As Luke ventured deeper into the valley, he was awestruck by the sacred beauty along the way.
This truly lived up to being the awakening place personally arranged by Ilúvatar for humankind. Although he had never seen the sights of Valinor in the West, he imagined it must be just like this.
At the deepest part of the valley lay a colorful lake, its bed and shores paved with golden sand and multicolored gemstones.
If the wealth-craving Smaug had witnessed this scene, he would likely have roared with joy, ecstatic beyond measure.
Beneath the surrounding cliffs of the lake, there were artificially carved caves.
These caves were relics left by the earliest awakened humans who once lived here. Even after several ages, under the protection of sacred power, they remained untouched by time, as if people had lived there just yesterday.
Luke explored the caves but found nothing useful.
"Where is the Salt of the Flesh?" Luke murmured, puzzled.
Among the three primal substances for creating the Philosopher's Stone, the Mercury of Spirit represented mental power. Luke had collected the accumulated spiritual energy of elves over millennia from the Bay of Lûn in the Grey Havens.
The Sulfur of Soul represented the soul. Luke had gathered the soul force, transformed from the tears of the dead, from the ghosts along the Paths of the Dead.
As for the Salt of the Flesh, Elrond had explained to Luke that it referred neither to the physical body nor ordinary salt but symbolized stability and vitality—a living substance.
However, after searching around, Luke found no such active material.
He turned his gaze to the lake in the valley, wondering if the active substance might be in the water.But aside from its purity, along with the golden sand and gemstones, the lake showed no abnormalities.
He scooped up a bowl of water and tasted it.
The lake water was sweet and cool, instantly washing away his fatigue and leaving him feeling refreshed.
Although surprised by the water's efficacy, it was not the "Salt of the Flesh" he sought.
Perplexed, Luke sat down by the lake, pondering where the Salt of the Flesh could be hidden. Elrond was knowledgeable, wise, foresighted, and possessed prophetic abilities. If he said the Salt of the Flesh was in the birthplace of humanity, it must be true. The only explanation was that Luke had yet to discover it.
"What could it be?" Luke frowned in confusion.
His hand rested on the soft grass, and as he absentmindedly grabbed a handful, moist soil clung to his fingers.
Just as he was about to brush it off, a sudden inspiration flashed through his mind, and his eyes lit up.
"Soil... Of course! How could I have forgotten about the soil!"
He recalled myths from his previous life where the creation of humans was always tied to soil. Whether in Eastern or Western mythology, humans were shaped from clay by gods.
In this Middle-earth world, although there was no such explicit tale, humans still awakened from the earth.
From the archives in Rivendell, Luke had read elven histories. In elven legends, Ilúvata gave birth to many Ainur from consciousness—these Ainur later became the Valar and Maiar.
Then Ilúvatar announced a grand theme to the Ainur, instructing them to create a Great Music based on it. Within this music, through the third theme, Ilúvatar created humans and elves. In this process, human souls originated from the Imperishable Flame, endowed with free will.
Human bodies, however, gradually took form in the world of Arda, specifically in the land of Hildórien.
Although humans were not directly molded from clay, their creation was closely linked to the earth.
Luke parted the grass, dug up a handful of soil—moist, fertile, and, most importantly, brimming with vitality and life.
He realized that the most overlooked element in the entire valley, the soil, was the source nurturing all life here.
It was also the origin of the "Salt of the Flesh."
Having found the source of the Salt of the Flesh, Luke was overjoyed.
However, extracting the vitality-rich active substance from the soil was no easy task.
Luke immediately set up a tent by the lake, pulling it from his spatial bag.
Then, he transformed into a digger, pouring soil into a mithril crucible and summoning water from the lake to mix thoroughly with the soil.
He added three drops of a separation potion, stirring continuously until the mixture fully blended.
He then let it sit, waiting for the mixture to settle and separate gradually.
The active substances in the soil slowly dissolved into the water under the effect of the separation agent.
Once the soil and impurities settled at the bottom, and the water in the crucicle cleared,
Luke filtered the solution through a golden sieve, purifying it. After cleaning the soil residues from the mithril crucible, he poured the solution back in and heated it over a low flame, stirring constantly with his wand.
The entire process was no different from brewing a potion.
As the water vapor evaporated, a shallow layer of white solid remained at the bottom of the crucible.
This solid resembled salt but emitted a rich life force, as if it were the crystallization of life itself.
It was precisely the "Salt of the Flesh" Luke had been desperately seeking.
Carefully, Luke scraped off this layer of "salt" and collected it into a transparent crystal vial.
Feeling the intense life force, he couldn't resist tasting a crystal grain.
A salty flavor spread in his mouth, similar to salt, but simultaneously, a burst of life force erupted, rapidly spreading through his limbs, nourishing his body and enhancing his life energy.
This nourishment wasn't like the Ent-draught that made his body grow stronger but instead increased his life potential, allowing him to live longer.
Of course, the effect of just one grain was minimal, barely adding a moment to his life, but it was indeed a genuine life-extending substance.
Gazing at the "Salt of the Flesh" in the crystal vial, Luke's eyes burned with desire, almost tempting him to swallow it all at once.
But he restrained the impulse.
He couldn't risk losing the greater for the lesser. Compared to the life-extending "Salt of the Flesh," the Philosopher's Stone, which granted immortality, was far more enticing.
After all, the "Salt of the Flesh" was limited. Even if he extracted it from all the soil in the Valley of Sleep, it might not be enough for eternal life.
Thrilled by his first successful extraction, Luke eagerly continued to separate more of the Salt of the Flesh.But before that, he picked and ate some fruits from the valley.
Though extracting the Salt of the Flesh was important, Luke hadn't forgotten about healing his soul.
Hildórien was truly his land of fortune, Luke marveled.
Not only did it provide the materials for the Philosopher's Stone, but it also offered fruits that healed the soul. He even considered settling down here.
Just then, the system prompted him:
[Hogwarts Check-in System: Location—Hildórien. Sign in?]
Luke's eyes lit up, and he quickly responded, "Sign in!"
[Check-in successful. Congratulations on obtaining the Obscurial talent!]
Obscurial talent? Luke was stunned.
He remembered that Obscurials arose from suppressing magical power, leading to the creation of an Obscurus—a parasitic magical energy lifeform that dwelled within the host.Because of the Obscurus parasitizing them, Obscurials suffered shortened lifespans and often died young. In the magical world, the only Obscurial known to reach adulthood, Credence, still died young in the end.
So, when the system announced he had gained the Obscurial talent, Luke's first reaction wasn't joy but alarm.
This thing could kill! How could checking in reward him with this talent?
Was this a reward? It felt more like a punishment!
Luke carefully assessed the changes in his body but found nothing amiss after thorough examination. Wait, there was a change—his magical power was growing faster, even quicker than when he first awakened his magic!
This result brought both delight and worry.
