Tucker slowly dripped the demon boar’s gallbladder extract into the vial, his hands steady and his concentration unwavering. With each drop, he used his skill [Infuse Mana], holding the flow of energy mostly at bay. Even with all his experience, propped up as it was by his artisan path, it was incredibly difficult to keep the tide of mana at bay. It wanted to rush out all at once, which would ruin the concoction, so he was forced to clamp it down, letting only a tiny, barely perceptible stream of the stuff free.

But it was all for naught.

After only a few seconds, the mana overwhelmed the potential potion, smothering it in far too much energy. The extract evaporated. The herbs dissolved. And all that was left were toxic fumes that would’ve probably knocked anyone else unconscious. Tucker, though, had [Alchemist’s Constitution], which nullified most of the effects. Whatever was left over was fuel for [Blood of the Basilisk], a skill that let him absorb toxins to provide a boost to his vitality. It also meant that, with a bit of effort, his blood became extremely toxic. Potent as it was, it was usually useless as an offensive option – too slow acting to use in battle, and Tucker had no desire to become a poisoner. It wasn’t that he had anything against killing when it was necessary; rather, he just preferred the satisfaction that came from a giant explosion to the relatively unimpressive death that came from poisoning. Of course, he’d had to use it on occasion, but only when he had no other choice. However, even if he didn’t usually use the skill as it was intended, it was still a valuable addition to his repertoire, if only because it picked up where [Alchemist’s Constitution] left off. And any toxins strong enough to get past his constitution was not something he wanted to let run rampant within his body.

He wasn’t thinking about any of that, though. Instead, he was staring at the evaporating concoction, a frustrated grimace etched upon his face and anger dancing in his eyes. After a few seconds, his emotions exploded, and he swept his arm across the table, sending the glassware crashing into the nearby wall. He groaned, closing his eyes as he tilted his head toward the ceiling.

Four days, wasted. For four days, he’d been working on that concoction. For four days, he’d held onto the hope that he could save them all. But now? It was just another failure in a long line of disappointments.

At the best of times, alchemy was an unforgiving calling, with far more failures than successes. Part of it was the complexity of the formulas; the one that he’d been working on had no less than seventeen ingredients, some of which had been distilled from extremely valuable resources. Not only did each of them have to be added into the mix in just the right order, but even things such as how a particular root was diced tended to make a difference. Tucker excelled at that part, though. He was a meticulous man, and even before being reborn, he’d been a chemist. So, he had a wealth of perfectionism to draw upon. If having perfect methodology was all it took, he’d have long since mastered his calling.

There was so much more to it, though. Not only were there few recipes out there, but what was available was usually counted as a closely guarded secret. No alchemist wanted to share his life’s work with the rabble. So, Tucker usually found himself fumbling in the dark, applying logic to things that defied such thinking. That made it slow, frustrating work, but he usually enjoyed the pursuit.

What truly made it difficult, though, had nothing to do with recipes. Instead, it had to do with energy control. All recipes required an infusion of mana, and as such, he was well versed in controlling it. He knew he needed to be better, but the entire pursuit was a work in progress. However, some of the more complicated concoctions required the infusion of life force as well. Or, in the rarest of instances, a piece of the alchemist’s soul. Such was the case with the [Blessed Grenades] he’d used against Micayne, and though the results were incredibly powerful, making them was an exercise in agony. And it wasn’t always successful, either, which only made it worse.

Alchemy wasn’t just science, but instead, if the practitioner wanted to push the limits of the profession, it was equal parts science, art, and, in some cases, masochism. More than once, at Tucker’s lowest points, he had considered abandoning it and focusing on easier things. For a few years, here and there, he’d even done just that, setting up a potion shop in Salvation and reaping the substantial rewards from selling inferior products that didn’t require experimentation to create. However, he always came back to the challenge of pushing forward, if only because he was too stubborn to admit defeat.

Right now, though, he was close to giving up. Very, very close. It had gotten to the point where he didn’t know if what he was trying to do was even possible. In fact, he wasn’t even sure what, exactly, made the atmosphere so toxic. He’d tried standing outside the tower’s aura, but he’d only been able to stand it for a few minutes at a time. Still, he had spent hours dancing back and forth, spending as long as he could outside the tower’s protections before stumbling back to safety, where he would recover before trying it again. To date, he hadn’t figured it out, and he feared that he never would.

After a few deep, calming breaths, Tucker opened his eyes and went to sit in a chair on the other side of his laboratory. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, and it still smelled a bit like sulfur from its previous home in the obsidian caverns. As he sat, he couldn’t help but marvel at the lab. It was everything he ever could’ve hoped for in a workspace. There was ample room to experiment, plenty of storage for his glassware, and, most importantly, some sort of aura that made concentration easier. He didn’t know if it was a rune embedded in the floor or something more inexplicable, but he didn’t plan on questioning it overmuch. Instead, he simply enjoyed the benefit. However, it did often make him wonder about Zeke – or more importantly, what secrets he hid.

