Netherwitch - 75

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-oOo-Chapter 75-oOo-

“Mr. Swift,” a jovial jinn greeted. “I’m Magister Hadi Nazari. I’ll be the one in charge of your magister test.”

Rising from the bench he’d been waiting on, Sylvester gripped the man’s forearm and gave it a firm shake.

Magister Nazari was a blue-skinned man with eyes like gold coins. Jinn were a magical bloodline from the Ma’at Thoth genera, which made them close relatives to the magia. They were most famous for their innate ‘wishing magic’ which let them store a great deal of aspected fate energy then release it as a powerful, transformative wish.

Jinn didn’t achieve full genie fame until Transcendence. Even then, they often preferred traditional magecraft to which they were well-suited. Their innate wishing magic demanded a long period of recovery, making it unsuitable for daily life.

“It’s my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Magister Nazari,” Sylvester accepted. “And you too, little lady.”

Doffing his hat, he gave a slight bow to the woman at Hadi’s side. Like most magissa, the girl was short, standing no more than five foot two. She had dark blue hair and pink-violet eyes filled with shimmering stars. He knew her bloodline at a glance: Hecates Magissa Asteri.

“Ah, I see you noticed my apprentice, Penny Brown,” the jinn stated.

Miss Brown curtsied, lightly holding up the corners of her violet robes. Stars and golden knotwork added elegance to an otherwise simple garment. The ankh and ouroboros symbols were missing, because Penny Brown was not entitled to the symbols of a magister.

“I am pleased to meet you, High Warlock Swift,” she said, rising from her delicate dip.

Shk, shk, shk.

Sylvester snapped a few pictures. His lovely and magnificent wife would be delighted to hear of this starlight witch he’d just met. He was curious how Penny ended up in Aidonopol. Was she one of the graduates who’d stayed in the Timeless Beryl Wilderness when the Academy fled? Or was she, instead, one of the very few who’d migrated to other planes well before the war?

“It’s quite busy around here, so I hope you don’t mind if we get right to it,” Magister Nazari said.

The blue-skinned man gestured for Sylvester to follow. Hadi wore black magister’s robes paired with a flat-topped hat called a pakol. The warlock fell in beside him, Penny placing herself slightly behind as befit her status.

“I’ll start by explaining the rules,” the jinn said as they walked. “There are two parts to the magister test. The first confirms your theoretical understanding. It is on this part that most prospective magisters fail.”

“The Ten Classic Problems,” Sylvester noted as they ascended the stairs to the second floor.

“Indeed,” Magister Nazari confirmed. “Though we call it the Ten Classic Problems, there are actually one hundred and thirty from which we can select. It used to be exactly one hundred, but thirty were added two millennia ago. The ten problems you’ll solve are pulled randomly from that list.”

“Just the ten then,” Sylvester huffed.

“You should take the test seriously, Mr. Swift,” Penny interrupted, her pink-violet eyes flashing. Her expression was stern.

“Excuse my apprentice,” Hadi stated. “But she is quite right. Though each of the Ten Classic Problems is quite easily solved on its own, there is a catch. When creating your solutions, you may only use runes from the Great Codex. Furthermore, you may only use each rune once.”

Just as some letters in the English language were more common, there were runes which could be found in virtually every spell sequence. To avoid a rune clash was difficult. It demanded that a mage meticulously arrange their spells to avoid the outcome.

But that was where things got tricky. A set of ten selected from a group of one hundred and thirty meant the Ten Classic Problems had 266 trillion combinations. Therefore, even if the testee memorized answers previously given to the puzzles, they’d inevitably be forced to invent four to five spells for their specific set.

Thus, the test became an extreme assessment of a mage’s runic knowledge, spell theory, and arithmancy.

“I am well aware,” Sylvester replied. “I also know, I only have twenty-four hours to solve the problems. It is just, I feel ten problems is too easy. I think eleven or twelve would suit me more.”

“A confident man. I like it,” Hadi Nazari laughed. “But I can only give you ten. Otherwise, if you failed, my fellow magisters would accuse me of bullying. Save the spectacle for after you’ve earned your ankh.”

The blue-skinned jinn gestured Sylvester through a door and into a small room. Here, there were two chairs, a small table, and some writing implements. No windows. The entire space had been thoroughly warded.

“I suppose I will have to compete on time,” Sylvester sighed, striding into the room proudly. “Tell me, what’s the fastest solution in history?”

Penny frowned.

“Master Magister Merlin once completed the Ten Classic Problems in twelve minutes and thirty-two seconds,” Penny answered. Her pink-violet eyes showed how little she thought of the warlock’s arrogance. “But it is not suitable to compare yourself to Merlin, High Warlock Swift.”

“Indeed,” Magister Nazari added. “And let us not forget, Merlin achieved his record three centuries after becoming a magister. But we are distracted from your purpose. Let me lay down the rest of the rules. Causality magic is permitted. You may also manipulate fate or seek prophesy. Grimoires are allowed, including those which contain previous solutions to individual puzzles. Outside communication is not.”

Sylvester’s lips turned up in a smirk. “To have books filled with existing solutions seems an awful lot like cheating.”

“The college does not wish to rummage through our esteemed guests’ souls,” Hadi replied with a smile. “Which is precisely why we expanded the set of one hundred to one hundred and thirty. My apprentice, Penny, will be here to watch you. Don’t try to pull any tricks. She’s a rare species of witch. They have a fascinating trait, starlight eyes, that lets them see magic.”

Penny Brown offered a pretty smile and dainty curtsy. Sylvester returned the gesture with a polite nod.

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” he said.

“See that you are,” Magister Nazari said. “But just to be sure: any attempt to cheat will fail horribly.”

The jinn snapped his fingers. Sylvester felt fate congeal around him, becoming thick and sticky. For most mages, fate was an intangible, invisible force. Even the eyes of an asteri could barely see the energetic flows. The third eye of a magia was better, but it was oracles who were most fit to witness the clinging threads.

He, however, didn’t need eyes. Sylvester could feel the twisted fate, clearly and directly. Not only could he sense Hadi Nazari’s wish, he could taste the meaning and intent embedded within it.

“Good luck, Mr. Swift,” Hadi said, handing over a notebook. “Your ten problems are listed within. Record your answers here as well. When this door next opens, the test is over, no matter the cause or the reason.”

With that said, Magister Nazari left. The room was sealed, leaving Sylvester and Penny as the only two within. The silver-haired gentleman studied the asteri for a long moment.

“I cannot answer any question related to magic,” Penny said stiffly.

“I am merely curious about your bloodline, Miss Brown,” Sylvester replied, pulling back a chair. He lazily set the notebook on the table. “This is the first time I’ve met one of your kind.”

The blue-haired girl relaxed.

“We’re very rare,” Penny accepted with a smile. “Every starlight witch comes from a rural plane called the Timeless Beryl Wilderness. Our progenitor, Baroness Vallenfelt, ran a magical academy. I immigrated to Tartarus after graduating with honors. I haven’t been back since.”

“How intriguing,” he mused.

“We’re even rarer now. Twelve years ago, Baroness Vallenfelt vanished with most of my sisters,” she added. Her gaze and voice fell. A quiet held for a moment, then Penny’s eyes turned up, twinkling with curiosity. “What’s it like, being a warlock?”

“There is a subtle difference in flavor from when I was a witch,” Sylvester answered truthfully.

“You’re Awakened then?” Penny asked eagerly.

“Very much so. I’ve found that reactions to my situation are quite mixed. Some of the covens are rather bigoted,” he answered. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to proceed with the test. Time is ticking. Or so they say.”

Penny Brown nodded. With a third curtsy, she settled into a chair to watch him carefully.

Sylvester opened the notebook. His jasper eyes skimmed over all ten problems. The first asked him to create a display of eight elemental orbs, showing the basic primordial elements and their cycle. The second demanded a flower of ice whose blossom was molten metal. Third wanted a divination that could identify both the location and the person who’d last used a word or a phrase the caster had selected.

All ten problems were like that.

Superficially, each of the Ten Problems was simple, but every single one juggled multiple concerns. The flower of ice and molten metal contained an elemental clash. The divination not only had to accept input, it had to consider time, position, and identity. Should these spells be refined fully, he judged that each would take no more than 40 runes. A new, ad hoc creation, however, might need more than 100.

And all of this ignored the hardest part of the test, which was to solve the Ten Classic Problems without reusing a single rune.

Ordinarily, a mage would start by selecting solutions invented by previous generations. Sylvester hadn’t bothered to memorize any. Nor did he care to skim through his Networked Grimoire. Instead, he booted up Runeworks Studio and created a new spell for each problem on the spot.

Then he paused. The wish cast by Magister Nazari hadn’t moved.

“Are tools allowed in this test?” Sylvester questioned.

“You are permitted any tool of calculation or deduction you desire,” Penny answered. “But only so long as it fit within your soul before entering this room.”

He nodded, mind focused on the virtual software.

