Philosopher’s Stone

Reclining on the sofa, Kilian heaved a long sigh and shut his eyes close.

"The three-step plan to world domination got a hell of a lot more complicated when I unwittingly threw the realm into civil war," he jested and waved his hand, causing a chart to emerge from the Hellforge and appear before Jezebel. On the chart, a step by step process culminating in the conquest of Orloth and its separation from the Arcadian Empire stood. Browsing it, Jezebel now realized the true reason behind Kilian's wish to attend the Imperial Academy.

"No wonders. It's not the academy you wanted. You were just building a bridge."

"Indeed. With my current strength, taking over the Imperial Academy is impossible. Though across my generation I will rarely meet rivals. Among the Department Chairs, more than one can give me trouble. As for Headmaster Hanns, he doesn't need three spells to put me down.

Moreover, there are way too many high-ranking von Skoll scions in the academy. Hanns, Ayden, Tristan, Estrella, Alan, Irma, all those are high-ranking members of the imperial family, with too many eyes glued on them. The closer they stand to me, the more barriers my schemes will face.

What, or rather, who I really wanted, is Esther zu Ruhkfort, the Chair of Technomancy. By combining our abilities, taking over the academy's magical technology would be child's play. From that point on, we could effortlessly turn this place into our second and most powerful information network.

At the same time, Esther's hatred for her husband would open the road to a marriage with Carmen. The rest, you can imagine," Kilian explained with a tinge of exasperation. Thanks to the Celestial Garden, he'd collected vast information on Orloth's aristocracy and royal family. 25 years ago, back when she'd just turned 18, Esther was forced by her father to marry King Erik in exchange for exclusive trade deals and 1.2 million qraftas. Three years later, she gave birth to Carmen. Rumor was that to placate Erik's fears, Rupert executed Esther's lover, and used her eldar mother's life to coerce her.

"You would replicate Ostria's virus, turn Orloth's aristocracy into Fehl Beasts, and use your serum to keep them under control. By the time your miniature star was completed, across Arcadia, not many could resist your forces," Now accustomed to Kilian's train of thoughts, Jezebel inferred.

"Indeed. But now I realize that I've been too naive. Esther isn't that easy to subdue. In fact, I'm starting to think that she holds close ties to Niklas, the Technocracy, or both," Kilian presumed, and if at first the words puzzled Jezebel, a brief examination helped her see through the issues.

"She's the only non-Archon to hold a department chair position. Theoretically, we can blame that on her outstanding abilities. After all, in the Arcadian Empire, not many dedicate their lives to Technomancy. Skilled Archon technomancers are few and far between, and even they can't compare to her.

However, there are two issues. At 43, with her talent, how could she not be an Archon? Esther was born with nine Unlocked Roots and inherited the eldar blood of her captive mother. She should have risen to the Archon rank years ago. Meaning that..."

"She's either suppressing her true abilities, or someone else is suppressing them. As for the second issue, the emperor isn't so stupid as to put one of the last remnants of the people he genocided at such a prestigious position. Even if he were, the elder council wouldn't allow it. Which means…"

"Either she's on trial, or a certain someone helped suppress the elder council's fears. Niklas, or spies without the imperial family's best interests at heart—the Technocracy. And knowing Niklas…"

"The Technocracy's agents must have guaranteed that Esther can never rise to Archon or beyond. Perhaps they destroyed her Dra Roots, or put her magical abilities under a potent seal, be that as it may, my money is on the Technocracy."

Kilian and Jezebel finished one another's thoughts and came to the same conclusion—and they weren't far from the truth.

"Assuming we're correct, the Technocracy's seepage of Arcadia is far, far more absolute than we imagined. We might be walking by members daily, and not even realize it. Worse, perhaps they found ways to control or impersonate von Skoll kin to further their goals." Kilian didn't believe that any imperial kinsman would willingly join the Technocracy. After all, the von Skolls ruled Arcadia. What else did they need? For them to ruin their own foundation made no sense whatsoever.

How then could he imagine that Burkhart von Skoll lead the Technocracy?

"Now, Rupert rose in rebellion. Why did he dare? To say nothing of him, even the Grand Duke of Rulweil doesn't dare rebel against the von Skoll dynasty. There are better ways to commit harakiri. For Rupert to take this stance shows that he possesses formidable backers. That, or he went mad from grief," Kilian's voice trailed in uncertainty. Could such a ruthless man lose his mind for one lost son?

For a second, he recalled the hours preceding his second death, and the tears Klaus wept in his study—they almost seemed genuine.

"Be that as it may, the upcoming days will prove our assumptions. If Rupert isn't backed by the Technocracy, his forces will collapse in a heartbeat. If he is, this will become a war where millions of lives are at stake. And depending on King Erik's choices, Orloth may not survive it. Orloth falls, Ostria falls." Kilian never imagined that a day would come that he'd regret Klaus' coma.

With him, Orloth had nothing to fear. Without him, they could only pray the fatuous king would let Esther lead him by the nose, and doubly pray that the mother in her would work in her daughter's best interests. Whirling leftward, Kilian lowered Jezebel on the couch and trapped her between his arms.

"In any case, we're not ready.

I am too weak.

Therefore, I must become strong, fast. And for that, I need a Philosopher's Stone," he declared, and Jezebel's eyes stretched in surprise.

"The Eye must have grown much stronger, for you to dare create that type of thing. How many souls do you want?" She calmly asked.

The advent of Technomancy might have made traditional Alchemy obsolete, but there still was one area where it excelled—defeating time. No matter how mighty, humans all had finite lifespans. Unless they could master some eldritch powers, time would still ruin them. A Philosopher's Stone was one such power.

Four types of souls existed, each with a matching color.

White for immaculate souls.

Light grey for principled souls.

Dark grey, for corrupt souls.

And black, for fiendish souls.

Light and dark-grey souls were the most common. Dark Philosophers could use Soul Transference, a form of Dark Magic, to extract souls and twist them into a Philosopher's Stone through a process known as the Eternal Decadence.

Typically, they preferred dark-grey or black souls because those allowed them to skip one step. But of course, with lack of better options, most wouldn't hesitate to harvest white or light-grey souls, then twist them into darker souls.

As soul corruption was one of Ashera's favorite activities, Jezebel was quite familiar with the craft. Depending on the stone's soul power, magi could not only massively extend their lives and obtain Transmutation abilities, but also enhance their physical abilities, spell-power and dra. The more souls the Dark Philosopher sacrificed, the stronger the stone's powers.

Although Kilian didn't receive traditional Alchemy training, with his Transmutation skills, he could accomplish all the steps with minimal efforts—granted he learned Soul Transference.

"For my first stone, at least 30,000," Kilian replied, and as if eager to abandon her, Jezebel's eyes almost popped out of their socket.