Chapter 562: The Grand First-Year Combat Festival: The Future Golden Age of Alchemy

"Don’t act cocky, boy."

Andraver spoke calmly from where he sat beside the campfire.

The flames between them continued to crackle, sending small sparks into the air before they faded beneath the golden light coming from the stones embedded in the cave ceiling. Outside, the blizzard had not weakened in the slightest. Wind rushed past the cave entrance in long waves, carrying snow through the forest and covering whatever tracks Maxwell had left behind earlier.

Maxwell still held the card his Master had given him.

His earlier confidence in himself hadn’t left his face.

Andraver noticed that immediately.

"There are always people better than other people who are already strong. Look at me..."

He lifted one hand, then casually pointed toward himself.

"At one point, I was regarded as the strongest in Britannia, and I ended up getting my ass beaten by a small girl from The Servient Union..."

Maxwell’s expression changed.

Andraver paused.

His brows slowly drew together.

"Well, she’s not quite a small girl..."

He looked to the side as though correcting the statement inside his own head.

"I mean, she’s not a child. I think she was around her late twenties when we fought, so now she should be way older."

A trace of awkwardness entered Andraver’s expression as the memory returned.

That fight wasn’t exactly something he could speak about proudly.

Especially considering the deep injury it had left him with.

Maxwell, however, didn’t laugh.

His golden eyes hardened almost immediately.

"I will surely kill her, Master."

He said it with such a serious expression that there was no sign he was joking.

Andraver’s eyes moved toward him.

Bam!

"Ouch!!"

Maxwell’s head jerked backward as another small rock struck him directly on the forehead.

Not somewhere else.

The exact same spot as before.

He immediately covered the swelling with both hands.

"Why did you hit me again?! And on the same spot! The place just started healing!"

A little moisture gathered around the corners of his eyes from the sharp pain, and Maxwell frowned at his Master as though Andraver had committed some great crime against him.

What made it worse was that he had not seen the rock.

Again.

He had not noticed when Andraver picked it up with Alchemy levitation.

He had not sensed it moving.

One instant, he had been talking.

The next...

Bam.

Straight to the forehead.

"You’re too young and weak to think about facing a Devil like her."

Andraver didn’t look even slightly guilty.

"Just forget about any form of stupid revenge and focus on getting stronger."

While speaking, he raised one hand.

Cognis moved within his broken body.

The remaining spice particles that had stained his fingers lifted away from his skin through Alchemy Levitation. Tiny grains floated above his palm, gathering together as Andraver moved his fingers.

The loose particles compressed.

Within seconds, they formed a small solid ball of spice.

Andraver flicked it toward the campfire.

The ball landed between the burning wood, and the flames swallowed it.

A different smell briefly mixed with the smoke.

"Plus..."

Andraver turned his attention back to Maxwell.

He pointed at him.

"You should also be careful with this idea that you’re some main character just because of the Alchemy Path you follow."

Maxwell continued rubbing his forehead.

"I have..."

His voice carried a faint complaint, though he still answered.

Andraver watched him for another moment.

The boy had grown powerful.

Far more powerful than the waiter he had taken from that rural village years ago.

That much was true.

But strength could become dangerous when someone started believing the world had somehow chosen them above everyone else.

Especially when that person was young.

And especially when that person followed an Alchemy Path like the Sun.

"Let the kid enjoy his youth, little Andraver."

A young voice suddenly echoed from Andraver’s side.

The voice sounded like that of a ten years old child.

Andraver’s eyes widened.

For the first time since their conversation began, the old man’s expression completely changed.

His body didn’t move much.

But his eyes did.

The relaxed look disappeared from them instatly.

Shock took its place.

"You’re alive... Primordial... of... me."

The words left his mouth slowly.

Disbelief entered each pause between them.

Across the fire, Maxwell was still rubbing the swollen part of his forehead.

He continued muttering complaints to himself, apparently far more concerned about the fact that Andraver had struck the same spot twice than anything else happening around him.

The young voice answered Andraver.

"I just came to see how you are faring, but you look like a total mess."

The words carried a teasing edge.

Andraver’s expression tightened.

His golden eyes remained fixed on the person.

"And you seem to have achieved the youth you always wanted."

"I did."

A smirk appeared on the person’s face.

