The acrid smell of sulfur and burnt herbs filled the cramped workshop as another explosion sent Kael stumbling backward, his eyebrows singed and his latest attempt at a healing potion now decorating the stone walls in green splatters.
"Third time today," he muttered, wiping soot from his face with a cloth that had seen too many similar disasters. The small room that served as both his workshop and living quarters bore the scars of countless failed experiments—scorch marks on the ceiling, stains on every surface, and a permanent haze that no amount of ventilation could clear.
Kael surveyed the wreckage of his workbench with the weary expression of someone who had grown accustomed to failure. At seventeen, he had been apprenticing in alchemy for three years, yet he still struggled with the most basic Rank 1 formulations. The healing potion recipe lay before him, its instructions worn from constant handling, mocking him with its apparent simplicity.
"Moonbell extract, crushed silverleaf, three drops of spring water, bind with concentrated mana..." He recited the ingredients like a prayer, though his prayers seemed to go unanswered more often than not.
Outside his narrow window, the sounds of the training yard drifted in—the clash of steel on steel, the sharp commands of instructors, and the occasional grunt of effort from students learning the way of the sword. Kael couldn't help but glance toward the noise, watching as a group of swordsmen practiced their forms.
Even the beginners out there commanded more respect than he did. The baker's son, barely fifteen, had started training with a sword six months ago and was already being praised for his natural talent. Meanwhile, Kael couldn't brew a simple healing tonic without creating what his mentor generously called "colorful learning experiences."
A flash of silver light caught his attention, and Kael pressed his face to the window. In the center of the training yard, a figure moved with fluid grace that made the other swordsmen look clumsy by comparison. Master Aldric, one of the few swordsmen in the city who had achieved the coveted Master rank, was demonstrating advanced techniques to a group of intermediate students.
Kael watched in fascination as Master Aldric raised his blade, and a shimmering aura began to coalesce around the steel. The aura extended beyond the physical sword, creating what looked like a massive two-handed weapon made of pure energy. With a single swing, Master Aldric cleaved through three training dummies simultaneously, the aura construct passing through them like they were made of parchment.
The gathered students erupted in cheers and applause. Even from his workshop window, Kael could see the admiration and reverence in their eyes. That was the power that commanded respect in this world—the ability to manifest one's will through sword and aura, to stand as a beacon of strength that others would follow.
Kael turned back to his cluttered workbench, the contrast stark and depressing. While Master Aldric could create weapons of pure energy, Kael couldn't even create a potion that wouldn't explode in his face.
"But alchemy has its own power," he whispered to himself, repeating the words his mentor had told him countless times. "A true alchemist doesn't need personal strength when they can reshape the very rules of reality."
It sounded impressive in theory. Kael had heard the stories—Rank 10 Alchemists who could create domains where they were virtually gods, setting the laws of physics according to their will. Master alchemists who fought not with muscle and steel, but with artifacts that could bend space, create illusions so real they became truth, and weapons that could level mountains.
The problem was getting there. Every rank in alchemy built upon the previous one, and Kael was stuck at the very bottom, unable to master even the most basic Rank 1 formulations.
He picked up the ingredients for another attempt, his hands steadier now despite his frustration. The moonbell extract gleamed silver in its vial, the silverleaf had been ground to the perfect consistency, and the spring water was as pure as he could make it. The theory was sound—he knew it by heart. But somewhere between theory and practice, something always went wrong.
"Concentrate on the mana flow," he reminded himself, beginning the delicate process of combining the ingredients. "Feel the connections between the components, guide them gently..."
For a moment, it seemed to be working. The mixture glowed with a soft, promising light, and Kael felt the familiar tingle of mana responding to his will. This time would be different. This time—
The explosion was smaller than the previous attempts, but no less discouraging. Kael stared at the green residue now coating his hands and sighed.
Through the window, he could still hear the sounds of the training yard, the clash of ambition meeting steel, dreams being forged in sweat and determination. Out there, swordsmen were becoming legends. Beastmen merchants passed through the city regularly, their genetic gifts making them invaluable as traders, scouts, and specialists in ways that seemed almost magical to those born without such advantages.
And here he was, a failed alchemist's apprentice who couldn't brew a healing potion without turning it into an impromptu firework.
But as Kael began cleaning up the mess once again, his jaw set with stubborn determination. The other paths to power might be faster, might earn respect more quickly, but alchemy was his choice. It was complex, demanding, and apparently intent on humbling him at every turn—but it was his.
Tomorrow, he would try again. And the day after that, and the day after that, until he finally proved that alchemy deserved its place alongside swordsmanship and the genetic gifts of the Beastmen.
After all, someone had to reach Rank 10 eventually. Why not him?
The workshop settled into its familiar quiet, broken only by the soft clink of glass vials being arranged for another day of glorious failure. Outside, Master Aldric's demonstration had ended, and the swordsmen were dispersing, their laughter and camaraderie fading as they headed home.
Kael lit a small lamp against the growing darkness and opened his notebook to review the day's failed experiments. Each failure was a lesson, his mentor always said. If that were true, he ought to be the most educated alchemist in the kingdom by now.
But education and success, as he was learning, were not always the same thing.