Grem was mistaken. The force of the blow was so great that Valm was nearly shattered into pieces. Those strange crimson daggers, formed from bloodlust, had indeed sliced through the aura defenses of a Battle Master and left deep gouges in his weapon. But in the next moment, the alchemist’s body was sent tumbling across the courtyard’s cobblestones, kicking up clouds of dust. Valm was as weak as a kitten against Grem’s true strength.

  “Master Valm! Master Valm! Are you all right?!”

  A few red-gray ribbons unraveled, revealing the alchemist’s bloodied face.

  “Feels like I ran headfirst into a stone wall…” he answered weakly.

  Valm pulled a fifth-class healing pill from his storage and popped it into his mouth.

  “Sigh, my little tricks are nothing compared to real power…” he said bitterly after a moment.

  “I’m sorry, Master Valm. That was my mistake… When you cut through that log so easily, I thought it was some kind of miracle and wanted to test it for myself, to feel it firsthand…”

  “Don’t worry about it, Grem. This bloodlust of mine is already a miracle… Expecting two miracles at once? I’m not that lucky.”

  The Battle Master sat down beside the alchemist, who was still lying on his back.

  “I wouldn’t say that, Master Valm. You withstood a blow from a high-tier Battle Master. No ordinary person could do that. Yes, physically, you’re weaker than most ordinary men, but your speed and resilience… I’d say you have a decent chance against a first-class or even a second-class warrior. The key is to avoid getting hit.”

  “Ahaha!” Valm burst out laughing and immediately coughed. “I don’t plan on testing that theory. But I’ll continue training. This turned out to be unexpectedly fun, Grem!”

  The bright red-gray ribbons began to retract, sinking back into the alchemist’s body. The Battle Master helped him sit up.

  “I admire your enthusiasm, but you use so many potions… Is it really worth it?”

  “You mean these?” Valm produced several vials of different colors in his hand. “I have plenty. More than plenty. You see, my alchemy teacher… he was a bit unhinged. And during my first year of training, after I finally managed to properly prepare that damned duck, all I did was brew potions. Every single day, several alchemical cauldrons a day. No weekends. No holidays. My teacher… he believed that an alchemist should be able to practice alchemy under any external conditions. I brewed potions in thunderstorms, in blizzards, under scorching sun, or even during his lectures while he explained new material. And in the end, I had to admit he was right.

  Grem, did you know that, according to old recipes, a single standard alchemical cauldron yields fifty bottles of potion? One bottle contains ten vials like these. I brewed thousands a day, Grem. Thousands of these damned vials. For more than a year. So yes, I do have plenty. More than plenty. Ah, I’ve started rambling. Let’s continue in the morning, Grem.”

  Valm got up and walked into the house, leaving the bewildered Battle Master alone. Grem was astonished. The defining trait of alchemists was control—the very thing that set them apart from ordinary people. An alchemist had to oversee the entire process of creating an alchemical product in the cauldron, precisely and unceasingly. Hundreds of parameters, sometimes thousands of ingredients, millions of processes every second… It caused immense mental and spiritual exhaustion. That was why alchemists typically only prepared potions once a month, sometimes twice, if the recipe was low-level and simple.

  Yet Valm had said his teacher forced him to brew multiple times a day?! What kind of monster was he?! Was that even possible? Even a high-level alchemist wouldn’t be able to lift a spoon the next day after preparing a potion! Multiple times a day?!

  But Grem still believed Valm’s words. And he admired him even more. A shiver ran down his spine as he realized he had almost killed this man! What a brainless fool! All strength and no sense?!

  Grem looked at his daggers. Beautiful, fourth-class… had been. Deep gouges cut nearly a centimeter into the blades—beyond repair. Ha! And this was done by an ordinary human? The enhancement of a high-tier Battle Master’s aura was destroyed like a toy? Not a chance!

  Grem bared his teeth in a grin. He’d have to spend a hefty sum on new weapons.

  ?

  Valm stood under the steaming torrents of water, washing away sweat mixed with blood. He felt no pain anymore—the heap of potions and a fifth-class pill had done their job. Only a pleasant fatigue lingered in his body. He wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed and curl up under a blanket, but… He couldn’t. The Encyclopedia had to see the light of day as soon as possible. Every lost day meant dozens of human lives taken by monsters.

  “We’re going to the Trade Guild!” he called to Grem as he climbed into the capsule.

  For the first time in months, Valm left the Citadel, and the road to the city felt unbearably long. People bustled back and forth along the trade route, adding to the chaos. I should go into the city more often, the alchemist thought as he passed through the city gates. The crowded streets were somewhat uncomfortable…

  Manager Pak met Valm in the foyer. How he had known about his arrival was a mystery, but his face bore the usual wide smile, his signature hairstyle was in place, and his clothes looked fresh from an expensive tailor’s workshop.