"And I also found something interesting you’ll like to hear, my little Andraver."

There was clear excitement in the voice.

Yet before continuing, the person’s attention shifted.

His eyes moved toward Maxwell.

The boy remained nearby, still rubbing his forehead while ranting quietly about his Master’s habit of attacking him with rocks.

The visitor watched him.

"Ehn... you’re using all your strength to protect him from my presence, even though you should be trying to preserve your strength so you don’t die too early."

The teasing tone faded slightly.

The words were spoken plainly.

Andraver didn’t respond immediately.

The faint golden lines running across his aged skin remained visible beneath the light of the cave.

His condition was already poor and his strength was disappearing.

Yet something was still being spent.

Something Maxwell could neither see nor understand.

"I should be thankful that you aren’t showing your presence, then..."

Andraver’s eyes narrowed.

"What level of power have you reached?"

There was no warmth in his voice now.

The old man’s attention remained completely fixed on the person before him.

Then another thought struck him.

His expression sharpened.

"What did you do to my disciple?"

The air around Andraver changed.

His golden eyes brightened.

The weak old man who had been casually eating Ground Ape meat moments ago seemed to disappear beneath that stare.

"Hey... Hey... relax."

The person raised his hands slightly.

"I just wiped this time from his sight and knowledge. You know what would happen if he did know."

His voice remained calm.

"So even if he remembers, he wouldn’t know or be able to see me... or her."

He pointed elsewhere.

Another person sat lazily in the air.

Her legs dangled beneath her as though she were sitting on the edge of a chair that didn’t exist.

Andraver attempted to turn his face toward her.

But his body didn’t obey him.

His eyes should have shifted first.

Then his neck should have followed.

But neither didn’t.

Andraver tried again.

Nothing.

It wasn’t fear.

He knew was fear felt like.

And it wasn’t wariness either.

Since he was already wary of the visitro before him.

This was different.

His body simply wouldn’t obey him.

The realization settled over him without any need for words.

"Little Andraver..."

The person moved.

He walked around until he stood directly in front of Andraver, then slowly extended one hand.

Andraver’s golden eyes remained on him.

"The ....... Stone is real."

The cave seemed quieter around those words.

"And it’s the only way to reach the peak of Alchemy."

The person’s voice remained calm.

"It will also save your life and make you a new person."

The hand remained extended.

"Join us, and receive it."

His crystal light-blue eyes brightened.

Andraver stared at the offered hand in complete shock from what he just heard.

The fire continued burning beside them.

Snow continued raging outside.

Maxwell remained only a short distance away.

Yet the boy could not see.

Could not hear.

Could not know.

Andraver’s lips moved.

"No..."

Cough! Cough! Cough! Cough!

Blood suddenly burst from Maxwell’s mouth.

His body jerked forward.

More blood followed.

His golden eyes widened as thin streams of blood began running from them.

The memory snapped.

Maxwell’s consciousness was torn away from the past before it could continue.

His Cognis surged.

Violently.

The flow inside his body lost all order at once, rushing through him as though something buried within his memory had been struck open.

His Stars began cracking.

The change happened so quickly that there was barely any time to understand it.

Kent moved immediately.

His body flashed toward Maxwell.

One instant, he had been listening while seated in a relaxed posture.

The next, his hand was already pressing against Maxwell’s forehead.

Cognis poured toward Kent’s palm.

He slammed it firmly against Maxwell’s forehead and forced his Cognis inward.

Maxwell continued coughing.

Blood stained his lips.

His eyes bled faster.

The Cognis inside his body moved like something had thrown it into complete chaos, and the violent flow spread toward his Stars.

Cracks began forming across them.

Kent’s expression changed.

Lightning crackled from his hand.

The sharp sound echoed through the area.

"What’s happening to him?"

For once, the usual calmness on Kent’s face was gone.

His eyes moved rapidly across Maxwell as he forced the Law of Inversion through his palm.

The violent Cognis surged again.

Kent pushed against it.

The Law of Inversion spread through Maxwell’s body, meeting the unstable Cognis and cancelling the violent changes before they could continue.

The cracks...

The blood...

The pain...

Click.

Kent blinked.

His hand was no longer against Maxwell’s forehead.

There was no blood.

No lightning.

No violent Cognis.

He was sitting in the same cross-legged position as before.

