Arc | Chapter. 105 : Alchemy (Patreon)

Chapter. 105 : Alchemy

Regis’karr wasn’t even mildly concerned about the prospect of losing. The old man had barely been able to produce an S Tier health potion, and Regis’karr was well aware that it had nothing to do with the quality of the ingredients, but instead it had to do with old man’s skill.

And in his opinion it was a bit of a shame in comparison to the alchemists of old, but well, Regis’karr could surmise that knowledge had been lost so it only made sense that the quality had also downgraded. Or well, he had hoped that the current ways of alchemy were better than the old ones, but in this case the new ways were worse.

Though, none of that mattered. He wasn’t going to show his techniques in order to impart knowledge and guide the helpless humans to what was correct, instead it was all to crush the helpless old man that had dared disrespect him repeatedly, and by extension shut up the humans that had laughed at him.

Of course, after his declaration some chuckles had come his way but they quickly stopped given the serious atmosphere.

The old man was looking down with a grim face, before finally he swallowed and nodded.

“Fine, I’ll engage in an alchemy duel with you…” The man gritted his teeth meeting Regis’karr’s gaze. “All I ask is for you to forgive my daughter should she try anything.”

Regis’karr raised his brow, he wasn’t planning on murdering the man in cold blood, but for the sake of an act he chuckled.

“Sure, I’m quite benevolent.”

The man didn’t even dare to huff as he simply just nodded. There seemed to be genuine fear in his eyes as the customers finally realized the seriousness of the situation. The tension in the air was palpable.

“Is this kid really the Hermit…?”

“He has to be! Look at Artol’s reaction…”

“Why is the Hermit a young teen? Last I heard, wasn't it an old man?”

The question was met with nothing but agreement, however, Regis’karr paid it no mind as he turned to the old man. Artol, he assumed, was his name.

“So? How do you want to do this?” Regis’karr asked with impatience in his voice. “Or would you prefer for me to take your life as is?”

The old man shook his head.

“No, do follow me.”

With those words, he gestured Regis’karr to move past the counter and into the back rooms of the establishment, much to his amusement.

Regis’karr didn’t know what had gotten into him. Perhaps it was the fact that he had let go of any pride just to be with Arc, but right now he didn’t feel the need to stop or even the slightest bit of remorse. It was as if he was finally getting a part of himself back, a part that he was missing.

Of course, Regis’karr knew better than to act like an entitled brat now. He had his common sense intact, but right now he judged that he could truly do all of this without a problem. After all, even if his identity got around he’d be able to deny it or even slightly alter his appearance outright, so it was none of his concern.

With a smile of enjoyment he watched the alchemist walk in silence.

* * * * *

Artol’s heart was palpitating, he could feel a constant sweat on his forehead that didn’t seem to stop.

He had offended the Hermit of Draliz…

Of course, at the start he felt like his opinion was fair, and even now, he felt that there was no way for him to know the snobbish kid had been the Hermit, but that only served to remind him to be humble. It was the mistake of his life, and one that he wouldn’t be able to mend.

He had to create a better potion than the Hermit, and he was sure it wouldn’t be happening.

So it could only mean one thing…

He was living his last moments.

“Is something wrong?” the Hermit asked.

Artol shook his head. He didn’t know what sort of reaction he’d get if he mentioned he was contemplating his mortality. Instead he focused on the situation at hand. The fact that they were about to have an alchemy competition, and the winner would take the loser’s life.

He had heard tales of warriors and adventurers that would surpass their own limits during times of peril, and at this moment he couldn’t help but wish he would too overcome his own limits.

Artol had to try his best. He had to surpass his masterpiece, all in order to survive.

As for why the Hermit had chosen to bet his life? Well it was simple, the Hermit was confident there was no chance of him losing. Artol didn’t even think the Hermit would follow up on his word should he win, but at least his own life would be spared.

He wanted to refuse the duel, but the Hermit was also a figure of great power. Not only could he take his life, but the Hermit could also go after his family, which is why he had no choice but to accept the duel.

With a heavy heart he pushed a pair of doors where he arrived at a lesson hall. One with two tables in parallel facing each other, and watching the tables were lines of benches so that people could observe.

