Siegfried Fors
I'm going to die.
Not metaphorically. Not exaggerated-for-effect. I am actually about-to-be-turned-into-paste level of dying.
I tore through the forest at full speed, lungs burning and boots barely kissing the ground before another root or vine tried to trip me to my doom. Branches whipped past my face, and somewhere behind me, entire trees were being flattened like stalks of grass.
A blur of orange flickered beside me.
Faux hovered effortlessly, ears twitching, black-tipped paws tucked in close, like this was just another morning stroll through hell. His golden eyes didn't even blink as a sharp gust of wind carried the scent of destruction behind us.
"Remind me," I gasped between heaves, "why did I agree to this again?"
The only response I got was a smug little snort.
"This little..."
Behind us, the magic beasts roared.
Massive beasts, rhino-like in shape but double the size and triple the aggression, plowed through the forest like it wasn't even there. Their thick hides shimmered faintly with a magical sheen, and their monstrous horns jutted upward, ready to impale me.
They're fast. They are too fast.
One of them roared, its horn crackling with blue energy. My eyes widened.
"Wait, wait, wait—"
A blinding arc of lightning shot toward me, splitting the air with a screech.
"Fua!" Faux yelped and shot upward like a streaking flame.
The lightning struck an invisible barrier just above my head, exploding into a flash of crackling sparks. The shockwave knocked me sideways mid-run, and I stumbled through a patch of ferns, heart jackhammering in my chest.
"Not. Doing. This. Again," I hissed, forcing my legs to keep moving.
We are close.
I could feel it. The shift in the air, the thinning trees, this was the spot. Just a little more—
I leapt over a cluster of bushes, barely clearing the last bramble, and tumbled into a small clearing.
And there she was, standing with a smirk on her face.
She stood in the middle of the field like she'd been waiting for this moment all her life. That ridiculous two-headed axe rested casually across her shoulder. Not a single line of worry.
I nearly tripped over myself sprinting past her.
"They're here! They're here!" I yelled, voice cracking with urgency, and maybe a little trauma.
"Alright." She cracked her neck and shifted her grip, sliding the axe from her shoulder with the grace of a dancer and the calm of a butcher.
The forest behind us screamed as the stampede closed in.
The moment the first beast broke into the clearing, she moved.
With a single swing, the axe cleaved the air.
The ground split. The rhino-like beasts, all five of them, were hurled skyward in a single, terrible instant. A shockwave rippled out, kicking up dust and debris, and I stood frozen as the forest itself seemed to lift off the earth.
Mouth agape, I just stared at this demonstration of power.
"Wh-what monstrous strength…"
The creatures, the trees, the chunks of stone and dirt, everything hovered for a surreal moment before beginning their slow descent, like the world had remembered gravity existed.
Mother casually wiped invisible sweat from her forehead and exhaled. "Another day's hard work done."
I couldn't believe her. "What hard work? I did all the running! I was bait! I almost got electrocuted and crushed to death!"
She rolled her eyes and turned toward the still-twitching monsters. "Geez. You're such a crybaby."
"If you don't want to be treated this way," Mother said, checking on the still-breathing beast, "then get stronger."
Her words stung sharper than the lightning that nearly fried me earlier.
I wanted to argue. To say I was strong. That I'd crushed salamanders just last week without breaking a sweat.
But they were small fry. Barely D-rank, if you went by the Adventurers' Guild standard. These things? These were another class entirely. I hated how helpless I felt compared to her.
"Hmm... just why are they here?" Mother muttered, squatting beside one of the downed beasts and running her gloved fingers along its horn.
"You recognize them?" I asked, stepping closer, still catching my breath.
She gave a quiet nod. "Voltahorns. Famous for lightning magic. Their horns act as natural conduits."
"Yeah. I experienced that part firsthand," I said, rubbing my arms as if phantom tingles still danced across my skin. "But it's my first time seeing them here. Do you think they're migrating?"
Mother stood, brushing her hands off on her pants. Her expression remained unreadable, as always.
"No. They're native to the northern woodlands, far from here. Herbivores and Peaceful... till someone provokes them. They don't usually wander near settlements unless they're starving or desperate."
