Chapter 39: The Entrance Exam
The male student, with a mischievous grin, pulled a sheet of paper from his book. It was covered in scribbled notes, a potion formula, but clearly incomplete. A circle was drawn around a blank space, with a small note beside it: “What to add?”
He knew that behind that iron door was a gathering of the continent’s most brilliant alchemists, where groundbreaking and often dangerous inventions were shared and discussed. Such a prestigious event wouldn’t allow just any novice alchemist to enter. Judging by their appearance, the young man and woman before him weren’t even as old as he was.
And he, with his abrasive personality and his tendency to offend people, had never had a girlfriend. Seeing a beautiful woman accompanied by a seemingly ordinary young man, their audacity to request entry into this exclusive gathering fueled his resentment. He was determined to make things difficult for them.
The paper he held wasn’t his own homework, but his mentor’s research notes. His mentor was a professor at the Mendeleev Academy of Alchemy and a member of the Royal Alchemist Association, a renowned figure in the world of alchemy, his expertise unmatched.
Even this esteemed alchemist had spent six months on this research, conducting countless experiments and consultations, finally achieving a partial success—the potion worked, but its effects were far from ideal.
Alchemy, thanks to Baron Bottel Viper’s revolution, was no longer a haphazard practice of throwing random ingredients into a pot and hoping for the best. The complex reactions between different materials under various conditions required precise calculations and estimations, making advanced alchemy a challenging and intricate field. Every ingredient added to a potion required careful consideration and experimentation. Finding a workable solution was a significant achievement.
His mentor had intended to discuss this research with his colleagues, hoping to gain new insights. He, as a student, was tasked with carrying these notes and other research materials.
This formula could stump the world’s greatest alchemists. It would surely teach this arrogant woman, who thought her beauty was enough to grant her access, a lesson.
Rebecca studied the paper for a moment, then looked up, asking, “Could you tell me the purpose of this potion?”
“This potion? It can stimulate a mage’s magical core, temporarily enhancing their mana capacity,” the student replied casually. “So, can you figure out what ingredient to add here? You seem to be struggling to even understand the formula.”
“That’s an interesting idea. A simple and cost-effective approach would be to add an extract of Mana Reed. It’s suitable for initial testing,” Rebecca said, stroking her chin thoughtfully.
The student’s jaw dropped.
His mentor’s recent discovery, the “makeshift” solution he had celebrated with a bottle of vintage wine from his cellar, was indeed to add Mana Reed extract! How did she know?
“This…”
“However, for optimal results, a simple extract isn’t enough. You would need to heat the extract and add a few drops of pure ghoul bile in a ten-to-one ratio. Then, have a qualified Elemental mage continuously heat the container with mana, slowly blending it with the other ingredients at high temperature… This should temporarily elevate a mid-level mage’s mana capacity to high-level. Of course, there are side effects. It will permanently damage the liver and temporarily impair brain function, causing severe headaches. Who came up with this idea? It’s quite bold.”
As the student stood there, speechless, Rebecca continued her analysis, accurately describing the potion’s side effects. His mentor had indeed observed these side effects during experiments on goblins. She was spot on!
“I… I need to inform my mentor!” he exclaimed, rushing through the door.
Inside the room, a group of alchemists were engaged in a lively discussion, their voices a mix of excitement and skepticism, the air thick with smoke from their pipes. The student’s sudden intrusion startled them. His mentor, an elderly alchemist with a wild, bushy beard, glared at him. “Malz! Why did you barge in? I told you to guard the door and not let anyone in!”
“Professor Kom, I had to. There’s a young alchemist outside who, after a single glance at your notes, deduced the formula you spent six months developing. She even offered a method to maximize its effectiveness! She wants to enter the room with her companion. I think you should meet her,” the student explained hurriedly.
Professor Kom’s eyes widened in astonishment. “What? Impossible! My formula is incredibly complex. Every ingredient interacts with the others, creating a delicate balance. How could she possibly know what to add just by looking at it?”
“I don’t know…” the student said, scratching his head.
“Bring her in!” Professor Kom exclaimed, slamming his fist on the table.
The student rushed back to the door, his arrogance gone, replaced by a newfound respect. He ushered Rebecca and Abyss into the room, his demeanor now polite and deferential.
As he closed the door behind them, he silently admonished himself for judging alchemists by their appearance. Some alchemists used potions to alter their appearance. This busty beauty and seemingly frail young man might be much older than they appeared…
…
As Abyss and Rebecca entered the room, they were met with curious stares from the assembled alchemists.
The room was hazy with smoke from their pipes, their faces, mostly elderly, barely visible through the haze. They scrutinized the two young newcomers, trying to discern their true identities.
Professor Kom, his aged eyes watery, stared at Rebecca. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t place her.
He felt a sense of recognition, as if she were part of a distant memory… Who was she?
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