The dimly lit mage's study was cluttered with parchment, books, and alchemical tools.
Master Belori sat alone on a dust-covered yet finely crafted sofa, his hands folded over his knees, eyes closed in deep thought.
The room was silent.
Sakeer was already gone.
Knock, knock.
A firm rapping sounded against the wooden door.
Master Belori remained still, making no effort to respond. The figure outside hesitated briefly before pushing the door open and stepping inside.
Such casual behavior meant only one thing—whoever it was, they held a status significant enough to forgo formalities.
"Master, where is this new disciple of yours?"
A hearty, half-joking voice filled the room.
"I heard you personally brought someone in. What kind of genius could possibly make you so proactive? Our guild hasn't seen a Magic Caster join in years."
The man who entered was clad in a flowing mage's robe, an ebony staff in hand. His sharp features and slightly furrowed brows gave him an air of authority. Though he appeared to be in his forties, he was, in reality, just past thirty.
This was Theo Rakheshir, the leader of the E-Rantel Magician's Guild.
Master Belori, still seated, merely responded in a calm, detached voice:
"That's your concern, not mine."
Rakheshir's brows furrowed slightly as he noticed something unusual—Belori's mood was clearly subdued, and the atmosphere in the room felt somewhat tense.
"What happened?"
His playful tone vanished as he stepped forward and took a seat across from the elderly master.
Belori didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached for a glass potion bottle on the table, filled with a faintly glowing blue liquid.
Rakheshir raised an eyebrow, intrigued. He picked up the unfamiliar concoction, his fingers carefully tracing the smooth glass.
"A new potion you've developed?"
A hint of doubt flashed across his face.
Without hesitation, Rakheshir activated his magic.
"Item Identification."
A soft light enveloped the vial.
His expression shifted.
"An alchemical potion… with a paralyzing effect?"
Rakheshir was no fool—he quickly pieced things together.
"Was this the reason he rejected you?"
For someone to turn down an offer from a Master Scrollmaker, there had to be a compelling reason.
His gaze returned to the potion, the translucent blue liquid shimmering faintly under the dim light.
It didn't resemble a typical man-made potion.
It looked more... natural.
Knock, knock.
Another knock at the door.
"Come in," Master Belori said, straightening slightly.
Click.
The door creaked open.
A woman stepped inside—her presence commanding yet composed.
She wore a light green turban wrapped neatly around her head. Her hands were folded behind her back, and her expression was unreadable, though there was a distinct hint of impatience in her eyes.
She swept a glance over the two men.
"President Rakheshir," she acknowledged with a nod before turning to Master Belori.
Her voice carried a touch of cynicism.
"Why did you summon me? A pharmacist like myself has nothing to do with a scroll-making master like you."
Rakheshir's brows rose slightly in surprise. His gaze flickered toward Belori.
These two had never gotten along.
Belori, unfazed, gave a slight twitch of his cheek before speaking in an even tone:
"Give her the alchemy potion."
Rakheshir's eyes gleamed with curiosity at the unexpected interaction, though he kept his expression neutral as he handed over the bottle.
The woman—Lizzie Bareare—took the vial with a sharp glance, her keen eyes scanning its contents.
At first, she merely examined the potion.
Then, with a flick of her fingers, she cast "Item Identification."
The result made her expression shift.
First, surprise.
Then, uncertainty.
Belori watched her closely.
"Well?" he asked.
But Lizzie ignored him.
Instead, she uncorked the bottle, tilted it slightly, and let a few drops of the potion fall onto her palm.
Then—
She licked it.
Eyes closed, she took a moment to absorb the taste, her mind deep in analysis.
"..."
President Rakheshir noticed the solemn expressions on Master Belori and Lizzie's faces and couldn't help but feel puzzled.
He had inspected the alchemy potion himself just moments ago, and by his assessment, its effects were nothing extraordinary.
To him, alchemy was generally an auxiliary discipline. The ability to craft potions through alchemy alone was impressive, certainly, but it was not groundbreaking. It merely suggested that the young man who made it had considerable talent in the field.
Given that, it made perfect sense for him to reject scroll-making—after all, one's time and energy were limited.
However…
Seeing the reactions of both Master Belori and Lizzie Bareare, President Rakheshir realized something was amiss.