This was the place where he gave alchemy lessons, and today would be the place of his death.

There was equipment on both of the tables, now all that was left was the ingredients and picking the potions.

“We shall do our thing here, which potion would you like us to make?”

The Hermit smiled. “A health potion.”

Artol smiled bitterly, already expecting it.

Of course…

His lips trembled as he spoke.

“I shall gather the finest ingredients at once⁠—”

“You seem to be misunderstanding,” the Hermit interrupted.

Artol blinked as he watched the young man smile at him with a grin.

“We shall be making an F Tier health potion.”

* * * * *

Regis’karr couldn’t help but wonder if it was too much.

He could see the continuous change of expressions of the man before there was a sigh of resignation.

“I shall go retrieve the ingredients.”

And with those words, the old man left.

Artol was one of the most respected alchemists probably in the world⁠— if his claims were to be believed. But now, he was under Regis’karr’s thumb, the man’s emotional state at the tip of his fingers.

Regis’karr felt great.

He was more than well aware that what he was doing was morally wrong, but he wasn’t a human⁠— he was a dragon. Dragons had their own ways of doing things, and the most important aspect of it all was pride. His pride had been touched, and unfortunately for the old man, he wasn’t willing to let it go.

So with a smile, he waited.

It was a shame though, because Artol was actually an S Tier alchemist, and yet he could barely produce an S Tier potion.

Regis’karr found it strange, but he decided not to think about it.

Though perhaps if he felt bad in the future, he could educate the man with proper alchemy techniques.

* * * * *

Artol had gotten the ingredients with a heavy heart.

First was dried wheat stalks, the quality didn’t matter too much. It was simply used for its essence and also the symbolism of prosperity.

Then there were its seeds which carried a similar meaning. After were the wings of a Gong Butterfly which boosted the effects of the ingredients and elevated them to what would be considered a potion versus a medicinal concoction.

There were also a myriad more, some helped with mixing the ingredients and others were for flavor⁠— not like flavor mattered but at Artol was willing to give anything a try.

He brought them all in a tray, and the first impression from the Hermit he got was… confusion.

“Are all of these necessary for a health potion?”

“I think so…” Artol trailed off, now no longer sure of his knowledge.

“Well, I suppose any ingredient is allowed so long as the end result is F Tier,” the Hermit said simply. “So I’ll take what I shall be using.”

With those words, Artol watched as the Hermit grabbed, wheat stalks, its seeds and three butterfly wings⁠— then he walked off to the alchemy station on the other table.

Artol blinked⁠— wouldn’t using only that barely qualify the final product as a potion?

The sight made him slightly more sure of himself as he picked the same ingredients and extra ones, first was Forestwart to fully mix the ingredients, then there was Sabreye Tooth, an ingredient that would tremendously boost the effects of the potion, and finally there was the Essence of a Boar ⁠— it’s fully treated blood; it would ensure the potion was F Tier.

It was an overkill process to make the potion but Artol didn’t care.

And not before long the duel began, except there were no witnesses, just a silent room. At least, he himself had the [Appraisal] skill so the Hermit wouldn’t be able to lie.

First mixed he ground the wheat stalks with a mortar and pestle, and soon the seeds joined in too. Artol was extremely focused as he made the finest of all grains that he could, and by the end of things with the use of his skill [Perfect Grinding], the end result looked closer to sand.

But that was when he looked over to the Hermit and he saw a⁠— blast of flame. It was instantaneous but the wheat and seeds had been burnt inside the mortar.

What was he doing…?

However, the Hermit paid no mind as he moved to the next step.

Artol decided to shake his head and continue. He immediately turned the burner and filled a flask with water and the grinded mixture. Then he fastened it to the distillation station where the quick process began of extracting the pure essence of the wheat.

The Hermit seemed to be doing the same thing so he simply focused on himself.

Artol believed in himself.

He grabbed the mortar once more and threw the Forestwart⁠— they looked like brown flakes. He quickly began to press them before adding the Sabreye Tooth, and once it was beginning to look like coarse dirt he added the Essence of a Boar.

