The Asura Guild still trembled with whispers.
The tale of a nameless youth who had shattered the advanced puppet spread like wildfire through the hallways.
Receptionists gossiped, trainees speculated, and James Stonefang sulked in the shadows with clenched fists.
But in the Guildmaster's private chamber, the air was heavy with silence.
Maria Frostheart leaned against the mahogany desk, arms folded. Her eyes, cold as glacial rivers, stared at the flustered receptionist bowing before her.
"That's not right."
Her voice was low, but it carried the weight of command.
"I clearly remember you placed his form and the completed reports in this drawer. Where did it go?"
The receptionist's hands shook as he rifled through the paperwork again, sweat trickling down his brow.
"It… it was here, Miss Frostheart. I swear it! His details, the challenge logs, everything—"
He trailed off, face paling.
The drawer was empty.
"Where did you go???"
The poor man nearly tore the drawer apart in panic.
But Maria raised a hand, silencing him.
"Don't bother. He must have taken it himself."
Her tone was matter-of-fact, almost disdainful.
This wasn't the first time. Talents often came to guilds, took the challenge rewards, and disappeared into the city. No Guild could bar them not when every single one was a potential pillar of Aurion's future.
'For a little prize money, it is not worth making an enemy of tomorrow's king.'
That was the unspoken rule.
Still, Maria's gaze sharpened.
"Do you remember anything about him? His basic information?"
The receptionist gulped.
"I… I remember his surname was Willson l. Support-type talent. He said his assessment was C-level."
Maria's eyes narrowed.
"C-level?"
" Problem is there thousand of Willson in the country and 100 are in this provision, it will difficult to find him using his surname only , this a common surname in the country.
Even James Stonefang, lurking nearby, sneered.
"What kind of joke is that? A C-level breaking the advanced puppet? He's at least A+, maybe S."
Maria didn't reply immediately. She tapped her chin, thoughtful.
Support-types were always underestimated. People thought of them as weak, secondary, reliant on others. But those who truly understood knew the truth:
A powerful support could make warriors into titans.
A +1 was not simply one — it was exponential. Two becoming four. Four becoming eight.
And if such a support could also fight alone?
That wasn't a support anymore. That was a king.
Maria's lips curved faintly.
"No matter the cost… I'll bind him to the Asura Guild."
She turned to Aurelia Frost, who had been silent until now. The younger Frost's eyes flickered with restrained curiosity.
"I'll look into him," Aurelia said. Her voice was cool, but inside, her heart wasn't calm. Willson… Moonveil Academy? Could it be… that Michael Willson?
Maria added:
"If I were him, I'd head straight to the pharmaceutical market. After all, what good is prize money if not for medicine? Your Frost family controls half the market. Start there."
Aurelia nodded.
"Understood."
Behind them, James straightened, seizing the chance.
"Princess Frost, allow me to accompany you."
Aurelia's rejection was immediate, sharp as frostbite.
"You stay. Train. If that student truly is what I think… you'll only be a burden."
James's face burned red. His fists trembled. But Aurelia had already left.
Her heart pounded faster than she admitted. Michael Willson… show me just what kind of monster you are.
---
The pharmaceutical market was alive with light and sound. Crystal lamps illuminated shelves stacked with shimmering bottles, herbs releasing faint scents of energy and calm. Merchants shouted, customers bargained, apprentices hurried back and forth with boxes of ingredients.
In this city, medicine wasn't luxury — it was survival.
And Michael Willson stepped into it with casual ease, his bank card heavy with five million fresh Ū.
He approached the counter of Frost Pharmacy, the Frost family's largest branch in Aurion.
"Boss, give me two bottles of spirit-strengthening potion."
His voice was steady, calm.
The shopkeeper, Watson himself, blinked in surprise.
"Two bottles? That's seven hundred and ninety thousand Ū."
Michael swiped the card without hesitation.
[Funds Transferred: –790,000 Ū]
The transaction beeped complete.
Watson's jaw slackened. He stared at Michael anew — not as a student, but as a young master of hidden means.
"You… you actually succeeded in the Guild challenge?"
Michael smiled faintly.
"Something like that."
Watson's eyes gleamed. Another potential stock! This boy is one of those future giants…
He quickly slid another bottle across the counter.
"Take this one too. Free of charge."
Michael raised a brow.
"Oh? Generous."
"Ha! What's a bottle of potion compared to your future, young man?"
Michael pocketed the vials, bowing politely.
But he didn't drink them. Not yet.
Instead, he studied the labels, scanning the ingredient lists.