My eyes drifted back over my shoulder, toward our barony nestled behind trees and hills. "We're close to the barony, aren't we?"
She nodded. "Exactly why we had to deal with them before they got any closer."
"But this is the second time this week," I said, frowning. "First the giant birds, now these Voltahorns. What's going on? Why are they coming closer?"
For a moment, Mother remained silent.
Then she turned her face away just slightly, but the mask didn't slip. That calm, blank look of hers never changed. Not even a twitch.
"Don't know," she said, simply shrugging her shoulders. "Anyway, we need to transport these beasts. Their horns fetch quite a price; they are valuable for wand-making."
"All of them are still alive. Will it be okay to bring them into the barony? And... is removing their horns ethically okay?" I asked, looking at the breathing beasts.
"Don't worry. Once they realize the other party is stronger than them, they become tame. And as for horns, they grow back. Think of them like your nails: shorter the better."
She moved back to the beast and hoisted it like it weighed nothing.
As always, she knew so much; it must be the result of her adventuring days.
I looked again at the Voltahorn's horn, still faintly pulsing with blue mana. Could one of those make a wand that wouldn't snap in half the next time I use a spell?
Hmm...
With that hopeful thought, I moved and picked one of the beasts up and placed it over my head with all my strength.
Quite heavy.
We carried the beasts to two carts parked nearby with soldiers and threw the beasts into them. As Mother threw the last one onto a cart, she dusted her hands and turned to me with that relaxed, lopsided smile.
"Let's get going, shall we?"
I hesitated... then sighed, arms half-raised in embarrassment.
She chuckled, walked over, and in one smooth motion scooped me into her arms. I barely had time to react before—
"Hi-yah!"
The wind roared past as the world dropped away beneath us. My eyes snapped shut as cold air lashed against my skin and leaves blurred past in a dizzying rush. We cut through the forest canopy in seconds, soaring skyward like an arrow.
And then, just as suddenly, we slowed.
In moments, the tiled roof of the Fors Manor came into view. Mother drifted downward like a leaf, her descent precise and graceful despite carrying me like a sack of potatoes.
We landed with a soft thud at the front door.
I slowly opened one eye, checking myself. Still alive and, luckily, no broken bones.
"So, what are you going to do now?" Mother asked as she gently set me down, her arms loosening with that same casual strength she used to toss monsters like rag dolls.
"Study with Granny," I replied, brushing down my shirt and checking to make sure Faux was still perched on my head. His tail flicked once in acknowledgment.
"Where are you going?" I asked as she turned to leave.
"To the Adventurers Guild; the soldiers will be bringing the beasts there... They will make me money."
I narrowed my eyes at her, arms folding across my chest. "Don't forget my share."
She glanced at me, one brow arching. "Huh? What do you mean your share?"
"I helped you defeat them," I said firmly. "I deserve a share."
That got her attention. She leaned in close, her hands on her hips. "All you did was run."
"I risked my life," I shot back, chin raised defiantly. "I believe that's worth, I don't know... fifty percent?"
"Fifty?" she repeated, her voice climbing in disbelief. "Ho-oh... Try that with another party, and they'd kick your ass to the curb."
She straightened, clearly expecting that to shut me up.
I didn't flinch. I just crossed my arms tighter and said, "Not until I kick theirs first."
There was a heartbeat of silence.
The next second, a grin bloomed across her face, wide, and proud. She reached out and roughly ruffled my hair with one hand, laughing low in her throat.
"That's my boy."
She turned around. "Alright," she called over her shoulder. "This time, you get your fifty. But just this once. Next time, I'll work you to the bone."
The look she gave me as she said that, cold fire in her eyes, like a general planning a full campaign, sent an involuntary chill crawling down my spine.
I realized, too late, what I'd done.
"I—I'm leaving!" I bolted for the front door, nearly tripping. There was no doubt in my mind: next time, she is absolutely dragging me along again.
The moment the heavy oak doors of the manor shut behind me, I let out a breath and brushed my hair back. After the chaos of the forest, the calm interior of the house felt like another world entirely.
I made my way through the halls. When I reached the library, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, catching floating dust motes in golden light. At one of the long oak tables sat Granny, calmly reading a thick book, and across from her was James, scribbling something in a notebook with furrowed brows. He noticed me entering.