Previously, he had to meditate constantly to strengthen his magical power, but now, even without deliberate effort, his mana continued to grow ceaselessly.
If he meditated, the growth could even double!
Such a boon should have elated him, but the deadly Obscurial talent cast a shadow over his heart. Yet, no matter how he tried, the Obscurus never manifested; all he could sense was his mana steadily growing.
Seeing this, he could only set aside his worries for now and focus on other matters.
In the following days, Luke busied himself daily with extracting the "Salt of the Flesh" from the soil, eating the valley's fruits when hungry, and drinking the lake water when thirsty.
A month passed in the blink of an eye.
The soil around the lake had been thoroughly dug up by Luke, yielding a full vial of "Salt of the Flesh." However, to Luke's disappointment, the active substances in the soil from other areas diminished significantly, making it hard to extract much "Salt of the Flesh."
Only the lakeside soil, where humans were born and awakened, was imbued with sacred power and unique vitality. Other areas were merely peripherally affected.
Gazing at the sacred and beautiful valley, and unwilling to exhaust its resources, Luke stopped.
The soil, after having its active substances extracted, turned ordinary, no longer able to nourish evergreen plants and trees.
If he were to process all the soil in the valley, it would destroy the environment, and Hildórien's sacred beauty would vanish.
So, Luke ceased, avoiding further damage to other areas. He even used magic to restore the dug-up land around the lake, at least superficially repairing it.
Hildórien was protected by Ilúvatar's sacred power. Although it had diminished since humanity's awakening, residual divine power lingered, enduring through countless ages unchanged.
Barring unforeseen events, it might take several more ages for this divine power to fade completely, and Hildórien, the birthplace of humanity, would eventually become an ordinary valley, forgotten entirely, its name lost to time.
Such a paradise was not something Luke would overlook.
He decided to renovate and expand the ancient caves once inhabited by early humans.
Drawing inspiration from dwarven architecture and elven styles, he transformed the caves into a simple yet elegant structure, complete with a dedicated fireplace.
Initially, Luke worried that the fireplace might be affected by the surrounding sacred power, preventing connection to the Floo Network.
Fortunately, the fireplace successfully linked to those at Weathertop and Isengard.
This meant he could now travel freely between Hildórien, Weathertop, and Isengard via the Floo Network.
Additionally, he successfully turned an ancient apple tree in the valley into a directional, reusable Portkey, connecting it to the White Tree or the Mallorn tree back at Weathertop.
By circling the tree three times left, three times right, patting the trunk, and saying "Open," he could teleport between the two trees.
Thus, Luke spent three full months in the valley.
He had sampled all the fruits in the valley and picked the remaining ones, preserving them with magic to enjoy later.
To his delight, under the nourishment of these fruits, the side effects of creating Horcruxes diminished significantly. His soul, aided by the sacred power in the fruits, began to heal gradually.
Even without taking Soul Stabilizer Potion, his thinking remained rational, and he was no longer impulsive or irritable.
Perhaps after consuming all the fruits, his soul would fully repair, making him whole again.
With his tasks in Hildórien complete, Luke didn't linger. He tossed Floo Powder into the fireplace: "Isengard!"
Green flames erupted, swallowing Luke and vanishing from sight.
-------------
In the northern reaches of Middle-earth, far beyond the Lonely Mountain and the Grey Mountains, lies a frigid wasteland perpetually blanketed in ice and snow, a place seldom tread by any living soul.
Yet on this day, a figure arrived there.
Saruman rode upon a fallen beast, flying toward the utmost north. The swirling snow and biting wind coated the creature in a layer of frost.
Ice clung to Saruman's eyebrows and beard.
But he seemed utterly unbothered. His thin robes fluttered in the icy gales, pressed tightly against his gaunt frame as if he felt no cold. His deep, sharp eyes pierced through the storm, fixed upon a great snowy mountain in the far north.
Soon, the fallen beast carried him to the foot of this nameless snow-capped peak.
As if sensing some immense danger, the beast grew restless and refused to draw closer.
"Be still, you brute!" Saruman commanded sharply.
Yet the beast, trembling with fear, resisted his order.
Saruman's expression hardened, his voice imbued with an irresistible magic: "Descend into the mountain ahead!"
The beast stiffened, then—as if controlled—dumbly flew straight toward the snowy peak.
After landing on the mountain, Saruman paid no mind to the terrified fallen beast. Staff in hand, he trudged step by step deeper into the snow-covered expanse.
The wind on the mountain was fierce, colder even than the northern wastes. Even at the height of summer, when snow melted elsewhere in the north, this peak remained eternally frozen.
With clear purpose, Saruman moved through the deep snow until he reached an immense glacial fissure.
Icy gusts blew in waves from within the crevasse, instantly turning his breath into frozen mist. The frost on his beard and eyebrows thickened, and red marks of frostbite appeared on his face.
Without hesitation, Saruman pressed onward into the soul-freezing wind, entering the glacial rift.
The exterior of the fissure was vast, but the deeper he went, the more expansive it became—and the wind grew stronger, the cold more intense.
Even Saruman felt his body reaching its limits. The tip of his staff glowed with a warm light, dispelling the chill around him.
At last, he reached the end of the glacial fissure.
Before him lay an enormous dragon's head, eyes closed in slumber. With each breath, icy gusts blew from its nostrils, generating gales that swept across the entire mountain.
It was a fearsome black dragon of immense size—so large that Saruman could see only its head. Even a single scale was larger than Saruman himself. It exuded an ancient, formidable presence.
Long ago, Morgoth created the race of dragons to serve as his most powerful weapons in his quest to dominate the world.
Among them were wingless dragons, which walked on four legs like giant lizards, and winged dragons, which could be bipedal or quadrupedal.
Additionally, there were fire-breathing dragons and non-fire-breathing cold-drakes.
Smaug, the dragon subdued by Luke, was a quadrupedal, winged fire-dragon—one of the stronger among known surviving dragons.
But compared to the dragons of ancient times, Smaug was insignificant.
The first dragon created by Morgoth, Glaurung, was wingless and walked on four legs. It could breathe raging flames and possessed powerful magical abilities.
During the Dagor Bragollach in the First Age, it led fires that consumed the plain of Ard-galen. In the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, it shattered the Union of Maedhros, and later destroyed the elven kingdom of Nargothrond.
As Morgoth's first dragon, Glaurung was the high commander of Angband and a key instrument in Morgoth's conquest—a dragon of legendary feats.
Beyond Glaurung, there was Ancalagon the Black, the first winged dragon created by Morgoth—the largest and most powerful of all flying dragons.
It was said its wings could blot out the sun, and its fiery breath was hot enough to destroy the One Ring.
When Eärendil slew Ancalagon in the War of Wrath, the dragon's falling body even collapsed the towers of Thangorodrim.
Besides fire-drakes and cold-drakes, Morgoth also created other unique dragons: serpent-like dragons without limbs that crawled on their bellies, lightning-breathing thunder dragons, light dragons that emitted deadly rays, and frost dragons that exhaled icy寒气.