"Where did you get this alchemy potion?"
Grandmother Lizzie narrowed her eyes at Master Belori, her voice tinged with surprise.
"The potion's effect may be average, but there's something unusual about how it was made."
She turned the vial in her hands, holding it up to the dim light.
"I've never seen a technique like this before."
Her words carried weight.
"It's common practice to extract materials from monsters to create potions or special-effect items. However, those materials always leave traces—they retain the characteristics of the monsters they come from."
She glanced at Rakheshir and continued in a more technical tone.
"In alchemy, we call this 'impurities'—residual properties that cannot be removed."
Raising the clear, transparent potion once more, she let her gaze sweep across the room.
"But this—"
She exhaled sharply, her brows furrowing.
"This potion contains no impurities at all!"
Master Belori gave a small nod, his expression unreadable.
"Exactly."
A flicker of understanding crossed his eyes. He had suspected something was off but had called upon Lizzie, an expert in both potions and alchemy, to confirm his doubts.
President Rakheshir, on the other hand, looked utterly lost.
"What does that mean?" he asked, frowning.
Belori and Lizzie exchanged a glance.
It was clear neither of them wanted to explain.
With an exasperated sigh, Grandmother Lizzie finally relented.
"Since the age of the Thirteen Heroes—over two hundred years ago—" she began, her voice steady and measured,
"—the dwarven rune technology has gradually faded from existence. In its absence, we humans have developed and refined enchantment techniques to replace it."
Master Belori picked up where she left off.
"In simple terms, every form of magical craftsmanship we use today—whether it's weapon enchantment, scroll-making, or potion creation—relies on enchantment techniques."
He paused, watching as the weight of his words settled over President Rakheshir.
"Yet this alchemy potion was made without any enchantment at all."
"..."
For a moment, silence filled the room.
Then, in a voice tinged with growing intrigue, Grandmother Lizzie asked:
"Where is the person who made this?"
She was practically brimming with curiosity now.
Master Belori hesitated.
"He left," he admitted. Then, after a brief pause, he frowned slightly.
It dawned on him that he had never even asked for the young man's name.
From the beginning, he had simply assumed no one would reject the offer of becoming a disciple to a Master Scrollmaker.
And yet…
"A black-haired young man," Belori finally said.
His gaze flickered toward Lizzie.
"With a technique like this, he might be of interest to you. Keep an eye out for him."
Grandmother Lizzie froze.
Her mind instantly conjured an image—a figure that fit that description all too well.
For a brief moment, she seemed lost in thought.
Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and strode toward the door.
"I'm taking this alchemy potion."
Her voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.
And just like that, she was gone.
Master Belori sighed, a weary look crossing his face.
"She really doesn't change."
Rakheshir chuckled, though his expression was still laced with curiosity.
"It's impressive, though. The ability to create an alchemical solution from scratch and develop such a technique… It's no wonder he turned down your offer."
Belori leaned back against the couch, his voice thoughtful.
"Alchemy requires an exceptional level of magic control."
His gaze drifted toward the potion bottle, now absent from the table.
"That level of control is likely why he was able to develop a paper-making technique on par with my own."
Rakheshir, however, wasn't entirely convinced.
"Master… you don't think this could be connected to the Slane Theocracy, do you?"
A shadow flickered across his eyes.
Belori exhaled and waved a dismissive hand.
"I'm certain he's not with the Slane Theocracy."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because he took a Second-Rank 'Angel Summoning' Scroll from me."
Belori let out a dry chuckle.
"If he were with the Theocracy, that would be beyond excessive."
Elsewhere…
Meanwhile, Sakeer had already returned to the inn.
There was no time to waste—he needed to experiment with scroll-making techniques as soon as possible.
Master Scrollmaker?
He scoffed at the title.
"Sounds a little too dangerous, don't you think, Kuro?"
He glanced down at the little Barghest trotting beside him.
The small creature wagged its tail in response, though it clearly had no idea what he was saying.
"Maybe 'Genius Alchemist' would suit me better~"
Sakeer mused aloud, rubbing his chin.
"If I combine that with my low-threat identity as a Faith Magic Caster, that should be pretty effective, right?"
"Awoo!"
The little Barghest let out a soft whimper.
It didn't understand a word, but that didn't stop it from happily responding.