Chapter Thirty-Five: Alchemy

Beyond the marsh lay a stretch of woodland. The ground beneath their feet began to rise steadily, and following the slope upward would soon bring them to the hilltop where the dragon resided.

But before they could proceed, Ada suddenly stopped. He glanced around, quickly circled a large tree, and then stood staring at the ground, lost in thought.

Shaya followed after him and looked in the same direction, only to see a corpse lying on the ground!

The appearance of the corpse was strikingly similar to Shaya’s current state—charred black all over, features burned beyond recognition, making it impossible to tell what he had once looked like. Judging by his appearance, he’d also been burned while crossing the marsh, but had succumbed to his wounds here.

Ada’s expression seemed somewhat peculiar. Shaya noticed and asked, “You know him?”

“He was one of the magicians I encountered,” Ada replied with a sigh, his eyes distant. “He was the one who suggested burying me in the earth.”

Shaya exclaimed in astonishment, “You can still recognize him after he’s been burned like this?!”

Ada snorted, casting Shaya a disdainful glance, then pointed at the corpse. “First, though most of the clothing has been burned away, you can still just make out the material from the remnants. Only a magician would wear a robe like this. Second, there’s a charred wooden staff by the corpse. I can tell it’s made of walnut, a wood used exclusively for crafting magical staves. Third, his right hand only has four fingers—a detail hard to forget.”

He paused, then suddenly smiled. In that moment, his eyes took on a touch of eerie gentleness as he continued in a detached tone, “Fourth, anyone who’s wronged me—I’ll recognize them even if they’re reduced to ashes.”

The look in his eyes as he said this made Shaya shiver involuntarily. He felt a chill and found Ada’s gaze toward him rather unsettling, so he hurriedly put on a fierce expression and glared back.

Ada didn’t bother to return the glare. He simply smiled, turned his head, and crouched down to search the corpse.

Seeing Ada’s actions, Shaya’s eyes lit up at once!

Of course! Magicians were always wealthy—who knows what treasures this dead man might have on him? As if on cue, Ada retrieved a sheepskin pouch from the corpse’s chest.

The pouch had been kept close to the body, so though the man was burned, the clothing over his chest and abdomen hadn’t been completely destroyed, and the outer layer of the pouch had only suffered some damage. Once it was unfolded layer by layer, the contents inside remained intact.

After Ada had barely opened two layers, Shaya snatched it away, shot Ada a fierce look, and barked, “Hey! You’re my Soso now—anything we find belongs to me!”

Ada didn’t argue. He merely smiled faintly and stood aside with his hands at his sides.

Once the pouch was fully opened, inside was a yellowed booklet of several dozen pages, bound in leather. There was also a transparent sphere the size of a thumb, its material unclear—perhaps glass, perhaps crystal.

Shaya first opened the booklet, only to find the yellowed pages densely covered in tiny, fly-sized characters, some accompanied by diagrams. Shaya was dumbfounded; he couldn’t read a single word.

Ada saw his predicament, glanced at the booklet in Shaya’s hands, and scoffed. “That’s Magickal Script—the language used exclusively by magicians of the Byzantine Empire, taught only within the Church and called the Divine Tongue. Magical journals, incantations, and many of the Church’s treasured ancient texts are all written in this language. Ordinary people never learn it.”

Shaya flushed, glaring at Ada suspiciously. “So you can read it?”

Ada gave a dismissive grunt, making no further comment.

So he really can read it… Shaya fumed inwardly, but couldn’t bring himself to ask for help. He forced himself to say, “So what if you can? I just never learned it, that’s all. If I had, I’d know it too—nothing special about it.”

At that moment, the wretch standing nearby had finally calmed down from earlier panic. Overhearing their conversation, he timidly interjected, “Um… I can read a little bit of Magickal Script.”

“Oh?” Shaya’s eyes brightened, and he beamed, stepping over to pat the wretch encouragingly. “Excellent! My first trophy really is proving useful.”

The wretch hesitated, a little embarrassed. “I can only read a little. I’ve never seen magical texts, only some religious classics from the Church—I learned a bit, that’s all.”

Shaya had already shoved the booklet into his hands. “No problem. Just see what it says.”

The wretch lowered his head to study the title page, hesitated, and said, “Um, it seems to say ‘Lexicon of Magical Materials… Lexicon…’” His face flushed, clearly struggling with the reading.

“‘Lexicon of Magical Materials: Compendium of Alchemical Components, Volume III,’” Ada intoned from the side, arms folded.

“What’s alchemy?” Shaya’s eyes glowed with excitement. “Is it magic for making gold?”

Clearly, this country bumpkin’s knowledge of magic was woefully lacking…

Before the wretch could answer, Ada couldn’t help but sneer. “Gold? Ha! If an alchemist heard you say that, he’d be furious enough to kill you.”

Ada sighed, looking at Shaya with a trace of pity. “Alchemy is a branch of magic. The ‘gold’ in its name refers to all magical metals. Ordinarily, common metals repel magical elements, so only specially refined metals can be imbued with magic. Alchemy, in the broad sense, means crafting all sorts of magical artifacts—like enchanting metal through special means, making weapons or armor with magical properties.

“Nowadays, the definition of alchemy has grown broader. Any method for creating magical items is called alchemy—whether making an enchanted cloak, a magic ring, even a scroll. All these crafts are called alchemy. Two centuries ago, even potion-making was considered a branch of alchemy. It’s said that if alchemy is mastered to its pinnacle—if one becomes an Archmaster—one could forge legendary magical gear of incredible power. Sadly, it’s been ages since such a master has appeared on the continent.

“Alchemy is the most difficult of all magical disciplines. To study it, you must have profound theoretical knowledge of magic and be deeply versed in all other branches. Only with such a foundation can you create magical materials and artifacts of every kind. In theory, a competent alchemist must be an expert in several branches of magic—at a minimum, thoroughly familiar with the properties and uses of all magical materials. That’s why it’s so hard to learn, and alchemists are increasingly rare on the continent.

“Most importantly, alchemists generally devote all their energy to studying magical materials. They tend to lack combat skills and, unless they reach an advanced level, cannot create powerful magical equipment. Mastering the theory of all magic takes a lifetime for an ordinary mage; to excel is nearly impossible unless you’re a prodigy.

“Even if you can endure the solitude and dedicate yourself to alchemy, unless you reach a high level, your skills are practically worthless—a low-level alchemist, unable to make potent magical gear, is at most a learned theorist. These days, alchemists are few and far between because the field is so impractical—the investment of time is immense and the tangible rewards few. I’ve heard that only a few magic tutors at the Church headquarters in the royal capital are alchemists, and even they lack combat prowess, so they’re relegated to teaching apprentices.

“On the continent now, the few remaining alchemists can, at best, enchant ordinary weapons, create lower-grade magical equipment, or craft scrolls of limited power. These have little real value to true magicians, and the enchanted gear is so costly that only the wealthy can afford it—common warriors can seldom buy them.”

Shaya listened in a daze to Ada’s fluent explanation and blurted out, “Then isn’t being an alchemist a dead end? Does anyone even want to learn it?”

Ada shot him a “you idiot” look. “Of course there’s a future in it. If an alchemist becomes a true master, he can create weapons of terrifying magical power. But… that’s but a mirage—it’s like…

“It’s like a virgin’s virtue. Everyone knows it exists, but few have ever really seen it.”

That last remark made the wretch beside them blush.