"Welcome back, Sieg," James said brightly, lifting his head with a beaming smile.
I returned the smile with a soft nod. It had already been a week since we returned from Borg Barony, and in that time, James had settled in like he'd always belonged here. The only real problem these days...
"So, how did it go?" Granny asked without looking up from her book.
"We dealt with some magic beasts and came back," I said, keeping it vague.
"Hmm. Is that so?" Her tone was light, but something in it felt... off. "I'll ask Valka about it later, then."
I tilted my head slightly. For some reason, it felt like she didn't want to talk to me about it. Maybe she was trying not to worry me. Or maybe she just didn't approve of her daughter using her grandson as bait.
Trying to shift the mood, I cleared my throat and stepped closer to the table. "What are you two studying?"
"Mathematics," James answered cheerfully. "We're learning division today."
I leaned over to glance at his work. The numbers and symbols scratched onto the paper would've looked intimidating to any normal five-year-old... but then again, this world's idea of 'basic arithmetic for mages' had surprised me before. You'd think a medieval society would be stuck on simple sums, but no—integration, differentiation, even some weird form of magical geometry I hadn't wrapped my head around yet. Apparently, when magic was involved, math had to evolve fast to keep up.
Thankfully, being a computer science major in my past life gave me a bit of an edge.
"Before I forget—" Granny closed her book with a gentle thud, "a letter arrived this morning from the Royal Alchemic Institute."
My ears perked up. "Is it about the salamander corpses we sold?"
"No. It's about the upcoming Master Alchemist Examination."
"Yearly master alchemist test?"
Granny nodded, sliding the letter toward me across the table.
"It's an annual exam, held in the old capital, Sverngard. Alchemists from across the empire gather to compete for the title of Master Alchemist. Those who pass gain recognition from the Imperial Court itself."
I scanned the letter while she spoke, the formal script detailing the requirements and procedures. Apparently, a current Master Alchemist had to nominate someone to even enter. So not just anyone could throw their hat into the ring.
My eyes drifted down to the eligibility section.
First: The nominee must be capable of performing mana alchemy. Well, that one's fine.
Second: They must have reached the Gamma Stage of the Soul Crucible. And there it is, my disqualification. I slouched back slightly, chewing the inside of my cheek.
Third: The nominee must have made a new invention. Something original.
I looked up at Granny, letter still in hand.
"I don't think I'm ready to participate. Not yet."
"That's obvious," she replied dryly, her fingers lacing together on the table. "You haven't made anything new, and you've yet to reach the Gamma Stage."
I frowned. "Isn't that a bit much for beginners? I mean, making something new... that's not exactly easy."
Granny leaned forward slightly, resting her arms on the table as her black eyes fixed on mine, sharp and unreadable.
"Siegfried," she said, her voice lowering, "just how many people do you think live in this world?"
The question came out of nowhere, and even James, quietly jotting something down in his corner of the room, lifted his head, puzzled.
I looked at her, with confusion leaking from my face.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Just answer."
I sighed, glancing at the ceiling in thought. "I don't know... a billion? Around that."
She nodded. "And how many of those do you think are alchemists?"
I scratched the back of my head, already tired of this quiz. "Maybe... fifteen to twenty thousand?"
Another slow nod. Her expression didn't change.
"And how many of those do you think hold the title of Master Alchemist?"
That one took me a second. I tried doing the math in my head. If even one out of ten made it, that would be around fifteen hundred.
"I believe... one thousand fi—"
"Seventy-four."
Her voice cut through mine like a knife.
My mind went utterly blank. "What?"
"Seventy-four," she repeated. "There are currently seventy-four living Master Alchemists across the entire world, and that includes the ones too old to practice anymore."
I stared at her. The weight of that number settled in my chest like a stone.
"Why so few?"
"Because the bar isn't low, Siegfried," she said, her voice quieter now, but firmer. "It was never meant to be. Do you think the Imperial Court... the world would acknowledge just anyone? If anyone could do it, the title wouldn't mean anything."
My gaze fell back to the letter. The words blurred slightly as thoughts tumbled around in my head.
