Clive turns the page.

  The next section speaks of Spirit Lifes.

  They are not creatures in the ordinary sense, the book explains, but existences that straddle two overlapping realities—the Inner World and the Blood Abyss Tunnel.

  Spirit Lifes of the Inner World are diverse.

  Some are benevolent.

  Some are hostile.

  Some are indifferent, treating humanity as one might treat weather or stone.

  They can form contracts, grant power, teach knowledge, or bring ruin, depending on their nature and the price paid.

  They are not bound to humanity, but neither are they universally opposed to it.

  The Spirit Lifes of the Blood Abyss Tunnel, however, are different.

  They are all enemies.

  Every single one.

  Born from corrupted laws and twisted will, they seek only consumption, domination, or annihilation.

  There is no coexistence.

  No negotiation.

  No balance.

  Any contact with them leads inevitably to disaster.

  Clive exhales slowly.

  The book does not dramatise this fact.

  It states it as a law of reality.

  ---

  The next chapter is titled Exalted Spirit Beings.

  Also known as Gods.

  There are seven.

  Their names are written in bold ink, each accompanied by a brief but chilling description.

  Lord of Pain

  A being who governs suffering, endurance, and madness, worshipped through trials and agony.

  Lord of Disaster

  The embodiment of collapse and calamity, whose symbol Clive has seen before—far too personally.

  Lady of Ice and Death

  A silent sovereign of cold endings and stillness, where death is not cruelty, but inevitability.

  The Tree of Life

  An ancient, unfathomable existence tied to growth, healing, and rebirth, yet equally capable of reclaiming what it grants.

  The Lady of the Lake

  A guardian deity of balance, oaths, and protection, whose power answers desperation and sincerity alike.

  Lord of Blood Demon

  A god of sacrifice, domination, and transformation, feeding upon bloodshed and ritual.

  Lord of Sand and Alchemy

  The oldest recorded among them, master of transmutation, creation, and controlled change.

  Clive’s fingers pause on that last name.

  The Sand Temple.

  Kaelan.

  ---

  The chapter that follows is longer.

  Heavier.

  It begins with the history of the Holy Continent.

  Three thousand years ago, the entire continent was ruled by a single empire—the Holy Empire.

  It was vast.

  Centralized.

  Absolute.

  Its banners flew from coast to coast.

  After unifying the continent, the empire turned outward, conquering the chain of islands to the northeast.

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  Flush with victory, it set its sights on the Sand Continent.

  That was its greatest mistake.

  The Sand Temple resisted.

  Not with armies alone, but with alchemy so advanced that it shattered the Holy Empire’s belief in its own supremacy.

  The invasion ended in catastrophic defeat.

  Then the Sand Temple counterattacked.

  Within a decade, the Holy Empire vanished from history.

  Cities fell.

  Bloodlines were erased.

  Records burned.

  And then—without claiming the land—the Sand Temple withdrew.

  They left behind only one thing.

  Alchemy.

  What followed was chaos.

  The Holy Continent fractured.

  For five hundred years, war never ceased.

  This period is known as the Era of Blood.

  From endless conflict emerged twelve dominant houses—the Blood Families.

  They divided the continent among themselves.

  Blood Alchemy ran rampant.

  Rituals were common.

  Rivers ran red.

  The book does not soften this description.

  Every current aristocratic family traces its origin to this era.

  Power was inherited through violence.

  The Era of Blood lasted five centuries.

  Then came the White Empire.

  A coalition of force and doctrine.

  At the same time, the Church of Pain rose to prominence.

  Together, they conquered more than half the Holy Continent.

  Order returned—harsh, unyielding, but stable.

  The White Empire ruled for a thousand years.

  Then it too fell.

  After its collapse, the continent fractured once more—but this time into structured kingdoms rather than chaos.

  Most of the present nations were born in this aftermath.

  Including the Royal Griffin Kingdom.

  Clive leans back slightly.

  The scale of time makes his own life feel impossibly small.

  ---

  The next major section is titled The Six Ways of Alchemy.

  The book explains that each way can be practised independently or combined, depending on talent and knowledge.

  Stone & Iron Alchemy

  The oldest form of alchemy.

  It focuses on refining stone and metal into tools, weapons, and artefacts.

  Nearly all alchemical craftsmanship originates here.

  Flesh & Blood Alchemy

  The transplantation and refinement of Spirit Life blood into living beings.

  This path gave rise to the Way of Knights.

  It is powerful—and dangerous.

  Clive’s jaw tightens.

  Charlie.

  Linda.

  It all fits.

  Nature Alchemy

  Developed alongside Flesh & Blood Alchemy.

