Chapter 74: Act 10 – Alchemy
Brendel found himself at an open space in a golden fir forest, bathed in the midday sun, where he saw the people the Riders had brought to meet him—not just one, but a group. He slid down the slope of the fir-clad hill, following the mercenary guide, and as he stepped out of the forest, he spotted about a dozen weary-looking individuals scattered across the clearing—two or three of them with horses, some bandaged up, and mostly wearing thick leather armor or tightly fitted chainmail, with a colorful small round shield and longsword hanging from their belts—looking like mercenaries, much like Mano and the others.
Not far away stood their leader beside Julian. Brendel had to admit he had rarely seen such a robust man in the southern region of Golan-Elsen, likely a native of Anlek, or at least of that bloodline—he sported a notable reddish-brown beard, had a square face, and a scar on his brow. He wore an open shirt, rolled up to above his elbows, revealing a physique of knotted muscles.
This man seemed very confident in his strength; otherwise, he would not merely be clad in a simple leather shoulder guard and lacking much armor overall. His weapon was a series of hand axes hanging from his belt, a common weapon among local Anlek warriors, suitable for both close combat and throwing for surprise attacks.
When this berserker-like man saw Brendel, he respectfully removed his hat and inclined his head, “Noble Knight, greetings. I’m here solely to represent the Red Wolf Mercenary and express my respect to you. I am their leader, Balthom.”
Balthom meant ‘red, crimson’ in Anlek, further confirming his origin to Brendel. He placed a hand on his sword hilt, discreetly nodded, and eyed the man, waiting for him to state his intentions.
At this moment, Brendel’s identity was that of a noble knight whispered among the refugees, and maintaining this identity was beneficial for him during this season—therefore, he neither affirmed nor denied it, instead opting to convey an air of intrigue, a sense of mystery that would aid him in establishing authority among them.
Balthom sensed Brendel’s ambiguity and hesitantly asked, “Noble Knight, are you trying to lead these refugees away from the pursuit of the Madara army?”
Brendel glanced at him and nodded.
“In that case, may I ask if you are short on manpower?”
“What? You want to join us?” Brendel was taken aback, quickly realizing these mercenaries were most likely retreating from the Sharpstone Valley, weary and in need of protection.
So, the fight between the White Mane Swordsmen and the ‘Dead Maggot’ Magus must have concluded, and given the situation, Lukesons should have been defeated.
Brendel lifted his gaze, peering through the layers of fir trees ahead, falling upon the rolling mountains outside. He thought that the retreating refugees and the soldiers of the White Mane Swordsmen would likely arrive here, which would only expand the number of refugees.
Seeing the young nobleman pressing a hand against his sword, lost in thought as he stared ahead, Balthom felt a twinge of anxiety. He quickly replied, “Yes, Noble Knight, we only need a little food and medicine, and after some rest, we can fight for you.”
“What is the situation up ahead?” Brendel suddenly inquired.
Balthom was momentarily stunned.
“I mean the Sharpstone Valley, how many undead forces of Madara are there?”
“Countless, my lord. There are hordes of skeleton cavalry; they have been pursuing us since nightfall, driving the refugees forward. That bastard Lukesons didn’t hold them off at all; he was routed all the way, then ambushed by large groups of monsters, nearly wiped out.”
Brendel was not surprised by Lukesons’ performance; the ‘Tiger’ Lukesons was indeed one of the finest generals of the White Mane Legion, yet he could not escape the historical limits; failure was inevitable.
A horde of skeleton cavalry—could Cabais and the Dead Maggot have combined? He suddenly thought of the question: “A horde of monsters? What kind of monsters?”
“They are about the height of a man, with smooth skin, dark greenish-black in color, sporting long iron claw sheaths, and reeking of a foul odor. They leaped out from rocks around the valley and attacked us unexpectedly; only around a tenth of us survived.”
Ghouls—he wondered if there were also corpse sorcerers. Brendel remained silent; he was most worried about ghouls. These undead creatures came from the black border regions, rated higher than skeleton cavalry in Madara’s military hierarchy, lower than black knights and pale knights, yet they were the highest-tier low-level units that could amass in large numbers in this era.
