Chapter 393: Purple And Gold
I had successfully crafted the potion Luna had suggested, the one that would theoretically allow me to capture Maximus's intent and recreate his mana signature. But, as with all things in alchemy, theory and practice were leagues apart.
The potion worked, technically. Yet, it had an Achilles' heel. Ascendant-rank bodies, having undergone the first body metamorphosis, were notoriously resistant to invasive substances. Elixirs were ineffective because of the sheer vitality required to impact such robust physiology. Potions, on the other hand, had a simpler problem: they needed to be exceptionally potent to even scratch the surface.
And therein lay the issue.
Poisons and invasive potions were largely useless for those who had scaled the Wall. The transformative process that marked Ascendant-rank bodies made them almost impervious to such meddling. Maximus, as a high Ascendant-rank Elder, was as impervious as a mana-forged shield.
So, I shifted tactics. Instead of creating a single, overwhelming dose, I decided on a compound potion—a mixture designed to grow in potency with successive doses. A few initial attempts to bypass his defenses, subtle and unnoticed, would pave the way for the final dose to deliver its effect.
Theoretically, it was sound. In practice, however, there was one glaring issue: neither Luna nor I were experts.
Luna, for all her ancient wisdom and mythical insight, was a qilin—not an alchemist. She knew the recipe only because of her perfect memory. The nuances of its creation? Not her domain.
As for me? I was a beginner in alchemy, fumbling through complexities that even seasoned Elders would find daunting. Modifying such an advanced potion wasn't just difficult—it was borderline reckless.
"I need an alchemist," I muttered, pacing my room. "Someone with skill, but no ties to the Tower of Alchemy."
The solution, of course, wasn't within the Slatemark Empire. Almost every alchemist here owed allegiance to the Tower in one way or another. No, I needed to look farther afield.
My answer lay to the north.
"Hey, Arthurrr!" Rachel's voice chimed through the call, bright and melodic, her enthusiasm spilling over like sunlight through a stained-glass window. "I thought you'd never call!"
"I call you every day," I replied, arching a brow as she pouted, theatrically forming a heart with her fingers.
"Not enough," she declared with exaggerated drama, before her teasing grin returned. "So, what do you want? Did you call to admire my pretty face?"
"Yes," I said, deadpan, before adding, "and I need a favor."
Her eyes lit up, the teasing vanishing in an instant. "Oh! What do you need? Tell me!"
"I need to get in contact with a very good alchemist who has no ties to the Tower of Alchemy."
Rachel's expression shifted as she tapped her chin, her sapphire gaze thoughtful. "Hmm... actually, I might have just the person." Her face brightened again. "We have the best alchemist in the world in my family! She's my father's big sister, but she mostly spends her time locked away in her research. Still, if I ask, she won't say no."
"How do you think we could meet her?" I asked, leaning forward slightly.
Rachel's grin widened. "You'll come to the North, obviously! Make it a weekend trip."
"That works for me," I replied.
"Wait—if you're coming, I want to meet you too! I'll tag along," she declared, practically bouncing in her seat.
"Alright," I agreed, a small smile tugging at my lips.
Her excitement dimmed slightly, replaced by curiosity. "By the way, you called Cecilia to the Tower, didn't you? What's that about?"
"It's connected," I said, my tone serious. "The Tower of Alchemy is up to something dangerous. I'm trying to stop it."
Rachel's teasing demeanor vanished entirely, replaced by a rare gravity. "Alright," she said firmly. "Let me know if you need anything else."
The call ended, and I leaned back, exhaling slowly. Rachel's willingness to help wasn't surprising, but it was a relief nonetheless. Her family's reputation in alchemy wasn't just hyperbole—the Creighton family stood above even the Slatemark Empire when it came to the twin disciplines of alchemy and magic.
If anyone could help me refine the compound potion, it would be her aunt.
Still, the plan felt like balancing on the edge of a blade. Each step required precision, each decision carried weight. The Tower of Alchemy wasn't a foe to take lightly, and neither was the Paladin of Void. But with Rachel's help and Cecilia's influence, the scales were slowly tipping in my favor.
The storm was coming, and I intended to be ready.
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'I should really ask for their help more often,' I thought as I navigated the winding streets of Luminarc, the glittering capital city of the Slatemark Empire. The three girls had helped me countless times, yet I often found myself carrying the weight of everything alone.
It wasn't out of pride or distrust—just an ingrained habit. Still, it wasn't fair to them. They didn't see themselves as pawns, nor did I. They wanted to help, not because they had to, but because they cared. It was something I needed to remind myself of more often.
As the towering spires of the Creighton estate came into view, I felt a flicker of nostalgia. This place had been my home for several months now, a bastion of strength and tradition that radiated the sheer might of the Creighton family.
The guards at the entrance stood tall and imposing, both of them seven-circle mages. When I had first arrived here, their presence had been almost suffocating. They'd felt like unassailable giants, their mana signatures towering over mine.
But that was then.
Now, they seemed... small. Not because they were weak—they were still formidable by most standards—but because the distance between us had grown immeasurably. Compared to the current me, their power was a shadow of what it had once seemed.
They recognized me immediately, stepping aside without a word. There was no need to present the insignia Rachel had given me—my presence was well known here.
As I stepped into the grand hall, a golden blur tackled me, nearly knocking me off balance. Two soft pillows pressed against my chest as Rachel wrapped her arms around me, her golden hair shimmering in the light like a sunlit cascade.
"I missed you sooo much," she said, her voice muffled as she buried her face against me, clinging like a child reunited with a long-lost friend.
"I missed you too," I replied honestly, resting a hand on her head. My fingers wove through her hair, a small gesture of comfort and familiarity.
She eventually released me, her radiant smile undimmed as we began walking together through the sprawling estate. The polished floors gleamed beneath our feet, reflecting the intricate carvings on the ceilings above.
"Where's your father?" I asked, breaking the comfortable silence as we moved through the corridors.
"Father's at the frontlines," Rachel replied, her tone softening. "The Shadow Seekers have been more active lately because of the war in the East. He's been switching shifts with King Arden to keep the northern defenses stable."
Her words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of the ongoing conflict. The brutal war in the Eastern Continent had shaken the world to its core. Entire cities had been reduced to rubble, and the fighting had only grown fiercer with each passing month.
My master, the Martial King, was still holding the line, somehow managing to stand against Caladros—the infamous Vampire Monarch. Their battles had become the stuff of legend, with witnesses recounting tales of entire mountain ranges trembling beneath their clashes.
But even legends weren't invincible.
The Martial King had been sighted many times at various cities along the frontlines, his injuries growing more severe with each encounter. The reports painted a grim picture—his unyielding resolve contrasted sharply with the toll it was taking on him. Caladros, too, bore the marks of their unrelenting war, but the question remained: how long could either of them endure?
We reached the estate's inner chambers, the ornate doors ahead leading to where Rachel's aunt resided.
"Are you worried?" I asked Rachel as she paused before opening the door, her hand lingering on the gilded handle.
She turned to me, her sapphire eyes steady. "Of course I am. But my father's one of the strongest alive."
She pushed open the doors, and we stepped inside to meet her aunt. The conversation was far from over, but for now, there was work to be done.
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