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Chapter 6: Becoming a Talent in the Eyes of Others!
The faint hum of the alchemy furnace still lingered in the backroom of Watson's Pharmacy. Heat shimmered off its bronze surface, and the faint smell of scorched herbs clung to the air. A residue of emerald-green liquid glistened on its lip, glowing faintly as if alive.
Aurelia Frost's jade-like fingers brushed along the rim. When they lifted, the sticky substance stretched in thin strands, reflecting light like molten gems.
Her best friend Selena Braveheart wrinkled her nose.
"Ugh, Aurelia… don't tell me you're going to—"
But Aurelia didn't hesitate. She raised her finger to her nose, inhaled. A crisp herbal fragrance burst through her senses, carrying with it a refreshing energy.
Her eyes widened. "This smell…!"
Selena blinked. "It's just potion residue, right? Probably disgusting."
Aurelia ignored her. The emerald residue touched her lips, then her tongue.
Slurp.
Mana flared.
Her body trembled as a ripple of power coursed through her veins. Her cells seemed to awaken, cheering with a faint hum of vitality. A warmth spread from her throat to her limbs. It was subtle, yet undeniable like a trickle of sunlight piercing a heavy fog.
She clenched her fist, eyes narrowing.
"…Strengthened. My body resistance… shifted."
Selena gasped. "What do you mean?"
Aurelia spun on her heel, eyes flashing with an expression Ren had rarely seen on her cold, proud face—shock. "Boss Watson said the boy bought ordinary spirit-strengthening potions. Ordinary."
Selena tilted her head, confused. "So? Isn't that what everyone buys?"
"No!" Aurelia's voice cracked like a whip. "Don't you get it? Since awakening my talent, I've consumed every potion Frost Pharmaceuticals produces. My body is immune to ordinary strengthening effects. They don't work on me anymore."
She raised her glowing fingertips, the emerald liquid shimmering faintly against her pale skin.
"And yet… this residue moved my body. Even a tiny fraction strengthened me."
Selena 's mouth fell open. "That means…"
Aurelia's lips curved into something between awe and hunger. "…That boy's potion wasn't ordinary. It was improved. Enhanced. And it's at least twice as effective."
---
Boss Watson cleared his throat nervously at the doorway, as if realizing the weight of her words. Aurelia stormed toward him, her heels clicking sharply against the stone floor.
"His name. Say it again."
Watson swallowed. "Will… Willson. Physics major. Said he'd just completed a guild challenge, bought a few potions, then asked to borrow the furnace. Seemed polite enough, so I allowed it."
"Willson…" Aurelia muttered, brows furrowing. "A common surname."
Selena tugged Aurelia's sleeve. "Could it be the Michael from Moonveil Academy? The one who—"
"No." Aurelia cut her off coldly, her voice carrying the weight of certainty. "That Michael awakened an E-level auxiliary talent. Weak, hopeless. He's will expelled from t the academy."
"But—"
"I said no." Her words cracked like ice. She fixed her gaze on Watson again. "If he returns, stall him. I don't care how delay him until I arrive. Understand?"
Watson nodded vigorously, sweat dripping down his brow. "Y-Yes, Miss Frost!"
Ren stared at Aurelia with wide eyes. "I've never seen you like this before. You look… obsessed."
Aurelia exhaled slowly, her chest rising and falling. Then her expression hardened into something sharp, hungry, dangerous.
"This isn't about obsession. This is about opportunity." Her gaze flickered back to the furnace. "Do you understand? Using the same ingredients… to produce something more effective. That's not alchemy—it's genius. Whoever this Michael Willson is, he isn't just talent. He's treasure."
Selena whispered, "…Treasure incarnate."
---
Night fell over Aurion City. Mana streetlamps bathed the roads in shimmering silver-blue light, and the neon glow of shops reflected in puddles left by the evening rain.
Michael Willson walked home quietly, his schoolbag slung over one shoulder. He looked ordinary—a thin, black-haired boy in plain clothes. Nobody who passed him would imagine he had shattered an eight-million-Ū puppet earlier that day.