But these were rare exceptions, never forming populations like the fire-drakes and cold-drakes. With no representatives as powerful as wingless Glaurung or winged Ancalagon, they remained largely unknown.
And now, slumbering within this glacial mountain was a rare frost dragon—one that had侥幸 survived the War of Wrath.
Sensing the presence of Saruman, a Maia, the long-slumbering dragon opened its enormous eyes.
Pupils like black holes radiated cold and malice.
"Who disturbs the rest of the great Gram?"
Facing the frost dragon, Saruman showed no fear. "I am Saruman the Many-Colored, come here specifically to visit you, the oldest surviving dragon."
"A wizard?" Gram's gaze fixed on the ant-sized Saruman, sharp eyes filled with suspicion. "I smell the scent of those Valar from the West upon you. You may wear a fleshly form, but you cannot deceive me!"
It prepared to unleash a soul-freezing blast of icy breath.
Seeing Gram about to attack, Saruman tightened his grip on his staff, adopting a defensive posture, but quickly explained: "That was in the past! Now I collaborate with Sauron. I come on his behalf to discuss cooperation with you!"
"Sauron? He sent you?" Gram halted its attack, eyeing Saruman doubtfully.
Saruman nodded and elaborated: "You have long dwelled in the far north, slumbering here, so perhaps you do not know that Sauron has taken up Morgoth's cause. He already rules the eastern lands and now prepares to march west.
But the humans and elves of the West have united in stubborn resistance, aided by envoys of the Valar from the West—they take forms as Grey, Brown, Blue, and Black Wizards to assist.
Thus, we wish to invite you to join us. Use your frosty breath to bring an endless winter to the West, helping us unify the entire continent! In return, Sauron will grant you rule over all the northern lands and half of all plundered wealth!"
But Gram showed not a hint of interest. Instead, it responded with a scornful冷笑:
"Hmph! Even my master Morgoth failed to achieve dominion over the world. How dare Sauron boast of fulfilling our master's work?
He was but a servant of Morgoth, favored for his cunning tricks and persuasive tongue. But he has no right to command us dragons!"
Its eyes fixed on Saruman, filled with the terror of ancient memories:
"You did not experience that ancient war. You cannot comprehend its despair and horror! The earth was shattered, continents sunk, mountains crushed, seas flooded in, magma erupted... the entire world plunged into apocalypse! Countless dragons were slaughtered!
When the land of Beleriand was sunk, I was there—I saw the raging sea swallow all my dragon kin! I was fortunate: as the waters engulfed me, I breathed out frost in time, freezing the water around me into an icy shell that preserved my life.
Encased in ice, I was carried away by ocean currents, drifting to the northernmost edge of the land. There I came ashore and have dwelled within this mountain ever since.
And so I swore then that I would never leave this place!"
Saruman knew well the war Gram referred to—the War of Wrath in the First Age.
Though at that time, as a Maia, he had not participated.
Now, seeing the dragon's fear, he felt a flicker of disdain—a dragon frightened by war.
But understanding the importance of his mission, he did not give up persuasion.
He shifted to another topic.
"Speaking of dragons, I imagine you know that now there is a fire-dragon named Smaug who has been subdued and turned into another's steed."
"Impossible!" Gram refused to believe it. "The dragon race acknowledges only Morgoth as master. None other may command our allegiance—not even Sauron."
"But it is true," Saruman insisted. "The one who subdued Smaug is a Black Wizard named Luke. Riding this dragon, he has caused us much trouble. The tale has spread across all Middle-earth, and he has been given the title 'Lord of Dragons.'"
"Lord of Dragons? Ha! Ridiculous! Only Morgoth, who created us, is the true Lord of Dragons! How dare a wizard claim such a title?" Gram's voice was thick with scorn and mockery.
Then its eyes returned to Saruman, asking: "So you seek my cooperation to deal with that fire-dragon and that Black Wizard, is that it?
Unfortunately for you, you miscalculate. I care not for some petty fire-dragon!
Now, if you have no other business, do not disturb my slumber!" Gram impatiently dismissed him.
A cold light flickered in Saruman's eyes. This dragon was stubborn and disrespectful—how could the proud and arrogant Saruman tolerate this?
He directly employed mental hypnotism, his voice saturated with compelling,ethereal magic:
"Gram, Master of Frost, hear me... Do not resist so... Can you truly be content to wither here in this desolate mountain, rotting in obscurity?
Follow me, Gram! I can grant you all the wealth in the world! You will be as renowned and glorious as the great dragons Glaurung and Ancalagon of old!
All will remember your name and tremble in fear! You shall become the embodiment of extreme cold and death! Winter is coming—you, Frost Gram, will bring an endless winter from the north..."
Gram's huge eyes glazed over, falling into a trance.
Saruman's magical words struck at all its hidden resentments and desires, creating an opening in its mental defenses—an opportunity for Saruman to hypnotize and control it.
Just as the Gram was on the verge of succumbing to his hypnosis, a triumphant smile appeared on Saruman's face.
But in the next instant, his expression changed abruptly.
A struggle flashed in Gram's eyes, and it quickly broke free from Saruman's hypnotic spell.
"How dare you!" roared the enraged dragon.
The surrounding glaciers shook as its massive body stirred, causing countless chunks of ice to fall.
The dragon directly breathed extreme cold air at Saruman, causing the temperature around them to plummet instantly as if even the air itself would freeze.
Saruman's face paled. He immediately raised his staff, summoning a shield of light to protect himself.
The extreme cold struck the shield, instantly forming a thick layer of ice. Under the relentless assault of the freezing breath, the light shield began to crack like ice.
Seeing this, Saruman dared not confront the dragon head-on and quickly retreated out of the glacier.
Unwilling to let go of the wizard who had tried to hypnotize and control it, Gram, after its long slumber, began to thrash about, preparing to pursue and kill Saruman.
In an instant, the massive glacier began to fracture, and the entire great snowy mountain trembled, triggering an unprecedented avalanche.
Saruman escaped the glacial fissure and swiftly summoned his fallen beast, narrowly avoiding the avalanche.
Amidst a tremendous roar, a black dragon over a thousand meters long burst through the glacier, appearing atop the great snowy mountain and roaring defiantly at Saruman in the sky.
Its enormous size— nearly ten times that of Smaug— exuded a suffocating sense of oppression.
Gram spread its huge wings, beating them forcefully and stirring up a massive storm. It then took to the air, chasing directly after Saruman on his fallen beast.
Terrified, the fallen beast fled desperately, trying to escape the dreadful dragon.
Saruman, riding on the fallen beast's back, turned his upper body and used his staff to launch enormous fireballs at the pursuing dragon.
The scorching fireballs exploded against the dragon's body but failed to halt its advance or even leave a scratch.