With a crude assembly of spells in hand, Sylvester played with each. In total, the collection consumed 800 unique runes from the Great Codex, with more than 300 of them being duplicates. Tricky. The gentleman stroked his chin, casually making modifications. A few minutes later, he picked the 6 solutions with the most promise and tapped the Reduce button in Runeworks Studio.

Digital software rumbled inside his soul. He could practically feel the data churn. Without remote network resources, the process was painfully slow. Having no desire to wait, he burned mana and causality ether, accelerating the computation.

Minutes later, Runeworks Studio provided 10 reduced chains for each of the spells. Sylvester read through the group, plucking out the solutions which had reasonably modular structures and limited overlap. This left the 4 laggards. He stared at the blue screen with a frown.

“This is quite a fun puzzle,” Sylvester observed, while reorganizing one of the laggard spells. “Unfortunately, Master Magister Merlin’s record is beyond me.”

“I’m glad you’re focusing on your test, High Warlock Swift,” Penny replied. “The Ten Classic Problems aren’t as easy as they seem. A year ago, my master had me try a set of eight. It took me three months before I finished.”

After a few more tweaks, Sylvester moved on to the next incomplete spell. “Magister Nazari treats you well then?”

Penny Brown nodded. “He takes the time to teach me, even if he keeps using me like an intern. I wish I had more time to practice magic.”

Yes, well, that was to be expected. Demons operated on much longer time scales than mortals. It was quite easy for a master to lazily instruct their apprentice over a period of decades or even centuries. And, as with any relationship, it was normal for a master to expect something from their apprentice in return.

Sylvester paused. This wasn’t going to work. Oh, wait. What if he went back and changed his approach on the eight elements problem? He quickly made a series of changes. Now the total number of unique runes used was 319 with 7 overlaps.

Troublesome.

Minutes continued to tick by in silence. Finally, all the pieces of the puzzle slipped into place. Rather than hurry, he read each rune chain thrice, his digitized soul tracking every sigil used to ensure there wasn’t a single clash. Once he was satisfied each spell would work as intended, he stood.

“I’m done,” Sylvester announced.

The blue-haired girl frowned. “Are you giving up already, Mr. Swift?”

Penny looked a little disappointed. Perhaps, she’d been hoping to watch him become a magister. If so, she was in luck.

“I believe you’ve misunderstood me.”

Runes swirled around him, each syllable doubling as an incantation. The warlock tossed the notebook into the air. Whirling magic left it suspended, pages fluttering. One by one, glyphs imprinted themselves onto the open pages.

“I said I was done, because I have already finished this little puzzle.”

Snap! The notebook closed. Magic expended, it fell toward the ground. Sylvester caught it neatly. With a wild smile, he handed it over to the stunned asteri. Then he pulled open the door.

“After you, Miss Brown.”

-oOo-

“Master Nazari!”

Penny rushed toward the jinn in a hurry, the notebook clutched against her chest. Sylvester strolled along behind her, his cane of silver and black cracking against the stone floor. Faint, gray sunlight filtered in through the open arch windows of the college halls.

Magister Nazari turned when his apprentice called. The black-robed jinn stood beside another pair of magisters. The first of these was an angel. The woman had long blonde hair and eyes of the brightest blue. She was dressed in the robes of a magister, marked with stars, an ankh, and an ouroboros. Hers, however, were white with blue embellishments and gold embroidery.

The angel hadn’t bothered to hide her cultivation, so the System happily labeled her as C-VII/Low.

Hadi’s second companion was a man Sylvester knew well. Magister Moswen looked exactly as the warlock remembered. He was tall with a thin, white beard and purple-tinged skin. The three-eyed magia wore red robes paired with a magnificent turban, a single feather hanging off to the left.

“Manners, Penny,” Magister Nazari warned. “You are in polite company.”

Realizing her mistake, Penny slowed then offered the magisters a graceful curtsy. Sylvester let out a small chuckle, reminded of his own time as a ‘young lady’ who was expected to maintain decorum around ‘her’ betters. Which, at the time, was everyone.

“And who is this?” the blonde angel asked curiously.

“My apprentice, Penny Brown, and my guest, High Warlock Swift,” Hadi Nazari supplied. The blue-skinned jinn put on a consoling smile. “A shame about your test, but you were wise to quit the moment you knew you were unable.”

Penny’s expression turned uncomfortable. Sylvester leaned on his cane, crimson eyes dancing.

“Indeed, it was quite the shame,” he asserted. He made a suave bow, hat over his chest. “Fifty-three minutes was far longer than I had hoped. Luckily, I was able to finish in under an hour. Master Magister Merlin’s record, however, stands.”

...

“Excuse me?” the jinn said after a long moment.

Penny offered the notebook to her teacher. “Master, Mr. Swift says he has already solved all ten problems.”

“In less than an hour?” Magister Nazari said with disbelief, snatching the book.

While the jinn studied Sylvester’s solution, the warlock extended an arm to the two magisters. “May I have the honor of knowing your names?”

“Aurelia Drusus,” the blonde angel said with a smile, gripping him by the forearm. “I’m from the Collegium Magicae in Duat. It’s a pleasure to meet a man so skilled with runes. The Ten Classic Problems is the test that ends nearly all prospective magister’s hopes. Most pass their practical.”

Out of 100 prospective magisters, 98 failed when attempting the Ten Classic Problems. Sylvester’s smooth victory was the result of 19 skill books dedicated to runes, arithmancy, and spell theory. What’s more, all of them had been reinforced by a single psychic fruit, several skill books on pure math, and the incredible hack called Runeworks Studio.

Most mages didn’t have those advantages.

Of course, time, talent, and cultivation could make up for these deficiencies. While the title of magister was prestigious, it wasn’t exceptionally rare. Around 1 in 1000 mages had the appellation. Esmeralda might well have claimed the title herself, if she hadn’t been lacking in her study of spell theory and arithmancy. When the beautiful witch had last visited the college, she’d been a little too young.

Now though, Sylvester felt Emmy would have little trouble. An amused smile crossed his lips. Would she complete her own test on the way back to the Cloud Island Wilderness?

“I’m Magister Moswen,” the purple-skinned magia greeted next. “No last name. I’ve never seen the reason to take one.”

Sylvester stepped forward and gripped the man’s forearm. Moswen’s eyes went wide. A subtle psychic pulse played around Sylvester’s fingers. With this, the silver-haired man conveyed an image, an ersetu storm gull standing on the cabin of the Utrecht.

Then, just as fast as it appeared, any hint of the byplay vanished from Moswen’s face.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Sylvester accepted, releasing his grip.

Magister Moswen served Lord Potami. It was he who gifted Sylvester the legendary artifact, Anbaht. The warlock speculated that Moswen worked for the Clockwork Men, though this connection hadn’t been confirmed. Regardless, Moswen might well prove a useful ally in the days to come. And he was one of a very few Sylvester could trust with his true identity.

“I don’t recognize any of these spells!” Magister Nazari cried.

Sylvester’s gaze turned to the jinn. Hadi Nazari was still skimming through the notebook. Sylvester put on a smug smile. Curious, Magister Moswen and Magister Drusus leaned over the jinn’s shoulder. Penny’s pink-violet eyes flickered to the warlock, showing a shine of curiosity and excitement.

Oy, oy. None of that. This handsome fellow was taken.

“By my judgment, each of these spells will accomplish their objective,” Moswen noted, his fingers drawing his thin beard to a point.

Hadi let out a heavy sigh, then snapped the book closed. “Which means I have to arrange Mr. Swift’s practical.”

“If Mr. Swift is confident with alchemy, I can add him to the alchemy contest,” Aurelia offered. “I was going to run over to the arena in just a bit. All I’d have to do is convince my fellow judges.”

“I do have passing familiarity with the material and biological aspects,” Sylvester accepted. “But I wouldn’t be so bold as to claim I can win a contest against the most skilled alchemists in the netherworld.”

Aurelia laughed. “It’s just second consolidation mages in their first few centuries.”

“Then, I will be a dreadful bully,” he said. “How delightful.”

Magister Nazari snapped his fingers. “Then it’s decided. We’ll use the alchemy contest to judge Mr. Swift’s practical understanding.”

“Asking him to win is too much,” Moswen asserted. “Passing the first round should suffice.”“The result will be clearer if he passes the second round in addition to the first,” Aurelia Drusus contradicted. The angel wore a pretty smile, her bright blue eyes turning to the jinn. “But it is for Magister Nazari to decide when he’s satisfied with Mr. Swift’s skill. A single round might well be enough, if Mr. Swift is spectacular.”

“As you say, but I’ll certainly have you, Magister Drusus, there to keep me honest,” Hadi Nazari laughed. “Now, how about we head over and get Mr. Swift enrolled? I could use an excuse to be out of the building. Oh, and go ahead and use my apprentice as an assistant. I’m sure she’ll be happier helping with the alchemy contest than being cooped up in a room watching Mr. Swift think about runes.”

Sylvester glanced in Penny Brown’s direction. The asteri looked as put out as she did excited.

