The bell rang, echoing through the vast hall. Trial One was over, but Trial Two demanded more: candidates were now to brew a healing potion, simple in theory, tricky in execution.
The assistants rolled out cauldrons, vials, and volatile reagents, and the air thickened with the sharp scent of crushed herbs and simmering liquids.
Jade's tray was set before him. Blindfolded, small fingers brushed over the edges of the vials and cauldrons. To any onlooker, it was impossible that a seven-year-old could understand the delicate dance of reactions, the precise temperatures, the subtle interactions—but Jade's mind already mapped it all.
Nearby, the crimson-haired female alpha examiner watched him closely. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her sharp eyes narrowed. No child should be here. No child should know this much. She tilted her head slightly, skeptical and cautious, hiding her astonishment behind a mask of authority.
The first ingredient had been subtly altered—a near-identical reagent that could destabilize the potion if mishandled. Most candidates hesitated or miscalculated, spilling foam or igniting sparks that hissed and fizzed across the hall. Panic spread like wildfire.
But Jade's hands moved with serene precision. He felt the change instinctively—not as a problem, but as a puzzle. Frostneedle root reacts differently at 53°C than at 50°C. He adjusted the heat with a flick of his fingers. The potion glimmered faintly, perfectly stabilized.
The alpha examiner's frown deepened, her disbelief clear. A child, blindfolded, had just corrected an unstable reagent without hesitation. She could not ignore it, and yet she could not acknowledge it openly.
"Candidate Jade," the elder examiner's voice cut through the murmurs, calm but firm. "Step forward and present your potion."
Jade obeyed, holding the cauldron steadily. His posture was composed, his calm aura belying his age. The potion shimmered with perfect clarity, mana harmonized seamlessly with the herbs.
The hall erupted with whispers—disbelief, awe, and curiosity mixed together. Even older candidates stared, mouths slightly open.
The elder inclined his head. "Flawless execution. Remarkable."
Jade inclined his head politely, voice soft but confident. "Instinct."
The female alpha examiner's gaze lingered on him, her skepticism battling her surprise. She had doubted him, and yet here he stood, a seven-year-old child outperforming nearly everyone in the hall.
...
Shortly after the second round ended, the bell rang once more, reverberating through the vast examination hall.
Then trial three was announced: the Creative Challenge. Candidates were to craft a potion demonstrating originality, precision, and mastery of alchemical principles.
A ripple of tension spread across the hall. Most candidates stiffened, exchanging nervous glances.
Jade stood at his station, blindfolded, fingers brushing over his vials and cauldron. To the casual observer, he was just a child—small, delicate, seven years old, and obviously inexperienced. But Jade's mind was alive with instinctual knowledge. Every reaction, every subtle interaction of ingredients, unfolded before him like a map he had already walked.
The crimson-haired female alpha examiner leaned forward slightly, her sharp eyes fixed on him. Her expression was a mix of disbelief and cautious curiosity. No child could possibly know what he is attempting, she thought. And yet… here he stands, unmoved by the pressure.
Jade selected his first ingredient: Frostneedle Root, crushing it carefully. The faint frost bloomed across his fingers. Next, he added Starflame Grass, its volatile mana almost flickering in the air. For the stabilizing element, he carefully incorporated a trace of Ghost Quartz, normally reserved for advanced apprentices.
Around him, other candidates hesitated. A few spilled mixtures; some foamed and hissed in error. Panic rippled outward, but Jade's hands moved with serene precision. Temperature adjustments, timing, mana harmonization—each step executed flawlessly.
Minutes passed. The alpha examiner's frown deepened, her disbelief growing. A small child was performing at a level no apprentice should reach. Yet there it was: undeniable skill.
Finally, Jade's concoction settled into a shimmering potion, silvery and faintly luminescent. Intricate frost-like patterns traced across its surface, a sign of perfect stability and mastery.
The elder examiner stepped forward, tested the potion lightly, and inhaled its magical aroma. His eyes widened subtly. "Exceptional," he said.
A low murmur spread across the hall. Candidates whispered in shock and awe. The alpha examiner's lips pressed tight; her skepticism remained, but she could no longer deny the truth before her eyes.
Jade inclined his head lightly. "Instinct," he said calmly, voice steady.
