The Lord of Alchemy strode through the grand corridors of the Alchemical Council with measured, purposeful steps.
His black hair was neatly tied back, and his blue eyes burned with a mixture of resolve and lingering frustration.
The halls were lined with ancient alchemical artifacts — floating cauldrons that bubbled with eternal flames, shelves of preserved herbs that whispered their own properties, and walls etched with formulas that had shaped entire eras.
Without any pretense he entered the Council Chamber.
It was a vast, circular room of polished white marble and gold inlays, suspended in a pocket realm of pure conceptual clarity.
Only the twelve Council members were present — the highest authorities in Alchemy, each one radiating an aura of profound mastery.
They sat on elevated thrones arranged in a perfect circle.
Other than that, this place had no one else except the other five top alchemists who stood respectfully to the side.
