+20 Agony Infusion

+20 Agony Infusion rests in the palm of my gloved hand, a curious weight, its surface polished like black satin. A central core seethes with a quiet violet tremor, ringed by microcrystal petals that shimmer with every breath of air. The case is a slender shard of alloy etched with sigils that look like cracks in time; when you tilt it, the runes answer with a faint, purring hum. It feels warm to the touch, a heartbeat under the skin, as if the item itself has survived a long, uneasy sleep and woke to whisper hints of power. Locals tell its origin in a chain of stories—craftsmen of the old order binding raw agony into resin and steel, so that a weapon could drink the pain of battle and spit it back, sharper. Some say it was tempered in the shadow of a ruined monastery where hermits learned to listen to the slow crack of a world that refused to stay quiet. The +20 mark is not just a number; it’s a promise written in bruised ink: twenty cycles of torment woven into a single essence, waiting for a clever hand to guide its charge. On the field, this infusion becomes more than ornament. It slots into the right armor and suddenly conversations with risk turn into conversations with possibility. Players who chase their limits use it to push their builds beyond the ordinary, to sustain longer in unforgiving fractals, to bend a skirmish toward victory when everything else seems to crumble. It doesn’t merely increase stats; it tunes the wearer’s relationship with Agony itself, allowing a brave heart to measure fear and use it as fuel. The infusion is a lure for the bold: a quiet whisper in a crowded bazaar that says you’ve paid a price for power and are ready to carry it through the storm. Markets in the city breathe with rumor and rumor with price. A threadbare vendor in the dusk sells relics to travelers who rarely sleep, and one tale leads into another about Saddlebag Exchange—where honest traders post what they’ve found and what they’re asking for. A glance at a listing there can tell you whether your coin is worth the risk, whether the night air will grow cold enough to swallow your courage. It’s a ledger of possibilities, a map without borders, where a pristine +20 Agony Infusion can drift between hands until the right owner discovers its next chapter. By dawn, the infusion has moved from palm to palm like a rumor turning into weather. It’s more than gear, more than a stat line; it’s a hinge on which a hero’s fate might swing. When you walk into the next chamber, you don’t just wear the infusion—you carry a story whispered through sigils and heat, a reminder that power chosen is power earned, and that agony, if mastered, can become your strongest ally. Its glow lingers long after the dust settles, promising another test and another chance to prove worth again.