“Don’t worry. I’ll think of a few things to keep her busy,” Aurelia laughed. The blonde angel turned to the gentleman. “Come along, Mr. Swift. We have less than an hour to get you settled.”

“I think I’ll watch as well,” Magister Moswen added.

It was hard to tell whether the magia was interested because of Sylvester’s capability, or if he simply wished to see ‘Her Eminence’ reveal ‘her’ skills. Regardless, Sylvester found himself in the midst of a procession. The group made its way through the throng filling the streets, passing odd displays as they went.

“A marvelous creation, brooms lighter than any on the market yet still fast enough to be used in war,” someone shouted.

Sylvester let out a low chuckle. Some displays were greater than others. He took a few pictures of the witch bold enough to hawk his Stella Iecits.

Finally, they came upon the arena.

Befitting the International Exposition of Magic, the alchemy contest took place on giant, floating platform suspended two hundred meters over the city. Stands ringed the arena, providing seats for the audience while other smaller platforms acted as elevators. These disks were absolutely necessary. The entire park was wrapped in law wards. Flight above 3 meters was forbidden, excepting those passing through the designated travel lanes.

A decision which had forced many faeries to flutter along in the crowds.

It took a moment for their group to find a platform. Half a minute later, they were outside the arena.

“I’ll talk with my fellow judges,” Aurelia Drusus said. “For now, High Warlock Swift can join the participants.”

“I don’t mind if I do,” Sylvester accepted.

Cane clacking on the ground, he left the others behind, passing through the arena’s hall. Near one of the far gates, dozens of contestants were gathered. They milled about in groups, some sitting off the side quietly, other mingling. A third of them were witches. Alchemy was closely related to magecraft, and witches were a large segment of the mage population. As a warlock, Sylvester naturally attracted their gaze. Some sneered. Others leered. Most, though, paid the silver-haired man little attention.

But witches were only a fraction of the whole.

Off to the left, isolated from the demons, were a score of celestials. As with all those from the Ouranious Nefritos Anthros bloodline, they appeared very human. Blond hair was particularly common, though there were plenty of blacks and browns. Only a few of the celestials had wings. Most angels were without.

The Aos-Si were the third most common lineage. The elves, dark or light, and the faeries were well-suited for magecraft. It wasn’t just the Tuath genera who were represented. The Coetir were also present in numbers, including a spriggan, a faun, and two leshens.

After this, the numbers were mixed. Every bloodline from the Kategaris lineage was magical by default, but most relied on their natural abilities instead of magecraft. Still, several kitsune and goblins could be seen. Likewise, a pair of vampires from the Nox lineage appeared in the group. Most surprising, however, were the catgirl beast-kin and the oni.

Beast-kin and oni were warrior-class immortals.

Alchemy was a skill above all else. Bloodlines which tilted toward the physical could practice the art. But certain bloodlines held unquestionable advantage. Sylvester’s starlight eyes made it easier to judge his ingredients and his work. His greater wit provided superior thinking speed and mental capacity. All of those things aided a mage in their alchemical pursuit.

“High Warlock Swift,” Penny Brown called out. The asteri scurried over to him, holding out a badge. “This is proof of your right to participate in the contest. Good lu – ”

“Excuse me?” a loud voice interrupted. “On what basis is this ‘magissa’ allowed to bypass the preliminary round?”

A leshen boldly strode over, a haughty glower on his face. The green-haired man was a good seven inches taller than Sylvester. He had a diamond-shaped face and green eyes like pond moss. Despite being an Awakened fey of the second consolidation, he didn’t hesitate to sneer down on the much more powerful warlock.

“Magi – ” Penny began before getting cut off.

“I didn’t ask you, girl,” the leshen snapped. He stepped forward, trying to intimidate with his size. “An ancient fossil forcing his way in through the backdoor with his status is an insult to everyone here. Aren’t you embarrassed, cheating your way into this contest?”

Sylvester let out a low, dark chuckle. His crimson eyes gleamed as they gazed up. “You are quite brave, aren’t you? I’m curious, what would you do if I killed you on the spot for your insult?”

“You dare!” the green-haired man spat, voice rising in his rage. “My master is Zayd Rahal, a Transcendent magister and one of the judges in this contest.”

…

“And you accuse me of slipping in through the back door?” Sylvester said plainly.

“I made it here on my own skill,” the leshen said in retort, his green eyes narrowed. “My name is Delano MacIntyre. Remember it. Not only am I an Awakened fey, I have already become a master of alchemy at a mere 150 years old. How long did it take an old man like you to reach your current stage?”

Sylvester wondered how this arrogant fool would react if he said: ‘fifteen years’.

“There is, indeed, quite a difference in our ages,” he accepted gracefully. “But save your fire for the contest, boy. Because if you continue this affront, I would be well within my right to challenge you to a duel.”

The silver-haired man’s jasper eyes glared. The leshen glared back. Penny nervously tugged at the warlock’s sleeve.

“Mr. Swift,” she murmured quietly in reminder.

“Thank you, Penny,” he allowed, taking the badge. “You may go.”

Delano huffed. “I’m going to crush you in this contest, old man, and let everyone know you’re a hack who has to lower himself to challenging alchemists a quarter his age.”

The leshen turned to leave. Penny looked embarrassed and a little angry.

“You have to win, Mr. Swift!” she said forcefully, her pink-violet eyes burning.

“I’ll certainly do my best, Miss Brown,” Sylvester returned with a chuckle.

Penny hurried off. The crowd of contestants continued to murmur as the time passed, some shooting ugly looks in Sylvester’s direction. He bore them like the gentleman he was. Delano MacIntyre was right, after all. He had entered this contest unfairly.

With great fanfare, the alchemy contest began.

“Welcome! Welcome everyone to the 173rd Alchemy Contest of the International Exposition of Magic!”

A mostly human-looking tengu flew overhead, his dark wings spread wide. As he sailed around the ring, platform after platform rose behind him. The spiral of floating disks carried an array of alchemical equipment. There were flasks, beakers, giant glass chambers, alchemical furnaces, and even relaxation chambers. Each disk had its own set, just waiting for a contestant to ride upon it.

“And boy do we have an exciting game for you today! Three judges! Three tests! Three rewards!” the tengu crowed, completing his circuit. “One hundred and… one alchemists will face off in a battle of skill and intellect to prove they are the greatest alchemist of their generation. And the one who makes it to the end will grab it all. Yes, that’s right, all three prizes will be rewarded to whoever wins first place!”

Winner takes all. How very Hell.

The spiraling disks began to settle on the arena floor. One by one, the contestants stepped onto their ride. As they did, they were swept up into the sky. Delano was the second to rise. The proud leshen gazed out into the audience, the disks completing a second spiral so the audience could see each contestant clearly. Being in no hurry, Sylvester took a disk late into the crowd. The catgirl was to his left and the oni to his right.

“And what prizes they are!” the tengu announcer continued. “First, we have a magnificent cauldron. Valued at 1.1 million soli, this instrument is perfect for any form of alchemy which demands a hands-on approach. Surely, our contestants are boiling in excitement!”

On a smaller disk, the first prize rose. Sylvester’s right eye twitched. The cauldron was very much a: ‘oh no, I forgot to get a reward for the alchemy contest’ kind of prize.

“Next we have – ”

Bang!

One of the flying disks went careening through the air before slicing, edge first, into the arena floor. Everyone’s gaze jerked. An asura stood boldly in the sky, his blue skin so dark it was black. Lord Azazel. The archdemon’s head was tilted down, a pale blue flame burning in his sockets instead of eyes. In his lower right hand, the asura carried a compass, which he studied intently.

The tengu made a desperate gesture downward with one of his wings. The spiraling disks suddenly descended a dozen meters, avoiding a second collision with the archdemon. Or, more accurately, a second slap into the arena below.

Finally, Lord Azazel returned his compass to his soul. “Carry on. I’m here to watch this contest.”

The asura didn’t move, however. Instead, he stood there in the sky, all six arms folded over his chest. The tengu let out an uncomfortable cough. Then the spiraling disks drew closer to arena’s center, to avoid disturbing the archdemon.

“What an honor! Lord Azazel has come to witness our contest in person. But let’s not get distracted, here. There are still two incredible prizes to introduce! Like this beautiful, winged basilisk,” the tengu cried, a disk and a cage rising from the arena’s center. “This meticulously created chimera is not only an able protector, it is also an excellent mount. It even comes with its own soul stone, a prize that will surely get the blood pumping.”

The caged beast rose higher into the air, the feathered serpent lying quietly in its cell. Sylvester stroked his chin. Now, that there was an actual prize. Not because he wanted the chimera, but rather because he was keenly interested in dissecting its body and reviewing its code.

“But the best was saved for last!” the announcer called, the last prize disk rising. “Our own, homegrown judge has offered a prize which would move anyone’s heart. A fated growth pill!”

