Paracelsus struggled to peel his eyes off the young man’s cauldron, though he did his best, curious to see what his colleagues thought of the demonstration. Tossing his fellow elders a fleeting glance, he quickly confirmed that they were as shocked as he was – including the boy’s mentor. Apparently, Orin hadn’t watched his student brew in a long time either.

  Nobody appeared nearly as flabbergasted as Anqi though.

  The willowy man’s face had turned pale as milk, his usually stern and collected expression twisted by disbelief. The old alchemist had clearly even forgotten his usual habit of rubbing his long, dark beard for a moment, too busy coming to terms with what they were witnessing.

  ‘Can’t say I blame him,’ Paracelsus thought.

  It had barely been five minutes, and it looked like Percy was almost done converting what had probably been around two hundred mushrooms into nearly as many doses of healing potions.

  Paracelsus wasn’t sure he could complete a regular brewing session this fast, let alone one involving dozens of times as many ingredients, yet that wasn’t even the most impressive aspect of the young man’s demonstration.

  He was attacking and eliminating several solid lumps per second, before most of them had a chance to fully form. Even with a front row seat, the senses of a Violet, and millennia of experience, Paracelsus had a tough time following the lecturer’s movements and trying to comprehend the effects of the cauldron’s varied enchantments that were being activated one after the other.

  Paracelsus didn’t envy the Greens at the back of the room. At least the Blues or those closer to the lectern probably had an easier time learning something from the Red-born’s unprecedented display.

  Before anyone knew it, Percy was already pouring the finished potions into the vials.

  ‘If I’m not mistaken, his cauldron has fifty times the standard capacity…’ Paracelsus thought, counting how many doses Percy had bottled up.

  A hundred and sixty-five.

  That would indicate a yield of fifty-six percent when adjusted for elixirs, which would put Percy on equal footing with Flamel – the most skilled among the elders – despite the insane amount of ingredients that he had processed. Meanwhile, Paracelsus had been stuck at fifty-four percent for centuries.

  Moreover, Percy had clicked his tongue upon measuring his output, indicating dissatisfaction with his performance. Did that mean that he could usually do better than that?

  ‘It’s crazy. If we take his yield, his cauldron’s size, and his speed into account, he can easily outperform a hundred junior alchemists while consuming half as much nectar!’

  Scanning the Blues and Greens behind him, Paracelsus noticed the same awed expressions that he saw on the Violets’ faces, complete with the occasional jaw hanging loose.

  Of course.

  Everyone here was experienced enough to recognize the importance of Percy’s demonstration. If they could all replicate even a tiny fraction of his abilities, they might not have to recruit and train that many new Guild members to meet Remior’s ever-increasing demand for cleansing resources.

  “I can do a little better usually, but I suppose that it doesn’t really matter. This should give you a good idea of what I’ll be teaching you in the next few weeks,” Percy suddenly spoke into the enchantments that he had previously carved into the lectern, his voice reverberating through the lecture theatre. Thousands of stunned pairs of eyes focused on him as he continued.

  “This is a cauldron forged out of my own fused mana, enchanted personally by me. It allows me to hide it from both Mana Sense and regular vision. Sadly, you won’t be able to create something similar without both of my affinities, nor will you be able to turn my mana invisible if I give you a similar construct.”

  “Does this mean that we cannot learn to brew like you?” somebody asked, sounding disappointed.

  “I didn’t say that,” Percy replied, his lips parting into a grin. “I’ve recently studied runes that can be fuelled by anyone’s mana, meaning that they can be operated by other people. The lack of my phantom mana is still a problem, but there are plenty of transparent materials with magical properties out there that would make for a decent substitute. It shouldn’t be too difficult for me to make a few thousand simpler versions of my cauldron for everyone in this room, but I would still advise you to reach out to House Etna to get more. I don’t intend to personally equip everyone in the Guild.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  Percy had directed the last part at the elders, getting a nod back from Flamel. Most of the Great Houses had done their best to maintain a neutral stance in the matter between Percy and Machaon, clearly struggling to decide which party was the least risky to support.

