"This Saint Dragon's Blood..."
The Alchemy King's voice cracked, his throat tightening as he stared at Kael's vial. Around them, alchemists swayed on their feet as if struck—too preoccupied earlier with Adam and the cloaked master to notice the youth's creation. Now its revelation hit like a thunderclap.
Every practitioner knew the rule: the purer the potion, the more completely it concealed its magic. But this...
Even under the Alchemy King's merciless scrutiny, Kael's potion betrayed not the faintest whisper of power. Its liquid held the rich crimson-purple of ancient dragon veins, yet radiated no more energy than water. Only the color betrayed its true nature—a paradox that defied centuries of alchemical wisdom.
Dean Austin's lips parted soundlessly, his gaze drilling into Kael as though seeing him anew. Was this truly a student from his academy? Such mastery belonged to legends, not fresh-faced youths.
"Can this even be called Saint Dragon's Blood?" A trembling alchemist blurted, voice shrill with disbelief. "It's... it's impossible!"
"Kid's not human," Toms hissed below the stage, earning a sharp elbow from Vesper. "Shut it! You want Simon spotting us?"
Grumbling, Toms rubbed his ribs. "Can't help it! That brat's rewriting the damn rulebook!"
Vesper's eyes gleamed with perverse pride. "Called it from the start. My nose for talent's unmatched."
Onstage, Adam's composure finally fractured. His own masterpiece—a potion he'd considered his career's pinnacle—now paled against this inconceivable creation. The youth's vial didn't just surpass expectations; it redefined them. What manner of monster could distill such perfection?
Silence smothered the hall as the Alchemy King lifted Kael's vial toward light. The liquid swallowed illumination whole, yet deep within its crimson depths, faint starlight shimmered—a cosmos trapped in glass.
The cloaked figure's hidden gaze burned into Kael like twin embers. Though the hood obscured all features, the weight of that scrutiny prickled Kael's skin—a predator assessing unexpected prey.
"Absolute magic containment..." The plump host's jowls quivered as he gaped at the vial. "I've never witnessed such alchemical mastery!"
The Alchemy King nodded slowly, reverence softening his weathered features. "In thirty years traversing three continents, I've encountered nothing like this. Not a single flaw. Not a wisp of stray energy." His chuckle carried both awe and self-deprecation. "Even my fullest efforts would pale before such perfection."
Gasps erupted like geysers. For the Alchemy King—a living titan of their craft—to openly acknowledge inferiority? The crowd surged forward, children squealing ambitions to emulate Kael while seasoned masters clutched their chests as if heartbroken.
Holding the vial aloft, the Alchemy King's voice cut through chaos. "Observe—no surface ripples, no chromatic variance. This liquid mirrors ancient dragon's blood in purity and hue. A textbook execution elevated to art." His eyes narrowed at Kael. "Yet textbooks cannot explain you. Mastery like this demands decades of grueling repetition. Who carved such precision into hands so young?"
Silence descended like a guillotine. The forbidden question hung heavy—alchemical lineages guarded secrets jealously. But exceptions existed for phenomena defying logic.
Kael's throat tightened. Behind him, Adam's breathing hitched audibly. Even the cloaked stranger leaned fractionally closer, fabric whispering with the movement.
"Your teacher," the Alchemy King pressed gently. "They must be extraordinary to nurture such..." He gestured at the vial, lost for words.
Murmurs swelled—suspicions of hidden grandmasters, stolen knowledge, even divine intervention. Toms elbowed Vesper fiercely. "Told you! Kid's got a celestial patron!"
Vesper merely smirked, though his knuckles whitened around his cane. The truth, when it came, would rewrite alchemical history—he'd stake his entire auction house on it.
Kael's lips twitched imperceptibly. The Book of Eternity's secrets would die with him. "My mentor swore me to silence," he lied smoothly, bowing with practiced deference. "I beg your understanding."
The Alchemy King chuckled, unfazed. "No matter—masters of our craft often prefer shadows." His gaze lingered on Kael's academy insignia. "Flamecrest's emblem suits you well. Though I wonder... does your teacher walk those halls too?"
Dean Austin materialized at his shoulder, curiosity sharpening his smile. "Our uniform looks becoming on you. Tell me—which department claims such fortune?"
Kael's mind raced. This line of inquiry risked exposing his lack of formal training. Before he could respond, the Alchemy King intervened with a wave. "Let the boy breathe, Austin. Whether student or wandering sage matters less than what he's achieved today."
Turning fully to Kael, the old master's eyes glinted like polished onyx. "'Wisdom knows no seniority, mastery no single path'—your words crystallize truths I've spent lifetimes grasping." His laughter rumbled like distant thunder. "Cherish that mind, lad. It'll carry you beyond our dimmest imaginations."
Heat crept up Kael's neck. How strange—Earth's ancient maxims held power here. He dipped his head lower to hide his expression.
Austin's chuckle held an edge. "Our academy's gates stand open wider for such talent. Should you ever seek... structured guidance..." The unspoken offer hung like ripe fruit.
In the shadows, the cloaked figure's posture shifted—a fractional lean betraying keen interest. Adam watched stone-faced, fingers whitening around his own discarded vial.
Kael breathed deep, the air thick with ozone and ambition. Every eye weighed his next words—a crossroads moment where apprentice myths transformed into legends.