"Who is that?"
Murmurs spread through the gathered crowd.
Then—someone gasped.
"The crest on that carriage... It's from the House of Bérumbella!"
"A Count's carriage?"
A low exclamation rippled through the onlookers.
Since the Blood Emperor had seized the throne, many noble houses had been wiped out. Those that remained weren't just lucky—they wielded true power.
In this empire, noble titles held far greater weight than those in the Kingdom of Re-Estize.
The young man who stepped out of the carriage stood tall, a ruby-encrusted cane in his grasp.
Yet, his legs were perfectly fine.
It wasn't a walking aid—just an ornament.
But then, the crowd noticed something else.
His other arm—partially hidden beneath his sleeve.
As the blonde-haired noble descended from the carriage, his sharp eyes locked onto Sakeer.
Upon seeing Sakeer's youthful appearance and jet-black hair, his gaze narrowed slightly.
"Good morning, Alchemist Sakeer."
His voice was smooth, carrying an air of refined confidence.
The smile on his face remained unwavering as he performed a graceful, slight bow.
"I am Joshua St. Elia Adebayo Bérumbella."
"May the fragrance of hydrangeas bring you good fortune today."
Joshua then turned, his kind smile never faltering, as he addressed the gathered crowd:
"Everyone, I wonder if you might be willing to grant me the first opportunity?"
Silence.
No one spoke.
No one refused.
"Then, shall we?"
Sakeer, calm as ever, watched the exchange before turning back toward his courtyard.
Joshua followed, still smiling.
The butler, however, remained at the door, his expression completely unreadable.
As the heavy wooden gates shut behind them, the atmosphere outside grew tense once more.
Now that the first spot had been taken, the second would be fiercely contested.
After all, who knew how long this mysterious alchemist would continue offering free treatment?
Inside the Courtyard
The two men sat opposite each other.
Before beginning, Sakeer spoke flatly:
"Before treatment, I need to make something clear—"
"My regeneration potion can only heal injuries sustained after birth. It cannot fix congenital defects."
His tone was blunt, utterly lacking in the formality most nobles demanded.
Joshua didn't seem bothered.
Men of true ability, he thought, always carried some level of arrogance.
"Congenital disabilities cannot be treated?"
His eyes flickered.
Then—
Without a change in expression, he slowly raised his right arm, the one that had remained hidden within his sleeve.
Gasps would have erupted had there been an audience.
The arm ended at the wrist.
No hand.
The oval-shaped scar at the end of the stump suggested that it wasn't congenital—but rather, an old wound.
"Next, I'll have to reopen your wound."
Sakeer's gaze briefly swept over the ruby scepter in Joshua's hand.
A magical artifact—though its exact properties remained unclear.
He looked back at Joshua.
"It's going to be painful. I hope you can endure it."
Joshua let out a soft chuckle.
"The pain of losing a hand is far worse than the pain of regrowing one."
His confidence was unshaken.
Then—steel met flesh.
Sakeer lifted a mithril dagger.
In one swift motion, he sliced into the old scar—
"AAAAAGH!"
A sharp, guttural scream tore through the courtyard.
Joshua's face turned deathly pale, his carefully maintained composure crumbling in an instant.
"AAAAAGH!"
The next hour was filled with pain and endurance.
Regeneration was not instant.
For the potion to work, Sakeer had to repeatedly cut away improperly regrown flesh, allowing only the correct structure to form.
Each slice, each cut, brought fresh agony.
By the time it was over, Joshua could barely stand.
His once lavish clothing was soaked through with sweat, his body trembling uncontrollably.
As he departed…
Joshua stepped into his carriage, looking utterly drained, his face ghostly pale.
Sakeer watched him go.
"An ordinary man after all," he murmured.
A faint smirk tugged at his lips before he turned toward the gates once more.
Then, his voice rang out—
"Next."
After Joshua's carriage departed for the aristocratic quarter, it suddenly made a sharp turn—avoiding the noble district entirely.
The horses picked up speed, and within moments, the carriage was racing down the central avenue, heading straight for the palace.
The Imperial Palace loomed ahead, separated from the noble district by the vast central square.
Within the Palace
The luxurious chamber was bathed in a warm, golden glow—despite it being daytime.
Crimson silk carpets lined the spacious marble floor, and golden lampposts emitted an unending radiance, leaving not a single shadow in the room.
Seated at a grand mahogany desk, a figure silently sifted through documents.
Short golden hair, pinned back with garland-like hairpins.