  However, House Etna was a notable exception. The runecrafting family had been more than a little thrilled to get their hands on a copy of Percy’s magiscript books. Their patriarch had even gone so far as to publicly denounce the crimes of his fellow White, recognize Percy’s control of the Fungal Spire, and – if rumours were to be believed – privately reach out to Archibald, offering to ally with House Avalon.

  Getting him to help with their runecrafting projects shouldn’t be too difficult.

  “What are the limitations of the watered-down cauldrons?” another person asked, this time from the front row. It was actually Orin who had spoken, clearly feeling more at ease than anyone else in his former student’s presence.

  “They’ll be much smaller than mine. I think you’ll still be able to use the scaling principle to brew a couple of times more ingredients than normal. The shape of the cauldrons will be the same, though the number and complexity of the enchantments will also have to be lowered if you want me to produce so many cauldrons in a reasonable timeframe. I’ll still make sure to include the bare minimum necessary for everyone to dip their toes into the topics I’m going to teach.”

  After saying that, he went over some of those topics, giving everyone a brief overview of the alchemic principles that he had learned in his travels. The bonding principle was the key requirement for brewing Aurora Dew, but many of the others were just as important.

  He had already shown them the scaling principle, yet he claimed that it was only thanks to the consolidation principle that he could brew so many ingredients at once without incurring any additional losses.

  The compression principle would allow them to brew higher-grade potions – something that few alchemists had even thought possible – though Percy claimed that the subpar cauldrons he was about to give them wouldn’t be able to withstand anything above Yellow.

  Finally, the restructuring principle would allow them to convert their potions to inhalables, pills and other states that would potentially open many new doors for the Alchemists’ Guild. It was admittedly the least groundbreaking of the new principles but, according to Percy, every little bit would indirectly affect their brewing yield.

  “Don’t expect to benefit as much as me without my ocular mutation and its associated spell but raising your yield by a few percentage points should be doable. If you can also brew twice or thrice as many ingredients, shave a few seconds off your brewing sessions and double the number of alchemists in the Guild, we’ll already be able to get enough elixirs for most people on Remior, and Aurora Dew for all the people who used to get undiluted elixirs before. As for getting Aurora Dew for everyone – that’s more of a long-term project.”

  Paracelsus knew that not everyone in the room was happy with the young man’s focus. They’d all come from noble backgrounds, so they were used to disregarding commoners and low-borns.

  Consequently, the majority of Percy’s audience was dissatisfied with his goal of producing enough resources for everyone on the planet. It would have been far simpler for them to just ignore everyone but the Yellow-borns and some Orange-borns.

  Another thing Paracelsus knew that his fellow alchemists weren’t very thrilled about, was the degradation of their profession. If Percy succeeded at teaching them everything he had promised, they would increase their yield and output more than they had ever thought possible, but that was ultimately a doubled-edged sword.

  The abundance of nectar, elixirs and Aurora Dew would probably eat into their profits, forcing them to put more effort if they wanted to keep enjoying the same lavish lifestyle that they had grown to love.

  That said, nobody dared to utter a word of protest. Percy had made his stance on the matter clear over a year ago, so everyone had come to the lecture knowing what to expect. Challenging the person in control of Remior’s entire supply of nectar would be beyond foolish. It could get them kicked out of the auditorium – or worse, the Guild.

  After going over his plans for the course, Percy finished the lecture with another demonstration. This time, he went with more ambitious recipes too, showing them how to brew Green healing potions and, of course, the fabled Aurora Dew.

  Paracelsus noticed that the young man’s yield had markedly improved compared to earlier as well, proving that he had previously underperformed, likely due to stress. However, he also realized something else after watching Percy.

  As impressive as the spectacle had been, Paracelsus had spotted an area that could use a lot of work. Percy didn’t seem to be aware of his shortcoming either, so he would probably improve rapidly once somebody informed him about it.

  ‘Might as well. It’s the least I can do after everything he’s given us,’ Paracelsus thought, waiting for everyone else to leave the Auditorium.

  “Got any questions?” the young man asked upon noticing him approach.

  “Not exactly.” Paracelsus shook his head. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think you used your domain while brewing earlier.”

  Books 1, 2 and 3 on at no extra cost, grab copies for your shelf, or listen to the audiobooks on .