Starting from Ainz Ooal Gown, simultaneously traveling through time

It was a night steeped in ink.

The glint of the blade was like the cold moon, flickering and disappearing in the darkness.

In three flashes, three orc heads covered in coarse, bristly hair shot into the sky, scalding blood spraying into mist that drew a brief but cruel arc against the starless night sky.

"Who...who are you?!"

In the darkness, the only remaining pair of wild beast's pupils contracted violently with extreme fear, staring intently at the blurry figure in front of it. Its voice was hoarse, filled with a trembling fear on the verge of collapse.

no answer.

Only that figure slowly turned its gaze away.

A pair of eyes ignited in the darkness—

Burning like molten gold, radiant like the blazing sun! Those are golden eyes that burn eternally and will never be extinguished!

The moment the beast's eyes met the golden eyes, time seemed to freeze.

Boundless dragon might mixed with pure killing intent swept over its insignificant will like a tangible tsunami, causing its pupils to dilate to their limit.

Immediately, all thought, fear, and even the vitality of life were frozen and annihilated in that absolute gaze.

The blade flashed again, as gently as brushing away dust.

Silence fell, and only death took root at that moment.

"Roar—!! Damn it! You deserve to die!!!"

In the distance, a furious roar tore through the silence, carrying a foul wind and the tremors that shattered the earth, as an even larger black shadow pounced wildly!

That roar was filled with a resolute determination to perish together; it was the last flame of revenge burning in the lives of the survivors after their tribe had been slaughtered.

However, it couldn't even reach the corner of that garment.

A faint golden light flashed, and figures crisscrossed.

The next second, the giant beast froze in place, its massive head slowly tilting to the side before crashing to the ground with a thud. Its heavy body fell a step away from the swordsman, kicking up a cloud of dust.

night, deeper.

With a slight flick of his wrist, the longsword, as clear and bright as if imbued with moonlight, traced a graceful semi-circle in the air.

No blood stained the blade; only the dew that had condensed in the air was drawn by the blade, turning into a clear stream that swept across the edge, washing away the last trace of dust and blood, and dripping onto the soil.

Sheathed the sword.

The movements were fluid and silent.

Behind him was a dead orc border town.

There were no screams, no flickering lights, only the mournful howl of the night wind through the empty streets, as if mourning this harvest that no one witnessed.

No one knows when the destruction came or by whose hand it was.

..............................

Deep in the secluded valley, Leylin was completely absorbed in his work.

With his fingertips as a pen and magic as ink, he carved an intricate and dazzling alchemical matrix on the hard rock of the ground. The lines intersected and the runes overlapped, forming a geometric shape full of mysterious beauty and danger.

After a long while, he stopped what he was doing, examined the completed masterpiece, and nodded slightly.

He then opened the entrance to his personal space.

The corpses of orcs, along with their severed heads, were carefully placed on various nodes of the Alchemy Matrix.

The body remained in the same position it had been not long ago, cold and silent. This was the material he had painstakingly collected last night, fresh and of excellent quality, which he had specially preserved in his personal space.

"Let's begin."

Leylin chanted ancient and obscure incantations in a low voice, placing his hands on the edge of the matrix. A surge of immense spiritual power poured into it, and the matrix patterns lit up with a ghostly blue light one by one.

It was as if a sleeping behemoth had opened its eyes, and the magic in the air was frantically seized and transformed, with an invisible force acting on the corpse.

There were no flames, but the faint sounds of flesh melting and bones shattering could be heard.

The corpses, like weathered sand sculptures, quickly dried up, decomposed, and turned into the finest dust. The substances that constituted their lives were ruthlessly dismantled, purified, and extracted by the power of alchemy.

Finally, the dust settled.

At the center of the matrix, where all light and energy converge, a gem about the size of a pigeon's egg floats silently.

It is not crystal clear, but rather presents a deep, rich, dark red color, like congealed blood, with a misty light flowing slowly inside, containing astonishing life and spiritual fluctuations.

Leylin stepped forward and carefully picked it up with tweezers, examining it closely in his palm. The gemstone felt warm to the touch, yet carried a hint of coolness on a spiritual level.

