How private are the locker and workshop?
Supposedly private. Union says no monitoring in personal interfaces. Still — achievements register. So how private is private?
Either subsystems shut off in here, or they log and seal. If not sealed, too late to worry.
Working assumption: privacy real. For now.
Discoveries
– One difference: verbose log throws error mid-process. Auto-resolves, assigns new system ID. So: perfect copy, new ID.
– Duplicated ingredients (salt): identical, no anomalies.
– No XP from brewing with duplicates, even with new ID. Probably tied to the error-resolution tag. Expected. Still annoying.
So duplication isn’t true creation. Copy.
I could destroy the vial. Safest option. But if privacy holds, destroying it would be stupid.
Traps
Mismatch between sales and ingredient buys = same problem.
Even a small imbalance might trip pattern detection.
Need smarter angle.
Maybe use it for gathering professions? time saving, not profit?
Still need to test decay, traceability, metadata drift.
Golden ticket — if it can be cashed.
Right now, just holding it feels like holding evidence.
For all his early rising, his eager trip to Oldetown, his quick run through the alchemy suppliers to buy every ingredient he needed, Rem was now good and bored.
He watched the sands in his hourglass slide down grain by grain, wishing he could speed the glacier pace of gravity. Four hours — that’s what the first phase of the recovery potion required. Four hours of staring at a mixture of cold silver water, crushed rose hips, and sliced ginseng slowly steeping.
And he had to swirl it every hour. Couldn’t even just leave it and come back.
That thought comforted him. The duplication vial meant he could skip the endless repetition that plagued other alchemists.
He eased onto his stool and leaned over the open journal. If he had to wait, he might as well use the time — to write down what the system hadn’t told him. The things he’d discovered for himself.
He titled the page carefully:
Rulebook for Merge
Definition:
The first is the primary itemcontributing item The result inherits the contributing item’s
Containment:
No part may extend outside.
However, what qualifies as an “item” isn’t straightforward — my hand fits, though I don’t.
Apparently, the system treats my hand as a separate object. A single grain of sand counts. So does a handful. Both are one item.
Proportional Influence:
- 250 ml of reed milk + one grain of salt → no change.
- 250 ml reed milk + 5 ml salt →
- Higher concentration stabilizes fully.
Essence Cost:
- Lower-level items cost less.
- Equal-level items cost standard.
- Higher-level items:
He sat back, thinking. The cube obeyed logic. Not chance. Not some mystical whim. It could be studied, mapped, repeated. Which meant it could be He leaned forward and started writing again.
- The merge domain can be summoned anywhere within reach.
Attempting farther yields nothing.
- It can be moved by mental effort — pushing or pulling — but doing so is exhausting.
Even a foot of movement drains focus.
Pulling closer is slightly easier than pushing away.
Pushing it beyond reach makes it vanish.
- No lateral movement achieved yet; up and down possible, though taxing. Why can’t it move laterally? Is it a mental block? Feels more like my assumptions about the power impact the power. Needs more study.
- The domain can be summoned partially around an object (half under a table, half above),
but physical barriers still block merges — items must make direct contact within the domain.
- When summoned behind me, it appeared to function, but visual recordings showed nothing.
I could still see and move it.
This suggests the cube is visible only to me.
- The system omitted this entirely — it’s critical.
I can control objects inside the domain freely: rotate, lift, spin, reorient.
There’s no visible essence cost. - Moving an item within the cube is far easier than moving the cube itself.
- Tested materials: water, sand, salt. I can divide, recombine, repeat endlessly.
- Also, the position of items relative to each other has no bearing at all on the combined result. Tested. Make me wonder why I can move the items if it doesn’t matter in the end?
- Objects inside the domain resist external interference to a threshold,
after which they are ejected. - Strength of resistance: significant. Example: flat plate suspended within the cube supports added weight without collapsing. Exact force tolerance undetermined.
- Items inside the domain retain all normal physical traits.
Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
Fabric remains pliant, glass remains brittle.
Manipulation does not enhance or weaken intrinsic properties.
Example: a needle can still pierce fabric normally.
Rem flexed his hand, set the pen aside, and looked up just as the last sand dropped through the glass. He stood, gave the flask its slow swirl, then flipped the hourglass and sat again.
He drew a line beneath the last entry and wrote:
Conclusion:
Anything with rules can be learned.
Anything that can be learned can be mastered
He let the ink dry and leaned back, eyes on the flask’s faint shimmer — rose hips, silver water, and ginseng spiraling in slow unison. His first recovery potion. Looking back at the page, he stretched, picked up his pen and began illustrating each of his rules.
You have learned a new alchemical formula.
Potion instantly on consumption. for .
You have marginally advanced your understanding of alchemical formula: recovery potion.
Rem chuckled, holding the honey-colored potion up to the light. It was thicker than a health potion, almost viscous, the way oil clings to glass.
He poured half into the vial of duplication, then fell into rhythm: shake, fill, pour. The sound of liquid folding over itself, each motion doubling what came before. When he finished, twelve amber vials stood in a neat line, warm light trembling inside each one.
He refilled the original to the brim, sealed it, and set it among his collection of originals — the row that defined his small empire: health, restoration, false-life, and now recovery.