He pondered how many ghouls the ‘Dead Maggot’ Magus must have—one hundred? Two hundred? Ghouls were level 20 creatures, each possessing a strength equivalent to dark iron. It was entirely reasonable for the White Mane Swordsmen to be shattered in a surprise attack.
“Noble Knight?” Balthom noticed Brendel’s silence and grew anxious.
Only then did Brendel nod, “If you want to join my team, you must follow my rules. I am effectively hiring you; beyond payment, I will provide you with a place to rest. You can follow him; he will give you some food, medicine, and bandages. After you have rested, be ready to fight at any time.”
As he spoke, he patted the shoulder of the mercenary beside him, “Take them over.”
“Thank you for your generosity, Noble Knight.” Balthom hurriedly bowed deeply; Brendel’s terms had exceeded his expectations. He had traveled to many places but had never met such a generous noble.
The Rider who had come down with him then asked, “And you, my lord?”
“You all go back; let me be alone for a moment.” Brendel looked around, feeling it suited his needs, and replied.
Brendel clearly did not intend to be alone for reflection; he aimed to complete an alchemical procedure. Alchemy in Vaunte was not a mysterious skill. The magical civilization had ensured that many workshop craftsmen knew it to some extent. However, elevating it to an art of magic required profound knowledge and long-term accumulation.
In gaming terms, alchemy before level 5 and after was considered two different skills. Before level 5, it resembled chemistry, where craftsmen utilized this skill to obtain materials different from the ordinary.
After level 5, it became a mysterious art, where wizards employed advanced alchemy to extract pure crystals and magical materials, even crafting magical potions and natural magical items.
Combining it with skills like forging, crafting, and enchanting constituted the legendary techniques for making magical equipment.
Brendel found learning alchemy among the many craftsmen and apprentice artisans among the refugees easy; he only needed to find one and casually inquire to grasp ‘Basic Alchemy.’ Being a noble, no one would suspect him of trying to steal the craft.
However, this time, Brendel specifically aimed to appropriate the technique.
To elevate alchemy from level 0 to level 5 required a total of 122 skill experience points, but that wasn’t a problem for Brendel, who had gathered 967 points after last night’s battle, enough to elevate his profession level to level 9 as a mercenary—this would leave him with an excess of 164 points.
Unfortunately, as a mystical skill, alchemy could only be placed under the commoner foundation identity for physical profession levels. Unlike professions, any skill under this identity was regarded as inherent to it—yet, since the basic identity could not increase in level, a skill could only reach a fixed level.
For instance, a commoner could raise alchemy to level 5, a noble to level 7, and an alchemist to level 15. In reality, in ‘Amber Sword,’ the combination of identity and profession is a skillful art. Sometimes warrior players seeking wizard skills, or wizard players desiring warrior skills, would consider changing their identity if they wished to avoid wasting experience and attributes.
Brendel’s ideal was to raise alchemy to level 6 to craft magical potions. However, given the current conditions, he had to forgo that ambition.
Waiting until Balthom and the others had followed the Rider away, Brendel took a moment, confirming that no one was around, before he moved alone to the center of the clearing. He meticulously cleared a patch on the ground and then drew a simple magic circle with his sword:
Energy Conversion Circle—
The knowledge of the magic circle came from level 4 alchemy, used by craftsmen to extract free energy from material entities and then seal it into a crystalline state.
Next was the Blood Alchemy Circle.
This was why Brendel had to avoid others; blood alchemy techniques originated from Madara’s alchemical skills and were strictly forbidden within the Temple of Fire. This was mainly because blood alchemy would harm the caster themselves and did not align with the basic doctrines of the Temple.
However, it must be said that blood alchemy was a very practical technique, as it could bypass alchemical materials, allowing alchemists to conduct some simple material synthesis under any circumstances.
To be honest, even though the Temple of Fire prohibited it strictly, many players like Erluin and Cruz still used this technique, as players often prioritized efficiency, and at most, they might be demoted by a level if discovered.
Moreover, would they even be discovered, one might ask?
Yet at that moment, Brendel still felt some nervousness; for players, losing a level was merely a setback, but for him, it could mean losing his head. Even though Charles was out there keeping watch for him, he felt somewhat hesitant to openly challenge the authority of the Temple of Fire.
