Disenchantment in Deep Shadow
Artifact Set
Set Bonuses
2-Piece Set
ATK +18%.
4-Piece Set
Increases Superconduct Reaction DMG by 80% and Stellar-Conduct Reaction DMG by 40%. When the wielder attacks opponents affected by Superconduct or Stellar-Conduct, this attack's CRIT Rate is increased by 16%.
Stats
MAIN STATS
Lv.
0
4 Star
5 Star
HP
645
717
SUB STATS
Roll 1
Roll 2
Roll 3
Roll 4
HP
209
239
269
299
HP
4.1%
4.7%
5.3%
5.8%
ATK
14
16
18
19
ATK
4.1%
4.7%
5.3%
5.8%
DEF
16
19
21
23
DEF
5.1%
5.8%
6.6%
7.3%
CRIT Rate
2.7%
3.1%
3.5%
3.9%
CRIT DMG
5.4%
6.2%
7.0%
7.8%
Energy Recharge
4.5%
5.2%
5.8%
6.5%
Elemental Mastery
16
19
21
23
Story
Iridescence That Ceased Amidst Glory
It was a flower made of silk, gifted to her by a friend whose hands were as cold as ice. These days, few visitors seek out the mountain manor held by the most preeminent of the Snegovik,
Though it is said that in ages past, many a noble lord would arrive bearing gold-etched invitations to feast within its walls.
The silver-haired maiden was once among them, though in those days she had yet to become a mage in the shadows,
Nor had she knocked upon any gates concealing secrets. She was merely a court attendant following the Emperor of the North.
The idle talk of the fae was always oh-so-stale and wearying. Moreover, being human,
The maiden drew too many gazes from those who were not of her kind, and so she quietly slipped away from the banquet hall...
Unfortunately, the interior of this thousand-year-old structure was a veritable maze, and by the time the girl — intent only on going upward — realized her mistake,
The way back was lost. To return, she would have to navigate a tangle of winding halls and endless stairs, as the moonlight played one trick after another through the windows.
But within this uninhabited silence, the maiden finally found a peace that had long eluded her.
It was not until the master of the banquet, the princess of the Snegurochka, appeared behind her,
That she realized the mistress of all frost and ice had also long since grown tired of her guests' clichés and banalities.
Thus, the two had already turned their backs on the banquet. And so, the mistress showed the maiden the paintings, sculptures, and puzzles hidden away in the manor,
And the silver-haired maiden met them with a wit and acuity that had already set her apart. Finally, as their talk drew to a close,
the princess of the Snegurochka revealed the deft craft of the fae: an entire courtyard shaped from ice that never melts,
With towers rising like pillars of salt and trees that swayed without a palpable breeze, along with pale grass, frost-flowers, rabbits, and even an imposing moose.
Everything unfolded at their feet, like a dream suddenly spilling from beside a sleeper's pillow.
As though she caught the longing in the maiden's eyes, the princess of the Snegurochka offered up a cautionary word.
"Even the ice that never melts is but a creation of magic, and thus it cannot truly endure.
What you see is but fleeting light and shadow, engraved in the blood of those who were once enslaved.
Yet the servants of yore may still perform such wondrous tricks,
while the humans who were once their masters can no longer reclaim their former glory."
At their parting, the Snegurochka princess fashioned for her a flower from silk. Unlike the unmelted ice,
while the vibrant hues of silk might fade, its substance would endure much longer.
As she watched the Snegurochka pin the silken gift to her chest with her long, slender fingers, the maiden said with a smile,
"I thought... you were only artful in how you wield power to shape all things from ice and snow."
"Aksinya," the princess of the Snegurochka replied, "it is never the craft that is artful, but the heart."
This is proof of our friendship. From now on, no matter when, I shall be delighted to receive you here."
Though it is said that in ages past, many a noble lord would arrive bearing gold-etched invitations to feast within its walls.