The three of them continued their chase across the vast northern wasteland.
Though massive, the dragon was agile and far faster than the fallen beast. With a few powerful wingbeats, it quickly closed the distance.
Then, opening its gigantic maw and swelling its chest, it exhaled a wave of extreme cold air toward the fallen beast and Saruman.
Saruman's expression changed. He channeled his staff to emit a dazzling protective shield, blocking the dragon's icy attack.
Although he managed to deflect most of the freezing breath, a portion of it struck the fallen beast.
The beast's wings and lower body instantly froze solid.
Letting out a piercing shriek, the fallen beast plummeted downward.
Saruman, still mounted on the falling beast, held on tightly, using it as a buffer to absorb most of the impact. He managed to land safely.
The fallen beast, however, crashed onto a mountain peak, emitting weak, dying whimpers.
Saruman quickly stood up, ignoring his disheveled appearance, and warily looked up at the dragon in the sky.
The dragon, accompanied by a blizzard, descended with powerful wingbeats.
It looked down at the ant-sized wizard and mocked, "Where will you run now, wizard?
I happen to be hungry. You and this beast will make a fine snack—just enough to fill the gaps between my teeth..."
With that, Gram bit down on the dying beast, finished it off, and swallowed it whole in a few gulps.
Then it turned its gaze to Saruman, baring its fangs as it prepared to bite down.
But suddenly, it stopped, swaying unsteadily.
"Hmm? So dizzy... What's happening to me?" Gram felt a wave of dizziness and shook its head vigorously, a look of alarm and unease on its face.
Then it noticed the triumphant smile on Saruman's face and was startled.
"It's you! What did you do?"
Saruman replied smugly, "I merely hid a vial of poison inside my mount. Of course, this poison is rather unusual—it is a drop of venom from Ungoliant."
Ungoliant was a giant spider-shaped evil deity, equal in power to Morgoth. Born from the dark void beyond Arda, she once conspired with Morgoth to sneak into Valinor.
Morgoth wounded the Two Trees of Valinor with his spear, and Ungoliant sucked them dry through those wounds, injecting deadly venom that caused the trees to wither and die, plunging Valinor into darkness.
Ungoliant's venom could poison the Two Trees—dealing with an ancient dragon was naturally not difficult for it.
Gram was both furious and terrified. It breathed cold air at Saruman, attempting to freeze this vile figure to death.
But shortly after, the poison took effect. The dragon grew weak all over and, full of unwillingness, collapsed to the ground.
Saruman lowered his light shield, looking at the mountain-like dragon before him with a satisfied smile.
He walked toward the dragon, his eyes burning with desire.
If he could possess this dragon, it would be far more powerful than an army of 100,000 Uruk-hai. Retaking Isengard would be within reach, and he might even achieve greater power to fulfill his ambitions.
But thoughts of Sauron made Saruman suppress this craving.
Though both were Maiar, their power differed vastly. Moreover, Saruman was now under Sauron's control and dared not openly defy him.
Reluctantly, he took one last look at Gram, then pulled an iron crown from his robe sleeve.
Under the dragon's terrified and resistant gaze, Saruman approached its head and placed the iron crown squarely upon it.
As soon as the crown touched the dragon's head, it took root, rapidly expanding into a massive iron crown fit for a dragon.
The crown was pitch black, exuding a cold, dark presence—like that of a dark monarch's diadem.
This iron crown originally belonged to Morgoth. After destroying the Two Trees of Valinor, he stole the three Silmarils and set them into the crown.
This act led the Noldor elves to leave Valinor and wage a long war of vengeance against Morgoth to reclaim the Silmarils.
The human hero Beren and the elf princess Lúthien infiltrated Angband and pried one Silmaril from the iron crown. After many trials, it eventually became the Star of Eärendil in the sky.
The remaining two Silmarils were removed from the crown after Morgoth was defeated by the armies of the Valar.
The iron crown was later claimed by Sauron, who reforged it for himself to wear.
Now, Sauron had given this crown to Saruman to place upon Gram's head.
The crown contained Sauron's will and evil power. The moment it was placed, it rooted itself firmly onto the dragon's head, becoming one with it.
Unable to resist the erosion of Sauron's will and power, Gram's mental defenses rapidly crumbled despite its struggles.
Finally, the dragon's eyes were shrouded in a black mist, and Sauron's dark shadow appeared within its pupils.
It had become a puppet without self-awareness.
Regaining its ability to move, the dragon spread its wings—spanning thousands of meters—and stood up.
Its empty eyes fixed on Saruman, but Sauron's voice emerged from its mouth: "You have done well this time, Saruman. When you return, I permit you to forge a Ring of Power in Mount Doom."
Hearing this, Saruman's face lit up with joy. Mount Doom, with its fires from the heart of the earth, was the core of evil energy. Forging a Ring of Power there would undoubtedly make it stronger than the others.
Although he would have preferred to forge the One Ring, he knew his limits. Being able to create a more powerful Ring of Power was already a considerable reward.
Thus, Saruman mounted the dragon. With a powerful beat of its wings, the dragon soared into the sky, resembling a massive curtain of darkness. Carrying a blizzard and cold currents, it flew south from the north.
The dragon passed over the Grey Mountains, flew between the Lonely Mountain and the Iron Hills, skimmed east of Mirkwood, heading straight toward Mordor.
As a frost dragon, Gram possessed powerful magical abilities. Wherever it went, cold air followed, as if winter had arrived, sweeping across the land with northern winds and snow.
Hidden above the clouds, the dragon went unnoticed by the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain and the Iron Hills. They only felt the sky darken momentarily and the temperature drop suddenly.
Perplexed but without any clues, the dwarves gave up their investigation.
Only Thranduil, the Elvenking of Mirkwood, and Galadriel of Lórien seemed to sense something, frowning as they gazed toward the eastern sky. Yet their perceptions remained vague, and they could ascertain nothing.
As for Luke, he remained unaware of these events for the time being.
He first returned to Isengard to ensure everything was in order and rewarded the griffins and three-headed dogs responsible for patrolling and guarding Orthanc.
Then he went to the depths of the Misty Mountains behind Isengard, to the dragon breeding ground he had previously established.
The area around the breeding ground was enchanted with various spells, hidden from the real world like Diagon Alley. From the outside or above, the missing large tract of forest was completely undetectable.
In the breeding ground, more than a dozen lesser dragons now lived separately.
The largest among them were over ten meters long. Though nowhere near the size of the dragon Smaug, they were still formidable creatures.
Ordinary weapons could not pierce their dragon-scale defenses, and their fiery breath could melt steel weapons. Even for Luke, dealing with one of these lesser dragons would not be easy without using lethal dark magic.
The only issue was that these lesser dragons were not highly intelligent. They could not speak like great dragons, were irritable, aggressive, and difficult to tame.
However, this was not a difficult problem for Luke. He simply assigned the task to Smaug.