Gamma Stage. Original invention. Nomination by a Master.
All of it felt so far away.
"Hmph. I never expected you to take my title as a Master Alchemist so lightly," Granny muttered, arms crossed, her brow slightly raised. "It was quite difficult to earn, you know." She added a faint pout at the end.
I couldn't exactly argue. I had thought becoming a Master Alchemist was… well, not easy, but not all that different from passing any other advanced test. Just another title.
"Focus on what you can control," she said, standing up from her chair and moving towards one of the taller bookshelves. Her finger brushed the spines like she was greeting old friends. "Reaching Gamma stage will come when it comes. For now, you should be thinking about the invention you'll present."
"Invention?" I tilted my head. "What should I make?"
"The best way to start," she replied, plucking out a thick book and turning back toward me, "is by looking at what those before you made."
She handed me the book, its cracked leather cover etched in golden script: World's Finest Alchemists.
I took it carefully, running my fingers along the embossed title. Just holding it made me feel like I was standing at the edge of something vast and ancient.
Then a thought struck me.
"What did you make, Granny?"
Her eyes lit up immediately.
A grin spread across her face as she placed her hands on her hips and puffed out her chest like a proud lioness. "I'm glad you asked. Come, come. James, you too!"
We followed her around the shelf to another table tucked in the corner. On it sat two ink bottles, one pitch black, the other gleaming white, each with their own quill brush, and several crisp sheets of parchment stacked neatly to the side.
Wait... had she prepared this ahead of time?
A spark of suspicion flickered through me. Was she waiting for the perfect chance to show off?
...She really is just like Mother when she gets excited.
"What are these?" James asked, climbing up and placing his tiny hands on the table's edge, eyes wide with curiosity.
"This," Granny declared, her tone full of dramatic flair, "was the invention I presented during my Master Alchemist examination."
She turned to me.
"Sieg, pour your mana into the white and black ink."
I nodded, holding my palm above the black bottle and letting mana flow into it. There was no reaction from it. I repeated the process with the white bottle; the moment my mana touched it, the ink shimmered with rainbow light for a second.
"Now what?" I asked, watching it fade back to white.
Granny handed the quill to James. "James, write something on the parchment."
He eagerly scribbled a few large letters onto the paper.
Granny stepped forward next, dipping a brush into the black ink. I could sense the quiet hum of her mana channeling into it.
Then she drew a single stroke over James's words.
In the blink of an eye, they vanished, gone as if they were never written.
James gasped, stepping back. My eyes widened too, but I didn't speak.
"Ink of concealment," Granny explained with a small smile. "But that's only half of it."
She handed James the brush dipped in white ink and gestured to the now-blank paper.
"Go ahead. Try to reveal what you wrote."
James did as instructed, mimicking Granny's earlier stroke with practiced care.
But nothing happened.
The paper remained blank.
Granny looked at me next. "Now you try, Sieg. Pour your mana into the brush."
I took the brush, hesitated for a moment, and swept it gently across the page.
And like magic—True magic—the hidden letters shimmered back into existence, each one reappearing in the same color James had written them.
"That's how it works," I murmured, still staring at the revealed message. "The ink recognizes the mana signature. Only the one who infused it can unveil what's hidden."
Granny's smile widened, like a cat who'd laid out a riddle and was pleased someone solved it.
"Oh? So you did understand."
But this doesn't look very useful, I thought, turning the smooth vial over in my hands. Maybe for hiding secret documents... but that's about it.
"I feel someone is disregarding my life's work," came Granny's voice, level but pointed.
"Eh?" I turned, guilty reflex kicking in.
She was staring at me, brow gently raised.
"No! I wasn't— I didn't mean it like that…"
"It's alright," she said with a small wave of her hand, though I couldn't tell if it was forgiveness or a dramatic sigh. "It's understandable. This isn't exactly flashy work."
She reached out and plucked the bottle from my hand. "These containers can hold two mana signatures, one from the sender, one from the receiver. If you give this to someone you trust, you can exchange secret letters.
I nodded, the implications setting in. "So… like an encrypted file…"
"Hm?"
"Nothing. Just—never mind. That's actually amazing."