"This is... the Philosopher's Stone."

Using life and soul as fuel, it is one of the ultimate achievements of alchemy.

"【Item Appraisal】".

The information from the magical feedback confirmed its grade—approximately [Heritage].

This result was within Raylin's expectations.

Theoretically, the Philosopher's Stone, which can pose a threat to beings at the Dragon King level, should be of a higher level.

Clearly, limited by his current alchemy skills and the quality of the materials (orc souls), this Philosopher's Stone is far from reaching its theoretical perfection.

"Not pure enough, but... it's enough." He wasn't too disappointed; on the contrary, his gaze was intense.

This is just the beginning.

He also placed this precious gem in his personal space, alongside the several alchemical nuclear bombs, as one of his deepest trump cards.

Then, he dumped out the remaining orc corpses again, and the alchemical matrix shone brightly once more, repeating the process of devouring life and extracting its essence.

When the valley returned to silence, several dark red Philosopher's Stones appeared in Leylin's personal space.

Another batch of cards has been added to the inventory.

Today, his personal space is a miniature ultimate arsenal: several alchemical nuclear bombs capable of altering terrain, multiple Philosopher's Stones containing high concentrations of spiritual energy, various specially crafted spirit steel weapons and tools... Anyone who underestimates him will suffer an unimaginable "surprise".

But Leylin knew very well that this was far from enough.

Facing an extraordinary being like the "Rotten Coffin Dragon King," no amount of preparation is excessive; he needs more and stronger bargaining chips.

..............................

The Philosopher's Stone, the legendary Holy Grail in the realm of alchemy.

It is the bridge between matter and spirit, the embodiment of the "spirit" known as the "fifth element," and a "panacea" that is said to heal all wounds and illnesses.

At the same time, it is also one of the few forbidden weapons in the Dragon Clan's secret traditions that can effectively penetrate the Dragon Clan's powerful magical resistance and physical defense, directly attacking, severely injuring, or even annihilating their soul essence.

After obtaining the smelting method from the dragon Leylin, Leylin had been searching for suitable raw materials.

Initially, he tried using summoned creatures, but found that the spiritual elements contained in the summoned creatures were thin and abnormal, and could not meet the requirements for refining.

He realized that the best and most efficient raw material was vibrant life with advanced intelligence and abundant spiritual energy.

Thus, his gaze naturally turned to the orc kingdom in the northwest, a place that had repeatedly provoked him and had a large population.

Last night, it wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision.

It was a planned and purposeful raw material gathering operation, which also served as a test of my physical combat strength and killing efficiency in a state of extreme bloodlust.

He was satisfied with the result.

The aura emanating from the Golden Eyes had an overwhelming spiritual deterrent effect on lower life forms. The speed and power brought by the dragon physique transformed him into an efficient killing machine. Slaughtering an entire city was more like a high-intensity but controllable physical fitness test for him, and he even had stable breathing afterward.

"My melee skills are adequate, but I'm ultimately a support role." Leylin has a clear understanding of his own capabilities; being a mage is his true calling.

"The Philosopher's Stone has proven its feasibility; next step..."

Most of the technology list provided by the dragon Leylin has been successfully replicated or improved by him. The remaining gadgets, although they do not significantly increase the upper limit of his strength, may have a miraculous effect in specific situations, so he can make some when he has time.

He felt that his strength had reached a plateau. While regular meditation, training, and learning could steadily improve his abilities, the pace was too slow, and he couldn't afford to wait. The shadow of the destruction of his kingdom hung over his head like the Sword of Damocles.

"Catching new people in shared spaces" is the fastest shortcut, but relying entirely on uncontrollable luck is not his style.

"We can't just sit and wait."

As Leylin gazed at the first light of dawn breaking in the east, his golden eyes slowly narrowed in the brightening light, returning to their normal iris color. But the determination deep within his eyes was more profound than the darkness of night.

"We must proactively explore every possibility and continue to accumulate strength... until it is enough to overturn the chessboard."

He turned around, his figure disappearing into the fading night.