"Your talent is truly amazing. What if I give you a chance to rise?"
Hearing that, Tharvis was stunned. He pointed at himself and asked, "Me? Talented? Young Master, aren't you mistaken?"
He was just an ordinary person without any talent—something he had long accepted, so he never paid much attention to it.
But now, Merlin was telling him that he possessed extraordinary talent—something he had never even imagined.
Merlin gave a small nod, his gaze shifting to the potion in his hand. "Yes, your talent is truly remarkable. You might think your potion is flawed or a failure, but in truth, it's only imperfect. The black spots are simply impurities left behind."
"But that's not the main point. Normally, concocting potions is something only alchemists can do after studying theory for at least a full year. Even then, success isn't guaranteed. Many fail dozens—no, even hundreds—of times before they finally succeed. But..."