The notebook remained in his hand.

His quill-pen rested against the page.

Kent’s eyes moved slightly.

Something had just happened.

For the briefest moment, he had felt something like a ripple pass through him.

It had been there.

Then it was gone.

Kent glanced around.

Nothing seemed different.

He remained seated opposite Maxwell, still jotting down what the boy had been telling him about the period when he left his Master and began his journey toward the Royal Academy.

Kent paused.

The sensation had felt strange.

But after a moment, he dismissed it as the wind.

Maxwell continued speaking.

"So, I left my Master after burying him and journeyed all the way to the Royal Academy, facing Monsters and Rogue Alchemists to get here."

There was no blood around his mouth.

No blood beneath his eyes.

His Stars were intact.

The violent surge of Cognis had never happened.

At least, neither of them remembered it happening.

"And here I am."

Maxwell finished.

His shoulders relaxed slightly.

A quiet sense of relief settled over him.

Talking about the past had brought memories back to him.

Not all of them were pleasant.

The last period he had spent with his Master still carried a weight Maxwell couldn’t completely put into words, especially now that Andraver was gone.

But being able to reminisce about their last time together brought warmth with the pain.

For a moment, Maxwell simply sat there.

A small smile touched his face.

"Hmmmm..."

Kent adjusted the study glasses resting over his eyes.

He looked at Maxwell through them before glancing down at his notes.

"You must have really enjoyed your time with the Elder."

"I did."

Maxwell answered with a warm smile.

There was no hesitation.

Whatever else had happened during those years, that answer was easy.

Kent observed him for a moment.

Then he lowered his notebook.

"You know, Maxwell."

Kent removed his study glasses and placed them aside.

Maxwell looked at him.

"You aren’t wrong to see yourself above others."

Kent said it casually.

Maxwell’s brows lifted slightly.

That probably wasn’t what he had expected to hear.

Kent leaned forward.

"You are in the Meister Alchemist rank. Plus, you follow the Path of Sun Alchemy, known for its unstoppable destructive output while also possessing what can be considered one of the best defensive Alchemy abilities."

He raised the paper quill-pen and pointed it toward Maxwell as he spoke.

"You are strong, and you are a talent in your own right."

Maxwell remained silent.

"But that doesn’t mean the others standing before you aren’t exceptional themselves."

Kent leaned back in his chair.

The quill-pen lowered slightly.

"Lady Vera Ashenlocke, Lady Diane Bergwyn, Young Lord Ravenor Burnwick, Lady Willow Derlis, Miss Fatima Drakes, even Mr. Ezra Ashenlocke, and many more Alchemists in your year are all geniuses in their own strengths, and each of them has something that solidifies their talent."

Maxwell listened.

The names weren’t random.

He knew exactly who Kent was talking about.

These were people from the same generation.

People standing in the same First-Year Combat Festival.

People who had already shown things that separated them from ordinary young Alchemists.

Kent paused.

His expression grew more serious.

"Especially Lady Vera, Lady Diane, and Sir Ravenor."

He raised three fingers.

"Those three have things that make them Growing Alchemists we haven’t seen in a long time."

One finger remained raised as Kent continued.

"The power to see the future."

Another.

"The power to copy."

Then the third.

"And a Battle Instinct as natural as life and death themselves..."

Kent stopped.

His fingers remained raised, but his attention seemed to drift elsewhere.

Something had entered his thoughts.

Maxwell noticed it.

Kent’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"And a new hidden talent..."

His voice became quieter.

"I’m just realizing."

The quill-pen in his hand stopped moving.

A face appeared in Kent’s mind.

Ezra Ashenlocke.

Kent remained silent for a moment.

Then his expression changed.

Not much.

But enough.

"A power of continuous creation."

Professor Kent spoke with a serious expression.

The words settled between them.

Maxwell watched him.

Kent’s gaze remained distant for another moment, as though he were no longer thinking about one student, or even three.

He was thinking about all of them.

A generation where children their age were already reaching heights that should have taken much longer.

Different Houses.

Different Alchemy Paths.

Different abilities.

Different kinds of talent.

Some inherited.

Some natural.

Some that were still difficult to understand.

And all of them were appearing around the same period.

Professor Kent slowly lowered the quill-pen.

"The Golden Age of Alchemy."