  “Master Valm! A pleasure to see you! How can I assist you this time? Have you come to sell something, or place an order?”

  “Oh, Manager Pak, today I’ve come with something special and very important! I believe you’ll be thrilled!”

  The guildmaster led the alchemist into his office, where Valm pulled a folio from his storage and handed it over to Pak.

  “Simply incredible work!” Manager Pak exclaimed after twenty minutes.

  “Thank you! I tried to do my best.”

  “And you succeeded, Master Valm! This is the first time in my life I’ve seen such a perfect bestiary of first-class monsters! You didn’t miss a single one of those creatures my guild delivered to you! I even feel somewhat involved in the creation of this grand book!”

  “Oh, come now, your contribution was truly significant, Manager Pak.”

  “Thank you, Master Valm! But I’m a bit puzzled, as I still don’t understand the purpose of your visit…”

  “Manager Pak, I would like to publish this book. Would your guild be interested?”

  The guild leader closed the folio and remained silent for a while.

  “Master Valm, even at the risk of damaging our relationship, I must be honest with you—this is not a commercial project.”

  “Excuse me?” the alchemist asked, stunned.

  Pak sighed.

  “You see, to reproduce all the illustrations, copy the text… It’s a massive and meticulous job, and considering the production costs, such a book would cost several dozen gold coins on the shelves. But this only covers first-class monsters… Master Valm, I’m afraid the guild won’t be able to find buyers for your Encyclopedia, even if you forgo royalties entirely. I deeply regret telling you this, Master Valm, believe me…”

  He wanted to believe him, but… Valm felt like he’d been punched in the gut. This was not what he had hoped for when he came here, and he felt something close to… offense? Disappointment? Anger that all his work had been in vain?

  “I see…” the alchemist said quietly. “I never thought about it that way.”

  Several dozen gold per copy. Valm didn’t have the spare funds to sponsor a reasonably sized print run himself.

  “My apologies again, Master Valm!”

  “It’s fine… Then, I’ll be going?”

  Unexpectedly, Pak once again saw that childlike naivety in the alchemist—just like when he had told him about his goal in the Citadel. The manager felt awful. But the Trade Guild wasn’t a charity; he couldn’t approve a knowingly unprofitable project when the market was already flooded with simple and cheap catalogs.

  “My deepest apologies again, Master Valm.”

  They left the office and headed toward the exit through the trading hall, where Grem was examining a pair of fourth-class daggers.

  “Pick something better,” Valm told him. “Because of me, you lost your weapons… Manager Pak, do you have a pair of fifth-class daggers?”

  “Yes, of course, allow me to show you!”

  He led them to a display case, where two crossed gray daggers hovered in midair, illuminated by a soft white glow. Pak removed the protective spell from the case and took them out, skillfully twirling them in his palms.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “Excellent fifth-class weapons, suitable for both standard and reverse grip!”

  “Alright, put them on my account.”

  Valm took the daggers from the manager’s hands and handed them to Grem. They were nearly identical in shape to his previous ones, so the old sheaths should fit perfectly.

  “Master Valm! This is too much, I won’t be able to fully unlock their potential…”

  “You won’t for now, Grem. For now…”

  “Master Valm,” Pak interjected, “let these weapons be my gift to you today, alright?”

  The alchemist froze for a moment.

  “Mhm. Alright, Master Pak.”

  And he walked sullenly toward the exit.

  Sitting in the capsule, he pondered what to do next. Pak’s words had been a heavy blow to his goal. Should he take this matter to Mahur, the head of the Crafting Guild? No, unlikely. Craftsmen didn’t deal with publishing at all. So what now?

  Suddenly, another idea struck him. If it couldn’t be sold, that didn’t mean the Encyclopedia couldn’t be used for teaching. Of course! Valm smiled and set off toward the academy, where he had once taken a course in monsterology.

  Waiting for an audience with the rector was no easy task, but the alchemist patiently sat for several hours in a reception chair. Loyal Grem stood beside him, his aura unsettling the secretary and the professors who occasionally entered the office for their own matters.

  “Come in!” a loud voice rang out, even through the closed doors.

  “I won’t waste your time, Rector,” Valm said to the distinguished gray-haired man seated behind a broad desk. “My name is Valm, and I would like to propose that your academy adopt a curriculum based on this work. Specifically for the monsterology course.”

  Valm took out the Encyclopedia and placed it in front of the rector.

  The man’s disdainful expression vanished within minutes as he flipped through the pages of the folio.

  “I’m not a specialist in this field, but this work has impressed even me!” he exclaimed. “And I will call the monsterology professor immediately, as he is the one responsible for the course content.”

  The rector continued to read Valm’s Encyclopedia with great interest during the twenty minutes it took for the professor—a familiar face to the alchemist and a former rank-B adventurer—to arrive.