The silver-haired maiden was once among them, though in those days she had yet to become a mage in the shadows,
Nor had she knocked upon any gates concealing secrets. She was merely a court attendant following the Emperor of the North.
The idle talk of the fae was always oh-so-stale and wearying. Moreover, being human,
The maiden drew too many gazes from those who were not of her kind, and so she quietly slipped away from the banquet hall...
Unfortunately, the interior of this thousand-year-old structure was a veritable maze, and by the time the girl — intent only on going upward — realized her mistake,
The way back was lost. To return, she would have to navigate a tangle of winding halls and endless stairs, as the moonlight played one trick after another through the windows.
But within this uninhabited silence, the maiden finally found a peace that had long eluded her.
It was not until the master of the banquet, the princess of the Snegurochka, appeared behind her,
That she realized the mistress of all frost and ice had also long since grown tired of her guests' clichés and banalities.
Thus, the two had already turned their backs on the banquet. And so, the mistress showed the maiden the paintings, sculptures, and puzzles hidden away in the manor,
And the silver-haired maiden met them with a wit and acuity that had already set her apart. Finally, as their talk drew to a close,
the princess of the Snegurochka revealed the deft craft of the fae: an entire courtyard shaped from ice that never melts,
With towers rising like pillars of salt and trees that swayed without a palpable breeze, along with pale grass, frost-flowers, rabbits, and even an imposing moose.
Everything unfolded at their feet, like a dream suddenly spilling from beside a sleeper's pillow.
As though she caught the longing in the maiden's eyes, the princess of the Snegurochka offered up a cautionary word.
"Even the ice that never melts is but a creation of magic, and thus it cannot truly endure.
What you see is but fleeting light and shadow, engraved in the blood of those who were once enslaved.
Yet the servants of yore may still perform such wondrous tricks,
while the humans who were once their masters can no longer reclaim their former glory."
At their parting, the Snegurochka princess fashioned for her a flower from silk. Unlike the unmelted ice,
while the vibrant hues of silk might fade, its substance would endure much longer.
As she watched the Snegurochka pin the silken gift to her chest with her long, slender fingers, the maiden said with a smile,
"I thought... you were only artful in how you wield power to shape all things from ice and snow."
"Aksinya," the princess of the Snegurochka replied, "it is never the craft that is artful, but the heart."
This is proof of our friendship. From now on, no matter when, I shall be delighted to receive you here."
Sharpness That Ceased Upon Wondrous Creation
It was a feathered quill given to her followers, once used to pen the most absurd of dreams. It was here that the young apprentice, following the silver-haired researcher into the shadows of the world,
Beheld the ruins of a once-resplendent golden civilization, laid waste by devastation.
The towers, frozen in time and space, loomed like giants with shattered bodies, while the earth lay open as a weeping gash.
It was a blow that the master of the heavens had struck, a wound congealed upon the world since days long past.
All dreams of freedom had been annihilated, extinguished as fast as snow beneath a scorching sun.
A cruel reaping met every seed of rebellion before it could even sprout.
Even so, the researcher who had witnessed it all pressed on through the ruins,
Seemingly oblivious to the danger, moving deftly, as if dancing across a tightrope on blades of ice.
"Are you not afraid? The path you walk, the path once trod upon by those before you, ended in nothing but destruction."
"Are you not afraid? The threshold you seek to cross is long shattered, and the stairs, severed by the high heavens."
The silver-haired researcher listened quietly to the young apprentice's pleas for caution,
Even as she continued to sketch the design of a grand undertaking never meant to be.
As they spoke, the researcher recalled that the Domovoy before her was actually slightly older than herself.
But she did not sneer at the fear born of witnessing the collapse of a grand civilization. On the contrary,
She looked straight into those trembling eyes, and into the doubt at the very core of the other's being.
"The fire may have been lit, but what remains today is but its long-cooled grave.
We do this not to take on another's legacy, but to see clearly by the fire's light.