Artol watched as the concoction became akin to a thick paste⁠— it was the first time he was doing something like this but all of his instincts told him he was going in the right path.

He strained the paste and got half a vial of dark red liquid, he had long stopped paying attention to what the Hermit was doing, but soon he would be done with the potion.

An F Tier potion didn’t have many steps, but thanks to his skills he had done each one perfectly⁠— even having the right temperature for the most concentrated distillation.

Artol grabbed the distilled now golden liquid and poured it into the flask before finally grabbing three Gong Butterfly wings and stuffing them into the vial.

This was the final step of it all.

With a deep breath he put the cork in and violently began to shake, [Blend of the Alchemy God] came into play. His hand blurred and immediately the liquid became white as it got mixed in less than a second.

The potion was done…

Now he just had to let it rest.

With a sigh he set it on a rack and waited. Though the Hermit at that moment called.

“What are you not done yet?”

Artol shook his head. “Now it just needs to set.”

The Hermit raised his brow but didn’t say a word.

Artol was nervous; the whole process had happened so fast that he was still thinking about it, but as a minute passed his masterpiece was revealed to him and his doubts disappeared.

He saw the F Tier potion, it was a watery red that seemed to be perfect. It was… his best product.

He smiled and turned to the Hermit who was holding a vial in his hand. The contents were… rather lackluster, it was a pale red liquid with stuff in it⁠— it was disappointing.

Artol for a moment couldn’t believe it, but soon his disbelief turned to anger as he raised his voice.

“You dare try to imply your alchemy is better when you show me this?!” he bellowed.

His voice boomed across the room, so much so that people quickly arrived. Employees, adventurers, even his own daughter all stormed into the room as Artol felt uncontrollable anger.

“I have made the best F Tier potion in the world and you dare insult me?!”

His screams echoed.

He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that the Hermit would be such a heinous⁠— such a disgusting thing. He wanted to punch the teenager.

Artol looked at the Hermit who had nothing but a small smile.

“Anything you have to say for yourself?!”

People were gasping seeing  the sight, but in reply all the Hermit did was grin wide and speak with utter calmness.

“The potion is not complete. Watch.”

And his hand turned into flames. Artol winced as the vial was instantly carbonized with a burst of fire.

It had been so hot that he took a step back. Some of the adventurers lightly jolted at the sight. However, all Artol could think was:

What kind of potion would need something like that…?

“Now look.”

And the Hermit passed his hand through the vial. The layer of darkness was quickly removed as a golden liquid was revealed. Artol blinked⁠— his potion was a bright red but this one was akin to honey and when he used [Appraisal] on it he couldn’t help but gape.

[ Health Potion of Ancient Times. Tier: F ]

Impossible…

He turned to his own potion.

[ Health Potion. Tier: F ]

The difference was even told by the system itself.

At that moment he collapsed on his feet as he looked at the Hermit who grinned wildly.

“Now about your life.”

At that moment the whole room exploded into a ruckus. Some pleaded. Others tried to rush in their direction only to be stopped by a wall of flames.

For a moment Artol felt as if he had entered hell itself, and he was meeting its warden. The Hermit with a wicked smile, spoke.

“I’ll spare it. Hope you learned your lesson.”

The Hermit chuckled, the fire was dismissed, and just like that, he turned around and left.

And all Artol could do was blink as he trembled in his spot, he felt relief wash over him as he looked down only to see a pool of liquid beneath his legs.

Oh.

* * * * *

Regis’karr laughed to himself as he played with the old man’s potion. He had decided to pour his for a little trick, but he still got to keep something that he considered quite good for a potion. In fact, it was barely worse than the one he had made.

“So alchemy isn’t as doomed as I thought, interesting.”

Regis’karr mused to himself as he stepped into an alley. Unfortunately, he’d at least have to change his clothes so that he wouldn’t be recognized as easily⁠.

“Oh well⁠—”

And something hit his legs. He lost balance as he looked down only to see a bola, and then came the Mana Suppression Cuffs and a bag was thrown over his head. Regis’karr blinked as he realized.

He was being kidnapped.