  “Is something urgent?” he asked the rector.

  “Yes, take a look at this! Do you think it would be beneficial to redesign the course and base it on this work?”

  The professor stepped up to the desk and picked up the folio.

  “Interesting… Interesting… A fine piece of work!”

  At last, he looked at Valm.

  “I remember you! You were that older student who attended my course about a year ago! Did you create this?”

  “Yes, Professor. So, what do you think? Is my work worthy of being taught to your students?”

  “Your book is indeed quite good, but… it’s not suitable for teaching monsterology.”

  “Not suitable? Why not?”

  “The entire course lasts only six months. In that time, I cover material on all monster classes. How do you expect me to teach using such an extensive amount of information on just first-class monsters, you fool?!”

  A fool?! Valm flared up inside like a matchstick.

  “Your course, Professor, isn’t worth a single copper coin. A children’s book about monsters would provide more useful information than what you cram into six months of lectures!”

  “You little bastard!” the professor roared, lunging at the alchemist.

  A thin gray blade at his throat instantly stopped his outburst.

  “You do not touch Master Valm, idiot! Otherwise, he’ll be kicking your empty head around town, got it?”

  The alchemist silently retrieved the Encyclopedia. His completely emotionless face now resembled stone.

  “Let’s go, Grem. These fools don’t even understand what they’re rejecting.”

  After the Battle Master deliberately slammed the door on his way out, the professor collapsed onto his rear. With a trembling hand, he felt his sweat-drenched neck. He—once a rank-B adventurer—had just stared death in the face.

  The rector shook his head.

  “You really are an idiot, Professor. You may leave. That was the only matter I called you in for.”

  Valm was disheartened.

  Upon returning from the city to the Citadel, he locked himself in his laboratory and didn’t come out until late at night. Grem watched as a gleaming metal arm pulled a second-class monster inside and shook his head.

  The Battle Master had managed to glimpse a few pages of the alchemist’s work when the rector had flipped through it. He couldn’t call himself a professional monster hunter, though he had faced them in battle many times. Yet even those few pages had been enough to grasp the sheer magnitude of labor behind them.

  Valm struggled to fall asleep. To dispel his bitter disappointment, he had stayed in the lab until late at night, dissecting a monster, but even that didn’t help.

  Had he been wrong, and his work was worthless? That thought gnawed at him. So many painstaking hours, so much effort—all for nothing? How could that be? Should he give up and dedicate himself fully to alchemy? Or stubbornly follow his winding path to achieving his dream?

  Unable to decide, the alchemist finally drifted off near dawn.

  By the time the sun was high, he stepped onto the porch.

  Grem sat on the steps of his house, waiting to see if Valm would be in the mood to train today or not.

  “So, shall we run?” the alchemist asked him.

  Grem grinned. A temporary failure would not break his employer. This weak-looking man was stronger in character than anyone else in this kingdom! The Battle Master, just like yesterday, was setting the pace.

  Running came much easier to Valm today, and he drank his first potion only after the second lap. Yes, his breathing was still short, and his pulse pounded as if it would tear through his eardrums, but the unpleasant nausea did not come. His knees did not tremble. Only his heart pounded in his chest, and his lungs burned. But that was easily remedied with a potion, which the alchemist had no intention of sparing. So, even without resting, Valm moved on to the strength portion of his training.

  Grem was slightly confused, as he still could not decide how to conduct the third part of the training when the second was already nearing its end. In the end, instead of a wooden log, he set up a thick metal post. And the alchemist, as if clad in armor of red-gray flames, practiced simple diagonal strikes and double blocks on that steel.

  The Battle Master observed closely, ready to correct any mistakes in Valm’s technique at any moment—but there were none. Of course, his strikes might have seemed weak, might have seemed slow, but technically, they were flawless. “This is what the alchemists’ control ability means! They perfectly replicate anything on the first try!” Grem thought in admiration. And he wasn’t far from the truth.

  “Master Valm, let me show you a straight strike now, along with a short combination of straight-block-diagonal!”

  The alchemist stopped and took a few steps back, carefully watching the Battle Master’s movements as he demonstrated the strikes as slowly as possible, providing numerous comments along the way. Once again, he was astonished at how flawlessly Valm replicated his movements.

  “This is not enough, Grem,” the alchemist stopped half an hour later. “I want a sparring match!”

  “Master Valm, that’s dangerous. I don’t dare after yesterday’s incident.”

  “Now you know exactly how strong I am. Are Battle Masters so weak in control that they can’t adjust to an opponent like me in a sparring match?!”

  That was a low blow to the Battle Master’s pride.

  “Fine, Master Valm. You attack, I’ll defend.”

