents, taking on the forms of snakes that entangled each other in front of Lewis, forming a humanoid appearance.

"There's no reason for me to kill you, and that's the only reason you're still alive. After all, a recently advanced Saint of Transmutation is not strong enough to defeat me."

The blood started taking on an appearance, slowly condensing bones, muscles, flesh, and skin. After the transformation, what stood in front of Lewis was a beautiful young man with pale white, porcelain-like skin, pale white hair, and demonic dark green eyes.

Seeing the cause for his recent stress standing right in front of him, Lewis was about to attack with one of his most powerful spells when all of a sudden-

'Wait. Why is he conversing with me? This guy didn't bother to kill an entire pier filled with my crew without saying a word before… Why is he so talkative tonight…?'

Just as he was about to attack, Lewis suddenly stopped, he looked at the young man in front of him, just that cold expression was enough to get to his nerves, as if a form of provocation.

When he thought of a provocation, Lewis' eyes became startled for a second, and with a sudden twist of his body, a bronze-colored radiance surged from his body, as if engulfing his entire being, making him disappear from the destroyed basement.

"It seems he found out." The young man's cold and beautiful face showed a mocking smile, one that would cause even the purest of saints to hit him.

Soon enough, his entire form crumbled into a puddle of crimson red blood and flesh, losing its past silvery color.

…

Inside a luxurious house in Quartier de la Cathédrale Commémorative, Trier.

A bronze sparkle of light suddenly materialized in the middle of a beautifully decorated living room. 

Escaping the bronze glimmer with a fast pace, Lewis rapidly walked towards the house's basement stairs, descending them in just a few seconds.

When he reached the bronze iron doors that blocked his way his mouth moved with a word said in an arcane and profound language, "Sarrk"

With that, the bronze door gave way to a dark basement filled with bookshelves and chemistry apparatuses, resembling a scientist's laboratory.

As Lewis entered his lab, he started inspecting everything around him, from his tools to his books, and when he reached his cabinet of potions, he suddenly froze.

The cabinet that should be filled with more than seventeen False Advancement potions was completely empty. Lewis then took out one of his alchemical artifacts in the form of a scepter, using it to cast a divination spell to search for his lost potions, but the result made his face turn as pale as a sheet of paper.

"Imp-Impossible…! How… How's is this possible!?" The result he got was that the potion didn't exist anymore, as if they had already been used by someone, one single someone.

"There were seventeen potions stored in here! No entity would be able to survive after using all of them! Are you fucking kidding me!?" A terrifying shockwave escaped his body, directly annihilating everything in the basement.

"FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!" *BANG *BANG *BANG

The floor cracked under his constant assault. The entire house started trembling as if it would crumble at any moment.

"Every time I encounter this fucker I find myself in a fucking loss! How did he use so many potions at once!?" As Lewis spoke, sparkles of bronze energy started permeating the room, as if conjured by some previously set enchantments, reconstructing the books and tools that were destroyed during his fit of anger.

"That's not possible! The potions are used to temporarily advance a Beyonder to their next Sequence. They tap into the powers related to history and time to give someone a next Sequence characteristic for a short duration, but they only work up to Sequence 5, how could he use all of them?

"That's incomprehensible! Anyone that had so many characteristics inside of them at the same time would die immediately! Is my divination being interfered with? But it's impossible to set anti-divination spells on those potions!"

Lewis, who was about to lose his mind, suddenly thought of a possibility, one that took root in his mind and he could not let go of it.

"Pathways… He used the potions to create temporary characteristics of many Pathways… But why? Is this the requirement for some ritual? Even more important, how can he create the characteristics of so many Pathways inside someone, or himself?"

Lewis shook his head in a bid to calm himself down and raised himself from the ground. "I need to contact him… This guy is far more terrifying than I thought..."

Lewis looked up as if his eyes could pierce through the basement's ceiling and see the sky. Soon, his lips parted to say a name, a simple and common name, but that had an incomprehensible weight to it, "Lord Adam."