Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

Sylvie sat down opposite Ralf, watching with amusement as Violet used her injury as an excuse to cling to Ralf.

The girl's giggling made the young lady from Nalania quiet down a bit, and Ralf, having caught his breath, naturally shifted the topic to the next action.

“There are still three monsters left, but our strength is currently limited, so I will use my trump card. Vera, girl, I will use some special alchemical bullets to speed up the hunt and ensure your safety. Don't be too surprised.”

Sylvie's curiosity and Violet's adoration gave rise to the same question.

What's your trump card?

Ralf's gaze was fixed on Sylvie's face, and the little girl from Loshutal blushed under such a direct stare. Ralf's eerie gaze lasted for about thirty seconds. Then, it felt as if a dusty tombstone had been pried open, and hidden memories echoed in the chapel along with Ralf's innate chilling aura.

Have you ever heard of the Philosopher's Stone?

Chapter 481 Alchemy and Assassins

"The Philosopher's Stone, capable of reviving the dead, restoring flesh and bones, turning stone into gold, and granting immortality?"

Violet tucked her left sideburn behind her ear, her profile radiating femininity in the candlelight. Ralf could see this side of her perfectly, and he could also see the childlike surprise in Violet's eyes, mirroring the curiosity on Sylvie's face.

Ralph told a story.

……

It was a secluded room, just like a chapel, with dim candlelight inside.

The faint light shone on the glassware on the lab bench. Inside the bubble-like spherical glass, pale yellow and deep red liquids were boiling, and the steam flowed through the tubes into the next instrument, taking on a new form.

It wasn't night there; layers of thick velvet cast the sunlight into faint, overlapping shadows on the walls. The smells from each area blended into a peculiar, strange odor. A mixture of coolness and heat acted on the skin simultaneously—the effect of tiny dust particles in the air. An environment that most people would find unbearable, its sole inhabitant had grown accustomed to it.

It was a fully armed dwarf, tightly wrapped in expensive silk, looking like a nimble little dumpling. Sweat and dust combined to drastically reduce the value of the fine fabric, making this alchemist a living embodiment of stench. A crystal lens was stuck in the silk, providing the strange creature inside with a limited view, making it impossible to move from one workbench to another.

"The product failed; the sulfur treatment interfered with the three simultaneous reactions. We need to find a more stable isotope material..."

"My neck is itchy... I suspect it's from the sap vapor of khatgrass, possibly catalyzed by rodent claw fragments. I need to spend a minute cleaning the wound before this dust corrodes my carotid artery..."

"I'm not sure if this is a failed experiment. The wrapping method makes my skin feel terrible, with lots of oil. I guess my skin must feel like keratin. Is that lousy book even right?"

"What alchemy begins with an alchemist?"

He was the only one walking around talking to himself, his mad tone suggesting that the alchemist had gone astray in the eyes of ordinary people.

"Damn it, if only a breeze could blow in, preferably carrying the scent of the florist from Bolan Street, she's quite a woman... Hehehe..." The alchemist let out a strange laugh, his experiments continuing, the reflection lingering on the lens, two desires intertwined.

A gust of wind blew onto the dwarf.

A gust of cold wind brought a refreshing coolness to the alchemist's burning neck.

He stopped what he was doing, placed his hands flat on the low table, and tried his best to spread his five fingers, which were wrapped like sausages.

This place has been enclosed as a sealed room; there shouldn't be any wind here.

Just as he thought.

"Wind" reached out and patted his shoulder.

Through the reflection in the glass instrument before him, the alchemist saw a figure behind him. A tall, ghostly shadow placed its black gloves on his shoulders. Those cold, gleaming eyes were beautiful; their sinister depths might just calm the instability of Magellanic limestone.

An assassin.

I am now an alchemist in the Kingdom of Montero, a special expert during wartime, and poisons and anesthetics are my forte.

The Kingdom of Montero is currently at a disadvantage, and its own research is crucial, so it's not surprising that an enemy assassin would be needed.

Stay calm, look for opportunities, you can do it.

The alchemist tried to reassure himself, but the next moment, a wave of fear surged from his tailbone, climbing up his spine and stopping abruptly at his cervical vertebrae—all because the assassin's thumb had pressed against the back of his neck. He bent down, and because of the vast difference in their sizes, the alchemist actually felt apologetic; he had actually made Death bend over.

“You are Abdkad Ras, the poison expert of Montero.”

“I was hired temporarily; I’ve only been in Montero for two months.”

"Forget about interrogation techniques, I can't do that!" The dwarf felt his body undergoing an unprecedented freezing reaction.

This killer is a monster, a mental monster.

In a flash of inspiration, he called out that name.

"Armitage, you are Armitage!" the dwarf exclaimed eagerly, as if he had discovered a new continent.

“Armitage.” “Armitage” repeated the name, a hint of doubt appearing in his otherwise calm voice.

He was interested, and the alchemist, sensing an opportunity, seized the chance. "Armitage of the Kingdom of Zwei, the assassin. In Montero, Armitage means non-existent. Your abilities have brought suffering to the entire kingdom. Without a trace, without a clue, we only learned of your existence after sacrificing our entire intelligence network. You have no name; we can only call you that."

"King Killer, Armitage of Zweig".

The alchemist did everything in his power to show his admiration and win Armitage's mercy. He still had value; he possessed intelligence. Yes, betraying his employer—Abdkad had no hesitation; he had accepted the job in the first place for his experimental subjects. Now, now, his life was more important.

"You may now give your last words." The death sentence was pronounced, and this cold-blooded beast was finally brought to trial.

"I still have value, I still have intelligence! I can help Zwei defeat Montero!"

"Montero's eligible crown prince has died a violent death, and the current king is old and frail. (Does such a kingdom even need you?)"