  Grem sighed and, enveloping himself in an aura of armor, drew his daggers. It turned out to be even easier than he had expected. Knowing only two strikes, Valm couldn’t create long, varied combinations, so he attacked in a direct and predictable manner. And in half an hour, without his potion, he was utterly exhausted.

  “Thank you, Grem! We’ll continue tomorrow!”

  The alchemist was pleased. After training, even the bad thoughts disappeared. They didn’t need the encyclopedia in this place? Well, someone would find it useful elsewhere! Or the old emperor would finally die, and Valm would have the chance to return to the empire. He truly had to leave after his teacher’s death. Valm had been given an unspoken choice—either flee in secret or serve the emperor like his old master had. He chose the former, and he had never regretted it.

  The alchemist entered the laboratory, quickly activated the equipment on the control console, grabbed the monster in the cage with a manipulator arm, and dragged it inside.

  Second-class creatures differed little from first-class ones. The main differences were threefold. Their cores were orange instead of red and contained several times more mana. The connection between the back of the brain and the core was made of slightly different tissue, providing faster transmission of information impulses. And their muscle composition had a higher percentage of slow-twitch fibers, increasing the monsters’ physical endurance. In short, they were faster, stronger, and more resilient than first-class creatures.

  The change in that connection turned out to be an unpleasant surprise. If Valm managed to invent some kind of chemical signal blocker between the core and the brain, it would only be effective against one class of monsters and useless against the others.

  “Well,” the alchemist patted the back of the creature strapped to the frame, “what will you surprise me with?”

  The creature did surprise him—by its resilience. Valm experimented for a long time on the regeneration of muscle tissue, trying to determine the exact time needed to restore a stable volume of tissue, which he periodically removed from different muscle groups. The discovery was that the regeneration speed remained unchanged until the monster’s mana was completely depleted and the core was destroyed.

  That was odd because, logically, mana should be distributed more economically, prioritizing the restoration of critical organs necessary for survival. So was this a flaw in the evolution of this species or a critical weakness of all second-class monsters?

  Engrossed in this question, Valm cleaned up his workspace and, despite the late hour, dragged the next test subject into the lab.

  And so, the routine was established. In the morning, Valm trained, then worked late into the night in the laboratory, which increasingly unsettled Grem with that ominous aura seeping out of the open doors. The creation of the second volume of the “Encyclopedia” was steadily progressing, and that consistently lifted Valm’s spirits.

  There were other changes, too. Besides improving his physical condition, Valm noticed that his vision had also sharpened. He had never complained about it before and barely understood the details—especially as a healer. But in the mirror, he saw that his iris had changed from brown to amber, and his pupils had first become oval, then vertical altogether.

  Such metamorphoses, of course, did not escape the Battle Master’s attention. At first, he thought Valm was drinking some potion that caused it, but… Along with these physical changes, the alchemist’s reaction speed in sparring matches had also significantly improved. And Grem couldn’t hold back any longer.

  “Master Valm, are you drinking some kind of potion that made your eyes… different?” He gestured vaguely.

  If the Battle Master had asked directly, the alchemist might not have known what to say. But Grem had inadvertently provided the lie himself.

  “Yeah, experimental.”

  “And how is it? I’ve noticed that your reaction speed in sparring has improved as well.”

  “Well, so far, I haven’t observed any serious negative effects, but it’s still too early for definitive conclusions.”

  “Master Valm…”

  “What?”

  Grem took off his hat, which was a rare occurrence. He awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

  “Master Valm… When you finish it… will I be able to get some too?”

  Damn. What was he supposed to say?

  “Uh, Grem, I think it would be harmful to you right now.”

  “Why, Master Valm?”

  “You see, I want to analyze your blood again soon to find the right path for your breakthrough into the Warrior Ancestor class. Your body must be completely clean, Grem. No alchemical compounds in your system, or I might make a mistake in my calculations, which could have fatal consequences!”

  Listening to the honeyed words the alchemist poured into his ears, Grem even forgot to breathe. The Warrior Ancestor class! Valm was saying it again! To hell with that potion and the enhanced reaction speed it provided! If he managed to break through, he would become an order of magnitude stronger than he was now! Grem swallowed hard, his throat dry.

  “Thank you, Master Valm! I understand! I swear, from today—no potions until you allow it! I won’t let you down, Master Valm!”

  “Oh, come on, why are you so tense? Let’s check your blood in about two weeks?”

  The Battle Master only nodded. Valm didn’t understand him. Tens of thousands of people in the kingdom followed the warrior’s path. But only a handful reached the pinnacle, becoming Warrior Ancestors. Not long ago, Grem himself had thought that the middle rank of a Battle Master was his ceiling for life.

  Valm exhaled in relief. That was close. But he couldn’t relax—his one and only beloved apprentice was due to return to the Citadel any day now!