He took a deep breath, pulled out a tooth he had taken from a mid-level necromancer in Ridenburg, and placed it in the center of the magic circle. He then stood up and pricked his finger with the sword tip; a drop of blood oozed out. He leveled his finger, letting the blood drip onto the center of the magic circle, and the circle glowed red as the tooth transformed into a small gray crystal the size of his pinky.
The instant the alchemy completed, Brendel felt a slight jerk in his heart, suffering -1 backlash damage.
He wiped cold sweat from his pale forehead, then picked up the crystal. This was essentially pure soul energy crystallized. However, unlike regular soul crystals, this murky soul energy would likely cause immediate poisoning and death if absorbed by a person.
Yet, despite its crude and small appearance, it was one of his most important items tonight.
At this moment, he could not allow himself to relax, as he had more work to do: thirty-two teeth and four fingers. Brendel was prepared to lavish his bottle of level 5 holy water here. He could only hope that these investments would yield enough returns.
However, he had only completed half when, about fifteen minutes later, he heard Charles’s voice from outside: “Who’s there?”
Brendel’s heart tightened. He quickly smoothed out the magic circle on the ground, gathered all materials, then grabbed the Starlight Spike and rushed outside. As soon as he reached the edge of the fir forest, he saw a middle-aged man standing opposite Charles. He froze for a moment, recognizing that this middle-aged man was indeed the one he had saved the previous night.
How did he get here?
In Brendel’s memory, this middle-aged man appeared to have quite a bit of spirit, daring to resist under Markov’s guards. Yet, it seemed rather unwise.
However, what he did not expect was that the first thing the middle-aged man said upon seeing him was, “My lord, are you using a blood magic circle? Please be careful with your body—”
This sentence hit Brendel like a thunderbolt; not only him but even Charles was stunned. How did he know? Had he been here for a long time? That couldn’t be! Charles didn’t believe he could be unnoticed even by a commoner.
The young wizard’s attendant instinctively began preparing a spell.
Nevertheless, the middle-aged man sensed their confusion and bowed deeply, saying, “My lord, I have yet to thank you for your rescue last night. My name is Tam, and I am an alchemist.”
“Tam?”
“You are Tam!” Brendel initially felt the name sounded somewhat familiar, only to recall that it was none other than the chief court alchemist of Madara three hundred and eighty years later (during the Venus year)!
He was momentarily stunned by this revelation.
He couldn’t help but scan the man up and down, trying to confirm if this was indeed the Tam he recalled. It seemed highly likely; it turned out Tam was not originally from Madara, and he must have been transformed into an undead during this war. If it were indeed due to that bastard Markov’s actions, it was not impossible for him to harbor hatred toward this country. It seemed the reason for his hatred was the death of his son. With this in mind, everything fell into place.
However, what truly confirmed for Brendel was the other man’s sensitivity to alchemy; the ability to identify that he was utilizing a forbidden technique merely from the backlash effect was not something just any alchemist could achieve.
Historically, Tam was a game-changing powerhouse; much of Madara’s high-tier undead transformation results were completed by him, Mesat, and Serilando, three legendary undead alchemy masters. Tam’s most famous achievement was the black magic circle technique that directly transformed corpses into skeleton soldiers, which effectively doubled Madara’s military might—
Now, it appeared that it would be somewhat challenging for Madara to achieve that result again. Looking at the still-human Tam before him, Brendel couldn’t help but smile broadly.
“My lord?” That smile startled Tam, who thought perhaps this knight had some strange inclination. He had heard tainted rumors among nobles, causing him to feel a little apprehensive even as he approached his forties.
Charles, however, interrupted his thoughts with a cough, bringing Brendel back to his senses as he hastily explained, “You are the renowned alchemist master from Ridenburg, Tam?”
Renowned Alchemist Master? That was one of the top titles in the field of alchemy. Was he that famous? Tam was taken aback and quickly shook his head, “I’m just an unknown little alchemist, my lord. Previously, I worked for the Noble Council and achieved nothing remarkable—”
Nothing remarkable? This was a massive treasure, Brendel rejoiced within.
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