Chapter Thirty: Preparations for Alchemy

De Ligt looked at Carlos with earnest seriousness, pronouncing each word slowly: “A young alchemist, gifted and promising, with a bright future ahead of him.”

Carlos was momentarily at a loss for words.

In the basement, Dubois sipped his drink as he rummaged through the sketches and notes stored in an old chest.

Soon, however, he grew weary of this futile effort, his spirits drained and dejected. Setting the bottle aside, he braced his knee with a hand as gnarled as a barren tree, then bent down to retrieve scattered scraps of paper from beneath a chair.

He straightened and walked a few steps forward. At one side of the principal alchemy table, he lifted the curtain covering a mirror—a mirror used for self-correction.

A projection appeared within its surface: a scene from his alchemical work, recorded long ago.

Facing the mirror, he began to gather his thoughts.

In the reflection, the figure was imposing, chest full, with thick, short white hair, lively black eyes shining beneath heavy gray brows, radiating a passion and dedication to alchemy that was truly extraordinary.

Yet time spares no one.

Dubois stood with feet together, his form upright before the mirror. The projection faded, leaving only the image of a stooped, elderly man with white hair.

Dubois sighed.

Suddenly, he saw in the mirror a curtain behind him stir, and then a handsome young face peeked through, only a head thrust forward to glance about.

A voice from behind asked,

“Master, are you here?”

He replied, “I am,” turning as he spoke, then covered the mirror once again and looked toward the door with a gentle smile.

Carlos entered the underground alchemy chamber. Even at the threshold, he could hear the steam engine’s great sobbing, its lifespan now as worn as its master’s. Dubois scooped a ladle of liquid with a silver spoon, soothing the weeping machine, then turned kindly to Carlos at the door: “Come in, little one.”

Today was the scheduled day for alchemical practice, and Carlos had come for this very purpose.

“Master, you may simply call me Carlos. Were you just looking in the mirror?”

“Yes, Carlos,” he replied. “I was admiring myself, and you happened to catch me.”

He smiled, and the wrinkles on his brow relaxed slightly before he continued,

“In future, you needn’t announce yourself—just come in, no need for formalities.”

Carlos nodded and began to survey the basement’s layout: at its center stood a large workbench, clearly an alchemy table.

One half of the table was crowded with glass bottles containing fluids of every color, and several crucibles were heated by gas lamps. The other half resembled a mechanical workstation, cluttered with rusty tools, some placed at the front, beside a tall stool.

In the left corner was an old steam engine, connected to the workbench by a thick pipe. Whenever the engine ran, wisps of white steam leaked from imperfect seals, creating a cloud in that corner.

To the right was a long sofa, a blanket draped carelessly over its back, with a vent blowing a faint breeze but no light shining in.

Dubois watched Carlos’s uncertainty and said, “So, what will be your first choice for alchemy? Today is only the tenth day; you still have time to prepare!”

Carlos knew the old man referred to their fifteen-day agreement, but he was impatient. If not for the incident with the witch and the demon disrupting his plans, he would have come to the alchemy chamber on the sixth day.

“Yes, I choose to make Demon Breath Potion.”

“Is that so? As expected, you wish to use the potion to accelerate your absorption of the Dark Essence. That’s good, but this type of potion isn’t easy to concoct, and herbs are in short supply.”

Dubois paced slowly, somewhat concerned as he spoke.

Carlos replied with confidence, “But ores are not lacking here, as long as you have enough herb catalysts.”

Dubois looked at Carlos with approval, pleased with his student’s wisdom.

The old man was no longer young, but he retained an ageless dignity that made him prouder than any bodily health.

He murmured, “It seems you’ve done your homework. Wild Transmutation is a fundamental skill for advanced alchemists. I have plenty of catalysts here. So, how will you proceed?”

Carlos’s gaze grew more assured. The only uncertainty in his preparations was the source of herbs; since there were enough catalysts, his plan was half won.

Non-elven grade herbs could be transformed using catalysts—a crucial principle from the alchemy texts.

The ingredients for Demon Breath Potion were not complex: mostly herbs such as demon grass, sunflowers, and fine waterweed. On the barren eastern plains of Cyprus, these were scarce, rarely traded. There was also black-spotted fish oil and some pure water—fish oil was a good medicinal substance, available on the market, and water needed only to be fairly clean.

Everything was ready.

Carlos opened his notebook and read aloud: “I plan to use the binary polar principle, adding herb catalysts in varying ratios to salt ore and tin ore, to refine materials with the properties of waterweed and sunflowers. I’ll polish and collect the waterweed, then use the sunflower ore and add more catalysts to refine a small amount of demon grass, preparing all the ingredients for Demon Breath Potion.”

He glanced at Dubois, who nodded in recognition.

He quickly turned to the next page and continued:

“Next, I’ll use the Seven-Step Method to color, condense, distill, corrupt, calcine, sublimate, and dissolve the materials, finally producing the finished potion.”

The Seven-Step Method was inspired by the sevenfold ladder connecting Earth and Heaven.

Alchemists transformed materials from one state to another, from the most basic components up to the highest forms, mixing them into the final product.

This ascending transformation was divided into seven stages, hence the name.

Dubois neither agreed nor doubted, but asked calmly, “How long do you plan to complete the entire alchemical process?”

“One hour.”

The greatest difference between steam alchemists and their ancient counterparts was the steam engine, which greatly accelerated the process. Where chemical changes used to require hours or days, the powerful heat of the steam engine reduced the time to mere minutes. As long as an alchemical stone stabilized the materials, they would not be ruined by excessive internal fluctuations caused by the heat.

“Very well. Let us begin.”