Chapter Forty-Nine: The Alchemist

A dozen minutes later, under the respectful guidance of the gang members, King Bradley led Ivan Vanko to their destination.

It was a spacious courtyard, its once-glorious façade now fallen into disrepair, though traces of former splendor could still be discerned beneath the decay. The place exuded a sense of desolation; a gust of wind sent the signboard over the door swaying precariously, as if it might fall at any moment.

“Come with me,” King Bradley said, pushing open the gate and entering first.

He led Ivan Vanko straight to the rear of the courtyard, where, beside the wall, there was a solitary grave. The grave bore no headstone, giving it the air of an anonymous tomb.

“This is your mother's cenotaph,” King Bradley said quietly, stopping beside the grave. “She once saved my life. That is why I took you away from there.”

My mother? Ivan Vanko gazed at the grave, but he could scarcely recall her face any longer. It had been so many years. Sometimes he wondered if his father would have degenerated as he did had his mother still been alive.

Most likely he would have. A man like his father was beyond saving.

“Now that you've paid your respects, it's time to talk business. Your father has wasted enough of your time. I intend to win that time back for you,” King Bradley went on, his gaze so cold it seemed to prick Ivan’s skin.

“Tell me, what are you good at?”

“Um... mechanical engineering, weapons design, and some martial arts,” Ivan answered, instinctively falling into step with King Bradley’s rhythm.

Martial arts?

Without another word, King Bradley kicked out. Ivan hadn't even registered the blur of movement before he was sent sprawling to the ground.

“Without a foundation of physical strength, martial arts are nothing more than empty talk,” King Bradley said coolly.

Ivan picked himself up silently, saying nothing aloud, though he argued inwardly: there probably isn’t a soul in all Russia who could match you physically.

“Without resources, you can't talk about weapons design or mechanical engineering either. Judging by your situation, you can’t provide yourself with those resources.”

Ivan took a deep breath. Enough time had passed for his courage to return. “Then the only thing I’m truly good at is learning. I can master anything quickly! That’s my greatest talent!”

King Bradley nodded in satisfaction. Ivan’s basic qualities were not bad. If, after some time, Ivan proved utterly hopeless, then the best King Bradley could do would be to give him some money and send him away.

“Since you’re confident in your learning ability, I’ll teach you a few things,” King Bradley said as he led Ivan further inside.

“You’re going to teach me how to train? Make me a gangster enforcer like you?” Ivan suddenly found himself emboldened.

King Bradley stopped and turned to face him. Under his gaze, Ivan’s courage quickly shrank back—this man’s prowess was overwhelming. If he wished to do anything, Ivan would have no room to resist.

“No. Everyone has their own advantages. You’re not suited for martial arts. Your age is one reason, but more importantly, your muscles and bones are not exceptional. What I intend to teach you is alchemy.”

“Alchemy?!” Ivan found the idea absurd. “Are you some legendary alchemist? Or are you just well-versed in the subject?”

Ivan shook his head. His self-taught scientific background gave him a healthy skepticism—alchemy, as far as he was concerned, was nothing but ancient, unstructured chemistry, at best. In this day and age, who still speaks of alchemy?

“I’m not an alchemist, but I do know them very well,” King Bradley said, suddenly flinging the door wide open. “Because I’ve killed many alchemists!”

Ivan shuddered at his words. He imagined the room ahead might be filled with processed corpses. But when he craned his neck to see, he found the contents quite different from what he’d expected.

It was a large storeroom, filled mostly with books and other objects whose purposes Ivan could not discern.

“King... I didn’t expect you’d ever open this door again...”

Just as Ivan’s disappointment took hold, a mummified figure at the back suddenly spoke.

King Bradley strode up to the mummy. “I’m surprised myself. After all these years, you’re still alive.”

“Surprised? This is the power of the Philosopher’s Stone!” the mummy raved, growing manic.

King Bradley looked down upon the creature before him. “You’re using your own soul as material for the Philosopher’s Stone. As expected, time only drives you further into madness.”

“You don’t understand... You know nothing... I am the last alchemist. I must behold the Gate of Truth—I must become Truth itself! Alchemists cannot be allowed to perish!”

The mummy’s shouts were wild, his emotions fevered.

“If you hadn’t been mad enough to attack both the Clock Tower and the Celestial Court, alchemists wouldn’t have fallen so low,” King Bradley said coldly.

He remembered well the madness of those alchemists—their provocations enraged the Clock Tower at the height of its power, and even led the peace-loving Celestial Court to join the crusade. Under the combined assault of the world’s hidden powers, alchemy was all but exterminated.

“You don’t understand! Once we see the Truth, what are the Clock Tower, the Celestial Court, Giran, or even the Heavenly Emperor? All of them are but feeble ants!”

The mummy roared, showing no sign of regret for his actions.

“That’s enough. I have no interest in your delusions. Since you’re still alive, you should meet someone.” With that, King Bradley beckoned Ivan Vanko over.

“What do you mean?” the mummy asked after a moment’s silence.

“To leave a seed for alchemists, and to make him strong. In this world, weakness is the root of all suffering,” King Bradley replied, pointing at Ivan.

“Why do you think that?”

“Just answer me—will you teach him or not?”

“I will,” the mummy replied at once, regarding Ivan as though he were some priceless treasure.

“Learn what he has to offer. For the rest, ignore his nonsense. If you’re ever unsure, come to me. Study well, study with diligence,” King Bradley instructed.

“Hurry and get out! Don’t waste any more time here!” the mummy snapped at King Bradley. Once he’d left, the mummy turned to Ivan, speaking with utmost seriousness.

“Your first lesson in alchemy begins now—with its most important principle: Equivalent Exchange!”