So fear not, for even if we are unable to step into the new world, there will be others after us who can go one step further.
And fear not, for even if we cannot cross the new threshold, our bones shall serve as the next step for others to climb."
The silver-haired researcher, a girl no longer, placed her pen in her apprentice's hand.
The young Domovoy's hand grew heavy, not from the feather, but the sheer weight of the researcher's conviction.
Beheld the ruins of a once-resplendent golden civilization, laid waste by devastation.
The towers, frozen in time and space, loomed like giants with shattered bodies, while the earth lay open as a weeping gash.
It was a blow that the master of the heavens had struck, a wound congealed upon the world since days long past.
All dreams of freedom had been annihilated, extinguished as fast as snow beneath a scorching sun.
A cruel reaping met every seed of rebellion before it could even sprout.
Even so, the researcher who had witnessed it all pressed on through the ruins,
Seemingly oblivious to the danger, moving deftly, as if dancing across a tightrope on blades of ice.
"Are you not afraid? The path you walk, the path once trod upon by those before you, ended in nothing but destruction."
"Are you not afraid? The threshold you seek to cross is long shattered, and the stairs, severed by the high heavens."
The silver-haired researcher listened quietly to the young apprentice's pleas for caution,
Even as she continued to sketch the design of a grand undertaking never meant to be.
As they spoke, the researcher recalled that the Domovoy before her was actually slightly older than herself.
But she did not sneer at the fear born of witnessing the collapse of a grand civilization. On the contrary,
She looked straight into those trembling eyes, and into the doubt at the very core of the other's being.
"The fire may have been lit, but what remains today is but its long-cooled grave.
We do this not to take on another's legacy, but to see clearly by the fire's light.
So fear not, for even if we are unable to step into the new world, there will be others after us who can go one step further.
And fear not, for even if we cannot cross the new threshold, our bones shall serve as the next step for others to climb."
The silver-haired researcher, a girl no longer, placed her pen in her apprentice's hand.
The young Domovoy's hand grew heavy, not from the feather, but the sheer weight of the researcher's conviction.
Moment That Ceased Upon Waking From Grand Dreams
It was a fleeting moment she gave a certain silent alchemist to remind him of every item on his schedule. It was a time before the Tsaritsa, who now rules Snezhnaya, had ascended the throne in Zapolyarny Palace,
a time when the land of ice and snow had not yet, due to the Harbingers, forbidden all practice of the art of alchemy.
Somewhere beneath the long shadow of the Snow-King, a young alchemist with long black hair was finally being unshackled,
so he could conduct research that would defy every single taboo in existence.
To the young man, the world was but an assemblage of elements, and meaning was something that could only be found on the material plane.
To him, life was but an accidental puzzle assembled by nature over millennia, a mosaic that human intellect, reigning sovereign over all, could freely cut and paste at will.
And thus he grew wings on four-legged beasts, and insect wings and casques on tigers and leopards.
Though his reshaping of life impressed many of his peers, he remained unsatisfied.
After all, beasts were but lives governed by witless souls, whereas the vessels of those possessing intellect should be far more complex and fascinating.
Finally, in a move that was all but suicide, he turned his hands toward the fae, who still held power at that time.
This should have been the end of the young man's life. Instead, his crimes drew the attention of the Snow-King,
who sent him to labor at the institute where all taboos are touched, and where lines were mere suggestions and the basis for further experiments.
It was on that very afternoon that the gloomy alchemist first met the silver-haired maiden.
However, her gentle words and tenderness only wounded his pride.
Driven by spite, or perhaps by a desire to provoke her into fear and drive her away,
the alchemist used the brief moment of their handshake to work a secret art, causing an ear to grow within her palm.
"Ah, I see now, so this is the art you have mastered.
This will be of great use to our endeavor indeed."
The maiden covered her mouth with the hand that bore the ear and whispered to it.
