Chapter 50: The Alchemist of Thunder

In the blink of an eye, more than ten days had passed. The evolution of Script Eight was proceeding smoothly, with only the final step remaining—one last moment for the alchemist to reveal his power in this world, after which Yang Qiu’s goals would be entirely fulfilled.

“Dance of Magnetic Sand!”

Ivan Vanko pressed his palms together, and the alchemical array in his hands shone with light. Relying on the array, Ivan Vanko manipulated the iron sand around him, conjuring a raging sandstorm!

Within the storm, a figure darted swiftly.

King Bradley’s eyes pierced through the flaws in the Dance of Magnetic Sand, and with his longsword he carved a precise path through the tempest.

Thunder descended!

Ivan Vanko changed his attack, unleashing wild bolts of lightning that, guided by his will, shot toward King Bradley.

The electric arcs bounced between grains of iron sand, forming a terrifying mesh of electricity—a combination technique of his own invention, deployed for the first time today.

But before Ivan Vanko could see the effect, King Bradley’s figure vanished behind the electric net.

In the next instant, the tip of the sword touched Ivan Vanko’s throat. King Bradley didn’t even pause to catch his breath; his breathing remained perfectly steady.

Ivan Vanko managed a wry smile, released his grip, and dispelled the alchemical array. Despite all his study, he still couldn’t last long under King Bradley’s assault.

“Don’t belittle yourself. Many alchemists stronger than you have lasted even less time against my blade.”

King Bradley offered consolation, though to Ivan Vanko it sounded more like mockery. Only King Bradley could offer praise and comfort in such a fashion.

“King, I want to ask you something. Is it really so dangerous outside? Are all alchemists hunted and persecuted?”

Ivan Vanko asked in confusion. These ideas were the personal bias of the mummy; in its telling, every other member of the occult world was eviler than the last, all murderers of righteous, truth-seeking alchemists.

“It pays to hear both sides. Let me tell you another story,” King Bradley said, sheathing his sword and speaking slowly.

“On this land, there once was a group of alchemists who loved research and got along well with other members of the occult world.”

“Until one day, some alchemists discovered that the human soul was far more valuable than imagined. Considering the difficulty of obtaining one, it completely shattered the principle of equivalent exchange.”

“Because of this discovery, some alchemists, in pursuit of what they called ‘truth,’ began slaughtering civilians to create Philosopher’s Stones. Others tried to stop them. Unfortunately, the power granted by those stones was so great that their efforts failed.”

“Not only did they fail, but their actions alerted the madmen to the fact that the souls of practitioners were even more valuable than those of ordinary people. After killing off most of the opposition, the lunatics turned their civil war outward.”

“They proclaimed the destruction of the entire occult world. The mainstream faction, already deeply disgusted with these maniacs, immediately retaliated once they declared war.”

“The top practitioners of that era—the universally acknowledged greatest mage, Kieran, founder and leader of the Clock Tower, together with the Celestial Emperor of the Heavenly Court from the Chinese occult world—joined forces and, in just three days, wiped out every alchemist obsessed with making Philosopher’s Stones.”

“From that point on, the alchemist profession fell into ruin. The one who taught you alchemy was the only survivor of that time. The shroud wrapped around him is imbued with time magic and celestial arts, completely severing his connection to alchemical arrays.”

“As for evidence of this story, the fact that he and a room full of books can remain quietly in this storeroom is proof enough.”

King Bradley recounted the tale in a flat, even tone.

“But he can still use some simple alchemy…” Ivan Vanko interjected, recalling the demonstrations the mummy had given during his lessons.

“As one of the strongest alchemists of his time, only by relying on a Philosopher’s Stone made from his own soul can he perform such feats. That alone tells you everything,” King Bradley replied. If the mummy were at his peak, King Bradley wouldn’t have lasted five minutes.

“If that’s the case, why didn’t the alchemists who refused to join the madmen seek help from other practitioners?” Ivan Vanko pressed.

“There are two reasons. First, at that time, the Ouroboros Society hadn’t been formed. The prevailing view among the occult was to mind one’s own affairs; most factions wouldn’t interfere in others’ civil wars. Second, the madmen may have been insane, but their execution was swift. Before the opposition could unite, their strongholds were already destroyed.”

King Bradley shook his head. “There was already an imbalance in strength, and with no unity or vigilance—some even hoping to solve things through negotiation—it’s no wonder they were wiped out in one blow.”

After hearing King Bradley’s story, Ivan Vanko sighed. If this was the truth, he thought, many alchemists had only themselves to blame for their fate.

Slaughtering ordinary people meant slaughtering the future of all practitioners. And bullying the defenseless—what strength is there in that?

“King, what is this Ouroboros Society you mentioned?” Ivan Vanko asked, continuing his questions.

“It’s a loose organization, mainly responsible for preventing incidents like those caused by the alchemists back then. In the absence of such crises, it primarily handles mysterious events and ensures the occult world remains hidden from ordinary people’s view,” King Bradley explained. “The last rule was proposed by the Supreme Mage of that time and, after being agreed upon by several faction leaders, spread to the whole occult world. As for why, I have no idea.”

“I see. So, except for Russia, the occult world is still thriving elsewhere?” Ivan Vanko felt pressure mounting. He’d only just begun to learn alchemy—how had he suddenly become a representative figure?

“You could say that.” King Bradley nodded. “We’ve talked long enough. Go back to your studies. I can see that one’s soul is nearly spent. Once it dissipates completely, you’ll be left to learn from books alone.”

“I can teach you combat instinct, teach you how to survive against enemies. But when it comes to the study of alchemy, I can’t help you much.”

“I understand!” Ivan Vanko nodded and hurried back to the storeroom.

Once inside, the mummy immediately resumed his teaching with increased speed, but Ivan Vanko could sense that his instructor was already in the final, fading stage of his existence.

“Today, I will teach you one of the major discoveries in alchemy: the Philosopher’s Stone.”

Without waiting for Ivan Vanko to protest, the mummy began drawing an alchemical array. “I know King must have said something to you. I know you probably think this is an evil thing. You don’t have to use it, but you must understand it. It marks the alchemist’s true entry into the domain of the soul…”