"Victor! Present yourself!"
Simon's sharp command sent servants scrambling upstairs. After an excruciating delay, shuffling footsteps descended. The figure that emerged made Kael's brows lift—a gaunt young man with golden hair matted from bedrest, his porcelain complexion and delicate features bordering on effeminate. Though handsome, his sunken eyes held the hollow glaze of broken hope.
"My son Victor," Simon announced with strained pride. "Pay respects to our guests."
The youth complied mechanically, bowing to each master. When his gaze met Kael's, a flicker of surprise surfaced—perhaps at the alchemist's youth—before dissolving into practiced courtesy.
"—distinguished masters who'll—"
"No more!" Victor's sudden shout fractured the ritual. He recoiled as if scalded, voice cracking. "Send them away, Father! I won't endure another farce!"
Simon's palm slammed marble flooring. "You disgrace our—"
The Alchemy King interposed himself smoothly. "Perhaps context would aid us, Master Simon."
A heavy sigh preceded the merchant's nod. Victor slumped against banisters, jaw clenched as the Alchemy King delivered the clinical verdict: "Congenital mana defect. Blocked pathways. Two decades of training yield... second-tier aptitude."
Each syllable visibly lacerated the young man. Kael observed the tremor in Victor's clasped hands—not from fear, but the white-knuckled effort to contain humiliation.
"Imagine arteries clogged with stone," the Alchemy King continued. "Mana enters but cannot circulate. Standard purgatives prove corrosive; stimulants trigger seizures." His gesture encompassed the estate's hidden luxury. "We've tried every—"
"Enough!" Victor's cry echoed through vaulted ceilings. He fled upstairs, footsteps echoing like prison doors slamming.
In the aftermath, Simon's facade crumbled. "Twenty-three years," he whispered. "Twenty-three years watching hope strangle him."
Adam's fingers drummed thoughtful rhythms against his vial belt. The cloaked figure stood statue-still. Only Kael noticed the faint mana distortion around their gloved hand—a telltale shimmer of suppressed spellcraft.
"Fascinating," the youth murmured. Not defective. *Different.* The realization ignited like struck flint. What if Victor's pathways weren't blocked, but... rewired?
As the first to examine Victor and an alchemical grandmaster, the Alchemy King held unchallenged authority. Congenital mana defect?
Kael's perspective diverged from ordinary alchemists. Mages understood this condition intimately—spirit channels bridged the material and arcane realms. If the mind governed spiritual currents while the body channeled elemental forces, then Victor's "bridge" lay in ruins.
While others debated, Kael combed through The Book of Eternity's archives. Rare poisons, cursed lineages, mutated organs—none matched this enigma. His fingers twitched with restless energy.
Simon intercepted their hesitation. "Victor!" The command cracked like a whip. "Submit to examination. Now."
The young heir flinched but obeyed, shoulders hunched beneath Adam's probing touch. Alchemical energy—a practitioner's diagnostic tool—threaded through Victor's meridians. Minutes stretched as Adam's frown deepened.
"Unprecedented," the master finally conceded. "His spiritual sea resembles shattered glass. No cohesion, no flow..."
Kael's pulse quickened. Physical defects could be mended with rare herbs, but fractured consciousness? Even the boldest soul mages hesitated before such abyssal work.
The Alchemy King nodded grimly. "Precisely why conventional methods fail. Spirit tonics induce madness; stabilizers trigger catatonia."
Victor trembled, humiliation etching lines into his youthful face. Kael noted the reaction—not fear of pain, but terror of hope rekindled.
Adam withdrew, palms raised in surrender. The cloaked figure glided forward next, gloved hands hovering above Victor's brow. A faint violet glow pulsed—
The cloaked figure and Kael followed Adam's diagnostic method, their findings identical. Victor's spiritual channels resembled a silt-choked riverbed—shallow, stagnant, incapable of sustaining magic's flow. Small wonder he'd plateaued as a second-tier mage; maintaining even that required miraculous luck.
The Alchemy King spread his hands helplessly. "Were I a mage, perhaps..." The unspoken truth lingered: spiritual mending required insights beyond alchemy's reach.
Silence thickened. Victor's fragile composure fractured first. "Enough!" he rasped, fleeing upstairs before his tears betrayed him.
Simon's throat worked soundlessly, the fearsome syndicate lord reduced to a trembling father. Adam broke the stalemate. "I need texts. Time." His retreat left unspoken doubts hanging.
The cloaked figure's voice emerged hollow yet precise. "Solaris Shadowfern. Legends claim it mends fractured consciousness."
Simon's gratitude curdled to ashes. "A decade's search. Not one specimen found."
When ceremonial gift boxes appeared, Adam refused on principle. The stranger vanished without acknowledgment. Only Kael remained, casually pocketing his prize as others gaped.
"Was there... something else?" Simon's hope had shriveled to brittle courtesy.
Kael's smile kindled embers in the gloom. "Shall we discuss Victor's treatment?"
Three breaths hitched. Three hearts stuttered.
The youth gestured upward where faint sobs echoed. "His spirit isn't broken. Merely... inverted."
Simon's knees buckled. The Alchemy King's cane clattered to marble. Above them, a door creaked open—Victor's pale face peering through shadows.
Kael withdrew a vial from his robes, its contents swirling with captured starlight. "Shall we begin?"