His adoptive mother greeted him at the door with a tired smile. "Michael, wash your hands. Dinner's ready."
"Coming." His voice was gentle.
They ate together—simple rice, stir-fried greens, a few slices of meat. His adoptive father asked, "Study going well?"
Michael nodded. "Mm. Steady."
They never pressed him, never demanded results. To them, he was their son, not a weapon. That quiet warmth ached inside him. If only they knew what he had done today.
Eight million… I destroyed it like paper.
He smiled faintly to himself but said nothing.
---
Later, in his small bedroom, the rain pattered against the window. Michael sat at his desk, the glow of his monitor illuminating scattered textbooks and empty potion vials.
He lifted the last bottle of ordinary spirit-strengthening potion. "One left."
He downed it in one gulp.
System notification:
Strength Amplification (E-level)
Experience: 2100 / 10000
He sighed. "…Only 200 again. Useless."
He tapped the empty vial against the desk, clink, clink.
"Compared to the improved version I refined earlier, this is garbage. At this rate, I'll burn money faster than I gain strength."
His eyes hardened. "No. From now on, I'll refine them myself. Save money, grow faster. Maybe even sell extras."
He began typing on his computer, pulling up herbal market prices. His fingers flew across the keys—click-click-click. Scribbled notes filled his notepad. Calculations of ingredients, yields, costs.
By the time he leaned back, his plan was clear. Tomorrow, I buy herbs. I rent another furnace. And I mass-refine.
---
His phone buzzed violently.
Ding Dong Ding Dong Ding Dong—
Michael frowned, picked it up. WeChat notifications flooded the screen. The class group.
He opened it, scrolling.
Jack Smith: @Michael, James Stonefang insulted you again. Bastard! You're still a genius to us!
Leo Das: @Michael, don't mind him! Everyone knows you worked harder than anyone.
Sarah : Ignore that jerk! We believe in you!
Dozens more chimed in:
— "You're not alone, Michael!"
— "Don't be angry, exams are soon."
— "Stonefang's just jealous!"
Michael arched a brow, lips curling slightly. They pity me. Think I'm crippled. If only they saw me today—smashing a high-level puppet like it was made of clay.
He scrolled further.
And there it was. James Stonefang's boast.
James Stonefang: That waste Michael Willson? E-level trash. I'll crush him in the entrance dungeon. Just watch me, Frost princess. Haha!
Laughter emojis followed.
Michael's grip tightened around his phone until the plastic creaked. His reflection glowed faintly on the dark screen.
"…Trash, huh?" His voice was quiet, almost calm. But his eyes burned.
Let them laugh. Let them mock. When the dungeon opens, they'll choke on their words. Every single one of them.
---
Elsewhere, in a lavish training hall, James Stonefang roared with laughter as his Berserker aura flared. He slammed his fist into a training dummy, BOOM, splintering it in half.
"Did you see that? That's my power! Michael Willson? Pfft. He's nothing. At the entrance exams, I'll show everyone what real strength looks like!"
Sycophants cheered. "Brother James is invincible!"
James smirked, basking in praise, never realizing he was already falling behind.
---
Back in his room, Michael closed the chat and set the phone aside. He leaned back, listening to thunder rumble in the distance. Lightning flashed briefly through the rain-streaked window, illuminating his resolute face.
He stared at the potion vials glimmering faintly on his desk. His jaw tightened.
"Tomorrow," he whispered. "I'll refine more. I'll grow faster. And James…" His voice sharpened to a knife's edge. "I'll start with you."
---
On the other side of the city, Aurelia Frost stood on her family's balcony. The night wind tangled her silver hair, and the city's lights stretched endlessly before her.
Her slender hands gripped the railing as she murmured to the darkness.
"Willson… whoever you are… I'll find you. You're mine."
Her eyes gleamed with ambition, as lightning split the sky.
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End of Chapter 6