It was only when she saw the confusion on the alchemist's face that she realized he could not hear through the ear in her palm.
It was, after all, meant to be just a temporary modification of the flesh using secret arts, nothing more than a loathsome prank.
The extra organ soon fell away like a scab, dissolving into a puddle of mud. The maiden, however, felt a trace of regret.
"That was quite fascinating. However, you should understand that there are strict rules and procedures in this place.
The next time you intend to attempt such a thing, remember to submit a request to me beforehand. Also,
Time is short, and your schedule is written here."
The encounter left the dark-haired young man in a trancelike state for the rest of the afternoon.
In this daze, he perceived something invisible, something intangible, that rose above material life,
And the world was no longer a mere puzzle of countless accidents haphazardly pieced together.
Within it, he found something that stung, yet also stirred yearning within him...
a time when the land of ice and snow had not yet, due to the Harbingers, forbidden all practice of the art of alchemy.
Somewhere beneath the long shadow of the Snow-King, a young alchemist with long black hair was finally being unshackled,
so he could conduct research that would defy every single taboo in existence.
To the young man, the world was but an assemblage of elements, and meaning was something that could only be found on the material plane.
To him, life was but an accidental puzzle assembled by nature over millennia, a mosaic that human intellect, reigning sovereign over all, could freely cut and paste at will.
And thus he grew wings on four-legged beasts, and insect wings and casques on tigers and leopards.
Though his reshaping of life impressed many of his peers, he remained unsatisfied.
After all, beasts were but lives governed by witless souls, whereas the vessels of those possessing intellect should be far more complex and fascinating.
Finally, in a move that was all but suicide, he turned his hands toward the fae, who still held power at that time.
This should have been the end of the young man's life. Instead, his crimes drew the attention of the Snow-King,
who sent him to labor at the institute where all taboos are touched, and where lines were mere suggestions and the basis for further experiments.
It was on that very afternoon that the gloomy alchemist first met the silver-haired maiden.
However, her gentle words and tenderness only wounded his pride.
Driven by spite, or perhaps by a desire to provoke her into fear and drive her away,
the alchemist used the brief moment of their handshake to work a secret art, causing an ear to grow within her palm.
"Ah, I see now, so this is the art you have mastered.
This will be of great use to our endeavor indeed."
The maiden covered her mouth with the hand that bore the ear and whispered to it.
It was only when she saw the confusion on the alchemist's face that she realized he could not hear through the ear in her palm.
It was, after all, meant to be just a temporary modification of the flesh using secret arts, nothing more than a loathsome prank.
The extra organ soon fell away like a scab, dissolving into a puddle of mud. The maiden, however, felt a trace of regret.
"That was quite fascinating. However, you should understand that there are strict rules and procedures in this place.
The next time you intend to attempt such a thing, remember to submit a request to me beforehand. Also,
Time is short, and your schedule is written here."
The encounter left the dark-haired young man in a trancelike state for the rest of the afternoon.
In this daze, he perceived something invisible, something intangible, that rose above material life,
And the world was no longer a mere puzzle of countless accidents haphazardly pieced together.
Within it, he found something that stung, yet also stirred yearning within him...
Ovations That Ceased Upon Festivity
It was a goblet of wine she had accepted in celebration from the hands of a colleague. There was a time when primordial venom and primal light clashed in a corner unseen by the heavens' gaze.
If a love, a fervor, and an ambition just greater than the world itself were to take shape — they had to be born and kindled in a place unseen by any eye.
It was a design that could not endure the slightest deviation in its course, and an experiment that stood but a hair's breadth from world-spanning madness.
It was almost as if someone had stayed the hand of fate itself, forcing coin toss after coin toss until the desired outcome was reached.
Or perhaps, only through upheaval at the periphery can certain possibilities pass through layer upon layer of constraint, and be captured and brought into being by a plan most absurd.