Due to the great dragon's overwhelming aura and the power of bloodline, the lesser dragons submitted the moment they laid eyes on Smaug.
Even the rebellious ones were swiftly subdued after a harsh thrashing from him, bowing their heads in obedience.
Thus, after subduing these blood-related lesser descendants, Smaug became their king.
He didn't need to manage them closely—just visiting once a year to assert his authority was enough to keep the lesser dragons in line and prevent any mischief.
---------
In the dragon farm, besides the drakes, there is also a large herd of cattle, sheep, and horses, as well as over a dozen wargs and orcs unfortunate enough to have fallen into Luke's hands. The cattle, sheep, and horses serve as food for the drakes.
The wargs and orcs, controlled by Luke through the Imperius Curse, are specifically tasked with raising the cattle, sheep, and horses, and taking care of the drakes.
As for the inevitable instances where they too are eaten by the drakes, the capitalist Luke feels no regret. After all, the Misty Mountains are full of wargs and orcs, and if there aren't enough, he can simply capture another batch.
Luke arrived at the dragon farm and first sought out the first drake to be born.
This drake was bred from Smaug's blood and a giant lizard hybrid. It has black scales, yellow eyes, bronze-colored dragon horns, and a tail covered in spikes, making it look like a giant lizard with wings.
Drakes grow extremely quickly. Within a week of birth, they can grow to more than three times their original size. By one month, they are as large as a small house. By one year, they can fly and reach a length of over ten meters.
At this moment, the drake named "Number One" by Luke had just hunted a wild bull. Its sharp teeth bit into the bull's neck, killing it instantly, while the rest of the herd scattered in terror.
After catching its prey, Number One did not eat it immediately. Instead, it breathed a burst of dragon flame onto the bull's corpse, waiting until the aroma of roasted meat filled the air before devouring it.
Luke watched the drake with great interest and actively approached it.
The drake, while eating, noticed someone approaching and let out a warning roar to protect its food.
Luke paid no mind. He had not used magical contracts to bind these drakes, instead leaving it to Smaug to keep them in check.
The reason he bred these drakes was to use their materials for various magical needs. For example, dragon liver could be used to make high-level potions, dragon scales for defensive magical artifacts, dragon blood for many purposes, and dragon hide for protective clothing, among other things.
He feared that if he spent too much time with them, he might develop an emotional attachment and become reluctant to harm them. Hence, he did not form magical contracts with them as he had with the three-headed wolves and griffins.
When Number One saw that Luke had ignored its warning and continued to approach, it immediately took it as a provocation. It opened its mouth, ready to breathe fire at Luke.
"Imperio!" Luke did not hold back, directly casting the Imperius Curse.
These drakes had strong magical resistance. In fact, due to inheriting part of the genes of the great dragon Smaug, they were far more powerful than the fire dragons of the magical world.
In the magical world, it took a dozen adult wizards working together to subdue a single fire dragon.
Here, ordinary spells like the Stunning Spell or Petrification Spell had little effect on the drakes.
The only weakness of these drakes was their relatively low mental magical resistance, making the Imperius Curse the most effective against them.
Hit by the Imperius Curse, Number One stopped its attack and stood quietly in place.
Luke immediately approached Number One, pulling out a sharp needle and a large syringe made of mithril. He inserted the needle into the flesh between the scales and began drawing blood.
After collecting nearly a bucket of dragon blood, Luke released the drake and turned his attention to the other drakes. One by one, the drakes fell victim to Luke's ruthless actions, each having buckets of blood drawn from them as if it were free.
Finally, feeling a pang of conscience at the sight of the anemic drakes, Luke ordered the orcs to send more cattle and sheep to help them replenish their blood.
With the dragon blood collected, Luke left the dragon farm and returned to Weathertop.
Hogwarts Castle, Alchemy Room.
Before Luke lay the three primal substances: Mercury of Spirit, Sulfur of Soul, and Salt of Body, along with the freshly collected dragon blood. These were all necessary materials for creating the Philosopher's Stone.
Also present was a pre-prepared mithril furnace and a double-necked sealed glass flask engraved with runes to prevent energy leakage.
In addition to the three primal substances, the creation of the Philosopher's Stone required the four elements: earth, air, water, and fire.
For the elements of air, water, and fire, Luke could seek help from the bearers of the Three Elven Rings: Elrond, Galadriel, and Gandalf.
For the earth element, Luke took out a box containing the glowing Arkenstone.
Also known as the Heart of the Mountain, the Arkenstone was an essence of the earth, containing the earth element, thus completing the set of all four elements.
After preparing these materials, Luke unrolled an astronomical scroll.
This scroll, inherited from Saruman's library, recorded the astronomical phenomena of Middle-earth. Using the information on the scroll, Luke could calculate the various celestial events for the coming days to align with the creation of the Philosopher's Stone.
The process of creating the Philosopher's Stone was extremely complex. In addition to the basic materials, it required the alignment of celestial events, special incantations, magical arrays, and a lengthy amount of time.
Nicolas Flamel spent a full 21 years creating the Philosopher's Stone.
Of course, these 21 years included the time Flamel spent collecting materials, interpreting the Book of Abraham, and gathering the necessary resources.
The Book of Abraham that Luke obtained already contained Flamel's interpretations of the text, saving Luke the effort of collecting materials and deciphering the symbols, thus cutting down most of the time.
Moreover, he was fortunate to have the help of Elrond, who directly guided him to the sources of Mercury of Spirit, Sulfur of Soul, and Salt of Body. The Three Elven Rings also allowed him to directly gather the elements, unlike Flamel, who had to painstakingly collect the three primal substances and four elements.
In the Book of Abraham, Luke read about Flamel's methods of collection:
During Flamel's time, Europe was ravaged by the Black Death, leaving almost nine out of ten houses empty. Flamel spent seven years wandering among Muggles, using special methods to collect the mental, soul, and life energies of hundreds of thousands of deceased people, extracting from them the Mercury of Spirit, Sulfur of Soul, and Salt of Body.
The repetitiveness and time consumption of this process astounded Luke.
As a result, Flamel's Philosopher's Stone was born during the unique period of the Black Death and could not be replicated.
This is why, over thousands of years in the magical world, only Nicolas Flamel successfully created a Philosopher's Stone. Even he himself could not realistically create another one, as the conditions were too bad.
It was impossible to wait for another Black Death to occur.
Luke was fortunate to save most of the time required before creating the Philosopher's Stone, but the process itself remained long and complex. A single misstep could lead to failure, wasting all the painstakingly collected Mercury of Spirit, Sulfur of Soul, and Salt of Body.
Therefore, Luke carefully calculated the celestial events for the next year and considered all weather factors.
Otherwise, if he encountered cloudy or foggy weather when he needed to draw on celestial forces for the creation process, he would be devastated.
To ensure no mistakes, Luke even went to Rivendell and Lothlórien, using Elrond's wisdom and knowledge to confirm the accuracy of his celestial calculations, and Galadriel's water mirror to foresee the future weather.
