Pandora Unchained - a Cultivation Progression Fantasy

Having secured mental protection in the form of S-Tier jewelry and gotten his pent-up madness out of control, Sorin dove into concoctions once again to make his final preparations. While he couldn't build a faultless foundation as an apothecary before the Shrine Descent, sufficient time remained to upgrade the poisons his body could generate all the way up to B-Tier.

Acitoxins were the poisons Sorin had the easiest time with; after only a day of experimentation, he was able to successfully craft several B-Tier poisons and upgrade his internal poisons to the same level as his neurotoxins. Manatoxins proved much trickier, but three days later, he was able to successfully upgrade them to B-Tier as well, leaving only hemotoxins and the ever-dangerous necrotoxins.

Though Sorin had little experience with hemotoxins, the Kepler Clan dealt primarily in medicine and therefore had several recipes that would typically be used in lower doses to treat illnesses.

As for necrotoxins, they were the opposite. Sorin was forced to use madness-aligned demon cores to promote variation in the more common poisons and violence-aligned cores to concentrate them. Eventually, he able to manufacture sufficient B-Tier necrotoxins to upgrade his personal poisons.

"Here goes nothing," Sorin muttered as he once again drank down a vial of powerful necrotoxins. As predicted, his Divine Bone Rot acted up again. He promptly used his other four poisons to suppress the bone rot, then did the same with Violence and Madness. As a result, the bone rot only managed to chip away at half the Ruby Sealing Tincture he'd preemptively drunk to reinforce his bones. With Ophiuchan Simulation, he confirmed that twelve months remained before the bone rot became lethal.

There was not much time before the second phase of the shrine descent. Unable to make more headway in such a short amount of time, Sorin busied himself, catalyzing herbs and other medicinal plants using demon cores and Grove Keeper's Touch.

He also practicing his warped spells on the side. Veridian Spell Blade saw a small reduction in power from his psychotic episode, while Five Poison Apocalypse sharp increase.

"Master Kepler, an invitation came in the mail while you were cleaning up," said Percival as Sorin exited his room that evening. "I would have waited until morning, but it's written here that the event is tonight."

"You don't look like you wanted to give this to me, Percival," said Sorin, accepting the invitation. He ripped the top off and pulled out an envelope. A black mist immediately filled the room, causing minor distortions that weren't of any consequence.

Sorin briefly scanned the contents before tucking away the envelope in his shirt pocket. "Looks like the night isn't over yet. Lorimer, how do you feel about cards?"

"Ree!"

"Of course, there'll be snacks," said Sorin. "It might be Melinoë who sent the invitation, but it's Michael who'll be hosting."

"Should I inform the family as you head out?" asked Percival.

"I'll do it myself," answered Sorin. He quickly used the communication device Elder Marik had given him to inform Elder Marik, Elder Nolan, and Elder Calvin about his plans. He also sent a message to his teammates and received plenty of advice on how to interact with people in polite society—a testament to how terrible Sorin's skills were in this regard.

The Pollen Clan's ancestral manor was located on Oak Street, just a stone's throw away from the Kepler Clan's ancestral manor. Sorin had once attended a ball at the venue and was therefore unsurprised by the sprawling complex, which occupied four city blocks. The sky brightened the moment he set foot across the threshold, thanks to the small artificial sun that hung above the clan's ancestral tomb.

"Mr. Kepler, we were expecting you," greeted a woman as he arrived. Judging by the ornate bow on her back, she was one of the family's better archers. "May I see your invitation?"

"Here you are," said Sorin, handing it over. "May I know how many guests will be attending?"

"There will be ten people, including Master Michael and yourself, Mr. Kepler," said the woman. "Please follow me and be sure to keep within 30 feet of me at all times. I am also obligated to let you know that as your escort, I am permitted to restrain you with lethal force should you willingly encroach upon our clan's restricted areas."

Everything she recited was standard in major clans. Sorin took no issue with her statement and followed the archer into the residential area of where all clan members with a sufficiently pure bloodlines resided.

As a direct inheritor of the Pollen Clan and a God Seed who had reached the age of majority, Michael had been assigned his own residence. His guide explained that given his status, only the clan's presiding elders, the clan leader, and the clan's three grand elders were qualified to have larger residences.

"What about Administrator Pollen?" Sorin asked curiously.

"Administrator Pollen is a part of our clan, but it is also a separate entity," answered the archer. "It would be improper for the representative of Delphi to reside in the ancestral manor, so Lord Administrator has taken up residence in the Administrative Palace."

The archer led the way up to Michael's residence before halting just outside the door. "I am not permitted to enter the Young Master's residence, so I will wait here until you are finished inside."

Sorin quickly scanned the building and noted only nine significant auras. "Then I'll be troubling you, sister…"

"Abbey, Mr. Kepler," answered the archer. "Abbey Pollen. Please come find me here in the waiting area once you wish to leave." Having completed her duties for the time being, she walked over to a small patio just outside the entrance where other similarly powerful Pollen Clan members were relaxing and chatting while munching on refreshments.