No one knew why the child could perform so flawlessly. No one suspected he was anything other than a seven-year-old with unmatched natural talent. And that, for now, was exactly how he wanted it.
-------------------------------------------------------
The candidates were dismissed from their stations, leaving Jade standing alone in front of the examiner table. Whispers and murmurs trailed him like shadows, some incredulous, some admiring. No one could quite believe what they had just seen.
The elder examiner cleared his throat, drawing attention. "Candidates, Trial Three is complete. The Guild recognizes exceptional skill where it is found, regardless of age."
He paused, eyes flicking toward Jade, then back to the assembled candidates. "One candidate, in particular, has displayed mastery well beyond what would be expected. Let it be known that his performance will be evaluated carefully for special recognition."
The crimson-haired alpha examiner kept her composure, but her eyes betrayed a mixture of disbelief and begrudging respect. This child—so small, so young, so outwardly ordinary—had completed a complex alchemical challenge with flawless precision. She had doubted him, expected him to fail, and yet here he stood, unshaken.
Around the hall, other candidates muttered among themselves. Some were impressed; others suspicious, unable to reconcile a child accomplishing what most apprentices struggled to achieve after years of training.
The elder continued, reading aloud scores:
Trial One: Perfect identification of herbs
Trial Two: Flawless potion preparation under subtle disruption
Trial Three: Exceptional creative application of alchemy principles
When the final scores were announced, Jade's name was at the top of the list.
A few candidates glanced at him, mouths slightly open. The female alpha examiner's frown deepened—not from anger, but from the sharp sting of being proven wrong in her expectations. She would not voice her thoughts now, but the seed of intrigue had been planted.
Jade, calm as ever, inclined his head politely to the examiners. His small frame and blindfolded face concealed the quiet satisfaction that bloomed in his chest. No one could suspect who he truly was, nor the extraordinary potential that slumbered within him.
Niamh, standing at the back of the hall, felt a flicker of pride. Her child, her Jade, had done the impossible. And yet, she knew the path ahead would be far more dangerous—and far more revealing—than any exam could measure.
As the hall emptied, whispers of a "miracle child" began circulating, and Jade's reputation quietly began to take root among the Guild.
After the hall was emptied of most candidates, leaving a tense quiet. Jade remained before the examiner table, calm and poised. The elder examiner held a small, intricately carved emblem in his hand—a badge etched with silver runes that glimmered faintly with number 1 engraved right at the center,a mark of official recognition from the Alchemist Guild, recognize him as a Tier one alchemist.
"This," the elder said, holding it carefully, "is the Alchemist Badge. It grants its bearer the right to craft, sell, and distribute potions officially under the Guild's authority. Your performance today has proven you worthy, despite your… unusual age."
He extended the badge toward Jade. Small hands reached out, taking it carefully. It was heavier than it looked, the weight pressing slightly against his flawless palm.
Jade's blindfolded gaze lifted, and for a moment, silence hung in the air. The female alpha examiner, standing slightly apart, watched with a thin line of pursed lips. She had doubted him, expected him to fail, and yet here he was, officially recognized by the Guild. Her frown remained, a mixture of disbelief and grudging acknowledgment.
Other candidates shuffled past, some staring, some whispering. "Did you see that? A seven-year-old got the badge!" one murmured.
"Impossible," another muttered, shaking their head. "There's no way someone that young could—"
Jade ignored the whispers. His mind cataloged the badge's properties and rules:
Official crafting rights under the Guild.
Permission to sell potions to licensed awakeners.
Access to Guild resources for alchemical research.
Niamh, standing near the doorway, let out a quiet breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She couldn't see him in the same way as the others, of course, but she knew. Jade had earned this. Not by luck, not by tricks—but through instinct, knowledge, and the quiet power he carried even in this small body.
The elder examiner nodded once. "The Guild welcomes you, Candidate Jade. Let this badge mark not just achievement, but responsibility. You are now an official Tier one Alchemist."
Jade bowed politely. "Thank you, Elder."
The alpha examiner turned away, her posture rigid, her thoughts unreadable. She would remember him, that was certain. Even without knowing why, she knew this child would be someone to watch.
As Jade and Niamh exited the hall, whispers followed them down the corridor. But Jade's mind was already elsewhere, calculating his future plans .