Chapter Nine: The Materials Market

The residence of Archmage Abrit, a sixth-level mage, was located in the western district of Fragrant Leaf City. This area was a bustling commercial center, with all kinds of businesses thriving. Perhaps because Abrit’s reputation was so formidable, for years no one had ever dared to cause trouble near the lord’s mansion. Offending a spatial mage did not usually result in death—no, the consequences were often far more terrifying: to be lost forever in the endless void.

Diagonally across from the lord’s mansion stood a small tavern known as the Black Palm Bar. At this very moment, Hugh sat inside, nursing a glass of Black Pine Nut Wine—a local specialty, rich and fragrant, with a lingering sweet aftertaste. Nearly four years on Purgatory Island had kept his nerves taut and unrelenting; now, with a rare chance to relax, even a single drink allowed him to savor the sweetness of life.

Of course, drinking was not his true purpose in coming here. The Black Palm was the closest tavern to the lord’s estate, and the warriors from the mansion often came here during their leisure hours for a few drinks. When men drink, they inevitably utter things better left unsaid and let slip information that ought not be revealed. There was nowhere better to gather intelligence about the lord’s mansion than here. Hugh had no need to risk a night infiltration or bribe a guard; simply by sitting quietly, listening intently day after day, he would soon grasp every detail of the place.

After his drink, Hugh would make a circuit of the area near the mansion before returning to his inn. Clarice had been so busy lately she was rarely seen—managing her troupe, rehearsing new plays, and training singers for other troupes. She had vanished entirely from Hugh’s sight, which, for him, was something of a blessing—he thought he could now devote more energy to his training and other matters.

But reality proved him wrong. Even in Clarice’s absence, there remained the persistent attention of other girls from the troupe, especially Des and Lanty.

Now, just returned to his room, Hugh found himself gazing at Xu in exasperation. He was teaching the little one to study and use magic. Yet Xu did not seem studious at all. As a dragon of innate, boundless power, Xu was like an untapped treasure trove. Unfortunately, his string of adventures had only served to heighten his intelligence and potential, not to rid him of a magical beast’s lazy nature—the unwillingness to trouble oneself with tomorrow. Xu had no dreams of early diligence or becoming a prodigy of his kind. He much preferred to nap in Hugh’s arms all day, still at that age when mischief, idleness, and living off one’s parents seemed natural. For him, learning at this age was akin to child abuse.

“Fink!” Lanty’s voice called from outside the door. “Des and I are heading out to buy some things. But you know, two girls shopping alone is rather risky. Don’t you think this is the perfect moment to show a bit of knightly spirit?”

Hearing her call, Hugh resignedly gave up on teaching Xu. He opened the door to find Lanty and Des waiting, both dressed to the nines.

“You’re going out shopping?” he asked.

“Rehearsal’s over for the day, Clarice is off at another troupe, and we’re free. Why not go out?” Lanty replied quickly.

“But I remember you went shopping just yesterday.”

“Oh, women can never shop too many times.” Lanty pouted adorably.

Des hurried to explain, “I’m out of some daily necessities I often use, so I asked Lanty to come with me, and she insisted you join us. I hope we’re not troubling you.”

Des’s voice was always gentle and sweet. It was hard to believe these two girls, so different in temperament, were such good friends. Des was like a quiet orchid blooming in a secluded valley, mild and reserved, with the occasional hint of mischief. Lanty, by contrast, was outspoken, a little firecracker who always said what was on her mind, less bashful than Des in pursuing her desires.

At least, she never hid her admiration for Hugh. From their first meeting, she had set her sights on this young man, while Des always let her eyes and her shyness speak for her. As for Clarice, her adoration of Hugh’s wealth clearly outweighed any personal affection.

Hugh thought for a moment and nodded. “No, it’s no trouble at all. In fact, I was planning to stroll through town myself.”

—

As they stepped out of the inn, they encountered a bit of trouble. A squad of knights was interrogating the innkeeper. The captain wore a severe expression, and after some questions, swept his cold gaze over the other guests. Hugh could feel the captain’s eyes lingering on him, but after noting his hair color, the man looked away.

The knights rode off in a flurry.

“Hey Jamie, what’s going on?” Lanty asked the innkeeper, curiosity piqued.

“Oh, they’re searching for a fugitive. Name sounds like Hugh Greyler—a murderer who killed a high-ranking imperial official. Hard to believe, but this killer isn’t even sixteen,” the innkeeper replied with a sigh.

“Oh my heavens,” Demi gasped, covering her mouth in fright. “You mean there’s a terrifying killer loose in Fragrant Leaf City?”

“No, I didn’t say that,” the innkeeper answered. “It’s a nationwide warrant, issued in every city. Nobody knows where the killer is. Personally, I think the chances of Hugh Greyler coming to Fragrant Leaf City are zero. And you ladies don’t need to be so scared—he may be a murderer, but he’s not a… you know.”

“What does he look like?” Lanty shot Hugh a glance before quickly asking, a creeping suspicion rising within her—could it be such a coincidence?

“Golden hair, blue eyes, about your friend’s height,” the innkeeper replied, holding up a wanted poster ready to be pasted on the wall.

Thank the heavens alchemy hadn’t invented the camera yet, and those who had seen him could not draw. Hugh noticed the innkeeper’s hand holding his portrait, but the resemblance was far from accurate, and with his changed hair color, no one could connect him to Hugh Greyler.

More importantly, the artist had depicted him as a veritable fiend.

Lanty stared at the picture for a long time, then muttered, “He’s really ugly.”