Once upon a time, at the behest of a Snow-King burdened by sin and remorse, a group of people was assembled and tasked with a single purpose:
To seek the stairway leading to the vacant seat in the court of the stars, a passage to a place where worry and sorrow would no longer trouble them ever again.
Countless days and nights of toil passed, as the Snow-King's company was driven through an unending succession of forbidden acts and descents into the ruins of ancient civilizations,
all to trace the faint outline of a dream once shaped by a primordial golden realm, and bring forth a vast embryo long hidden in shadow.
The ancient Domovoy Alvis cast his gaze past the princess of the Snegurochka and the brooding long-haired alchemist as he rose from his high stool.
An amiable yet unloving old man, the great lord of Kitezhgrad who had monopolized the city's mining industry since its founding, raised his wine cup toward her and said,
"It is hard to imagine such a great undertaking ultimately being led and completed by humans. But we are all aware of what you have given,
such that you could reach, and even surpass, everything left by those who came before in the blink of a single lifetime, Aksinya.
And you have every right to take pride in this achievement."
It could not have been easy for the Domovoy lord, who had always held humanity in little regard, to make such a pronouncement.
The girl recalled their very first encounter, the deep disgust and fear of humankind barely concealed in his eyes.
But none of that mattered any longer, for the fae's hopes and resentments were of no consequence next to the Snow-King's grand dream.
Besides, this Domovoy, who had appeared time and again throughout the history of the snowbound kingdom, had all along freely imparted all he knew to her,
And he had also provided counsel on many a matter. In some sense, he had already become both mentor and friend to the silver-haired girl.
And so she, too, raised her goblet, spilling a little of the bitterness that had been poured into it along the way.
In the Domovoy's eyes, Aksinya saw a warm, earnest affection, one an elder might feel toward a younger.
If a love, a fervor, and an ambition just greater than the world itself were to take shape — they had to be born and kindled in a place unseen by any eye.
It was a design that could not endure the slightest deviation in its course, and an experiment that stood but a hair's breadth from world-spanning madness.
It was almost as if someone had stayed the hand of fate itself, forcing coin toss after coin toss until the desired outcome was reached.
Or perhaps, only through upheaval at the periphery can certain possibilities pass through layer upon layer of constraint, and be captured and brought into being by a plan most absurd.
Once upon a time, at the behest of a Snow-King burdened by sin and remorse, a group of people was assembled and tasked with a single purpose:
To seek the stairway leading to the vacant seat in the court of the stars, a passage to a place where worry and sorrow would no longer trouble them ever again.
Countless days and nights of toil passed, as the Snow-King's company was driven through an unending succession of forbidden acts and descents into the ruins of ancient civilizations,
all to trace the faint outline of a dream once shaped by a primordial golden realm, and bring forth a vast embryo long hidden in shadow.
The ancient Domovoy Alvis cast his gaze past the princess of the Snegurochka and the brooding long-haired alchemist as he rose from his high stool.
An amiable yet unloving old man, the great lord of Kitezhgrad who had monopolized the city's mining industry since its founding, raised his wine cup toward her and said,
"It is hard to imagine such a great undertaking ultimately being led and completed by humans. But we are all aware of what you have given,
such that you could reach, and even surpass, everything left by those who came before in the blink of a single lifetime, Aksinya.
And you have every right to take pride in this achievement."
It could not have been easy for the Domovoy lord, who had always held humanity in little regard, to make such a pronouncement.
The girl recalled their very first encounter, the deep disgust and fear of humankind barely concealed in his eyes.
But none of that mattered any longer, for the fae's hopes and resentments were of no consequence next to the Snow-King's grand dream.
Besides, this Domovoy, who had appeared time and again throughout the history of the snowbound kingdom, had all along freely imparted all he knew to her,
And he had also provided counsel on many a matter. In some sense, he had already become both mentor and friend to the silver-haired girl.