After making thorough preparations, Luke officially began the creation of the Philosopher's Stone.
He sealed the Mercury of Spirit, Sulfur of Soul, and Salt of Body in a 1:1:1 ratio inside the double-necked flask and placed it in the mithril furnace.
The silver Mercury of Spirit, yellow Sulfur of Soul, and white Salt of Body mixed in the flask, combining into a "trinity" that glowed with three colors, producing mysterious reactions.
Luke used the dragon blood as fuel, creating a blood-red flame that burned the three primal substances in the flask, accelerating their reaction.
The dragon blood fuel needed to burn continuously for 49 days without any interruption.
Fortunately, Luke had prepared over a dozen buckets of dragon blood in advance; otherwise, it would not have been enough.
According to Flamel's notes in the Book of Abraham, Flamel himself had to travel to Romania to hunt an adult fire dragon and collect its blood to fuel the initial burning reaction for the Philosopher's Stone.
As days passed, Luke remained by the furnace, regularly replenishing the dragon blood fuel and ensuring the flame was neither too large nor too small.
When hungry, he ate fruits picked from the Hidden Valley; when thirsty, he drank water from a golden cup.
At the same time, he meditated, using his mental power to constantly perceive the changes in the substances within the flask.
As the substances in the flask reacted day by day, Luke's spirit also gradually underwent changes.
In Luke's spiritual perception, the flask seemed to undergo a miniature cosmic evolution. The Mercury of Spirit, Sulfur of Soul, and Salt of Body merged with each other, gradually unifying into a complete triangular cycle encompassing spirit, soul, and matter.
Throughout this process, Luke observed the changes calmly, as though from a god's perspective.
Unconsciously, Luke's mental power grew at an astonishing rate.
The mental castle constructed in his mind also grew larger and more solid, evolving into a complete Hogwarts Castle.
Finally, after the 21st day passed, the three primal substances in the flask fully merged into a black, viscous substance. The flask emitted a foul odor, and the material inside carbonized, releasing black smoke. It appeared as if the process had failed.
But Luke was not alarmed. The Book of Abraham recorded this phenomenon as the "Raven's Crown" stage, also known as the onyx stage.
The material in the flask turning into this state indicated that the first step of creating the Philosopher's Stone was successful.
The next stage was the "Alabaster Bloom" stage, or the purification stage, where the material in the flask would be purified and sublimated to obtain the "Pure White Stone."
Having completed the first stage of forging the magic stone, Luke paused for the moment.
Next, to transform the black stone into a white one, a catalyst was needed.
And that catalyst was the rising of Mercury.
In Middle-earth, Mercury was called Elenmírë, which could be observed three times a year, though the exact dates were never fixed. With the help of astronomical scrolls preserved in Orthanc, and after consulting Elrond, Luke was finally able to determine the precise time of Mercury's appearance that year.
According to Elrond's calculations, the first visible appearance of Mercury that year would be on March 8th—very soon indeed. But before that day came, Luke first traveled via the fireplace to Lothlórien, to pay his respects to Lady Galadriel.
The second stage of forging the magic stone required Galadriel's assistance—or rather, the power of her Ring of Water. Galadriel had long known about Luke's work on the magic stone, and upon hearing his request, she immediately agreed.
After all, as fellow members of the White Council, she would not refuse.
All the more since this matter concerned Arwen's happiness. She would not stand by and see her granddaughter—whom she had raised with her own hands—make the same sacrifice of immortality that her foremother, Princess Lúthien, once made.
Thus, Galadriel went with Luke to Orthanc in Isengard, accompanied as well by Arwen.
Orthanc had been transformed by Saruman into a wizard's tower, capable of amplifying magical power—making it the ideal place for magical experiments. So Luke chose it as the site for the second stage of the forging.
At the top platform of Orthanc, Galadriel and Arwen stood quietly at the edge, watching.
Luke, meanwhile, drew a seven-pointed star magic array with dragon's blood, to contain the energy of the refining ritual.
Mercury, unlike other stars, does not appear at midnight, but at dawn or dusk.
On the morning of March 8th, before the sky had yet brightened, the brilliant planet rose in the east, earlier than the sun itself.
As its starlight shone upon Orthanc, Luke immediately activated the seven-pointed star formation. At the same time, Galadriel raised her right hand. The Ring of Water, Nenya, appeared upon it, radiating dazzling brilliance.
All the water elements between heaven and earth seemed to be summoned by her, turning into a pale-blue torrent that poured endlessly into the star formation.
The Mercury above seemed to respond as well, casting down a single beam of blue starlight, which descended straight into the array.
The starbeam fell like a pillar from the heavens, a sight impossible to ignore.
From the northern Lonely Mountain, King Thorin Oakenshield gazed toward the southwestern sky at the beam of light.
"What place is that?"
"Your Majesty, it should be near Isengard. That land once belonged to Saruman the White, but now it is held by the black-robed wizard, Luke," one of his dwarves replied.
"Luke…" Thorin's expression was complex as he stared at the towering column of light, silent for a long time.
In Mirkwood, Thranduil and his son Legolas also discussed the phenomenon.
By then, the giant spiders of Mirkwood had been nearly eradicated, and the Woodland Realm had fully reclaimed the forest—renaming it once again the Great Greenwood.
The Old Forest Road, stretching across the Greenwood, had been restored: eastward to Esgaroth and further on to Dale, Erebor, and the Iron Hills; westward to Beorn's house, across the Old Ford and the AnLuken, through the High Pass of the Misty Mountains to the hidden valley beyond, and along the Great East Road further west.
"Father, is Luke drawing down the starlight? He is incredible! He has already invoked Rúmbarr (Saturn) and Helluin (Sirius), and now he calls down Elenmírë (Mercury)!" Legolas said in awe, gazing southward at the light, his eyes full of admiration.
For the Elves, who first awoke beneath the bright stars of the night sky, the stars were sacred, deeply beloved, and instinctively cherished.
Thranduil nodded in agreement, eyes shining with respect. Then he warned his son:
"Luke is no ordinary being. His future I cannot predict, but it will not be mediocre. Remember to maintain friendship with him, Legolas. It will benefit both you and the Woodland Realm."
But Legolas did not agree with such a calculating view. He answered solemnly:
"Father, Luke is my friend. Whether he is great or mediocre makes no difference to our friendship!"
He drew his wand, and from its tip surged forth a silver stag Patronus—vast, antlered like Thranduil's own mount.
It bounded gracefully through the forest, then came to Legolas and nuzzled him affectionately.
Legolas stroked it with love in his eyes, then said:
"This Patronus spell was taught to me by Luke. It is the embodiment of my spirit—my will to protect the Woodland Realm, you, my kin, and my friends. If ever my protection were tainted by selfish gain, my spirit would falter, and my Patronus would abandon me.
