"I guess that answers our question..." Lucavion’s voice drifted lazily from the middle of the group, his lips curling into an amused half-smile.
A quiet giggle followed—low and drawn-out, like he was genuinely entertained by the chaos.
A few heads turned toward him at once.
Selenne’s gaze was among them—calm but steady, the kind that could pin soone in place without raising a word.
Lucavion, however, didn’t so much as blink. His posture remained loose, his eyes fixed on the last wisps of green smoke curling into the air, as though the explosion had been nothing more than a passing curiosity.
Selenne let the silence linger for a few seconds longer before continuing, her voice returning to its usual, asured clarity.
"There are fewer alchemists compared to mages and swordsn," she said, resuming her pace forward. "That is not a matter within the Academy’s control. The truth is... very few people can even qualify to study this discipline."
Her cloak swayed as she walked, the sharp scent of alchemical herbs following the breeze between buildings.
"To be an alchemist, one must first be awakened, as any other cultivator. But awakening alone is not enough. You require a level of knowledge that will not directly improve your cultivation strength—at least not imdiately. You must be willing to study, to morize, to apply principles that are as much science as they are art."
She gestured toward a distant glass-walled chamber where a student in heavy gloves was carefully pouring a glowing liquid into a copper mold.
"And then... there is affinity. Fire affinity is a requirent. Without it, you will never properly control the delicate heating processes necessary for crafting."
Her violet eyes swept over the group, pausing for a heartbeat on Elara before continuing.
"In short—it is not a path for those seeking easy progress. It demands both cultivation strength and extensive theoretical knowledge. Without both, one cannot hope to produce superior elixirs, pills, or potions."
They passed another building where rows of cauldrons sat under glowing glyphs, steam rising in rhythmic bursts.
"And to gain that knowledge..." Selenne’s voice dipped ever so slightly, "...you must experint."
As if in perfect punctuation, sowhere farther inside the block, another muffled whump echoed, followed by a faint puff of pink smoke from an upper window.
The door to the nearest building swung open with a sharp creak, and a wave of pungent, tallic-sweet air rolled out.
A young man stepped through, brushing soot from the sleeves of a thick leather apron. His hair—probably dark brown under normal circumstances—was streaked with pale ash and a faint shimr of gold dust. A few dark smudges marked his cheekbones, and the faint singe along the edge of his right glove told its own story.
There was sothing ticulous about him despite the chaos clinging to his clothes—his posture straight, his movents deliberate, as if even stepping out of the building was done with precision.
He took in the group at a glance, his brow quirking just slightly before his gaze settled on Selenne.
"Who are these people, Magister Selenne?" His voice was even, clipped, but not impolite.
Selenne t his eyes without breaking stride, inclining her head in acknowledgnt. "Ah, Aldren. These are the freshn," she said, her tone as calm as ever. "We are touring the Academy grounds."
The young man’s expression softened just a touch. "Ah... I see."
So of the students in Selenne’s group had already begun whispering behind their hands, subtle glances trading between them. Elara caught the flicker of recognition in several pairs of eyes.
It wasn’t his face they knew, but his na.
The mont Selenne spoke the na, a faint shift went through the group—an almost imperceptible tightening of posture, a few murmurs passing between the sharper-eared students.
But it was Selphine whose eyes lit with clear recognition. She leaned ever so slightly toward Elara, her voice pitched low enough for only their small circle to hear.
"Aldren... Caevyre," she murmured, the syllables crisp with certainty. "He’s the heir to the Caevyre Alchemical Consortium—the most prestigious alchemy family in the Arcanis Empire."
Elara glanced at her. "Prestigious how?"
Selphine’s lips curved faintly, though her tone remained matter-of-fact. "Prestigious as in... every major House buys from them. Their elixirs and potions are standard for the Imperial Legions. If a noble wants a rare transmutation done right, they send for the Caevyres. And," she added with a faint arch of her brow, "their vaults are said to hold formulas even the Academy doesn’t have in full."
Aurelian, walking just ahead, half-turned at that. "So... we’re talking about soone with more influence than most barons and counts combined."
Selphine nodded once. "Exactly. The Caevyres don’t just sell goods—they control supply lines. They can raise or lower prices across half the Empire with a single shipnt delay."
Riven gave a quiet whistle. "And here he is, walking around with soot on his face."
Lysa smirked faintly. "Well... experints don’t care about your family na."
Elara’s gaze drifted back to Aldren. His expression was composed, his attention now on Selenne as if the rest of the group barely existed. But there was an ease in the way he stood here—inside the Alchemy block, with the scent of smoke and reagents in the air—that told her he was entirely in his elent.
In the Lorian Empire, the alchemy departnt had never been given much prominence.
Elara rembered it well—the Royal Court there favored martial prowess and arcane might over slow, painstaking craft. Alchemists were few, their facilities modest, and the crown treated their work as a luxury rather than a pillar of national strength.
Here, though... it was different.
The scale of the grounds, the precision in the structures, the sheer volu of specialized equipnt—it all spoke of serious investnt. Whatever the Arcanis Empire’s priorities, alchemy clearly stood much higher among them.
Aldren finally turned his attention to the gathered students, his composure softening into sothing more approachable.
"Well," he began, his tone even but warm, "since Magister Selenne has introduced , I suppose it’s only polite to do the rest myself."
He inclined his head in a modest bow, though the gold-dusted smudges on his hair and cheeks gave the gesture a faintly comical air. "Aldren Caevyre—third-year, Alchemy Departnt. And before you ask—yes, the soot is part of the uniform. No, it’s not supposed to be." A faint smile tugged at his mouth, drawing a few chuckles from the group.
"Now... about this place." He gestured around them with a leather-gloved hand. "You’ve probably noticed it’s large. In fact, it’s one of the biggest blocks in the Academy. But our numbers? Never anywhere close to filling it. That’s not an accident."
He gave a brief, knowing look toward the building that had recently belched green smoke. "We prefer it that way—for safety reasons. The fewer people standing too close to an active experint, the fewer people needing a healer afterward."
There were a few nods from the more perceptive students. Aldren continued, his voice taking on a casual rhythm.
"The reason we have so much space isn’t because we’re spoiled—it’s because every alchemist here needs a workspace that won’t set off their neighbor’s work if sothing... goes wrong. Which it will. Often."
His expression turned faintly wry. "Now, before you think we just get all this equipnt and space for free, there is a condition."
He began walking a few steps ahead, motioning for the group to follow. "Since the Academy is providing such resources—space, materials, protective wards—it wouldn’t be fair to other departnts if we only worked for ourselves. So we don’t. We’re required to supply potions, elixirs, and various concoctions to other students—combat elixirs for the martial classes, focus draughts for the magicians, and yes, even basic tonics for general injuries."
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "In the end, it creates a good cycle. They benefit from our work, and in return, their feedback helps us refine our craft. You’ll learn more about this system when... or if... you ever step into one of our labs."
He let the words hang with a faint glint of amusent, as though he already knew most of them wouldn’t.
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