Hugh had to stifle a laugh. What amused him most was that, as he had predicted, the Lanse Empire was making a great show of hunting him down, but would only pin a fabricated crime on him, never the real truth. Were the citizens to learn their emperor used his people’s lives as alchemical test subjects, then not even an emperor could escape grave consequences.

This offered a crucial advantage: apart from a select few officials, most investigators would have no reason to suspect an alchemist. Thus, for Hugh Greyler, aside from his age and hair color, the agents would know almost nothing.

Of course, there was always the chance a seasoned hound lurked in the shadows, waiting patiently for him to take the bait. But only if they knew where to lay the trap.

“Let’s go,” Des said softly, slipping her delicate hand around Hugh’s arm. Lanty, not to be outdone, clung to his other arm.

Many patrons cast Hugh envious looks.

As they left, the innkeeper called out, “Be careful out there—security’s tight. I hear the entire Versar Archipelago is being strictly checked.”

Hugh paused and turned back. “Is it like this everywhere?”

“Yes, but it’s tightest here—from Versar to the Noz Isles, nearly all the roads are sealed. Our governor must really hope Hugh Greyler is here. I even heard some elite warriors have been sent—other places aren’t getting that kind of treatment.”

A faint smile twisted Hugh’s lips. “Is that so? They’re giving this place special attention, then.” He turned and walked on.

So the Bureau’s hounds had indeed tracked him to the Versar Isles and deployed heavy forces along the route to Southwell Town. His hiding spot was quite close to Southwell, but much farther from Fragrant Leaf City. This had led the Bureau down a false trail.

Even so, Hugh felt a twinge of alarm. The clue he’d left on the teleportation circle pointed at a false destination, but it wasn’t something just anyone could discover or decipher. It was both a decoy and a test—to gauge the skill of his pursuers.

If the Bureau intensified their search toward the Noz Isles, it would mean his hunters were indeed very capable. If not for Bailey’s warnings about the Bureau’s cunning and their insight into human frailty, and if he were not truly Hugh Greyler, he might have returned to his old home. For a youth long exiled from home, the urge to return after fleeing hell was only natural.

In Hugh Greyler’s memories, he could find little impression of his aunt—her very face was blurred, while the baron and his wife remained vivid. Perhaps, in the heart of the former Hugh Greyler, he’d always tried to avoid thoughts of his aunt.

Hugh didn’t know the answer, but he was aware that even now, his emotions were influenced by his predecessor—a faint, persistent longing to return home, to see that accursed aunt, and to look upon the baron and baroness who had once cared for him.

This feeling was not overwhelming, but ever-present. For that reason, he hoped the Bureau would not unravel his false clue; to do so would prove their investigative prowess and likely mean he could never return to Southwell Town.

He had hoped to see the Bureau scurrying about blindly, but though the Lanse Empire had no shortage of fools, he had not been so fortunate as to meet any. Whoever was orchestrating the pursuit was a seasoned old hound.

But even the best hunter could not know he was now a triple-mage, nor of Xu’s existence, nor of Red and Green, nor of the devastating Void Slash he had created as a mere apprentice. If one strikes without knowing the enemy’s hand, defeat is almost certain.

Moreover, Hugh could always prepare more surprises; no one could guess at the true power of an alchemist unleashed. In magic and martial skills, he might still be considered a novice, but in alchemy, there was likely no one on the continent to match him.

Still, until he had a clear grasp of this hound’s abilities, Hugh had no intention of facing his foe head-on. If all went as expected, by the time they realized he wasn’t in Southwell and returned here, they would already have missed the main event.

It was time to make some preparations. With this in mind, Hugh suddenly said, “Lanty.”

“Yes, Fink?”

“Do you know where the largest alchemical market in Fragrant Leaf City is?”

“Of course. Women know the markets best,” Lanty replied with pride.

“Are you interested in showing me around?”

“Wherever you want to go, I’ll go.” Lanty never hid her infatuation; to her, this boy was a gift from the gods—clever, polite, strikingly handsome—a catch not to be missed.

—

Though Purgatory Island had been the Lanse Empire’s secret laboratory and the center of the nation’s alchemy, that did not mean it possessed all resources. Most of what was available on the island were rare species; common materials were, in fact, hard to come by and had to be imported by the Free Spirit.

So even Hugh, when crafting something, needed to visit the alchemy market for cheap materials that his ring would never contain. He also hoped to use as little as possible from his ring—those treasures were precious, and until he found a safe place to cultivate all the seeds he carried, every item spent was one less for the future.

Yet, upon arriving at the Fragrant Leaf alchemy market, Hugh realized he had gravely misjudged the situation. The batch of materials he had thought worthless and left behind to mislead the agents turned out to be rare goods here.

On the island, he’d seen those materials shipped in by the boatload every month and assumed they were commonplace—but that was the power of an entire nation at work. Distributed across the land, stocks were meager and prices soared.

Some cunning merchants even processed ordinary herbs or other items to pass them off as rare materials—things Hugh had never given a second thought on Purgatory Island.

As for the supplies in Hugh’s ring, they were so rare even counterfeits didn’t exist; people believed those things extinct.

In this scenario, Hugh could only sigh. No wonder these materials were scarce—Purgatory Island was surely to blame. The Lanse Empire’s claim of supporting the island with the nation’s resources was no idle boast. It was as if he had eaten shark fin every day until numb to it, only to find outside that even fish was prohibitively expensive.

He had planned to craft himself several powerful offensive artifacts, but now, given the circumstances, his plans grew difficult—no alchemist, however gifted, could create a masterwork array with mere dirt.

As he pondered, he overheard a conversation nearby that immediately caught his attention.

Eavesdropping for a moment, a sly smile played at Hugh’s lips—he had just had a brilliant idea.