"So? Still feel like it's useless?"
I shook my head, honestly this time. "No. It's a great invention. I learned a lot."
Her smile softened, and she reached over to gently pat my head. "Good to know."
After that, Granny and James returned to their studies, while I settled into the corner with the thick book she had given me earlier. I turned each page with growing awe.
One entry described a sap-based sealant derived from forest-dwelling hollow trees, used to create self-mending scrolls that could restore burned or torn papers over time.
Another detailed "memory water," a rare compound that, when bound to a single moment through a Moon element spell, could replay someone's thoughts or emotions during that exact minute.
Then there was the Smokeglass Vial, an unassuming bottle that could trap toxic fumes for later analysis or transmutation, especially useful in plaguework.
None of them were flashy or explosive, but each felt… purposeful. Thoughtful. Like a puzzle piece in a grand tapestry of understanding.
I had to admit it, alchemy was starting to feel a little less like Granny's obsession, and a little more like something I wanted to master too.
By the time I looked up, the sky outside had shifted into orange.
Granny closed her book with a soft thud. "Time to go. Don't want to keep your grandfather waiting."
James looked up and nodded, getting off his chair slowly. We followed Granny out of the library and made our way through the manor halls. As we entered the dining room, Grandpa sat tall and regal at the end of the table, and Mother was lounging in her usual chair, arms crossed and an unreadable smile already waiting for me.
James and I took our seats, and before I could settle, something came flying through the air toward me.
"Here," Mother said casually.
Reflexes took over. I barely managed to catch the small pouch before it collided with my face. It clanged heavily in my hands, metal on metal. I blinked, then glanced at her.
That smile of hers only deepened, smug and knowing.
I loosened the cord slightly. A glimmer of silver winked up at me from within—Coins. A lot of them. My eyes widened for a heartbeat before I quickly shoved the pouch into my magic pouch, snapping it shut.
"What was that?" Granny asked.
"Nothing," Mother and I said in perfect unison.
Granny narrowed her eyes at us, suspicion plain on her face, but she let it go, for now.
Dinner came soon after, and it was one of the better ones in recent memory. Roasted duck, buttery potatoes, thick vegetable stew, and honey-glazed carrots. The manor's kitchen staff had clearly outdone themselves. Conversation was light at first, the clinking of cutlery and soft murmurs filling the space.
But once the plates were cleared and the servants quietly excused themselves, Mother set her spoon down and spoke.
"Ma, Pa. I'd like to head into the forest tomorrow with a few soldiers."
Grandpa's brows drew together with concern. "Is the situation that bad?"
Mother gave a faint shake of her head. "I can't say yet. But something's off. Magic beasts from the northern ranges are starting to move… not just south, but in strange directions. It's not just a migration pattern, it feels… scattered. I want to investigate before it turns serious."
Granny gave a single nod. "Alright. We'll leave it to you."
Grandpa sighed, rubbing his chin. "Let's hope it's not a stampede."
Granny's head snapped toward him, eyes sharp. "Don't say things like that."
Then, as if remembering something, Mother tilted her head my way and added, "Oh, and one more thing: I'd like to bring him along."
"Huh?"
Did I hear that right? Was she serious?
This has to be about what happened earlier in the day, doesn't it? Ugh. There's no way Granny would agree to something like that. Right?
"Alright," Granny said, without missing a beat. "But be careful."
What?
No, seriously, what?
Did Granny just… agree?
Did fighting those salamanders seriously backfire this badly?
Grandpa leaned forward, worry etched in his face. "Elara, are you sure? The forest can be dangerous."
Granny nodded calmly. "It's alright. He's strong enough to handle himself now. I've seen it."
Her gaze landed on me. And just like that, it clicked.
So it was about the salamanders.
"...If you say so," Grandpa said, though not without hesitation.
Come on, Grandpa. Don't just give in like that. Throw me a rope here!
My eyes flicked to the one person at the table who was clearly enjoying this the most.
Mother wore the most devilish grin I'd ever seen. She looked at me like a lion sizing up a rabbit.
"Be ready, Sieg," she said, her voice like honey and doom. "You'll be working hard."
I slumped back in my chair.
I'm going to die.
Again.