Earth's Greatest Magus

The grand Alchemy of Heaven and Earth competition had finally begun, a legendary event that brought alchemists, aspirants, and admirers from every corner of the Tartarus realm. The ultimate proving ground for those who dared to call themselves masters of the craft.

This time, the Skyroot faction played host, utilizing their renowned hilltop estate two hundred miles from Pardera’s capital city. The estate was a breathtaking marvel of alchemical ingenuity and magical engineering, perched atop a steep, forest-cloaked hill. Its towering walls gleamed faintly under the midday sun, etched with intricate runes of protection and utility. The shimmering formations pulsed like a living entity, their beauty belying their power to repel threats and sustain the estate’s myriad functions.

As Emery and his group approached, they were greeted by an incredible sight at the foot of the hill—a vast, sprawling facility designed to accommodate the tens of thousands drawn to the event.

The preliminary facility itself was an open-air structure made from polished white stone veined with gold; the building’s arches and columns were a testament to the wealth and craftsmanship of the Skyroot faction. Magical orbs hovered high above, casting a soft, even light that banished shadows and illuminated every corner of the space. Surrounding the main structure were smaller pavilions, some housing private preparation areas, others serving as observation decks where the crowd could gather.

Among the crowd were beastmen with feral eyes and fur-lined cloaks, elves with ethereal features and an aura of quiet confidence, and humans with expressions of determination or awe.

Shinta, standing beside Emery, scanned the crowd with a discerning eye. “Look at them,” she said, her tone laced with curiosity and skepticism. “So many don’t look like alchemists at all.”

The variety was staggering. Shinta nudged him, pointing out a towering giant among the crowd. “Father, how does someone that big even handle alchemy?” She whispered, barely suppressing a laugh.

Emery glanced at the sea of faces, noting the same diversity. Some participants appeared more suited for a battlefield, their hulking frames and battle-scarred armor a stark contrast to the refined tools of alchemy. Others looked like wandering scholars, their robes faded but their satchels brimming with scrolls and vials.

Above them, the estate on the hill exuded a serene majesty. The path leading upward was a single, wide staircase carved from the same polished stone as the estate itself, flanked on either side by flowing waterfalls that cascaded down into shimmering pools. Floating platforms occasionally descended, ferrying those granted access to the upper levels. Only registered participants, judges, and esteemed guests were allowed to ascend, their status marked by enchanted medallions that glowed faintly when touched by the estate’s magical barriers.

For the competition, participants were allowed two assistants—a concession to the inherent dangers of alchemical events.

Emery had considered bringing Grand Magus Soltz, but the elder declined, insisting he had no interest in alchemy and preferred to avoid the spotlight. His next thought was Twik, who had assisted him during his previous apothecary examinations. However, Shinta was quick to interject.

“Well, I am your daughter,” she declared with a sly grin, her tone brimming with confidence. “The talent must be in my blood.”

When Emery hesitated, she launched into an impassioned argument, listing every chore she had ever done to assist him—gathering rare materials, organizing his supplies, even testing minor potions. Her determination was unwavering.

“If you don’t choose me, I’m not helping you with anything ever again,” she said, crossing her arms defiantly.

Faced with her fiery resolve, Emery relented and let her have her way.

The second assistant was an irreplaceable choice. Livi, the Baphomet, was proficient in flame magic—an essential skill for the competition. With Emery’s connection to Kilragah’s flames weakened, her abilities were indispensable.

Not long after registering as an alchemist representing the Azure Cloud faction, Emery saw the event’s organizers make their entrance—Ten Cosmic Realm experts clad in the distinctive uniforms of the Skyroot faction. Their presence was commanding, their mere arrival silencing the restless crowd. “Let the first test begin,” one of the judges announced, his voice amplified by magic to carry across the vast facility.

The first challenge was straightforward yet deceptively difficult: a test of their knowledge of alchemical materials.

Each participant was provided with ten rare ingredients, along with detailed instructions on their preparation. Some required delicate peeling, others precise crushing, and a few needed to be carefully heated to exact temperatures. To pass, participants had to achieve excellent results on at least eight out of the ten tasks.

These tests appeared to be the most daunting for many participants. Emery could clearly see the tension in their faces—furrowed brows, beads of sweat forming under the pressure, and some even muttering complaints about the difficulty of the task. The challenge seemed insurmountable to those unfamiliar with the intricacies of alchemy.

For Emery, however, this was where he had the upper hand. The task at hand was fundamental—something most apothecary apprentices in the Magus realm would have mastered early on. The steps were so basic that Emery didn’t even need the assistance of his trusted VIA, to complete them. With calm and precise movements, he worked through the task, confident in his ability to achieve a perfect score.

When the examiner—a stern-looking woman with piercing eyes and an air of authority—finished inspecting his work, she gave a small nod of approval.

“Ten out of ten… excellent… you pass the round” she announced.

Emery watched as others struggled to keep up. Ingredients were mishandled, tools misplaced, and anxious glances toward the examiners were commonplace. Out of over three hundred participants who began this round, only half managed to make it through. The defeated shuffled away, their expressions a mix of disappointment and frustration, while those who succeeded wore faces of palpable relief.

As the participants who passed were gathered for instructions, the voice of an announcer rang out. “The next round will focus on flame control. Prepare yourselves!”

Emery’s confidence wavered slightly at this announcement.