Father, I do not wish to become one who only seeks advantage. Just as your love for Mother has remained eternal, so too will I give my truest devotion to you, to my people, and to my friends!"
Hearing this, Thranduil looked at the holy stag Patronus before him, radiant with hope and guardianship. At last, he patted his son's shoulder, full of pride and affection:
"You have grown, Legolas! Perhaps the thoughts of us older ones are outdated. Follow your own heart from now on."
Hearing his father's approval, Legolas smiled with pure joy.
Meanwhile, far to the west, in Mordor, the starlight was also seen.
From atop Barad-dûr, Sauron's great flaming Eye turned toward Isengard, and with his Palantír he attempted to pierce its secrets.
But Galadriel, the mightiest of Middle-earth's Elves, was there, and instantly perceived his probing gaze. Through the Mercury starlight channeled by the array, Galadriel unleashed holy brilliance—her eyes turning into dazzling white, filled with radiant starlight.
She gazed straight into the void, her divine presence crashing down, and locked eyes with Sauron's Eye across the distance.
"Sauron, servant of Morgoth—this is not a place you may look upon. Your sight has no power here!" she pronounced, like a living judgment.
In the next moment, atop Barad-dûr, the Eye of Sauron recoiled as if struck, robbed of its vision.
"Galadriel!" a voice of hatred and fury roared from the tower.
Saruman too gazed at the light rising from Isengard, his face twisted with jealousy.
That had once been his domain, now another's. Homeless, forced to dwell as a guest on foreign soil—how could he not hate?
"Soon! Soon I will reclaim Isengard! Luke, Gandalf, Galadriel, Elrond—you will all taste my wrath!" he muttered bitterly.
Then his eyes turned to his latest experiment, alight with eagerness.
Before him lay countless eggs of various sizes—hybrids of dragons with fell beasts, with dark lizards of Mordor, with titan serpents. Hundreds in number, all exuding evil energy.
Even before hatching, Sauron had planted wraith-spirits into them, just as werewolves bore spirits within. Once born, these dragon-spawn would not only be stronger but also fully under Sauron's control.
Of course, as their creator, Saruman himself held authority second only to Sauron's.
"Saruman, how long before these hatch and become a fighting force?"
Sauron's dark phantom appeared in the laboratory, asking directly.
At this, Saruman's face shone with confidence.
"Only a few months to hatch, and they grow quickly. In three years they will be full-grown. Then we will command an army of dragon-spawn!"
But Sauron was dissatisfied.
"Not enough. Breed more eggs. I want an army of dragon-spawn to sweep across all powers. And the time—can be shortened."
A surge of vast evil poured from him into the eggs. They grew ever darker, exuding an aura of pure malice.
It was as if time itself accelerated—the eggs hatched faster. At last, with cracking shells, hideous half-dragons emerged.
The strongest were those bred from dragons and fell beasts—nearly as mighty as true dragons, though scale-less, black-skinned, with the fell beasts' sonic shrieks that induced terror and dizziness. They had two legs and bat-like wings.
The dragon–lizard hybrids came next: four-legged, winged like monstrous lizards. They could fly, lacked frost-breath, but their fangs carried venom that infected victims with weakness until death.
Lastly were the dragon–serpent hybrids: vast, wingless, limbless creatures, their spined backs stretching to their tails. Scaled like dragons, but serpentine in form. They had no frost-breath, no venom, relying only on brute strength, but were the largest of all.
Faced with the hatched drakes, none of which inherited the ice abilities of the great Gram, both Sauron and Saruman were somewhat disappointed.
However, with over a hundred drakes born, they were satisfied given the numbers.
Moreover, these drakes were inhabited by evil spirits, making them more intelligent and dangerous than ordinary drakes. They could understand complex commands, engage in a certain degree of thinking and planning, and coordinate with each other.
As soon as these newly born dark drakes emerged, under the influence of the evil spirits within them, their eyes gleamed with cunning and intelligence. Recognizing Sauron as their master, they immediately bowed their heads in submission.
Seeing the drakes so intelligent, Sauron nodded in approval and turned to Saruman with instructions:
"Breed more drakes as quickly as possible. I will use dark magic to rapidly mature them. In less than a year, they will be combat-ready. By then, we can unleash the drake legion to attack Rohan and Gondor and help you reclaim Isengard!"
Hearing Sauron's words, Saruman was overjoyed. Reclaiming Isengard and seeking revenge against Luke, Gandalf, and others had been his obsession. Now that Sauron promised to help him reclaim Isengard, he was naturally eager.
However, he quickly regained his composure and frowned, asking, "Why are you in such a hurry this time? Why go to such lengths to accelerate the drakes' maturation? Weren't you previously advocating for a slow accumulation of strength? Why suddenly attack Rohan and Gondor? And why help me reclaim Isengard?"
In his impression, Sauron had always been a calculated and patient strategist. Whether it was corrupting the Númenóreans, leading to the sinking of Númenor, or disguising himself as Annatar, the Lord of Gifts, to deceive the elves into forging the Rings of Power, Sauron had always exercised patience.
Why was he acting out of character now, becoming so impatient? This left Saruman deeply puzzled.
Sauron did not hide the truth from Saruman. He directly stated, "The target of this attack is not Rohan or Gondor but Isengard."
"Isengard? Why attack there?" Saruman asked in astonishment.
As for Sauron wanting to help him reclaim Isengard, Saruman did not believe it for a moment.
After all, Sauron was not one to help others willingly. If he had truly wanted to help Saruman reclaim Isengard, he would not have waited until now, and certainly not with such urgency.
"Because I sense that something capable of restoring my form will be born there!" Sauron revealed, dropping shocking news."What?!" Saruman was incredulous.Something that could help Sauron regain his body?"Could it be that the One Ring is there?" For Saruman, the only thing imaginable that could help Sauron restore his form was the One Ring.
During the Second Age, Sauron corrupted the Númenóreans, leading to divine punishment and the sinking of Númenor. Sauron himself was destroyed physically at that time.
But Sauron relied on the One Ring to restore his body and make a comeback in Middle-earth.
This was also why, during the War of the Last Alliance, when Isildur used the shards of Narsil to sever the finger wearing the One Ring, Sauron was defeated and his body destroyed.
Sauron shook his head, his tone filled with desire and excitement:
"It is not the One Ring but a treasure that has not yet fully come into existence. The starlight projection over Isengard is meant to complete that treasure.
Although Galadriel has deprived me of the ability to see there, with just one glance, I foresaw that treasure: a red gemstone imbued with immortal power.I have a premonition that it can grant me a permanent physical form. I will regain my power and be able to directly sense the location of the One Ring!"
Could such a thing truly exist? Saruman found it hard to believe.But as a fellow Maia, he knew that their intuitions and premonitions were never wrong.
"That black-robed wizard has given me too great a surprise!" Sauron gazed westward, as if he could see the scene atop Orthanc Tower, his voice resolute. "This time, we must seize that soon-to-be-born treasure at all costs!"