The tower itself was impressive enough to turn just about any adventurer green with envy, and if that was the only thing that made Zeke special, it would be enough. But, as far as Tucker could tell, it was just the tip of the iceberg. In his travels, he’d met more than a few of the chosen – people who’d been reborn into incredibly difficult situations where success meant becoming more powerful than normal. With some, it was only a marginal upgrade, but for others, like Lady Constance, the gains were markedly more prominent. Zeke definitely belonged in the latter group, but even among them, Tucker suspected that the young warrior would be counted as special.

He was insanely durable, largely because of his massive pool of endurance and vitality, but also due to his vitality-stealing skill. He was one of the physically strongest people Tucker had ever seen as well; in addition, as far as Tucker could tell, he possessed sizable advantages in dexterity and agility as well. Finally, judging by how he threw his skills around, most of which weren’t cheap, he had intelligence and wisdom to match. His constitution was incredible, balanced, and without much in the way of weaknesses.

And that might’ve been his least notable advantage.

There was also the bear to consider. Never mind that Zeke had created the bond out of a skill that wasn’t intended for such a thing. That was troubling enough on its own, but Pudge had changed since coming to the demon realm. And that change hinted that Zeke had been similarly, if less visibly, transformed as well. Tucker had no idea what the depths of that change were, but he feared it, if for no other reason than the implications that came with being able to survive in a realm toxic to humans. If such a thing were possible, he might have already fled.

However, as incredible as all those traits were, the one that most impressed Tucker was the man’s ability to manipulate runes. After only a few years in the Radiant Isles, his skills had already surpassed those of any runecrafter Tucker had ever known. But then again, it was wholly different as well. Most of them focused on enchanting items or creating defenses like the ones etched into the walls of every waystation. Zeke could do that, but probably not with the level of expertise that those dedicated to the craft often displayed. Instead, he focused on his skills, even going so far as to permanently alter two of them in ways that defied normal skill progression. They hadn’t just grown more powerful; he’d changed them in ways that normally shouldn’t have been possible.

And Zeke was just getting started. He’d done all of that in only a handful of years, most of which were spent fighting for his life. What would he accomplish if he were to focus entirely on runecraft? Tucker was both awestruck and fearful of the sheer possibilities that came with the boy’s future.

For a while, Tucker just sat in the chair – which left his nose filled with sulfurous smells – trying to focus on what had gone wrong with his concoction. The biggest problem was that he just didn’t know whether the ingredients were incompatible or if there was something about demon parts that had skewed the recipe. Eventually, he had to believe that he would figure it out, but that could very well be years down the line. By that point, even Zeke’s significant stores of food would have long been consumed, and they would all die of starvation.

Curiously, Tucker never even considered that Zeke would leave them behind. If it was only him, the idea might’ve held water. They’d become more than friendly, but there was still enough friction there that he would never expect the man to risk oblivion, just for him. Not yet. Perhaps one day they would get there, but Tucker wasn’t really the type of person to make friends easily. Usually, he was only tolerated by other people, which was fine by him, considering that he worked better when he was undisturbed.

Regardless of his relationship with Zeke, Tucker knew that the warrior would never leave Abby or Talia behind. With Abby, the boy probably thought he was in love. And perhaps he was, though Tucker doubted it. Whatever the case, Zeke would never willingly leave her behind. As for Talia, the boy had adopted a big brother sort of relationship with the undead girl, and as such, he would never even think to abandon her.

Carlos, being new to the group, didn’t even bear mentioning, though given the way Talia often looked at the handsome young man, she would likely do anything to keep him around.

Not for the first time, Tucker felt a deep sense of loneliness. Back on Earth, he’d always been surrounded by family. Whether it was his wife or children – or eventually, grandchildren – someone was always around. Since being reborn, though, he’d led a solitary existence. And most of the time, he was okay with that. He had long since decided that the pursuit of his path was the most important thing to him, and that was a solitary road, if only because he rarely stayed in one place for longer than a year. He had plenty of acquaintances, but few friends, and no family.

A knock at the door jerked him from his thoughts, and he said, “Come in.”

When the door opened, he saw Abby. She had made no bones about disliking him, but of late, she had tried to at least put on a façade of tolerance. She said, “Zeke is back, and he thinks he found something.”

Tucker asked, “What?”

She shrugged, answering, “I don’t know. He just asked me to get everybody. Do you know where Carlos is?”

“No idea,” Tucker said. “Probably lurking in the shadows or something. Creepy bastard.”

