The room was dim, heavy with the scent of aged parchment and faint alchemical residues.
Master Belori sat alone on a soft yet dusty grey sofa, his hands crossed neatly over his knees, his body leaning back, eyes closed in thought.
The room was completely silent.Minori had already left.
Ding, ding.
A knock echoed against the old wooden door.
Master Belori did not stir.The figure outside the door waited a moment, then pushed it open without permission.
Such boldness spoke volumes about the intruder's status.
"Master Belori, aren't you going to introduce your new disciple?"
A hearty, half-mocking voice filled the room as a man entered.
The newcomer wore a thick robe, an ebony staff in hand.Despite his rough appearance, there was a trace of tension in his expression.Though he seemed to be in his forties, he was in truth only in his early thirties—a magician whose power exceeded his age.
This was Tixil, the Guildmaster of E-Rantel's Magician's Guild.
"That's because your standards are too high," Belori replied dryly, not bothering to open his eyes.
Tixil raised an eyebrow.
Noticing the unusually heavy atmosphere, his smile faded.He stepped forward and took a seat opposite Belori.
"What happened?"
Belori did not answer at first.Instead, he lazily raised a hand and gestured toward a simple potion bottle on the table—a transparent vial containing a vivid blue liquid.
Tixil frowned slightly.
He picked up the bottle with a puzzled look.
"A new potion you've developed?"
As he spoke, he infused mana into his staff and cast a detection spell.
"[Appraisal Magic Item]."
The potion flickered faintly under the spell's influence.
"...An alchemical potion with paralyzing effects?"
Tixil frowned deeper.
He realized immediately—Master Belori would not summon him over a potion of such low-level efficacy without good reason.
Ding, ding.
Another knock interrupted the moment.
"Come in," Belori called, finally sitting upright.
Click.
The door swung open.
A small, hunched figure entered—her hair hidden beneath a light green headscarf, her sharp gaze taking in the room at a glance.
It was Grandmother Lizzie Bareare, an expert alchemist and pharmacist of renown in E-Rantel.
"Guildmaster Tixil," she greeted curtly, before shifting her gaze to Belori with a trace of impatience and thinly veiled disdain.
"What business do you have with a mere pharmacist like me, Master Scroll-Maker?"
Tixil glanced between them, mildly surprised.
These two were infamous for their mutual disdain.
"Give her the potion," Belori said in a flat voice, his expression unreadable.
Suppressing a flicker of curiosity, Tixil handed the vial to Lizzie.
She examined the liquid briefly, then cast her own detection spell.
"[Appraisal Magic Item]."
For a few seconds, she said nothing.
Then her expression subtly shifted—surprise, confusion, calculation.
Without a word, Lizzie uncorked the bottle, dripped a few drops onto her hand, licked them, and closed her eyes thoughtfully.
Tixil watched this odd ritual in bewilderment.
To him, the potion's effect was simple.Low-grade paralysis.
Hardly worth fussing over.
Yet these two seasoned experts seemed to sense something else—something he had missed.
Lizzie opened her eyes at last.
"Where did this potion come from?" she asked sharply.
Belori remained silent.
Lizzie turned to Tixil, her tone urgent.
"You don't understand. The potion's effect is mundane. But the method of creation is entirely foreign."
"In our pharmacological traditions," Lizzie continued, "when crafting alchemical items from monster materials, impurities—remnants of the creature's nature—always remain."
"But here—"
She raised the clear blue potion before them.
"—there are no impurities. No trace of the source material's distortion."
"And more importantly," she added, her voice turning grim,"this is not a product of enchantment."
Belori finally nodded, confirming her suspicion.
Tixil was stunned.
He struggled to follow, but one thing was clear:this was unprecedented.
Lizzie pressed on coldly.
"Since the decline of Dwarven rune magic during the Age of the Thirteen Heroes, humanity has relied on enchantment to create scrolls, potions, and magical artifacts."
"Without enchantment—" she said, voice sharpening,"—this sort of alchemical purity should be impossible."
Belori leaned back heavily into the sofa.
"I wanted confirmation," he murmured."And now I have it."
"Where is the creator of this potion?" Lizzie demanded.
"He's gone," Belori said simply.
He hesitated—then added, "A young man. Black hair. Quiet."
He realized, belatedly, that he hadn't even asked for the young man's name.
A rare misstep.
"I suspect he has nothing to do with traditional magical societies. But his potential... you should watch him carefully."
Lizzie narrowed her eyes, lost in thought.
A black-haired youth...
A certain figure surfaced in her mind.
Without another word, she tucked the potion carefully away in her robe and departed the room briskly.
Tixil watched her leave, then turned back to Belori.
"You've been rejected by a scroll-making genius," he said carefully.
Belori chuckled bitterly.
"A genius beyond our era."
He sighed.
"His control over mana... his ability to mold magical energy directly without relying on enchantment..."
"He was able to create 'Papermaking' magic scrolls on his own."
Belori closed his eyes.
"Perhaps it is not surprising he found my humble skills beneath notice."
Tixil sat in silence for a moment, then asked seriously:
"Master, are you sure he is not an agent of the Slane Theocracy?"
Belori laughed quietly.
"I offered him a second-tier scroll of [Summon Angel]."
"If he had been a Theocracy spy..."He waved a hand dismissively.
"It would have been wasted effort."
Meanwhile
Elsewhere in E-Rantel, Minori was already making his way back toward his modest inn.
His black robes billowed slightly in the evening breeze.
At his feet, his faithful companion, the small spectral hound nicknamed Kuro, trotted along happily.
"A master scroll-maker?" Minori mused aloud, a faint smirk crossing his lips.
"A dangerous title, don't you think, Kuro?"
Kuro barked softly in response, tilting his ghostly head.
Minori chuckled.
"Maybe... 'genius alchemist' sounds better."
"A humble faith-type magic caster specializing in alchemy. Low threat. Low suspicion."
He scratched the little dog behind its phantom-like ears.
"That will do just fine—for now."