Four oval-shaped ornaments, no larger than a thumb, adorned the sides of the head.
A regal black-and-gold outfit, tailored for comfort.
His deep purple eyes shimmered, betraying a profound, unreadable depth—an aura of absolute authority emanating from his very being.
This was none other than—
The Blood Emperor, Jircniv.
A soft shuffle of footsteps approached.
"Your Majesty, he's here," a secretary whispered.
Jircniv flipped a page, pausing briefly before looking up with a small, knowing smile.
"Let him in."
The doors creaked open.
Joshua, the blond nobleman, stepped forward, his posture respectful.
Without hesitation, he dropped to one knee, placed his hand over his chest, and lowered his head.
"Your Majesty."
The emperor leaned forward slightly, amusement flickering in his gaze.
"So?"
"I've obtained it," Joshua reported swiftly.
Without another word, he lifted the ruby scepter—the one he had never once let go of—and thrust its tip into the palm of his newly regenerated hand.
Pierce!
Blood spurted from the wound—
But not a single drop reached the floor.
Instead, the ruby atop the scepter absorbed it instantly, glowing with an eerie scarlet brilliance.
Then—
Joshua's hand began to wither.
The fresh skin, once restored, rapidly dried and shriveled, as though it had been drained of life itself.
In mere moments, his entire palm crumbled into ash, dissipating into the air.
A deep blue liquid condensed at the center of the ruby, shimmering like crystallized moonlight.
The regeneration potion had been extracted.
Joshua, unfazed, lifted the scepter once more and held it up.
"Your Majesty."
Jircniv smiled.
"Send it to the Ministry of Magic for analysis."
An attendant immediately stepped forward, taking the scepter from Joshua's hands.
"Thank you for your efforts, Joshua."
Joshua bowed deeply.
"This is my duty, Your Majesty."
Without another word, he followed the attendant out of the chamber.
Jircniv turned his attention back to the documents before him.
Without looking up, he asked, "What else have you uncovered?"
The secretary, still standing at attention, bowed slightly.
"At present, our information is limited. However, we have confirmed that the alchemist is registered as an adventurer under the Kingdom of Re-Estize."
Jircniv tapped his thumb against a particular document, his expression unreadable.
"And his adventurer rank?"
"The lowest—Bronze."
For the first time, Jircniv's movements paused.
Then, he let out a soft chuckle.
"Even after all these years, the Adventurer's Guild still clings to its outdated advancement system."
His eyes gleamed coldly.
"Use our contacts in E-Rantel—I want everything we can find on this man."
The secretary bowed deeply.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Meanwhile, in the Aristocratic District
The small courtyard was peaceful.
On the grass, a small Barghest lay lazily, chewing on a troll's vertebra, its sharp teeth gnawing with satisfaction.
Nearby, Imina stood with her arms crossed, her expression dark.
Sakeer glanced at her.
"Things aren't going well?"
Imina clicked her tongue, clearly frustrated.
"Not just 'not going well'—we're being targeted."
She narrowed her violet eyes.
"No one is selling trolls anymore. All sources have been shut down."
Sakeer simply smirked, as if amused by her irritation.
"What a hassle," he mused.
"Exactly," Imina huffed. Then, her gaze flicked toward him, her voice laced with mock resentment.
"You should've held off on unveiling that miraculous alchemy potion, Mr. Genius Alchemist."
Before Sakeer could reply—
The Barghest's ears twitched.
It snapped its head up, shackles rising.
Teeth bared. Eyes locked on the eastern wall.
Then—
Sou! Sou! Sou!
Three dark-cloaked figures leapt over the courtyard wall, landing gracefully within the grounds.
Their gazes met Sakeer's and Imina's immediately.
Imina's grip tightened around the twin daggers at her waist.
A slow, knowing smile crept onto her lips.
"Oh dear," she purred.
"You've got trouble, Mr. Genius Alchemist."
Her fingers curled around the hilts, muscles tensing.
"If you need help, I might be willing to offer a discount."
For a brief moment—
The air grew still.
Then—
Sou!
Sakeer's eyes drifted past the three intruders.
Instead, he turned toward the opposite direction.
At the closed gate...
A figure in a gray robe stood motionless.
No one knew when he had arrived.
Imina immediately noticed. Her playful demeanor vanished.
Her stance shifted, and in an instant—she was in front of Sakeer.
"Hey..." she muttered, voice low.
"Maybe we should retreat first?"
The night suddenly felt far colder.