Chapter 78: Surprise, How About the Title 'Genius Alchemist'?

The dimly lit, cluttered mage's chamber was silent.

Master Bellory sat alone on a dusty yet exquisitely soft sofa, his hands clasped together on his lap. His body leaned back, eyes closed, lost in thought.

The room had been quiet for some time—Lyle had long since left.

Knock! Knock!

The sound of knocking echoed through the wooden door.

Bellory made no move. After a brief pause, the visitor outside took the liberty of pushing the door open and stepping in. Such an act signified that the person had a standing beyond ordinary courtesy.

"Master, where is the new disciple of yours?" A voice, laced with curiosity and amusement, broke the silence. "I heard you personally brought him over. What kind of talent could possibly make you take such an active approach? Our guild has not seen a magic chanter join in quite some time."

The speaker was a mage clad in a deep-blue robe, holding an ebony staff. He appeared to be around forty, though in truth, he was only in his early thirties. His expression carried a hint of eccentricity, his sharp eyes filled with keen interest.

This was Theo, the Guildmaster of the E-Rantel Magician's Guild.

"That's because your requirements are too high," Bellory replied flatly, his eyes remaining shut.

Theo quickly noticed the master's lack of enthusiasm. The atmosphere felt off.

"Did something happen?" The guildmaster's usual cheerful tone faded as he took a seat across from Bellory.

Still silent, Bellory simply lifted his hand and pointed at the wooden table before him. There, sitting innocuously, was a small transparent vial filled with a shimmering blue liquid.

Theo raised an eyebrow. Picking up the unfamiliar potion, he asked, "Did you develop this yourself?"

Curious, he activated a spell. "Item Appraisal."

The potion glowed faintly under the effects of the spell.

"An alchemical paralysis potion?" Theo muttered before quickly realizing something. "Wait… Is this the reason for the refusal?"

He was no fool. He understood that for someone to reject a legendary scroll-making master, they needed an ironclad reason. And knowing the rigid nature of Bellory, he wouldn't have taken it lightly.

The liquid inside the vial was crystal clear, almost unnaturally pure. It looked less like a man-made concoction and more like a naturally occurring elixir.

Knock! Knock!

Another knock interrupted them.

"Enter," Bellory called, finally sitting up straight.

The door creaked open.

A stern-looking elderly woman entered, her green headscarf neatly wrapped around her head. Her arms were crossed behind her back, and her face bore an expression of impatience—perhaps even mild disdain.

"Master Theo," she greeted the guildmaster with a slight nod before shifting her gaze toward Bellory. Her tone was laced with sarcasm. "Why did you summon me here? What could a lowly potion maker like me possibly have to discuss with a distinguished master of scrolls?"

Theo's brow rose slightly. "Madam Bareare…" He glanced at Bellory, intrigued. These two had never gotten along.

"Give her the potion," Bellory instructed.

Theo, intrigued by the tension, handed the vial over.

Grandma Lizzie examined the liquid carefully before casting her own Item Appraisal spell.

Her sharp gaze flickered with shock, suspicion, and contemplation.

"Well?" Bellory asked.

Ignoring him, Grandma Lizzie opened the vial, dipped a finger into the liquid, and placed a few drops on her tongue. She closed her eyes, focusing.

Theo watched them closely, confused. "I appraised it earlier. It's nothing special. A decent alchemical potion, sure, but…"

Bellory and Grandma Lizzie's reactions told a different story. They were taking this far more seriously than he had expected.

After a moment, Grandma Lizzie exhaled and turned to Bellory.

"Where did you get this?" she asked, her voice sharp. "The potion's effect may be common, but the method of its creation is unprecedented."

Theo frowned. "What do you mean?"

Grandma Lizzie shot him an exasperated look but indulged him nonetheless. "Alchemists use monster materials to craft special potions, but such potions always carry traces of the creature's essence—what we call 'impurities.' These cannot be entirely removed."

She lifted the vial slightly, letting the light filter through its pristine contents. "But this? This is different. Not only is it free of impurities, but it wasn't made through conventional enchantment techniques."

Bellory nodded. "So, you've confirmed it."

"Yes," Baireare replied, her expression shifting to one of excitement. "This isn't just alchemy. This is an entirely separate system of crafting."

Theo still looked lost. "And why is that significant?"

Bellory sighed. "Since the days of the Thirteen Heroes over two hundred years ago, human civilization has relied heavily on enchantment techniques—especially after the fall of the dwarven kingdom of Runecraft. Today, every enchanted weapon, scroll, and potion is made through enchantment methods."

He gestured to the potion. "But this… This was not made using enchantment at all. It's something different. Something lost."

Grandma Lizzie leaned forward eagerly. "Who made this?"

"He left," Bellory admitted. "A black-haired young man. I never asked for his name. I never imagined anyone would turn down an offer from me."

A flash of recognition crossed Grandma Lizzie's face. "A black-haired youth?"

She thought back to a recent encounter.

Without another word, she turned and left, taking the potion with her.

Bellory watched her go with a resigned expression. "I suppose that was inevitable."

Theo looked thoughtful. "Someone capable of making something like this alone… It makes sense that he would refuse scroll-making."

Bellory let out a tired sigh. "Alchemical techniques require immense magical control. That must be why he was able to recreate a spell on my level, like Papermaking."

Theo's expression turned serious. "At least one thing is certain. He isn't from the Slane Theocracy."

Bellory nodded. "He took a Second-Tier Angel Summoning Scroll from me. If he were with the Theocracy, that would've been entirely unnecessary."

Elsewhere…

Lyle walked down the streets toward his small inn, his thoughts occupied.

He needed to experiment with scroll-making. If his theories were correct, this could determine his next course of action.

"Scroll-making master?" he mused aloud. "That kind of title sounds a bit… risky, don't you think, Little Black?"

"Woof!"

Little Barghest barked softly, wagging its tail.

Lyle chuckled. "How about 'Genius Alchemist' instead? It sounds less threatening. And it fits nicely with my magic-chanter identity."

"Woof!"

The little demon dog gave another eager bark, blissfully unaware of its master's schemes.