The gazes of the alchemists turned intense. The catgirl looked longingly. The oni stared, hand tight on the table in front of him. A fated growth pill assisted the evolution of code during consolidation. By consuming one, a solid trait was all but guaranteed, provided the bloodline’s potential wasn’t exhausted. Even better, the risk of a bad egg was dramatically reduced, which allowed ambitious souls to push their potential further.

The truly lucky might even receive two traits in a single consolidation.

But such pills were rare and expensive. The price started at 5 million soli, if a fated growth pill could even be bought. To create the pill demanded a soul fruit and other precious ingredients. Thus, second consolidation demons would rarely see one. Even third consolidation nobles might fight over the prize. Only a great demon would turn up their nose, as Transcendence granted control over the code and therefore this pill’s effect would be negligible.

“No wonder people of my station rarely join this contest,” the silver-haired gentleman mused.

For Sylvester, the pill was worse than useless. It was a straight-up waste of a precious soul fruit. Thanks to the System, every gamer received far superior service during consolidation. Ah, with such prizes, no wonder he was the only contestant in the fourth consolidation. To steal from these juniors wasn’t worth the loss of face.

It was lucky, then, that this warlock’s face was entirely false!

“Now, let’s welcome our judges,” the tengu announced. The bird demon landed on the roof of a gazebo as it rose to join the rest. “First we have Magister Drusus, an esteemed representative of the Collegium Magicae and a Virtue of Heaven.”

Smiling, the blonde angel waved at the crowd as she was floated up to the gazebo on a small platform.

“Next, we have Jarl Zayd Rahal,” the announcer rang out. “A magister and a great faerie from the Fey Federation!”

Zayd, a red-skinned magia, floated up on his disk, projecting pride with his posture. Both hands clasped behind his back, Magister Rahal took his place on the right side of the high table. Sylvester let out a humored snort. Jarl Rahal was not at all what he imagined when he thought of a great faerie.

“Finally, allow me to present the beautiful and brilliant Baroness Ilyana Leita,” the announcer introduced. “This lovely lady will be judging our contest on behalf of Hell.”

When the four-foot-six, blue-haired faerie ascended, the sky boiled. The gray haze of the Asphodel Meadows filled with roiling flame. Sylvester shuddered. Even with his fourth consolidation power, he felt the muggy grip of Asmodeus’s calamity domain.

Lord Azazel wasn’t the only archdemon present. Asmodeus wanted everyone to know it. And more importantly, he wanted Azazel to know he’d better not upset his darling wife. Wife number what? Sixty-nine? Seventy? What could Sylvester say? The Prince of Lust was a surprisingly supportive husband.

“And now it’s time for our hundred…” the tengu glanced at the disk smashed into the ground. “Contestants to face their first challenge. The Judge of Heaven, Aurelia Drusus, will introduce her test.”

The spiraling disks floated inward, forming a tighter, three-leveled cloud near the arena’s center. Sylvester’s platform swirled in a slow circle with four others. The catgirl, the oni, a mountain witch, and a raven-haired celestial were his companions. Further away, on the opposite side of the judge’s gazebo, was Delano. The leshen raised a hand then slowly turned his thumb down. Sylvester returned a smirk before lazily opening Virtual Cauldron with his System interface.

Ding!

Warning: Virtual Cauldron is not in your cache.

Please enter a location with remote network access so the System can download this software into your local client.

…

Sylvester let out an embarrassed cough. It was really quite fortunate he hadn’t bragged about his alchemy talent.

“The first test will be material alchemy,” Aurelia said, her powerful voice filling the arena. “In the locked chest beside each table is a set of seven base materials. From this, you must produce an essence suitable for forming the inner wall of a primordial furnace. The first forty who present a successful result will pass. The remainder will fail.”

The angel waved her hand. Sylvester felt the pulse of magic. A moment later, the sealed chests unlocked.

When it came to alchemy, his specialty was phantasmal engineering. That was the modification of a phantasmal beast’s code to naturally change the outward result. Phantasmal engineering was an important area of study, as only changes to the nether code could produce a chimera with a soul stone.

Or, as was the case in the Cloud Island Wilderness, chimera which could be mass-produced by way of a dungeon.

Phantasmal engineering was a side branch of biological alchemy. Material alchemy was a completely different domain of study. In the Cloud Island Wilderness, Esmeralda was the foremost expert. In fact, Emmy was their world’s greatest expert in every alchemical domain other than biological alchemy, where he outperformed his wife.

This wasn’t to say Sylvester was lacking. He had three skill books dedicated to general alchemical methods: Elementary Alchemy, Advanced Alchemy, and Theoretical Alchemy. Additionally, he had plenty of practical experience. Sylvester was the head of research for Swift Brooms. More importantly, in the years since his last trip to Tartarus, he had personally designed and developed the Cloud Island Wilderness’s alchemical equipment.

Including, as it so happened, a furnace.

“Of course, creating a highly resistant inner lining is only important for a high-grade furnace,” he noted out loud. The silver-haired man made a lazy gesture, lifting materials one after another out of the box. “For commercial grade equipment, it’s better to enchant the body and project a force aspect barrier. The final result will be much cheaper.”

Clearly, Magister Drusus wasn’t familiar with business. As expected of a scholar.

After laying out the materials in front of him, Sylvester triggered a System spell. He could feel the causality magic running through his bones.

Observe Item.

Ding!

Material: Cold Cobalt

Mass: 5.0 droms

A metal oriented toward the primordial element ice. It contains a dense and complex essence, but will readily lose its nature if exposed to a powerful flame.

“Luckily, though I lost Virtual Cauldron, I retained my keen powers of observation,” he joked.

The materials were: cold cobalt, stormy stone, white jade, infernal basalt, vivid sprout, purple spark bamboo, and petrified yew. Sylvester considered each carefully. First, he claimed the white jade. This was a resource the Cloud Island Wilderness had in abundance. Its law affinity was perfect for creating a stable furnace.

Next, he paired the cold cobalt with the purple spark bamboo. Both materials contained opposing elemental aspects. Cold cobalt was metal and ice. Purple spark bamboo was wood and lightning. That made them difficult to work with but…

“If I refine them correctly, I should be able to create a material with a nature element affinity,” he deduced. The basic primordial elements canceled, but the advanced elements did not. Thus, a lining with an affinity for an advanced element would resist all the primordial forces. “But a single advanced element isn’t enough to create a truly stable and durable lining. I need to combine nature with abyss.”

The advanced elements sky and calamity weren’t suitable. Both had a volatile character. Sky wished to disperse into the environment in the form of a gentle breath. Calamity, on the other hand, was a volcano just waiting to erupt.

“For abyss, the infernal basalt and petrified yew are my best bet,” he concluded.

Silence gripped the arena. Like Sylvester, most of the alchemists were using spells to study their ingredients. There were a great many materials in the netherworld. So many, in fact, that it was impossible for an alchemist to be familiar with them all. Hence, knowing how to identify their fundamental attributes was a necessity.

Nearby, the mountain witch’s expression turned sour. The oni broke out in a grin. Both had realized Aurelia’s trick. To create a lining from these materials required more than alchemy, it required a rather advanced smelting technique to layer the abyss and nature components into an alloy.

“More than anything else, this contest tests the breadth of our knowledge,” Sylvester realized.

Alchemists who were too specialized, whether biological, medical, or material, wouldn’t stand a chance. Thankfully, he had once used a skill book called: Smelting - an ethersmith’s guide.

Mentally reviewing his formula, Sylvester seized the cold cobalt and –

“Boring!” A loud voice roared.

Gazes turned up to see the irritated Lord Azazel.

“Does everyone in Heaven have a stick shoved up their ass, like that damn dog Remiel?” the asura groused. “Make your contest less boring! Who wants to sit around and watch a bunch of eggheads think!”

Silence lingered. For a moment, no one dared to speak. Then, a high sweet voice rang out.

“Lord Azazel,” Ilyana said. The delicate fairy wore a princess smile. “Perhaps, you would prefer to watch the battlemage tournament?”

“I’ll watch whatever I damn well please,” Lord Azazel said in retort. “It’s you lot who should change your contest before you bore your audience to tears.”

“Be careful how you speak to my wife,” a heavy voice growled in answer.

Asmodeus’s words seemed to come from the air itself. Sylvester presumed the Prince of Lust wasn’t personally present, but was instead watching from some distant locale.

“I have nothing against your wife, you old lizard,” the asura snapped back. “I have a problem against this boring ass game that angel dreamed up. Heh, since nobody else is doing anything, I’ll liven things up myself.”

Azazel spread all six of his arms. The air sang with his motion, the asura’s fingers dancing as though he were a maestro at the head of an orchestra. World logic twisted, compelled by the archdemon’s providence. The whole world trembled with a strange and impossible life.

The ingredients on Sylvester’s table twitched. Then they twitched again. Crimson eyes flickered with sudden understanding. And not a second too soon, because in the next moment all the material came to life.

The vivid sprout, petrified yew, and purple spark bamboo were the first to rise. All three made a mad scramble toward the edge of the table. The items without the element wood animated next, rushing away with equal abandon.

The warlock was faster. “■, ■, ■!”