  From it came alchemical potions and arrays.

  Balance, growth, and manipulation of natural forces define this path.

  Fire Alchemy

  Also known as Energy Alchemy.

  It did not create a new way, but enhanced all others.

  It refined processes, increased efficiency, and strengthened outputs.

  Life Alchemy

  A recent development originating from the Sand Temple.

  It deals with regeneration, vitality, and biological optimisation.

  Its potential is immense—and heavily restricted.

  Steam Alchemy

  The only alchemical path not born from the Sand Temple.

  It originated in the Royal Griffin Kingdom.

  It became the foundation of the steam industry and modern infrastructure.

  Clive pauses again.

  Steam.

  Industry.

  His world.

  Alchemy has been beneath everything all along.

  The final chapter he reads tonight speaks of the Alchemy Council.

  A shadowed authority said to operate beyond kingdoms.

  Whispers claim it orchestrated the fall of the White Empire.

  No proof exists.

  Only patterns.

  The chapter ends with a warning about the other Lords—those not openly worshipped, not fully understood, but always watching.

  Clive closes the book slowly.

  He sits in silence, the weight of the book pressing not on his hands, but on his mind.

  Everything has shifted.

  The world he thought he understood has peeled open, revealing layers of history, power, and intent that were never meant for ordinary eyes.

  Now he understands what Angus meant.

  The Royal Griffin Kingdom may be rising—its steam engines, automatons, and factories spreading influence across continents—but against the Sand Temple, it is still a child.

  The Sand Temple has endured for three thousand years.

  Empires have risen and fallen around it.

  Kingdoms have shattered themselves against its shadow.

  Yet the Sand Temple remains.

  Unchanged.

  Untouchable.

  The Royal Griffin Kingdom is not even a thousand years old.

  For most of its history, it was moderate at best.

  At times, insignificant.

  Only with the discovery of steam power did it begin to climb—fast, aggressive, innovative.

  And yet, steam is still young.

  Alchemy is ancient.

  The book makes that painfully clear.

  Power is not just technology.

  It is depth.

  It is continuity.

  It is understanding.

  Clive exhales slowly.

  The question now presses in on him.

  Which path will he take?

  He is already meditating on the Way of Flesh and Blood.

  Already absorbing its knowledge.

  Already walking a path stained deeply with history’s blood.

  The book does not hide it.

  Flesh and Blood Alchemy is effective—but it is cruel.

  Its greatest achievements were born in the Era of Blood, when rivers ran red, and humanity devoured itself in the pursuit of power.

  That knowledge unsettles him.

  Then there is Steam Alchemy.

  The only alchemical way not born from the Sand Temple.

  Created by his kingdom.

  Refined through industry, ingenuity, and necessity.

  Something human.

  Something modern.

  He feels an unexpected surge of pride at that.

  For once, his homeland did not inherit power—it created it.

  “I can’t make a hasty decision,” he murmurs.

  Choosing a path now would shape everything that follows.

  He needs guidance.

  Someone who understands all paths.

  Someone who has walked them—or at least seen where they lead.

  And there is only one name that fits.

  Kaelan.

  The Sand Temple Alchemist.

  A Great Alchemist.

  Clive learned the title from the detectives, whispered with a mix of awe and caution.

  Kaelan had invited him to visit.

  At the time, Clive planned only to thank him.

  To show his face.

  To leave quickly.

  Not to get close.

  He has lived long enough to know that nothing comes without a price.

  Especially not attention from someone of Kaelan’s stature.

  A Great Alchemist does not invite nobodies without reason.

  There must be a reason.

  That alone made him wary.

  But now, avoidance is no longer an option.

  If he wants to choose his path properly—if he wants to survive it—he needs Kaelan’s insight.

  Even if it costs him something.

  “Looks like I have to visit him after all,” Clive mutters.

  He closes the book gently and stands.

  Across the table, Angus looks up and smiles.

  “Finished?” Angus asks.

  Clive nods.

  They return the books to their places on the shelves, sliding them carefully back among countless others.

  Then they leave the library together.

  Outside, the warm light of the hidden market greets them again.

  People move in every direction.

  Power, knowledge, danger—all within arm’s reach.

  Angus turns to him. “Where would you like to go next?”

  Clive doesn’t hesitate.

  “What about the Void Antiquity House?”

  Angus freezes.

  His casual expression vanishes.

  “You need an invite to enter there,” he says sharply.

  Clive reaches into his coat and pulls out a card.

  It is black.

  Smooth.

  Etched with a single symbol.

  An eye.

  Angus’s eyes widen.

  For the first time since they met, he is truly shocked.

  “Where did you get that?” Angus whispers.