Capítulo 386: Tower Elder Maximus
Tower Elder Maximus was, without question, a scholarly genius of the highest order. His mastery of alchemy was unparalleled within the Tower, save for the Tower Master himself. In a place brimming with intellect and ambition, Maximus's name carried the weight of respect and admiration. His passion for alchemy was a fire that burned brighter than any other, an unrelenting force that propelled him to heights most could only dream of.
Yet his brilliance wasn't confined to his alchemical expertise. Maximus was no mere academic; he had climbed to high Ascendant-rank, a testament to both his intellect and his mana. He had reached this pinnacle in his mid-thirties—a feat remarkable enough to ensure his place in the annals of the Tower's history. This combination of scholarly genius and formidable mana rank made him a figure both revered and, perhaps, underestimated by those who mistook his disheveled appearance and awkward demeanor for weakness.
He was precisely the mentor I needed. Not because he was perfect, but because his brilliance and position made him indispensable to my goal: dismantling the Paladin of Void project. It was an ambitious endeavor, dangerous and fraught with obstacles, but having Maximus as my mentor would bring me closer to the heart of the Tower's secrets.
Of course, there was also the simple truth that he was the best mentor I could realistically have. The Tower Master, brilliant though he was, was far beyond my reach. But Maximus? Maximus was close enough to grasp without slipping into danger too soon.
Alchemy itself, despite its diminished relevance to me personally, held value I couldn't ignore. The elixirs, while useless for someone of my current strength, were only one part of the discipline. Runes and spell arrays, on the other hand, were fields of knowledge I couldn't afford to neglect. Their potential, when wielded properly, could shift the tides of any battle or endeavor.
Maximus was the perfect choice, not just for his skill but for his character. For all his brilliance, he was not malicious. He was, at his core, a scholar in the purest sense of the word—a man who sought knowledge for its own sake, who pursued understanding with a kind of childlike wonder. His purity of purpose was a rarity, especially in a world where power often corrupted even the noblest of pursuits.
And so, as I stood before him, I knew that this was not just an opportunity but a necessity. Maximus was both a key and a shield, a guide and an unwitting ally in the labyrinthine schemes unfolding around the Tower of Alchemy.
Maximus's office was a reflection of the man himself—chaotic yet purposeful. Holograms of chemical equations hovered in the air like celestial bodies in orbit, their luminous figures constantly shifting. Stacks of notes and ancient tomes cluttered every available surface, threatening to topple but somehow maintaining a precarious balance. And at the center of it all stood Maximus, rubbing the back of his head as he glanced between me and the floating screens.
"So, Arthur," he began, his tone casual as though we were discussing the weather and not one of the most complex fields of study in the world. "You've dabbled in alchemy before, I presume? Or are we starting from scratch?"
"I have a basic understanding," I replied honestly. "I'm familiar with the fundamentals of elixirs, runes, and mana beast processing, but my knowledge is far from comprehensive."
He clapped his hands together, a grin spreading across his face. "Excellent! Fundamentals are where the magic—er, alchemy—really begins. We'll build from there. But first…" He paused, his gaze sharpening. "What do you want from alchemy?"
The question caught me off guard. "I want to learn the principles of rune crafting and spell arrays," I said after a moment. "Elixirs aren't particularly useful to me now, but the applications of runes and arrays—those are invaluable."
Maximus nodded thoughtfully, his fingers brushing his chin. "Practical and focused. I like that. It's easy to get lost in the allure of alchemy, chasing every shiny idea like a crow with a penchant for gemstones. But runes and arrays—yes, those are fields with depth. They'll serve you well, assuming you're prepared for a lot of trial and error."
"I am," I said firmly.
"Good. Then let's begin."
Over the next few days, Maximus's method of teaching proved as unconventional as the man himself. He didn't lecture from a pedestal or drone on about theory—though theory was always present, woven seamlessly into his demonstrations. Instead, he guided me through hands-on experiments, his enthusiasm infectious as we tackled increasingly complex problems.
"Alchemy isn't about memorization," he said on the second day, as we stood over a bubbling vat of shimmering blood. "It's about intuition and adaptability. The formula is only half the story. The other half? That's what happens when the theory meets reality."
He handed me a glass rod and gestured to the vat. "Stir clockwise, three times. Slowly."
I followed his instructions, watching as the mixture turned from a dull green to a vibrant blue. Maximus leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Now, counterclockwise. Twice. Quickly this time."
The mixture hissed and released a faint puff of steam, shifting to a deep violet. I raised an eyebrow. "What's the significance of the stirring direction?"
"Ah, excellent question!" Maximus said, clapping his hands. "Stirring direction influences mana flow. Clockwise creates a vortex that draws in ambient mana, while counterclockwise disperses it. The ratio and timing determine the mixture's stability."
He stepped back, his grin wide. "See? Alchemy isn't just chemistry with mana—it's a dialogue between you and the materials. Learn to listen, and they'll tell you their secrets."
By the end of the week, I had learned to craft my first rune—a simple yet functional mana stabilizer etched into a piece of obsidian. The process had been painstaking, requiring precise strokes of a blood-infused stylus and a steady infusion of mana. But when the rune flared to life in my hand, the sense of accomplishment was undeniable.
It wasn't just knowledge that Maximus imparted. His passion for alchemy—his boundless curiosity and willingness to explore the unknown—began to seep into me as well. Each experiment, each success and failure, became a lesson not just in alchemy but in the pursuit of understanding itself.
"You're picking this up faster than I expected," Maximus admitted one evening, as we reviewed my progress in crafting arrays. "But don't let that get to your head. Alchemy isn't about talent—it's about persistence. And you've got plenty of that."
I nodded, my mind already racing ahead to the possibilities. The more I learned, the more I began to see how alchemy could serve my greater goals. Runes and arrays weren't just tools—they were keys to unlocking the Tower's secrets, to understanding the Paladin of Void project, and to dismantling it before it was too late.
And yet, for all my focus on the future, I couldn't help but feel a quiet admiration for Maximus. He was, in many ways, the ideal mentor—brilliant, patient, and deeply invested in his craft. For now, I would follow his lead, absorbing everything I could. Because knowledge, after all, was the sharpest weapon of all.
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