Arms of wind wrapped around the ingredients before they could flee. The levitation spells left the struggling items suspended. The catgirl to his left let out a shriek. The beast-kin was desperately scooping up her ingredients before they could run away. The infernal basalt, however, had made its way to the edge of the disk. It gazed back at the alchemist, as though staring at a dreadful tyrant. Then, with grand determination, it cast itself over the edge.

The catgirl made a desperate dive, barely catching the falling rock with her claws.

Lord Azazel’s booming laughter shook the air. “That’s more like it!”

Every arch being had a unique providence, an aspect of the world they’d taken into themselves which could manipulate the rules like a domain. Lord Azazel’s providence was widely called rebellion, though he insisted it was liberation. Law magic was useless against him. Wards, traps, spells, even the world itself might turn traitor at his whim. Rumor had it, he could even see which demons had rebellious thoughts hidden in their hearts.

Lord Asmodeus, on the other hand, commanded lust.

A second wave washed over the world. What followed was a pleasant warmth that oozed through Sylvester’s skin. The struggling ingredients suddenly turned amorous. The catgirl let out a second squeak as the materials began to rub lovingly against her skin. Sylvester’s lips curled in disgust as the purple spark bamboo in his hand did the same.

Merciless, he crushed the material in hand. His ki wrapped the essence, preventing dissolution. Pressing the substance against the table, the gentleman kneaded the essence while he chanted. Sylvester hadn’t been still while Azazel and Asmodeus played around. The cold cobalt was already in the furnace, the intensity of the water ether turned up to full.

“Ha! The old lizard has a sense of humor,” Lord Azazel laughed. “But now it’s just obscene, and you’ve skipped all the foreplay, you scaly bastard. Let the contestants dance!”

The asura snapped his fingers. The contestants’ platforms suddenly bucked and ran rampant. Sylvester’s eyes flashed with annoyance as the ground bounced beneath him. Space twisted around him. With the help of flux shift, the silver-haired man kept himself pinned in position. His equipment, however, danced in place. But with multiple arms of wind, he held it all together.

All throughout, Sylvester kept his cool.

He popped the furnace open, extracting the reduced cobalt. With bare hands, he squeezed the metal and then the purple spark bamboo together. While he worked the two materials, Sylvester shoved the resisting infernal basalt into the furnace. Its flames of passion were immediately swept away when he turned the wind ether up high.

Bang!

A jolt ran through Sylvester’s disk when his platform slammed into another. He looked up to see Delano across from him. Moss-green eyes glared at the warlock, the leshen’s stormy stone clinging to his neck. The ingredient wiggled against Delano’s skin, like an affectionate cat rubbing against its owner’s legs.

Then the two of them whirled away in a chaotic spin throughout the arena. In the background, Lord Azazel laughed uproariously.

While some contestants tumbled and fumbled, many managed the madness. Step by step, the catgirl and the oni completed their work. The mountain witch and celestial slumped in despair, important equipment or ingredients having fallen off the edge of their platform. Sylvester spared them no more than a glance, his focus on his work.

Materials were reacted, smelted, and combined. Runes fell from his lips, furthering the alchemical transformations. Slowly, the result was aggregated into a singular ingot which was strong, stable, and neutral in the face of every primordial element.

Finally, he dropped the resulting lump into a relaxation chamber. Brushing off his hands, he leaned lazily against the workbench.

“This has been a novel experience.”

Now, all he had to do was wait.

A relaxation chamber was an alchemical device. Its function was to keep a naked essence stable while assisting the reestablishment of a crust. How Sylvester had wished for this convenience when transmuting cloth in Charm Club.

What a nostalgic memory.

While he waited, his fellow alchemists scrambled. His disk whisked past a regal vampire. The white-haired woman had wrapped all her equipment in blood so it wouldn’t tumble off. Next, the warlock passed a dark elf who was desperately trying to slice out a corroding piece from his metal lump. The platform bucked beneath him. The elf’s hand slipped, cutting too far and too deep. Once again, Sylvester crossed paths with Delano MacIntyre. The leshen’s movements showed no distraction, his equipment pinned in place with a web of spindly vines.

“That should be long enough,” Sylvester decided. He pulled an unassuming metal bar from the relaxation chamber. Then, with his true cosmic core, he catalyzed the element realm. “■■.”

Pop.

In a blink, he was in the judge’s gazebo. He set the bar of chalky, white metal on the table in front of them.

“You are quite quick, Mr. Swift,” Magister Drusus complimented, flashing a smile. The blonde angel picked up his bar, examining it carefully.

“As befitting my name,” he accepted. “But I must admit, given my cultivation, the excitement advantaged me greatly. Ah, and here comes my first competitor. Good day to you, Mr. MacIntyre.”

Delano shot a glower. Instead of a white bar, he set a black lump on the table. “Don’t expect things to go so well in the next round, old man.”

After the two of them came a march of alchemists. The oni was in the middle of the pack. The catgirl was the last to pass, and only then because several of the submitted materials were rejected by the judges. Sylvester returned to his floating platform. With the first round complete, Lord Azazel relented, giving everyone a chance to put their equipment back in order.

“With a brilliant display of alchemy under pressure, thirty-seven contestants advance to the second round,” the tengu announcer called. “But how many will make it to the third? And will there be other unexpected surprises in our alchemy contest? We’ll find out when the Judge of the Fey Federation, Jarl Zayd Rahal, introduces his test.”

At the judge’s gazebo, Magister Rahal stood. The arrogant, red-skinned magia surveyed the contestants with cold eyes.

“The second task is chimeric creation,” Jarl Rahal declared. “Every participant must choose three phantasms. They are then to combine these beasts into a greater being. To verify your result, your beasts will be pitted against one created by a competitor.”

Raising his hand, Zayd snapped his fingers. From the edges of the arena, servants ported hundreds of cages containing a variety of phantasmal beasts. Sylvester noted with amusement that Penny Brown was among their number.

“You have two hours,” the magia declared. Zayd bowed toward Lord Azazel. “I hope your lordship finds this part of the contest more entertaining than the last.”

“I hope so too,” Azazel replied with a grunt.

…

Everybody probably had that hope, Sylvester thought sourly.

The competitors’ disks began to lower, spreading out in a great ring around the cages. The catgirl had a hopeless look on her face, her adorable triangular ears drooping when she stepped off her platform. Several alchemists shared her expression. Material alchemy was, at least, something any student of alchemy would dabble in. Chimeric creation was a specialized and unforgiving discipline. To create a chimera required the alchemist to splice parts from one creature onto another.

If done right, this could create a more powerful phantasmal beast with a greater array of powers and fewer weaknesses. The unskilled, however, would make a feeble mockery of a beast if they didn’t kill their phantasms outright.

And two hours wasn’t a lot of time for such delicate work.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never made a chimera before, old man,” Delano’s sneering voice interrupted.

“It just so happens phantasmal engineering is my specialty,” Sylvester drawled. Then he let out a heavy sigh. “But, I’m afraid, I usually leave the creation of the chimeric models to the help. It’s the bloodline codes I focus on.”

And it was true, too. Sylvester usually left the slicing and the splicing to Glenda Fischer, who very much loved the job. The professor loved it so much, in fact, that he worried about her. That wasn’t to say he was unskilled. He’d picked up Chimeric Synthesis, if only because the skill book was a prerequisite for Phantasmal Engineering.

Delano’s expression turned ugly. “You’re courting death, old man. You, you over there. I want a péist, a barghest, and a kshara.”

Furious, the leshen returned to his disk. Sylvester chuckled. Young men were so competitive.

The silver-haired gentleman wasn’t pressured by Delano’s actions. Instead, he carefully studied the phantasms provided. While he looked, a violet-robed asteri hurried to his side.

“Mr. Swift,” Penny greeted with a curtsy. The girl’s eyes shone with excitement. “You came in first for material alchemy! Do you think you can win the contest?”

“I’m only here to become a magister,” Sylvester reminded. “And my victory in the prior round was because I was better able to ignore Lord Azazel’s interruption. In terms of pure skill, I’m fifth at best.”

Time was a great teacher, particularly if the student was brilliant. If Delano had a hundred years of study, then he’d have around 200,000 hours of practice. This was, by no means, equal to 200 skill books. Immortals would forget and grow rusty. Much of their practice would be of poor quality, failing to push a person to their limits.

And it’d be naive to think Delano could devote his life entirely to alchemy. The world had plenty of distractions. Thus, he could assume the leshen had 20 to 40 skill books worth of magical mastery.

Sylvester, by contrast, had used 68. But their priorities were entirely different. If they were to step into a dueling ring, he would crush the leshen casually. If they were to fight in a contest of runes, Sylvester would tie Delano in knots. The domain of alchemy however? The silver-haired gentleman was not Delano MacIntyre’s match.

Now, if Emmy were in this contest, the story would be quite different. Sylvester’s gorgeous wife would stomp the boy into the dirt with her high heels.

Speaking of which….