Abby cocked her head, saying, “So, it’s not just me, then? I thought I was the only one who thought he was kind of…”

“Disturbing,” Tucker supplied. “Or is ‘creepy’ better? I think I like creepy.”

“It definitely fits,” Abby said. “I walked into the kitchen a couple of days ago, and it wasn’t until he moved that I realized he was hiding in one of the shadows. Like, far be it from me to tell somebody not to use their skills, but…well, that’s just…uh…creepy. Yeah. I think that’s the best adjective.”

“Don’t let Talia hear you say that,” Tucker said.

“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

“How could I not?” was his reply. “If this were back on Earth, she’s the kind of girl who’d have put up a bunch of boy band posters in her room. The kid’s good-looking enough to make Talia overlook the overall creepiness. Or maybe that’s one of the reasons she likes him, considering she’s got a bit of that going for her, too.”

“She’s been through a lot, and –”

Tucker held up his hands in surrender, saying, “I’m not blaming her for it. I like the girl. Just telling it how it is.”

Abby rolled her eyes, then said, “Whatever. Everyone’s meeting in the kitchen.”

After that, she turned and strode off toward the stairs, presumably in search of the rest of their party. Tucker soon followed, though instead of going up, he went down, eventually finding himself in the communal area on the second floor. Ostensibly, the floor belonged to Talia, but the girl was a minimalist who rarely even slept. As such, her floor had become thei go-to destination for group meetings. He made his way to the kitchen, where he found Zeke and Pudge waiting. The young man was staring at the jar containing the warlock’s soul.

Tucker had tried to interrogate the thing, but he’d had no real luck. He suspected his failure was tied to the fact that the creature didn’t fear him. However, Zeke was another story. The jar was practically vibrating in terror under Zeke’s unrelenting gaze.

“You know,” Zeke said. “I know you know. Now, tell me why the demons are moving, or I will start carving pieces of you off.”

“I don’t know!” claimed the cloud of dark mist.

“Fine,” Zeke said. Then, he tapped the top of the jar, eliciting a violent shudder as he activated a skill. A tiny wave of red energy, laced with black lightning, swept through the soul. It howled in agony, but that didn’t stop Zeke from doing it again. As he tapped the jar again, he said, “This stops the moment you tell me what I want to know.”

Fascinated, the scene occupied the entirety of Tucker’s attention. He’d had no idea that Zeke was capable of activating his skill with such fine control. Had that always been the case? Or had he been practicing? Or maybe it was the result of whatever changes he’d undergone since coming to the demon realm. Either way, it was an impressive show, even if the results were a little grim. But then again, torture was never a pleasant thing.

After four more taps, during which the density of the cloud of mist seemed to lessen, the soul screamed, “Okay! I’ll talk! Just…just stop!”

Zeke did just that, and the soul undulated, seeming almost as if it was trying to collect itself. Finally, after a few more seconds, it said, “The others are gathering for an assault on your world.”

“Where?” asked Zeke.

“In the mortal realm, it is called Jariq,” it stated. “But here, it is a mere reflection of your city. They are building a portal on both sides. If they complete it, it will be stable and permanent. My task was only to test the ritual. It worked, so the others…the others are building a much bigger portal there.”

“Well, shit,” Zeke breathed.

“Something like that,” said a surprised Tucker.

“At least we know how to get home, then,” the other man said. “But we’re probably going to have to wade through a demon army to get there. At least I found a way for everyone to survive the trip, though.”

“How?” asked Tucker.

Zeke answered, “Let’s wait on the others. I’m exhausted right now, and I don’t want to have to explain it twice.”

Tucker nodded. He was impatient to find out what the young man had discovered, but it would only take Talia a few minutes to gather the rest of the group. True to expectations, around five minutes later found everyone huddled around the table, and Zeke explaining what he’d encountered. After telling them about the purifier, he revealed the gems that would allow them to traverse the deserts of Mal’araxis unharmed by the corruption.

“And now we’ve got a destination, too,” Zeke said. “We go south to Jariq. But first, I need at least a few hours of sleep. Everyone else, rest up and do whatever you need to do to prepare. I think we’re in for a rough trip.”

Tucker couldn’t agree more, and he soon went back to his laboratory where he started working on some new potions. It was galling, knowing that all his efforts in the demon realm had been for nothing, but instead of resenting Zeke for figuring it out, he found his resolve renewed. He might not have been capable of brewing a potion to protect everyone from the caustic atmosphere, but that didn’t mean he was useless. During the fight in the caverns, he’d experimented with a lot of different grenades, which gave him some insight into the demons’ weaknesses. Now that he knew what to focus on, he could make some grenades that took advantage of their vulnerabilities.

Tucker could make utility potions as well as most alchemists, but where he really excelled – what he really enjoyed – was making things that blew up. So, being that they were about to encounter a horde of demons, he embraced his strengths and got to work.