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Demon Duchess Graemory moved through the laboratory with her usual effortless grace, her black and tight attire emphasizing the quiet authority she carried. The air inside the chamber was thick with the scent of burning incense and alchemical reagents, a mixture of the arcane and the scientific things happening here.

Scholars in dark robes worked tirelessly at their stations, hunched over glowing instruments, intricate runes etched into metal plates, and swirling vials of unknown liquids.

The hum of arcane machinery resonated softly through the room, punctuated by the occasional flicker of unstable energy.

Most of them were working on various research projects, but a select few were focused on one particular subject, that was the black substance Clyde had retrieved from the anomaly he had slain. A sample of something far beyond even their comprehension.