No sooner did the thought of contacting Emmy cross Sylvester’s mind than did the wish clinging to him stir. Right, right. That’d be cheating. And he wasn’t base-born, cheating scum. He was a gentleman. And a right and proper gentleman wasn’t so disgraceful as to get caught.

“I see,” Penny said, looking disappointed. Then she smiled. “Which phantasms will you use, Mr. Swift?”

“I think I’ll go with a phlegethon salamander, a kshara, and an imix-pakal, Miss Brown,” Sylvester answered, pointing at each with his cane. “Those three in particular, please.”

The blue-haired asteri nodded eagerly. Clearly, Penny was living vicariously through his success. Well then, he’d just have to produce a chimera worthy of her expectations. Also – shk, shk, shk – he’d collect a few more pictures for his wife.

Esmeralda would be thrilled.

Sylvester stood back and watched lazily as Penny loaded the three cages onto his platform.

“Good luck, Mr. Swift!” she called.

Tipping his hat, he rode his disk back into the sky. Already, a series of plans were forming in his mind. The modification Sylvester had imagined wasn’t too bold, but it'd stand up just about any beast his opponents might imagine.

“Luck? Who needs luck?” Sylvester sneered, clicking his tongue. He popped open a cage, a levitation spell floating the imix-pakal toward him. A wicked grin spread on his face. “I just need a volunteer. And what do we have here? A lovely specimen dreaming of being an abomination.”

Teasingly, he tickled the beast’s hard belly. Snap! The creature’s head shot out from its shell like a bullet, jaw striking at the warlock’s delicate fingers. Sylvester pulled his hand back in a flash.

The imix-pakal was the water-lily turtle. These beasts were native to the Hell plane Xibalban. They were best known for their beautiful white and green shells, the pattern on their back resembling a flower. Above all else, the imix-pakal sported a powerful defense. A protection which could be augmented further by the beast’s innate ki art.

“Naughty, naughty,” Sylvester warned. “■■.”

Psychic energy poured into a chain of sixty-eight runes, the ether supplied by the source on Sylvester’s belt. The spell, unbroken slumber, pressed into the turtle’s mind. The phantasm tried to resist, but his power was so overwhelming, the creature collapsed in an instant.

“I’ll need the two of you as well,” Sylvester said with a vile smile.

He glared. This simple act was a gesture, unleashing a psionic spike. The spell pounded into the salamander’s brain, leaving it in a daze. While the reptile reeled, an arm of wind threw the cage’s bolt then pulled the creature toward his palm.

“■■.”

Another unbroken slumber and the salamander was sleeping beside the turtle. A third series of spells brought the kshara flying as well. The phantasmal beast was a toad. The kshara originated from the Hell plane Naraka, but due to its alchemical value, it’d since been spread to a swath of other worlds. The one-hundred-kilogram amphibian had black skin covered in green and yellow pustules which vaguely resembled warts.

The kshara’s value lay in its caustic spit and resistance to acids of all kinds. The creature’s tongue and skin were coated in the destructive solution.

“Let’s begin.”

Sylvester’s hand made a playful twirl. Metal ether danced between his fingers, forming a short-bladed knife. This seventy-three rune spell was Fischer’s scalpel. Years ago, Glenda Fischer had imagined this magic, longing for a spell that suited her hobby of vivisection. It was Sylvester, however, who had revised the rune chain into its current form.

But Glenda’s name remained. No one else deserved the honor.

Blade in hand, he flipped the giant salamander onto its back. The knife cut smoothly through the beast’s black and orange scales. Fischer’s scalpel was not only supernaturally sharp, it had a powered edge like a vibrating saw. Better yet, the blade barely touched the creature’s essence, slicing through the crust without harming the organs below.

Once the phantasm was flayed open, Sylvester deftly removed the creature’s core and its magma sack. Both were placed in a glass vessel. The rest of the body, he turned into a slurry. The chunky mush of flesh and blood joined the intact organs, energy slowly soaking into their conceptual being.

With the salamander successfully parted, the warlock turned his jasper eyes on the frog. The helpless kshara was quickly torn apart. This time, he preserved the beast’s skin and its saliva glands. With the required organs incubating in their own blood, he turned to the final beast.

“Now, it’s time to turn you into an adorable little abomination,” Sylvester snickered, eyes glowing with mad light.

But before that….

He gave Lord Azazel a glance. Biological alchemy, it seemed, was more entertaining than its material counterpart. The asura grinned and laughed as alchemists mishandled various beasts. With a horrible shriek, a poor pink-haired yakshi was devoured by a black dog.

Wonderful. The archdemon was distracted. Sylvester would hate to do surgery while the platform was running rampant beneath him.

Crimson eyes returned to the turtle. The imix-pakal would be his chimera core. As a result, Sylvester cut the creature with greater care. Smoothly, carefully, he sliced around the edge of the turtle’s shell. Then, slowly and surely, he peeled off the turtle’s back and bottom.

What was left on the table was a horror.

The shell of a turtle wasn’t a home, it was the beast’s ribcage and its skeleton. By removing this frame, Sylvester had left much of the creature’s insides exposed. But first things first, the silver-haired man put the shell in another chamber so it wouldn’t dissolve. Next, he used the point of his scalpel to puncture a vein. From this, he drew a quarter of the creature’s blood essence.

“■.”

One click of his tongue and the wound was sealed.

“Now all I have to do is… tch!”

Sylvester let out a sound of frustration. To better preserve the flayed turtle’s life, he channeled his ki through the beast’s body. This prevented the slow dissolution of the phantasm’s essence. That, however, meant he only had one hand free to work.

Normally, this wasn’t an issue. ‘Sylvia’ had a pair of long, glossy tresses to channel her ki wherever she liked.

“Having short hair is so annoying,” he grumbled. “No matter. I’ll just have to revise my process.”

Pausing, he thought through the next chain of actions. First, he placed his scalpel in the air. Next, he cast levitation, bringing the beakers of turtle blood and salamander blood in front of him. Drawing out parts from each, he mixed them into two new flasks. Four parts frog or salamander, for one part turtle.

This was the recipe for a simple healing potion.

As he stirred each, Sylvester chanted. Runes fell from his lips, melting into the blood. Every cast consumed a tiny bit of energy. Alchemy was about precision and repetition, not power. Five minutes later, the cloudy suspensions transformed into solutions of vivid red.

“Nooooo!”

A despairing cry left Sylvester startled. Jasper eyes turned to his side. The catgirl was now slumped pitifully on her knees. Tears welled up around the beast-kin’s big eyes, while her almost-complete chimera dissolved in front of her.

The gentleman let out a soft sigh. The poor girl wasn’t alone. Several alchemists had set aside their tools after a mistake in their process led to their phantasm’s death.

“The next step is to assist the organs in absorbing the remaining essence,” Sylvester finished, his attention restored to his work.

The incubating organs were slowly growing denser and stronger. Given enough time, the process would complete naturally. He, however, had no more than ninety minutes. Thus, he used his own ki to accelerate the incubation process. Minutes later, it was time for the next round of surgery.

Drawing in a deep breath, Sylvester ran his plan through his mind a second time. After confirming there would be no clashes, he grabbed the salamander’s core. First, he engraved the solid rock with runes, then he placed it next to the turtle’s heart. The magma sack and the kshara saliva glands were implanted shortly after. With a quick incantation, he melted all of these organs into the beast’s flesh. Finally, before closing the primary cut, Sylvester poured healing potion into all the creature’s cavities.

With the hard work complete, he turned his eyes to the turtle’s shell.

Compared to modifying the imix-pakal, this part was easy. Sylvester used simple forging techniques to combine the shell with the kshara’s skin. This would make the chimera resistant to all caustic sources. But why stop there? Next, he used the bone engraving process to enchant the shell with protective magic.

Satisfied, Sylvester gently placed the beast back in its home.

“Don’t worry, my friend. You’ve become more handsome,” Sylvester soothed. Then he broke out in an evil smile. “On the outside, anyway. We all know, it’s the horror on the inside that counts.”

After confirming the shell was well-fitted and the beast’s crust had properly recovered, Sylvester casually shoved the turtle into a healing potion vat.

The entire operation had taken sixty-five minutes. That gave him a little less than an hour to let the beast recover from its surgical trauma. But, before then, Sylvester wanted to witness the beauty of his creation.

Observe Opponent.

Ding!

Vileflame Imix [C-II/Mid]Type: Chimeric Phantasm Lv: 268Hp/Mp: 898 / 502 Atk/Def: 188 / 125Celerity: 125% Dominion: 90

Abilities:Pristine Hard Shell, Snap Jaw, Caustic Napalm Breath, Elemental Resistance (fire, metal, and earth)

By installing a second core, Sylvester had boosted the creature’s level by 30. If the turtle were given more time and enough essence, the beast’s level would eventually reach 300. Just as importantly, the core plus his enchantment had gifted the turtle with a strong elemental resistance to earth and metal. This was very valuable as the elements earth and metal were the ones best-suited for cracking the turtle’s shell.

