Yesterday afternoon in the swamp forest, thanks to the young man's willingness to endure hardship, the man-eating "archespores" were finally eradicated, and the logging district—where they'd originally been forced to stop work by dusk—"returned to happiness."
Then this morning, the alchemy apprentice arrived at the Temple Quarter—Kalkstein's alchemy workshop—with a freshly gathered batch of materials to report in.
…
In the dim underground lab, uncanny laughter echoed.
"Oh-heh-heh-heh, look at these emerald-green magical tendrils," he said, popping one into his mouth and taking a small bite. "And this fresh magical tree sap…" He dipped a finger, dabbed a little, and tasted it.
Watching Mr. Kalkstein put on his heartfelt performance of sampling everything himself like some deranged herbalist, Victor couldn't exactly bring himself to applaud—but he also wasn't going to step forward and offer pointless discouragement.
After a while, the alchemist calmed down, clearly pleased, and said, "Vic, I'm very satisfied with what you brought me. These can be turned into many interesting potions. Choose one out of three, and I'll give you a vial for free.
"The first makes people drowsy. When they wake up, they'll have lost a short stretch of memory from before they fell asleep. The second leaves a person brimming with energy and temporarily boosts mental acuity. And the third—drink it, and you'll become 'enthusiastic.' How long it lasts depends on the body."
The moment the three options hit his ears, Victor's heart thudded faster. "I'll take the second," he said, forcing down his excitement and keeping his tone steady.
"You're not choosing the third?" Kalkstein asked. "Without magic, what use is a temporary boost to mental acuity—are you going to use it to read? And the third is excellent whether as a gift or for personal use…"
But seeing Victor's unwavering gaze, the alchemist—though convinced Victor was wasting a rare chance—didn't press further. "Fine. If you'd rather pick such a dull potion, I won't object."
With that, he began mixing. Victor took the opportunity to start selecting which books he wanted to borrow this time.
As for Kalkstein's kindness, Victor accepted it with gratitude. He understood the benefits of "aphrodisiac diplomacy" better than most. Only a very small number of men could refuse to awaken their primal strength "when there was a need"—or to make that primal strength even fiercer.
He wasn't choosing that potion for one simple reason: Victor was confident that, in that particular field, he was the true once-in-a-century genius. A confidence tempered through countless encounters—people clasping his hand with heartfelt tears in their eyes and saying, "Thank you, master!" "Young sir, you saved me!" or "You saved my family!"—again and again, over and over, forged into certainty.
He'd heard it so many times his ears were practically growing calluses. He'd shaken so many hands his palms nearly did, too.
…
Time always slipped away when he studied in earnest. Two hours vanished in a blink. Victor closed the manuscript he intended to borrow. He hadn't noticed before that it was written by the mage Alzur, describing the foundational concepts of mutation. Today felt like a real gain.
He lifted his head from the pages, ready to say farewell—only for Kalkstein's slightly atavistic face to suddenly fill his vision, close enough that Victor flinched.
"What a pity you have no magic," the alchemist said, unusually serious. "That focus of yours, that devotion to learning… If you had magical talent, you'd certainly become an outstanding mage and an outstanding alchemist."
Victor stood politely and eased the distance between them. "Even without magic, I still believe I can become a qualified alchemist."
"Many formulas require subtle adjustments with spells to reach the best effect," Kalkstein said. Then he shook his head and sighed. "Without magic to assist you, there will always be limitations. A purely mundane alchemist can never reach the peak."
He looked sincerely regretful on Victor's behalf, and Victor appreciated the goodwill.
"It's fine. Being able to walk this road at all—I'm satisfied."
Kalkstein narrowed his eyes and shot Victor a meaningful glare. "There you go again, saying pretty words you don't mean. At your age, when ambition burns hottest, someone tells you you'll never reach the peak—and you don't change expression, you don't care at all?
"'As long as I can keep improving, I'm satisfied'? Those little clever phrases are meaningless in front of me.
"We haven't spent much time together, but it's enough. Enough for me to see through your hiding place. It's obvious—you're convinced you have a way to bypass the limitation of magic and brew high-tier potions anyway. I don't know how you intend to do it, but that 'unknown' is exactly what makes me look forward to your 'future.'"
"…Master, do you really have to tear apart polite words every time?" Victor complained. "You're making this very awkward for me."
Understanding went both ways. Kalkstein didn't mind Victor being a little sly, and once they'd grown familiar, Victor didn't mind being teased either—because this was simply one of the alchemist's ways of showing goodwill.
Ignoring the complaint, Kalkstein stuffed a pale-green vial into Victor's hand. "Here. Your 'mental acuity potion.' Drink it in one gulp. The effect lasts about two hours."
"Can I have the formula?" Victor asked happily, finally holding the potion he'd been looking forward to.
Faced with an apprentice's request, Kalkstein gave a sly grin. "I was just about to tell you—the formula is an extra reward for the next materials trade."
Victor wasn't surprised. He lightly swirled the pale green liquid in the tube. "Then… does this potion have a special name?"
"I never named it," Kalkstein said. "But if we must… essence refined from dried green tendrils mixed with fat… call it '***'?"
The moment he heard the name, Victor coughed hard twice. "No… on second thought, 'mental acuity potion' is more than enough."
…
At midday, as usual, the troupe's cook came home carrying a large slab of chicken, ready to cook and fill the hungry bellies of the troupe. But after setting the dishes on the table and calling out twice, the house remained cold and quiet.
…He'd forgotten that the girl was beginning her solo activities today, and out of habit, he'd prepared food for two.
…
In the afternoon, after finishing the bread distribution in the outskirts and listening to his friend's stirring speech, Siegfried—the Knight of the Rose—had no time to rest.
The Order of the White Rose had only been reorganized into the Order of the Flaming Rose for a short time. Many knights still wallowed in the false glory of the past, carrying remnants of the old era's rot and bad habits.
So as a mid-level officer of the Order, he had to hurry back to headquarters to train the newcomers—making sure they were prepared, in mind and in body, to shoulder the burden of the Eternal Fire.
But while passing through a narrow alleyway, a scene he happened to catch forced him to stop.
On a small path that only allowed a single person through—
"I never yield to idiots," a knight wearing a lily badge declared loudly.
"And I'm the opposite," the young man across from him said. Then he stepped back, gave up the path, and smiled as he watched the knight swagger away.
Given that the knight's attire belonged to the Royal Guard, Siegfried of Denesle had no authority over him—so he had no obligation to remind the man that the "young man" had just called him an idiot with a turn of phrase. Especially when that young man happened to be Siegfried's friend.
Stepping in from the side with an amused smile, Siegfried stopped Victor. "My friend, I had no idea you were a linguist as well."
"Neither did I," Victor said, spreading his hands helplessly. "Not until I started running into idiots. Actually, I was on my way to find you—about that contract you mentioned last time…"
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