Isengard, atop Orthanc Tower.
The starlight of Eärendil (Mercury) poured down like a pillar into the heptagram, drawing a continuous stream of celestial power that converged into the mithril furnace. Under the burning flame of dragon blood fuel, it fused and reacted with the "Crow's Head" in the flask.
With the infusion of celestial power, the temperature of the flame inside the furnace strangely dropped to freezing point. Though it still burned vigorously, it emitted a chilling coldness.
At the same time, Galadriel channeled the power of Nenya, the Ring of Water, continuously injecting the water element into the furnace.
The black substance inside the flask absorbed and fused with the power of Mercury and the water element, gradually crystallizing into white powder. A faint jasmine-like fragrance, seemingly defying the flask's seal, drifted out from the furnace.
Upon smelling this fragrance, Luke felt a sense of spiritual tranquility, as if his soul was being nourished.
The wound left by creating a Horcrux was slowly healing.
This effect was even more potent than the fruits from the birthplace of humanity, the Hidden Valley. It acted directly on the soul, causing it to grow slowly.
Luke was pleasantly surprised and immediately breathed in the surrounding fragrance.
To his relief, the fragrance was contained and blocked by the outer heptagram, preventing any waste through dispersion.
The appearance of Eärendil (Mercury) was brief, lasting less than two hours. As the sun rose in the east, Mercury gradually faded into the starry sky.
However, the heptagram had drawn sufficient power from Mercury. Even without Mercury's illumination, the array still shimmered with starlight.
Under the burning of dragon blood fuel, the celestial power continuously infused into the flask, causing the black substance to produce more white crystals.
At the same time, the soul-penetrating jasmine fragrance continued to drift out.
As Luke absorbed the fragrance, he felt the power of his soul slowly growing. But inevitably, various desires also arose.
It was as if a voice in his heart was tempting him to open the furnace, take out the flask, and absorb more fragrance to strengthen his soul.
Outside the array, Arwen noticed Luke frowning tightly, as if struggling with something, and grew concerned.
"Grandmother, what is happening to Luke?"
Galadriel shook her head: "The process of creating the Philosopher's Stone is itself a trial. He is undergoing a soul purification and must resist the temptations of greed to succeed."
"How long will it take?" Arwen asked with a slight frown.
"It will take until the substance inside the furnace completes its transformation, changing from 'Black Stone' to 'White Stone,' for this stage to be fully complete."
As days passed, the black substance in the flask inside the furnace turned into increasingly more white material, and the emitted fragrance grew stronger. The desires Luke had to resist also grew more intense.
During this time, without Galadriel using the power of the Ring of Water to nourish his body, Luke would likely have collapsed from exhaustion or hunger long ago.
Finally, after 21 days, a rich fragrance erupted from the furnace.
The fragrance filled the heptagram, making Luke feel as if he had entered a sea of jasmine flowers, surrounded by the scent.The fragrance, though intangible, seemed to penetrate the soul, causing Luke's soul to grow at a visible rate.
The gap left by the Horcrux was completely filled and repaired, restoring Luke's soul to wholeness!
But while gaining this great opportunity, Luke also endured tremendous pressure. Countless greedy desires swarmed in, attempting to breach his mental defenses and turn him into a puppet of desire.
Moreover, these desires did not come from external forces like Sauron's corruption but were amplified from within his own heart. They could not be resisted by conventional means and could only be suppressed with great effort.
Luke maintained Occlumency, wore the Crown of Wisdom, and continuously engaged in deep meditation to preserve his rationality and thoughts, unaffected by the various desires.
When all the black substance in the flask had turned white, the source of the fragrance suddenly cut off, no longer drifting out.
Luke opened his eyes, waved his hand to extinguish the dragon blood flame in the furnace, and then took out the double-necked flask with his bare hands.
Despite burning for so long, the furnace and flask were not hot but instead felt cool to the touch.
The flask shimmered with silver light, and the white powder seemed like condensed starlight. A faint jasmine fragrance could still be detected when approached.
This was the second stage of creating the Philosopher's Stone—the "Alabaster Bloom" stage, also known as the purification stage.
The White Stone at this stage could cure diseases and was a life-saving holy medicine but could not yet transmute metals.
"Congratulations, Luke! Your Philosopher's Stone is halfway to completion!" Galadriel smiled and congratulated him.
Luke sincerely thanked Galadriel: "Thank you, Lady Galadriel. Without your help, I alone could never have completed this stage of transformation."
During this time, Lady Galadriel had never left, continuously using the power of the Ring of Water to gather the water element, providing significant assistance.
Galadriel accepted Luke's thanks and added with a smile, "And congratulations on your soul becoming purer and stronger!"
At this, Luke could not help but smile with joy.
After the purification stage of creating the Philosopher's Stone, his soul had not only been restored to wholeness but had also grown significantly.
If his soul strength was only slightly stronger than an ordinary person's before, it now rivaled that of elves like Arwen and Legolas.
Elves like Arwen had accumulated their current soul strength over thousands of years of experience.
But in just 21 days, accompanied by the brightening transformation of the Philosopher's Stone, Luke had achieved further purification and sublimation of his soul.
It was no wonder that before creating the Philosopher's Stone, Nicolas Flamel was an unknown figure without displaying remarkable magical talent.
But after creating the Philosopher's Stone, he became a powerful great wizard.
Clearly, like Luke now, he had undergone a mental and spiritual purification during the process, enabling him to emerge suddenly as a famous great wizard.
Arwen, on the other hand, noticed the fatigue in Luke's eyes and said with concern, "Luke, you haven't slept for nearly a month. The matter of the Philosopher's Stone cannot be rushed. You should get some proper rest first."
Mentally overexcited, Luke shook his head and reassured her with a glance: "Don't worry about me, Arwen. I don't feel tired now and can hold on a while longer."
However, Galadriel this time sided with Arwen and disapprovingly said:
"Although the power of Nenya prevents your body and mind from feeling tired, your soul will still feel weary without rest for too long. You should listen to Arwen and get some proper rest."
Since Lady Galadriel, as an elder, had spoken, Luke naturally obeyed.
After personally seeing Lady Galadriel off, he slowly fell into a deep sleep to the melodious sound of Arwen's elven singing.
However, before his consciousness slipped into darkness, he thought about the next stage of the Philosopher's Stone.
The next stage was called the "Aureate" stage, also known as the golden stage.
In this stage, he would need to wait for the appearance of Lumbar (Saturn) and also incorporate the earth element to transform the White Stone into a Yellow Stone.
The source of the earth element was the Arkenstone, the Heart of the Mountain, so he would not need external help for the golden stage.
However, according to astronomical calculations, Lumbar (Saturn) would next appear in three months.
So during this time, he would have ample opportunity to prepare for the next stage of the Philosopher's Stone.