And so she, too, raised her goblet, spilling a little of the bitterness that had been poured into it along the way.
In the Domovoy's eyes, Aksinya saw a warm, earnest affection, one an elder might feel toward a younger.
Pendulum That Ceased Amidst a Great Fall
It was a delicate trinket awarded to her in praise by the hand of her only master. It was a gift from the towering man upon the throne, given in celebration of her birth.
To the lord of ice and frost, whose years spanned the long ages, the blossoming of a human life passes in a mere blink of an eye.
He still remembered wandering in that world of shadows.
There, he recalled, lay the shattered golden homeland, the mother he had never met.
It was there that he discovered the secrets of the Hyperboreans that had been buried in the deepest reaches,
finding the answers about himself that he had pursued for thousands of years.
But nothing he learned was enough to free him from the endless pain and doubt,
for more often than not, wisdom is but a curse in disguise.
Countless times thereafter, he walked the ruins in the shadows, pondering whether he should shoulder such a burden...
For in this day and age, none remained who would demand the responsibilities and burdens he had been made to bear.
That is, until one day, he passed by a broken structure filled with life-sustaining devices from ages past.
Those must have been the efforts of the ancients to endure into the future, he thought, as the blade of the heavens hung ever lower over them.
Though he had seen such devices in the distant past,
the ones he encountered then were either broken or had otherwise failed.
This time was different. Among the darkened devices, one suddenly flickered to life, as if it had sensed something.
It was like a random number appearing in a cold calculation — a small, otherwise insignificant blip suddenly magnified beyond all proportion.
He opened the fragile hatch as if opening a treasure chest.
And inside he found, unconscious, yet still alive...
A silver-haired infant.
"Thank you for the gift," said the young lady as she sat upright and touched the fresh piercing in her ear. Her earlobes were still burning a little.
The king of the north returned to the present moment. The young lady, who was all grown up, spoke her thanks with a hint of probing intent.
"What can I give you in return?" She asked.
It was a question to which no answer was really needed. But all of a sudden,
a long, lingering sadness settled over his thoughts like frost,
and in the end, he relented and told the young maiden of the vision he had once held, or perhaps had held for far too long...
To the lord of ice and frost, whose years spanned the long ages, the blossoming of a human life passes in a mere blink of an eye.
He still remembered wandering in that world of shadows.
There, he recalled, lay the shattered golden homeland, the mother he had never met.
It was there that he discovered the secrets of the Hyperboreans that had been buried in the deepest reaches,
finding the answers about himself that he had pursued for thousands of years.
But nothing he learned was enough to free him from the endless pain and doubt,
for more often than not, wisdom is but a curse in disguise.
Countless times thereafter, he walked the ruins in the shadows, pondering whether he should shoulder such a burden...
For in this day and age, none remained who would demand the responsibilities and burdens he had been made to bear.
That is, until one day, he passed by a broken structure filled with life-sustaining devices from ages past.
Those must have been the efforts of the ancients to endure into the future, he thought, as the blade of the heavens hung ever lower over them.
Though he had seen such devices in the distant past,
the ones he encountered then were either broken or had otherwise failed.
This time was different. Among the darkened devices, one suddenly flickered to life, as if it had sensed something.
It was like a random number appearing in a cold calculation — a small, otherwise insignificant blip suddenly magnified beyond all proportion.
He opened the fragile hatch as if opening a treasure chest.
And inside he found, unconscious, yet still alive...
A silver-haired infant.
"Thank you for the gift," said the young lady as she sat upright and touched the fresh piercing in her ear. Her earlobes were still burning a little.
The king of the north returned to the present moment. The young lady, who was all grown up, spoke her thanks with a hint of probing intent.
"What can I give you in return?" She asked.
It was a question to which no answer was really needed. But all of a sudden,
a long, lingering sadness settled over his thoughts like frost,
and in the end, he relented and told the young maiden of the vision he had once held, or perhaps had held for far too long...