Although she was a newcomer to the Alchemist Club, this being the first semester she was free to join extracurriculars, Sarakit had already earned a reputation among her peers and even the club's advisor.
Alchemy had once been dismissed as a pseudo-science, a sham, nothing more than a way to trick the desperately impoverished into chasing gold. Even now, the basis of it, which is turning lead into gold, still isn't possible.
But once verifiable results began to appear, it quickly became one of the most lucrative disciplines, capable of earning more wealth than one could ever spend.
"Sarakit, should I wipe the sweat from your forehead?" asked an underclassman, a nervous boy whose round glasses took up half his face.
She didn't look up from the flask she was balancing over the burner. Both her hands were occupied, one spinning the flask, the other stirring the liquid within. "Please."
"Okay!"
The boy dabbed at her forehead so gingerly it almost tickled.
"Thank you," she said, eyes still fixed on the mixture. The murky brown concoction was shifting hues, deepening into a vibrant blue. When it stabilized, she exhaled and lifted it from the flame. "Here."
The boy blinked and asked, "What's this?"
"Drink it."
"...D-drink it?"
"Yeah. I need to test if it works."
The boy froze.
'But why me?!' he was freaking out internally.
She was a prodigy; everyone in the club knew it. The rising star of the Alchemist Club, soon to represent them in competitions across the nation. But even prodigies made mistakes. He'd seen her blow up a cauldron once.
What if this one was also a failure?
The liquid fizzed faintly, releasing soft popping sounds.
Gulp.
"Uhm… what exactly is it?" he asked. What effects were they going to have on him?
"Stop asking questions and drink. If you don't want to, I'll find someone else."
"No, no! I'll drink it!"
Ambition trumped fear. Getting on Sarakit's good side could mean securing a position as her assistant when she inevitably founded her own company. He could see the gold that was going to flow into her pockets and, in turn, also trickle into his. The others saw it as well.
He wasn't anything special in the club; he just happened to be the lucky student who was picked by her a few days ago when she needed a second hand.
If he refused now and she changed her mind, someone else would be eating the slice from the pie that was once on his plate.
"I'll drink it!" Cale, the name of the boy, declared before tilting the flask and downing it in one go.
'...Yum.'
To his surprise, it tasted good — sweet, fizzy, almost addictive.
"How is it?" Sarakit asked, watching him closely.
"I don't… feel any different," he said. There was only a pleasant aftertaste lingering in his mouth. But then—
"Oh…"
"Oh?" Sarakit echoed.
"I feel something. It's like, rising from my chest. What did you make me… burp!"
"..."
"..."
Mortified, Cale wished he could vanish, bury his head inside of a hole.
"That's just the gas escaping your stomach," Sarakit said matter-of-factly. "Pressure build-up from dissolved carbon dioxide."
"...What did I just drink?"
"A new kind of beverage."
"A beverage?"
"Yeah. What, did you think I'd test a potion on you without verifying it first? I'm not cruel, hahahaha."
'Then why didn't you say that in the first place?' he thought bitterly.
"Did you like it?"
"Other than the burp, yeah. It was really good. Probably the best thing I've ever tasted."
He even wished that he could've taken his time to drink it if he knew that it was nothing more than a beverage.
The other club members, who had been watching, exchanged envious glances. A few even eyed the remaining drops in the flask like predators sizing up prey.
"I'll make more later," Sarakit said. "For now, let's get back to work."
Without realizing it, she had just invented soda, carbonated beverages that already existed on Earth, all because she was desperate for more income. Her debt was deeper than she'd anticipated, and repayment couldn't wait much longer.
Still, mass-producing this would require more funds. Which meant more borrowing. Her debt was going to increase again.
Scratching her head, she uttered, "Whatever." You have to use money to make money. Scared money makes no money.
* * *
"Coco."
Coco Costa blinked as a middle-aged man with reading glasses called her name. She was seated in the passenger seat of a car that had been moving for hours.
"Are we already there?" she asked, a little out of it because she had been daydreaming.
"Yes."
Looking behind her, in the back seat was a grey-haired man who snored lightly, a bubble inflating from his nose with each breath.
"So," said the driver with a faint smile, "what do you think?"
"About what?"
"Valdonia. Beautiful country, isn't it? The architecture alone is magnificent."
She looked out the window at the ornate buildings and bustling streets. "It's… okay."
He chuckled. "Coco, just because we hate this place doesn't mean we have to lie. It is beautiful, rich in culture, even more so after the waves of immigrants over the years. They were also amongst the first to adapt to a new political system that relies on voting and democracy."
"..."
"Take it in Coco. Take it all in. Everyone you saw on the streets will someday bend the knee to you. To us."
If Bell were here, he would've instantly recognized that the three of them were from the Fallen Choir. There's no way he could've missed it, considering that the faction was the main villain of the first few arcs.
The man checked his watch. "At the rate we're going, we've got about twenty hours left of driving before we reach the capital. Want to stop here for food?"
Coco nodded. She was a little famished.
"Can we get alcohol too?" mumbled the grey-haired man from the back. He let out a yawn and stretched his arms widely.
"You're awake," the driver said.
"I was never sleeping in the first place."
"...Sure," Coco sighed. "Conductor, why don't we use the stop to test whether Sesto has actually been practicing the local language?"
Sesto groaned audibly. He regretted speaking up at all. As a matter of fact, he regretted waking up.
"That's a great idea," the driver chuckled.
"You're supposed to be my friend," Sesto grumbled as he slumped deeper into his chair. "Why does it feel like you're plotting against me?"
"We are friends," Coco said sweetly with a mischievous smile. "That's why I want the best for you."
"...Meanie."
"Hahaha."
Anyone seeing them now, three travelers bantering lightheartedly, would never guess they were plotting an act of terrorism.
No one other than the Fallen Choir had a clue what was to come.
Except, there was one person who happened to know.
Bell.
Elsewhere, Trinity Academy.
'They should be on their way to the capital around now,' Bell thought, answering a question on his assignment sheet.
Since their plans for the attack on the capital had been planned years in advance, it was improbable that Bell's actions had changed anything about it yet. At most, there might be a slight change in the time or the location.
Still, even if there was a change, the anonymous letter he'd sent to the capital outlining their intentions should've put the authorities on high alert, so they should have caught it regardless.
If they couldn't stop it even with all the information he'd provided… then Valdonia's capital, that was the meeting grounds of all the so-called strongests, had no right to the title. This included the royal family that lived there.
He would have stopped it himself if he could. But against the Choir? He'd only die in vain.
They were far beyond what he could deal with at the moment.
He could only hope they were prepared and prayed for the best.
'I informed them that one of the members is a half-blood werewolf, so they should have silver weapons when confronting them.'
Sesto. A grey werewolf who had access to the race abilities as well as the star abilities of the god that he followed.
That's what made half-blood races who were part-human so overpowered. They weren't just limited to star abilities that only humans had access to. They also had access to the other race or races that coursed in their blood.
For example, there was a certain someone at the academy who was going to awaken her dormant vampire blood in the near future.
She would not only be able to use her ice abilities from her god, but also all of the abilities that the vampire race could. Of course, she would also have new weaknesses, such as sunlight.
'Will she attack me once she becomes a vampire?' he pondered.