“I have knowledge; I can help you create potions. Amrith’s poisoned arrow was made by me…”

"He was ordered to hunt me down... (but I'm still alive and well.)"

"...You've seen my poison before, haven't you?"

"If you're referring to that strange black arrow in the quiver. (He never needed your help before he died.)"

In the reflection of the glass bottle, the tall Armitage raised his other hand, a dagger whose cold gleam was hidden behind a black glove, drawing ever closer to his body.

The dwarf screamed hysterically.

"I cannot die yet! I still have dreams to fulfill! I will claim the highest laurel wreath of alchemy! I will create the legendary Philosopher's Stone!!!"

"Okay, I understand your last words."

"Wait! Armitage!!! I can help you!!! What will become of a legend like you after the war ends! King Killer! You can kill the King of Montero, do you think the Zwei royal family will sleep soundly?!"

"..."

"You are a beast bred by the Kingdom of Zwei, but you have become too ferocious! When you clear away the obstacles of the kingdom, you will become the only obstacle!!! Do you think you will become a hero? Shadows only die in the shadows! In a few years, your family will receive a death notice, and the legend of Armitage will become a small passage in the garbage history! What will your loved ones think? Your parents will weep and spit on the war! Is it all worth it! I can help you! I can let you return to your family!"

“My parents are long dead, and my only brother and I have almost lost contact.”

"..." Abdkad was speechless at this terrible family relationship. Armitage was simply hopeless.

But I have to live! I still have goals!

"I can brew any potion you desire! Spare my life, and I'll even give you the Philosopher's Stone! Armitage!!!"

The blade pressed against Abdkad's neck, but it was no use. All his struggles were in vain. He could only weep bitterly and accept this son of a bitch's death.

"Two potions to induce a state of suspended animation, a deal between us, a personal deal. I'll trade my new life for yours."

Abdkad burst into tears, tearing off the damned glasses and sobbing as he covered his distorted, ugly face.

"I promise you, damn it, damn it!!"

Armitage stood up again, sheathed his blade, and looked at the weeping dwarf with a cold expression.

"Don't even think about playing tricks, dwarf. Even if I die, I have countless ways to kill you."

"I know! I know!! Can't you see I'm crying?! This is too hard, this is too hard!!"

Armitage clapped his hands; the black glove on the alchemist's left hand was covered in unknown compounds.

“Two days from now, a wagon carrying pottery will be leaving the city on Caran Street. If you’re not in one of the pots,” Armitage said calmly. “The army will raze Montero to the ground, and I’ll shut you up for good.”

The conversation turned.

"After the cleaning is finished, I will come to you, get the potion, and you will be free. You can go wherever you want."

Abdkad's eyes darted around. "Okay, but I have one condition: I want to act with you. After you fake your death and escape, we can travel together."

The assassin looked at the ugly dwarf alchemist, a man who appeared to be a typical Stockholm syndrome patient.

"Although my poison won't have much effect on you, I'm a well-known figure on the battlefield. You're not the only one who'll be eliminated, you bastard. Staying around you is the safest thing. I can still commission assassination missions from you in the future, right? The legendary Armitage's only patron, hehehehe..."

“Whatever you want…” Armitage lifted a curtain, behind which was the pointed roof of another house.

"Damn it, the apprentice who was setting up the lab betrayed us. I knew he'd given up on alchemy at the last minute."

Armitage stepped onto the windowsill. "You're not much stronger than him..."

"Wait a minute!" The alchemist seemed to have fallen in love with the feeling of deliberately interfering with the legendary assassin's actions without dying.

The alchemist stretched out his oily palm.

“Barkin Matos, that’s my real name. I’m an exiled alchemist from the mystical side. That damned Holy Light destroyed the organization behind me, and I still haven’t found that city of exile. But my time is running out, and my research is more important. Meeting a legend is a good experience for the rest of my life.”

"Your real name is Armitage."

Amitachi stared at the ugly alchemist's grinning face. Perhaps this was a good start—the second friend, besides his irritable boss, to smile at him… He didn't touch the greasy hand.

“Ralph Bouler. We’ll go to Cassandale, my home.”

Bajin let out a strange laugh.

"Ralph? What a terrible name. Just hearing that name, I can guess what those idiots who face you will suffer. Armitage sounds much better."

"Do you think I would care about the sarcasm of a madman who's trying to forge the Philosopher's Stone?"

"Hmph, one day I'll show you what's what, you wolf."

……

"Bakkin forged the Philosopher's Stone, and he succeeded?" Sylvie had already moved closer to Ralf, her beautiful purple eyes filled with longing for the story, a legend. The girl looked at the sheriff with something gleaming in her eyes.

“He died. I started preparing for his funeral a few months ago. Only Garrett and I were there.”

An unexpected ending? No, often. The Philosopher's Stone, as the highest achievement in alchemy, is worthy of being called a legend in alchemy. And beneath the legend lies a land littered with corpses.

Legend has it that the Philosopher's Stone, a perfect creation, requires an alchemist to perfectly balance the five elements to achieve an impossible miracle.

In the legends of alchemy, the world has a source, containing five fundamental elements. One day, the source shattered, causing an imbalance among the five elements and creating the world—an irreversible process. Alchemists must find the hidden fifth element, balance the five elements, and reverse time back to the origin, thus creating the Philosopher's Stone.

Fire, water, wind, earth, the fifth element.

These alchemical experiments, a series of alchemical experiments in search of balance, were all harmful to the human body.

Each experiment shortens their lifespan a little. The Philosopher's Stone is difficult because it challenges infinite formulas with a limited number of attempts. Even with many alchemists' notes passed down, the future is still as insignificant as a grain of sand compared to the stars.