His gear was already packed: a stack of oranges, twelve health potions, twelve recovery potions. Ready.
He bundled them carefully and turned toward the glyph wall, breath catching just slightly.
CHALLENGE THREE
Objective: Help defend the people of Madarox Outpost.
Reward: Variable.
Rem headed for the healer’s tent, having sent Fisk on his way with hands full of oranges—some for the brothers to run the arrows, some to bribe the other kids to haul spears, and some as payment.
Outside, Rachel knelt by a basin, rinsing blood from bandages, her sleeves already soaked to the elbows. The smell of copper and soap hung in the air.
“Good day,” she said without looking up. “Though I’ll not promise it’ll stay a good one.”
“Rachel.” He crouched beside her, lowering his voice. “You remember those potions I mentioned?”
She froze mid-rinse, water running crimson through her fingers. Then she glanced up, eyebrows arched.
“Potions, ye say? Been an age since we’ve had so much as a draught o’ anything worth the cork.”
Rem unrolled the leather bundle across the ground between them. A line of vials caught the morning light—reds and ambers glinting like jewels.
Her breath left her in a small, astonished laugh. “Saints alive.”
“Red for healing, amber to recover strength,” he said. “I’m giving them to you. You’ll need them soon. Don’t hold back—use them all.”
She wiped her hands on her apron, still staring.
“Rem, lad, ye can’t just hand these over. They’re worth more’n I see in a year.”
“I need you to take them Rachel,” he said, “because without these, people will die and soon.”
The horn tore the silence. Ragged, raw, bellowing from the tower.
Her mouth tightened, eyes wet but fierce.
“Aye then. I’ll see they’re not wasted.” The rag slipped from her hand and fell into the blood-pink water. She bent to pick it up, then stopped, watching the vials instead. “Gods keep ye, Rem,” she murmured, moving into action.
Rem shouldered his satchel, nodded once, a shiver went through him as he glanced inside the tent to the groaning quartermaster. His map was nearly done, just a few more buildings on his list.
He moved along the inner wall, boots crunching over packed dirt. The air grew heavier, damp with brine.
A row of frames came into view, stretched hides nailed tight and shining under a film of salt. Buckets stood nearby, some full of milky water, others dark with soaking skins. The smell hit him next—acid, flesh, smoke. He pressed the cloth at his neck higher over his nose. he jotted in his journal silently, filling in the name on his map.
SURGE ONE: Repelled. Exit now to receive your rewards (common, 30 XP).
Warning: Failure later will forfeit all rewards.
He heard the cheers, faint, echoing from the gates. Rem sped up, turning the corner. The smell shifted. Wood shavings underfoot, the air resin-sweet. Beams leaned against a low shed, sawdust drifting like pale dust in a shaft of light. A man at a bench worked an auger, but slowed with his approach. “Wolves,” Rem said. Tools hung from the wall, each cleaned and placed. The woodworker nodded, his face set grim. Woodworker’s Rem thought, jotting it down.
There ahead, closer to the gates, between the barracks and the dining hall, a small wooden structure. He paused, pushing the door open just far enough to see the light. A single lantern burned before a carved figure, flowers laid beneath it—fresh ones, wild. The air smelled of wax and old smoke. It reminded Rem of a chapel. He stepped inside and found a seat. Pulling open his journal he filled in the name for the blank square on his map.
SURGE TWO: Repelled. Exit now to receive your rewards (uncommon, 100 XP).
Warning: Failure later will forfeit all rewards.
This is as far as he’d ever gotten. His pulse quickened. He should leave. But this was his test—stay, let the potions buy the time. He pressed on, keeping the glyph stone in sight through gaps in the buildings.
One last question mark, the only unexplored area. He stepped back into the lane, the smell of decay drifting on the breeze. Something sweet and rotten. He followed it behind the tannery, closer to the docks, where the ground sagged and turned dark. Flies lifted in a cloud. Bones and scraps filled the pit, dogs skulking at the edges. A crow cawed once and hopped away.
He sketched the last lines on his map, thumb smudging the charcoal. The outpost, complete. Rem heard the eruption of cheers, before he saw the message.
SURGE THREE: Repelled. Exit now to receive your rewards (uncommon x2, 200 XP).
Warning: Failure later will forfeit all rewards.
The cheers continued. Relief, disbelief, a single held breath breaking.
Rem exhaled with them. Progress.
And it only cost twenty-four potions.
He smiled without humor.
A quick trip to the glyph stone and he was back in his locker. He felt the essence fill him even as he examined his waiting rewards.
Hooded Coat of SecretsLevel 3, Rank Uncommon
A fine leather coat with many hidden pockets. Slight resistance to detection effects.
Wand of Slumber
Charges: 0/5
Fuel: Core (any)
Spell: Slumber, cause a creature within 50 meters to fall asleep.
Rem turned the wand in his hand, studying the workmanship. Then he crossed to the wall where his half-finished map of Madarox Outpost waited and stood there, thinking.
Crashing the economy with dupes was stupid. But a few potions here, a few ingredients there, a few extra challenge rewards… stacked right, it felt like the start to a real plan.
He nodded once, satisfied.