"You can cure me?" Victor shot upright, fingers clawing at Kael's sleeves like a drowning man clutching driftwood.
Simon's gaze burned into the youth, parsing every microexpression. Only the Alchemy King maintained composure. "You've demonstrated prudence beyond your years. What do you require?"
Kael peeled Victor's hands away gently. "Possibility exists. Not certainty."
The heir collapsed onto a divan, trembling. "Anything. I'll endure anything." Desperation roughened his voice—the raw hunger of a starved man shown bread.
Simon interposed himself. "Your method?"
"Patience." Kael's fingers pressed against Victor's temple. "First, confirmation."
Alchemical energy seeped into fractured spiritual pathways. Where normal minds resembled broad highways, Victor's consciousness twisted like overgrown footpaths—ancient blockades throttling mana's flow. The obstruction felt... deliberate. Artificial.
"Well?" The Alchemy King leaned forward, cane forgotten.
"Complex," Kael admitted. "But reversible."
"Probability?"
"Fifty percent."
Simon's goblet shattered against marble. Fifty percent—higher than any prognosis in twenty-three years. Victor muffled a sob into his palms.
The Book of Eternity's archives unfurled in Kael's mind—spiritual channel reconstructions, forbidden herb synergies. Unlike the Alchemy King bound by conventional wisdom, Kael's knowledge spanned erased histories and extinct flora.
"Conditions," he continued. "Absolute silence. A firebloom orchid. And..." His gaze locked with Simon's. "...unrestricted access to your magma quartz mines post-procedure."
The merchant's jaw tightened. Victor gripped his arm. "Father, please!"
Simon exhaled defeat. "Done."
Kael withdrew a vial of iridescent liquid—Saint Dragon's Blood repurposed. "Swallow this. It'll feel like swallowing lightning."
Victor drained it without hesitation.
Sparks erupted
"Your spiritual channels resemble barricaded gates," Kael explained, gesturing at Victor. "To force them open requires potent catalysts. The process will be... invasive."
"Whatever it takes!" Victor blurted before Kael finished.
The youth raised a cautioning hand. "This isn't overnight work. Months, perhaps half a year."
Simon exhaled in perverse relief—legitimate treatments demanded time. Charlatans peddled instant miracles. "We accept."
"Two final conditions." Kael's smile turned razor-edged. "My identity remains secret. And you cease hunting Toms."
Simon waved dismissively. "Consider the rat pardoned."
Only then did Kael unveil his formula: "Dragonheart Blood, Shadowvine, Celestial Starroot, Sanctus Berries."
The Alchemy King stiffened. Fingers absently tugging free a clump of beard hairs, he whispered, "Madness... yet brilliant! The Dragonheart's volatility counterbalanced by Shadowvine's grounding properties... Simon! Your boy might yet—"
Victor's choked laughter interrupted. "You'd brew storms in my veins?"
"Storms reshape landscapes." Kael produced four vials, their contents glowing like captured celestial bodies. "Your choice."
The heir seized them greedily. Simon's throat bobbed. "Dosages?"
"None." Kael's gaze hardened. "His body will decide absorption rates. Interfere, and you'll bury him."
As Victor downed the first vial, the Alchemy King edged closer. "The Starroot-Sanctus synergy... How did you—"
"Trade secret." Kael's deflection carried steel beneath silk. "Shall we observe?"
Within minutes, Victor's veins lit like magma rivers. His scream rattled chandeliers—a sound of roots tearing through stone, of chains snapping under impossible strain.
Simon lunged forward. Kael's arm barred his path. "Now," the youth murmured, "we see if his spirit remembers how to burn."
The Alchemy King's eyes blazed with revelation as he deciphered Kael's formula. "Celestial Starroot to channel mana, Shadowvine to amplify its flow, Dragonheart Blood to ignite spiritual pathways, and Sanctus Berries as stabilizer! This alchemical quadrinity could rebuild his spiritual channels!" His aged fingers trembled against his beard. "But the proportions—"
Kael's enigmatic smile silenced him mid-plea. Formulas guarded like dragon hoards—this truth resonated through the vaulted chamber. Simon needed no further prompting, already barking orders to subordinates. "Our vaults hold Dragonheart reserves. The Starroot and Shadowvine—dispatch agents to every black market den!"
Only Sanctus Berries gave pause. The merchant prince's jaw tightened—hunting divine-class herbs required more than wealth. It demanded favors from temple hierarchs and moonlit bargains with forest druids.
"We'll commence upon your signal," Simon vowed, the relief in his voice bordering on reverence. Victor stood transfixed, hope and terror warring in his gaze—a man offered salvation after decades in purgatory.
Kael's retreat became strategic withdrawal under threefold siege: Victor's tearful gratitude, Simon's calculated camaraderie, the Alchemy King's relentless curiosity. When the merchant snapped fingers to summon "entertainment," the young alchemist executed a clipped bow.
"Your hospitality overwhelms." The lie slipped smoothly as he backed toward arched doors. "I must consult ancient texts regarding... berry procurement logistics."
The Alchemy King lunged, parchment scrolls spilling from his sleeves. "At least elucidate Starroot's interaction with—"
"Another time." Kael's retreat accelerated to tactical escape, velvet drapes swirling behind him. Through stained glass windows, moonlight caught his muttered epiphany: "Should've demanded separate quarters."
In his wake, three alchemical luminaries stood united by awe—and mutually ignored truths. Neither acknowledged Sanctus Berries' fatal flaw: their divine resonance required bloodline purity Victor couldn't possibly possess. Nor did they question why Kael's formula omitted the Starroot's neurotoxic alkaloids, lethal in unprocessed form.
The cure's shadowed edges would surface later. For now, hope sufficed.