But defense alone wasn’t enough. Sylvester had added a powerful offensive art to this phantasmal beast. With his deadly, caustic flame jet, the modified imix-pakal could easily kill any creature his competitors might’ve created.

“If you were bigger and could stand on your hinds, I’d call you Bowser,” Sylvester declared. “But rest assured, I won’t leave you bereft. A magnificent beast deserves a name worthy of their grandeur. Therefore, from now on, you are called Dreadmaw!”

With a laugh, Sylvester checked out his competition.

Delano had replaced his barghest’s tail with a péist head. The barghest and péist were both creatures from the Fey Federation. The former was a black-furred, spectral dog with high agility and high attack power. Wounds inflicted by the beast resisted all forms of healing. A péist, on the other hand, was a draconic snake which could spew a deadly water jet.

Multi-headed chimera were a classic. Phantasmal beasts lacked a well-developed mind, which left them vulnerable to psychic attacks. Having two heads helped mitigate the problem. It also provided a second pair of eyes, which was very useful for an agility-based creature.

Delano noticed Sylvester’s gaze and shot him a smirk as he shoved his pup into a vat.

“Heh, you’d better hope we don’t meet during the clash of beasts,” Sylvester sneered. “Your chimera might be better overall, but Dreadmaw is rock to your scissors.”

Though he had missed what the leshen had done with his kshara, Sylvester wasn’t worried. Dreadmaw didn’t fear a caustic touch. Could Delano’s modified barghest claim the same for Dreadmaw’s breath?

The other alchemists were equally busy. The oni had salvaged an early mistake and was now adding a cinder sting scorpion’s tail to an ashen bat. Not far away, a nervous prisma attached a bundle of seaweed to a péist, creating a chimera in name only.

Of course, there were also those like the catgirl who’d watched their modified beast die in front of their eyes. The competition had already been reduced to 31, and Sylvester spotted no less than five ad hoc creations which looked like they might keel over the moment they stepped inside the ring.

“And time’s up!” the announcer shouted. “All competitors without a chimera are immediately disqualified. The rest of you will face each other in brutal battle!”

While the disks bearing failures flew toward the arena’s edge, the rest descended toward the floor. Here, diligent demons had prepared a battle circle. Stepping off his platform, Sylvester joined the others, Dreadmaw puppeted by his marionette spell. Every alchemist was eyeing their opponents’ beasts. Sylvester paid particular attention to the two with scorpion tails, along with the péist walking on mole’s legs.

Only these phantasms represented a real risk to his turtle.

And, of all of them, it was the oni’s bat Sylvester wanted to fight least. Years ago, on the Ignis Rosa, he had witnessed a swarm of cinder sting scorpions tear through Belkis’s fortress of iron. Even with Dreadmaw’s elemental resistance, it’d only take three to five solid hits to kill the poor fellow. With the bat’s speed and maneuverability, the turtle’s only hope was catching the phantasm with its breath.

The gazebo carrying the judges floated down. Magister Rahal stood, hands behind his back. The red-skinned magia looked over the group.

“Battles will be one on one,” Zayd proclaimed. “To ensure the contest is fair, contestants have been seeded according to their performance so far. Thus, the most skilled alchemist will face the weakest competitor and so on. The process will be repeated until all the battles are done. If neither beast survives, both contestants will forfeit.”

The magia’s eyes swept the group, brooking no argument.

“For this match, psychic magic and beast control arts are permitted. However, all other forms of enhancement are forbidden.”

With that said, the three-eyed jarl sat down. Magister Drusus and Baroness Leita nodded, confirming they too agreed with the rules.

With all the judges waiting, the announcer landed atop the gazebo. The tengu spoke, his voice amplified for the audience. “For the first round we have Delano MacIntyre versus Kenji Hoga!”

With a broad smirk, Delano sauntered over to the ring. With the grace of a hunter, his barghest chimera entered the battlefield, its péist tail wagging behind. The three-horned oni stood opposite. His ashen bat took to the air, gray-white wings fluttering.

“Begin!” the tengu shouted.

The oni’s bat started with a scream.

The air reverberated, forming a sonic projectile. The barghest dodged, scampering to the left even as its dragon tail sprayed a fan of water. Droplets struck the bat’s wings, releasing bubbling sizzles. Sylvester’s eyes narrowed. How ingenious. The leshen had somehow combined the kshara’s corrosion with the barghest’s spectral aura. As a result, all of the barghest’s attacks had gained the frog’s corrosive character.

Kenji Hoga realized the danger in an instant. Rather than reserve its energy, the oni ordered his bat to go all out. The flying chimera’s tail flashed, shooting molten spikes from its tip like bullets. With shocking agility, the barghest dodged around the projectiles, the péist head spraying another jet of water. Caught by the deluge, the flying beast tumbled.

Delano didn’t miss the opening. His dog leapt, claws snatching the bat right out of the air. The modified barghest smashed the bat into the ground, where it was soon torn apart.

“Now that’s a show!” Azazel boomed, laughing in delight.

With a smile and a strut, Delano purposefully walked past the silver-haired warlock. “You’re lucky you didn’t fight me.”

“Yes,” Sylvester drawled. “Luck did play a role.”

“For our second bout, we have Sylvester Swift versus Loredana Sulac,” the tengu cried.

Sylvester approached the ring, his turtle slowly waddling behind him. As the beast entered the arena, he had the sudden urge to shout: ‘I choose you, Dreadmaw!’ Regretfully, he was currently playing the role of a gentleman. Also, while Heaven’s Inquisitors wouldn’t know the phrase’s origin, tidbits of information like that were excellent fodder for divination.

Also, Penny was in the crowd watching him with shiny, pink-violet eyes. Penny, who, like all asteri, was from Earth.

So, being a responsible man, Sylvester did the next best thing. Shk. Shk. Shk. First he captured a few pictures, then he wrote the stub of a forum post. Heh, heh, heh. He couldn’t wait to watch the gamers go wild.

What a pity he didn’t have remote network access.

Sylvester’s opponent, Loredana, was a regal vampire. She had long, white hair that streamed down her back. Her chimera used a cinder sting scorpion as the base, making it one of the few beasts which could threaten Dreadmaw’s hard shell. The creature, however, was in terrible shape. Its legs spasmed as it walked. The internal damage had left the scorpion’s blood essence in such chaos that Sylvester didn’t need his pure starlight eyes to see it.

“Begin!”

The scorpion’s tail reared back. Dreadmaw quickly tucked all limbs inside his shell, internal energies reinforcing his defense. Pfft! Fire erupted, not from the tail, but from the modified scorpion’s back. The insect chimera twitched twice. Then it died, legs curling up beneath it.

…

Sylvester and Loredana stared at each other. The warlock coughed then made a suave bow, hat over his chest.

“Thank you for this battle, Miss Sulac.”

The vampiress glared, her orange eyes frigid despite their fiery hue. Then, promptly, the demoness turned. She strode off the field, long white hair fluttering behind her.

With a sigh, he joined the victor. Delano had a massive sneer on his face.

“It seems what you have in most abundance is luck.”

“What can I say,” Sylvester replied with a genteel smile. “Luck is also part of strength.”

The leshen’s glower was delicious.

The battles continued, with chimera facing chimera. In the background, Lord Azazel howled and cheered as the beasts murdered each other or failed in various, epic manners. Sylvester gazed with equally keen interest. The netherworld’s history was rich and long. Over the millennia, a number of novel tricks and methods had been developed. It was his hope that he could glean a bit of insight, letting the System’s skill books go one step further.

A pity he couldn’t dissect the creatures himself.

Finally, the last battle was complete. Fifteen competitors made it to the third and final round, with one disqualified on account of mutual destruction. Then there was an angel who entered the last round on a bye.

With all fights settled, Baroness Ilyana Leita floated off her chair. The blue-haired faerie shed beautiful sparkles from her iridescent wings.

“Allow me to introduce the third and final test of this alchemy contest,” Ilyana said cheerfully, her hands held together in graceful delight. “The theme is medical alchemy. Seven years ago, my darling brought me to a lovely plane called the Brilliant Flower Ocean. While I was there, I collected so many charming specimens for my research.

“That’s why I want to share this wonderful experience with you. Using only ingredients from the Brilliant Flower Ocean, I want you to create the best medical concoction you can imagine. The highest quality pill will be today’s victor.”

After saying her piece, Ilyana settled back into her seat, shooting doe eyes off into the distance.

Sylvester twitched.

First off, your husband is a philanderer! Second, medical alchemy was a domain in which he had absolutely no experience. Never once had Sylvester designed a cultivation resource. Nor had he created pills to treat injuries to the soul or to cleanse the body of a curse. In fact, the grand total of his expertise was brewing crude healing potions.

Which he only knew how to do from blood essence.

This round was going to be dreadfully embarrassing, wasn’t it?

“Excuse me!” A voice interrupted. The crowd turned to see Delano. The leshen wore a cruel smirk, his moss-green eyes skewering the warlock. “Before we proceed, I think we should check if anyone here has been manipulating the tournament through unfair means like, say, fate magic.”

