PREVIEW
... ip Tournament was unnaturally quiet. The air in Professor Rogge’s lab was stale, smelling of ozone and the metallic tang of high-grade alchemy.
Alvian sat cross-legged on the cold floor, the [Vestments of the Void Monarch] rippling around him like liquid smoke.
In his hand, he held a delicate crystal vial containing a swirling, crimson liquid. It was the extract of the [Flame Flower] he had retrieved from the Sunken Ruins in the Ashen Sands.
It was a legendary herb capabl ...
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