Sugars, stabilizers, powdered moonroot, diluted starflower essence. All standard. All… common.
His lips pressed thin.
This is too ordinary. Too wasteful. There has to be a way to improve it.
In his last life, Michael had been a perfectionist. Even in his exhausting 996 job, he read labels, counted calories, avoided sugar. Old habits bled into his new life.
And here, those habits merged with his studies.
At Moonveil, he'd always aced alchemy basics. And now, with real money and real resources—
"Boss. Can I borrow your alchemy furnace?"
Watson blinked.
"Eh? That… young master, the furnace is the heart of the shop. Not even my apprentices touch it."
Michael met his eyes steadily.
"Just one hour."
Watson hesitated. Then he looked again at Michael, at the aura of quiet confidence around him. A potential stock. A seedling of power.
And he nodded.
"Fine. But only one hour."
---
The back rooms of the pharmacy smelled of herbs and smoke. The alchemy furnace stood at the center, a massive bronze construct engraved with runes, its surface faintly glowing with stored heat.
Michael exhaled, steady. Then he opened his communicator.
The screen flickered to life. A familiar voice answered immediately:
"Brother? What's wrong?"
Emily Martin. His sister. A girl with sharp eyes and a soft smile, blessed with the terrifying
S-level talent — Analysis of All Things.
Michael quickly listed the potion's ingredients.
"Can you run analysis?"
"Give me thirty minutes."
She got to work. Michael could almost see her surrounded by herbs and books at Eclipse Academy, her talent weaving invisible lines of truth through every particle of matter.
Thirty minutes later, she returned three formulas. Each one improved on the original spirit-strengthening agent.
Michael's heart burned with excitement.
This is it. My bug in this world. My sister's power… and my own hands.
He set to work. Herbs sizzled, liquids hissed, the furnace thrummed with energy. Once, the mixture curdled and failed. Smoke hissed out, bitter and acrid.
But Michael didn't falter.
He tried again.
An hour later, he held a vial of shimmering azure liquid. Brighter, denser, purer than the original.
His hand trembled slightly as he lifted it.
"Let's test."
First, he drank the standard potion.
[Strength Amplification (E-rank): 1400/10000 → 1600/10000]
+200. Mediocre.
Then, he drank his improved version.
[Strength Amplification (E-rank): 1600/10000 → 2100/10000]
+500.
Michael's breath caught.
"…2.5 times stronger."
A slow grin spread across his face.
'If the Frost family knew… they'd will kill us to patent this recipe and make it there own.'
But this was his secret. His, and his sister's.
Michael bowed to the furnace.
"Thanks, Sis."
Her reply buzzed in his ear.
"Brother… don't forget. This is only the beginning. If you can mass-produce improvements like this… even Eclipse Academy will beg to have you."
Michael's eyes gleamed.
Eclipse Academy… one of the Four Pillars of Avalora Country. That will be my next goal.
---
Exactly one hour later, Michael stepped out of the back room, calm as ever.
Watson glanced up.
"Finished already?"
Michael nodded.
"Thanks for the favor."
Then he left, disappearing into the market crowd.
Watson watched him go, awe in his eyes.
That boy… his aura is different now. Could it be alchemy? Support Class ? Or something else?
Just as he turned to tidy the counter, the doorbell chimed.
Two girls walked in.
Aurelia Frost. Cold beauty incarnate, her aura faintly blazing with Phoenix fire. And beside her, her best friend, eyes alight with curiosity.
Watson's spine straightened instantly.
"Miss Frost! What an honor."
Aurelia wasted no time.
"I heard a Moonveil Academy student came to buy potions. An auxiliary named Willson. Where is he?"
Watson hesitated. He remembered clearly: Michael had given his surname as "Willson"
"No… I know of no 'Willsonl'."
Aurelia's eyes narrowed. Her best friend frowned.
But Watson continued carefully:
"However… a promising student did come. He completed a Guild challenge, bought potions, and… borrowed our alchemy furnace for an hour."
The girls froze.
"Alchemy furnace?" Aurelia repeated softly.
Watson nodded.
"I suspect he isn't a strength type at all… but a support Class, Perhaps even an alchemy-related talent."
For the first time in years, Aurelia Frost's heart skipped.
She exchanged a glance with her friend, fire flickering in her eyes.
Michael… you're hiding more than just strength.
And somewhere in the city streets, Michael Willson walked calmly on, three improved potions clinking softly in his pocket.
A faint smile curved his lips.
He knew the hunt had begun.