Sylvester’s jasper eyes narrowed. He’d finally reached the point where he was actually tempted to drag this amaretti into a duel.

“Before you open your mouth and make accusations, brat, you should take the time needed to understand the situation,” he said, both of his hands resting on his cane.

Delano’s gaze tightened. “You cheated your way into this contest, old man. So why is it such a stretch to think you’re cheating now?”

Magister Drusus looked unhappy. The blonde angel’s expression turned stern. “Mr. MacIntyre, High Warlock Swift did not cheat his way into this contest. In fact, he was brought here on my request.”

“Oh, and I voted to let him into this contest too,” Ilyana commented with a sweet and friendly smile. “I thought it was a lovely idea. What better way to show practical expertise than a contest? And of all the chimera, his is the most adorable.”

…

Sylvester’s eye twitched. Adorable? Well, he supposed Dreadmaw was basically just a large turtle with a polished shell. He should’ve added the spikes. Though, adorable did go with the theme. Hmm, he’d add Ilyana’s quote to the forum stub.

Delano’s eyes turned to the red-skinned magia. “Mast – ”

Jarl Zayd Rahal raised a forestalling hand.

“Let’s be clear, High Warlock Swift did not cheat. Nevertheless, I think his participation has served its purpose,” he interrupted. “The Collegium Magicae should be satisfied with Mr. Swift’s practical knowledge. Therefore, he should withdraw and leave the last round to the younger participants.”

Oh, ho, ho, a brilliant play by Zayd to help his apprentice. And it just so happened that Sylvester wanted this exact same outcome. Thus, he made a deep bow toward the judge’s gazebo.

“If I may?” he said politely. “I agree with Magister Rahal. It wouldn’t be right for me to snatch the prize.”

Delano’s expression twisted. The leshen didn’t look at all happy with where this conversation was going. Heh. Well, too bad. This warlock was slippery and filled with deceit.

“Hadi did say two rounds would be sufficient,” Aurelia Drusus mused. “And I think you showed your skill well enough in the first round. So, this may be presumptuous, but congratulations to you, Mr. Swift. Yours is perhaps the greatest prize of this alchemy contest.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” Ilyana cheered. “Then let me be the first to say congratulations to the Collegium Magicae for their new magister!”

“I am not worthy of that honor,” Sylvester said with a second bow. “Then I bid you adieu. And my apologies, Mr. MacIntyre. I know you wanted to prove yourself my equal, but it wouldn’t be fair to the others if I stayed.”

He could practically hear Delano’s teeth grind. Laughing to himself, he strolled out of the arena, Dreadmaw waddling along beside. When he reached the inner halls, Penny Brown was there to meet him, Magisters Moswen and Nazari right behind her.

“Congratulations, Mr. Swift,” the asteri said happily.

“Thank you, Miss Brown,” Sylvester accepted. “You wouldn’t happen to be interested in a turtle, would you? He’s quite durable, I assure you. Though, I must warn, his breath is as fiery as it is caustic.”

Penny glanced back at her master, pink-violet eyes twinkling.

“As if I could deny you the gift,” Magister Nazari accepted. “And taming a chimera would be a good lesson in its own right. Now, Mr. Swift, shall we return so you can take your oath?”

“If I may,” a dokkaebi suddenly interrupted. The demon had green skin and a body covered in thin hair. A single, off-center horn rose from his head. “Mr. Swift, was it? I’ve been hoping to talk to you about the Obsidian Tower…”

-oOo-

Chimera (Netherworld)

Chimera, in the netherworld, is a term used to describe creatures constructed from multiple beings. Unlike in the material world, where genetics and biological complexity makes it highly likely that a chimeric combination will die, most phantasmal bodies in the netherworld have some degree of a biological compatibility. This doesn’t mean any kind of creature can be combined, however. Attribute differences along with the position and nature of the combination are important.

Natural Chimera

Though unusual, phantasmal bodies can merge naturally through a number of processes. This can result from a glitch in the world logic, weird beasts which infect a phantasmal body, various supernatural powers, or plain old random chance.

On some planes, natural chimera are quite common. On others, they are exceedingly rare. Compared to alchemical chimera, natural chimera tend to be notably weaker. This is because there is no governing intelligence which specifically picks parts to enhance strengths or eliminate weaknesses.

Yggdrasil, the world tree, was a natural chimera.

Alchemical Chimera

When an individual combines two creatures making use of alchemical knowledge, the result is an alchemical chimera. Alchemical chimera are heavily used in warfare, as phantasms of this sort can be far stronger than any natural beast. Such creatures aren’t limited to war alone. Alchemical chimera may also be used as mounts or draft animals of various kinds.

This same alchemy process may also be used on denizens, granting new organs, traits, or even temporary levels and attribute points. Titans are an extreme form of alchemical chimera, which are piloted by souls like mecha. For denizens, however, the degree of modification is limited by the soul.

Phantasms do not have this limit. Therefore, a pure phantasm can be expanded in size and power without any restriction other than resources and the difficulty of finding compatible parts.

Coded Chimera

If modifications are made directly to a beast’s nether code, then the result is a coded chimera. Though this is a many, many times more difficult engineering task, coded chimera have multiple advantages. The first and foremost being, coded chimera can have soul stones. This allows a modified beast to resurrect, which can save a lot of time and money in the long run.

There is another advantage to coded chimera. Coded chimera are, in many senses, a new type of beast. Because of this, they can be replicated and grown in mass. The creation of coded chimera, therefore, is considered a highly prized art.

Sylvia’s Notes: Due to my dungeon technology, I’ve put most of my focus on coded chimera. It’s worth noting, however, that dungeon-like structures are not unique. The Great Powers also have means to mass produce powerful beasts.

Rarely Seen Windows

Merit Points Current: 1,204Lifetime: 68,754

Traits

True Cosmic Core, Pure Starlight Eyes, Silken Mana, Improved Elemental Palace (Ice), Improved Elemental Palace (Lightning), Deep Reservoir II, Ether Affinity II, Digitized Soul, Ether Resonance, Mystic Attunement I

System Features

Observe Opponent, Observe Item, Observe Terrain, Observe Resources, Track Target, Networked Grimoire, Map Collection, Forum Access, System Camera, System Microphone, Architectural Overlay, Share Window, Phone Service, Video Conferencing, Augmented Reception, Stealthy Transmission, Runeworks Studio, Virtual Cauldron, System Library (common, music, fiction, video games - beta), Internet Access, Advertising Feature I to IV, Party HUD, Organ Rebuild: Flux Shift, Character Creator

Consumed Skill Books (68 books in total)

Note[1]: Many of these books were reinforced in Sylvia’s memory thanks to the psychic fruit.

Note[2]: (Not in the library)

Academic Skills (30)

General (5): Math (II, III, IV), Business (I & II)

Runes (12): The Lesser Codex, The Great Codex I to IV, Encyclopedia of Runes I to IV, Runic Errata (A, B, C)

Arithmancy (4): Fundamentals, Intermediate, Advanced, Analytical

Applied Runes (9): Spell Theory (101, 201, 301), Bloodline Codes (part 1 to 3), Rune Logic (I, II, and III)

Lifestyle Skills (15)

Crafting (3): (Gate Construction and Enchantment), Introduction to Magical Construction, Smelting - an ethersmith’s guide

Alchemy (5): Elementary Alchemy, Advanced Alchemy, Theoretical Alchemy, Chimeric Synthesis, Phantasmal Engineering

Enchantment (2): Foundations of Enchantment, The Enchanter’s Bible

Other (5): (Basics of Cultivation), Basic Astrogation, Witch’s Cauldron (brewing), Web of Secrets (divination), Art of the Con

Magical Combat Skills (15)

Spells (3): (All About Wind Blade), Basic Combat Magics, Advanced Combat Magics

Support (12): How to Fast Cast, (More on Fast Casting), (Even Faster Casting), (Mastering Fast Cast), (Magical Combat I, II, & III), Gesture Magic, The Dual Casting Duelist, (The Dual Casting Master), Quiet Curses (I and II)

Arts and Techniques: (8)

Waltz of Flowers, The Breath of Ether, Hawk Eyes, Transformation Realm Theory, Mirrored Lake Sutra (manifestation, transformation), Flux Shift (manifestation, transformation)

Carried Equipment Current: 315.9 dromsMax Load: 352.5 dromsKi Load: Medium

Hidden Hut (33.5), Chrome Tempest (66.8), Spring Blossom (58.6), Anbaht (28.9), Esmeralda’s Love (10.9), Starlight Striders (16.4), Sweet to Savory Cuss Modifier (2.2), Lunam Fuga II – Platinum (31.4), Resonant Tear (10.8), Three-Faced Visage (16.2), Disk of the Depths (12.6), Psychic Source – 100 eth (8.1), Potion Bottles x6 (12.6), Mirror Pad x2 (4.2), Glints worth 1.3 million soli (2.7)

Honorable Mention: Briefcase (13.9)