As the inheriting member of the Pollen Clan, Michael was proud of his heritage and prominently displayed his family crest at the entrance. It was a complicated crest that included a bow, a lyre, a sun, and a deer trampling a giant snake. Those lacking in knowledge often assumed this symbolized enmity with the Kepler Clan, but Sorin had discovered recently that it was actually an ancient enemy of the Pollen Clan, a myth known as Python.

Michael's butler, Mortimer, greeted Sorin at the door and escorted him to a living room on the main floor, where a group of men and women were playing cards. Smoke hung thick in the air due to cigarettes. Judging by the stacks of chips beside each player, the game had just started, and none of the players had yet been able to gain an edge.

"Sorin!" Michael greeted as the butler left to fetch his drink. "I'm glad you could make it on such short notice."

"The last-minute nature of the invitation and the inviter both piqued my interest," said Sorin, taking a seat at the table. "What's the buy-in?"

"Nothing big, just 10,000 gold," said Michael. "It's a friendly game. Buying back in is allowed." He then moved to introduce the others at the table. "You've met Melinoë. It was she who suggested having this friendly get-together before the descent. I know she and your family have a bit of bad blood—I hope you'll be able to set that aside for now and extend that same courtesy during the descent."

"Since you're asking, I'll naturally oblidge," said Sorin. "But all bets are off if this cunning lady takes the initiative."

"Even I would never dare act impetuously in another God Seed's domain," said Melinoë, looking at her pair of hole cards and flicking them in the center. "I fold. My hand is rubbish, as usual. Serves me right, having partial dominion over misfortune."

"I fold as well," said Michael. "If only to introduce you to the rest. You naturally know Charles Hargrave. Don't mind his expression—we passed up one of his cousins to invite you. And you've already met Bast from the White Tower Group. As you can see, he's just as stiff in social settings as he is delving dungeons.

"As for the other five, they are the top-performing individuals so far this Shrine Descent. Each of them has the backing of a major faction and managed to receive a heroic blessing without overly affecting their teammates."

"Three out of the five are locals. There's the lovely Onesca Mayfair in her trademark transparent black dress, and I'd watch how long you let your eyes wander, because she's a curse mage from the Mages Guild's Dark Alliance. That rugged-looking warrior there is Owen MacLeod, a swordsman from Clan MacLeod."

"Is that the clan that practices the Immortal Decapitation Sword?" asked Sorin.

"The very same," said Michael. "Now this charming and abnormally tall man is Fenrig Austin, a barbarian warrior from the Blighted Stone Tribe native to the Parnassus Mountain Range." Abnormally tall was an understatement, as the man was a good two heads taller than Sorin. What's more, he was built like a dock worker, with thick scar-covered arms that complemented his unruly beard and uncontrolled mop of hair.

"I met Onesca previously at an event during my last stay in Delphi," said Sorin, nodding to the woman. "Rumor has it that you've punished no less than 200 men for looking too long."

"We're up to 276," said Onesca with a shrug. "Just because I dress this way, it's not an open invitation for people to leer at me. I'm talking to you, Fenrig."

"It's not leering, just proper admiration where its due," said Fenrig, gulping down a mouthful of beer. "Plus, I don't see you scolding Joseph for his long looks."

"I'm a man who appreciates beauty in all its forms," said a handsome man with oiled hair in dark leathers. Many 'trophies' could be seen stitched into the leather, making it clear that he was a Demon Hunter.

"Joseph Artois here is from the Artois Clan, and hails all the way from Olympia," introduced Michael. "He is an accomplished demon hunter and recently slew a three-star demon."

"A highly sedated and disadvantaged three-star demon," Joseph corrected. "Much less impressive than the demon your five teams took down in the catacombs. I think I'll raise two hundred gold."

"Fold," said the person Michael had yet to introduce, a rogue in blood-stained leathers. "Faile Atlan. Atlan Clan. Ephesus. Your teammate Stephan probably remembers me."

"She's one of the Atlan Clan's twin prodigies and is well-versed in all aspects of dungeoneering," added Michael. "In addition, she's one of the few adventurers to dare enter the Infinite Dungeon while still in the Bone-Forging Realm and survive."

Sorin's interest was instantly piqued upon hearing the words Infinite Dungeon. His parents had died while exploring it, after all, and information about the place was hard to come by. "I've heard much about the Infinite Dungeon, but few from my clan have dared explore the place. Perhaps you'll grace us with some stories when you have time?"

Faile shrugged. "I'm not sure what I can tell you that Stephan can't, but I'll be happy to share what few details I managed to remember." One of the reasons for the mystery was that knowledge of the Infinite Dungeon was abnormally easy to forget.