Chapter 34 - Evening lessons (18 Jan 25)

The Lord's Hall thrummed with a subtle, off-key heartbeat of mana, an undercurrent that pulsed just beneath the tangible scents of smoke and sweat.The grand fireplace along the far wall was burning hot, with logs stacked so high that heat radiated across the room in steady waves. Shadows crawled up the beams overhead as the flames shifted, painting the space in orange and gold. Suddenly, a log shifted unexpectedly, collapsing into the ash with a dull thud. The flames flickered violently for a moment, casting elongated shadows that danced erratically across the walls. It was as if the fire mirrored the uncertainty lurking in the room, reflecting the students' fluctuating control over their mana.Most of the furniture had been dragged aside, but not carefully. Benches leaned against walls. Tables were pushed back just far enough to clear the floor. Practicality won out over form.A dozen people sat on the floor in a loose half-circle around the fire.Some leaned against the stone hearth. Others sat cross‑legged, boots kicked off, hands resting on knees or pressed flat against the floorboards. No one was speaking. The only sounds were the crackle of burning wood and the slow rhythm of breathing.Harold stood near the edge of the group, arms folded, watching.They were getting it now. Not all of them, and not in a complete, polished way. Harold felt a wave of relief mixed with a cautious optimism. His mind briefly flickered back to the early days, to the daunting challenge of igniting any spark of understanding of mana within these students. Their initial struggles mirrored his own fears—the fear that he may push them too quickly, that they would falter, or worse, give up. But here they were, proving him wrong, giving him hope. He knew they would get it, but he needed them to get it now. The first hurdle had been the hardest: getting them to feel the mana at all. For days, most of them had chased ghosts—tension where there was none. Imagination mistaken for sensation.That part was over. Now the problem was control.Harold could feel it in the room. The mana didn't pack much power yet, but its presence was unmistakable—the movement was like soft currents just beneath the surface of their skin. Mana rose with their breaths, then fell back as they exhaled. Though it seemed uneven and sloppy, with occasional sparks flickering out and dimming, it marked real progress. The sensation wasn't entirely pleasant; students occasionally winced as if they experienced a mild burn, a consequence of their yet untamed control.A man near the fire grimaced and shifted, rolling his shoulders as if something itched beneath them."Don't trap it," Harold said quietly. "Let it move. You're not pinning it down — you're guiding it."The man exhaled and relaxed, and the tension in the air smoothed just a little.Another woman frowned, brow creased, hands clenched too tightly."You're pushing," Harold told her. "Stop. It's already there."Her fingers loosened, and her breathing slowed. It was fortunate that Harold had refined his senses enough to sense mana around him. Without it, it would have been impossible to really guide these people.Harold walked slowly behind them, boots soft on the wood. No lectures or diagrams tonight. They'd done those already. This was repetition and learning familiarity. Teaching their bodies what their minds already understood.Mana wasn't a tool you grabbed. "Unless you're using the soldier's method," Harold thought to himself.It was something you let flow through you without letting it run wild.Several of them were managing it now, moving it from chest to arms, arms to hands, then back again without losing the thread. Crude, uneven paths, but intact. As the mana circled back, a subtle warmth spread through their fingertips, a tingling sensation skimming the surface of their skin, signaling the first complete circuit. This tangible feedback marked a milestone, igniting a gleam of recognition in their eyes.Elia sat with her back straight, hands resting loosely on her thighs. Her breathing was slow and even, not forced. The firelight flickered across her face, and she didn't react to it at all. She was one of the people who came in the second wave.Her mana wasn't pooling in one place. It was moving. Harold tilted his head slightly, focusing.The flow ran from her chest down her spine, spread cleanly into her legs, then back up again. Not fast. Not powerful. But smooth, like the hum of a bowstring pulled just right, vibrating with a steady rhythm it had always known.She adjusted her posture without opening her eyes, a tiny correction at the hips.The flow didn't break.Harold felt something in his chest ease.Around them, the fire popped, sending sparks up the chimney. Someone swallowed. Another person shifted position.But Elia stayed still, and for the first time since they'd begun these lessons, Harold saw someone who wasn't fighting their mana at all.Harold crouched beside her, slow and quiet."Elia," he said softly.She didn't startle. Her eyes opened, steady and calm, the reflection of the fire catching in them like gold dust."You already feel it," Harold said. "And you've flowed it — a full, clean circuit. But now I want to see if you can do something harder."She listened and didn't reply. Her eyes were still closed as she worked to sense the mana within her.Guide it again," Harold continued. "This time, don't just let it follow the path it wants. Shift it. Redirect it, change speed, and pressure. Even just a little. Show me you're not just riding the current. Show me you can steer it."Elia gave the slightest nod. At first, Harold felt the same steady rhythm as before. The mana gathered, coiled low in her body, then climbed again — smooth, practiced.But then it changed.There was a pull—a slowing.She hesitated the flow just above her solar plexus — holding it back for a moment, then releasing it in a thinner thread, like a trickle instead of a wave. Then she reversed it. Not fully — just a slow backspin of pressure against the direction it had taken before.It wasn't clean. The edges of it stuttered a bit. She caught it, lost it, caught it again. But she was doing it.Harold felt it clearly: her will, layered over the motion. She was showing control.When she let the flow complete its cycle, it was slower than before — but deliberate.She opened her eyes. Still calm and breathing.Harold didn't speak at first. He studied her like a craftsman inspecting a new tool. He didn't doubt her, but he needed to be sure what he'd seen wasn't an accident.He stood and extended a hand. "Come with me," he said.Harold led her to the back corner of the hall, where a rough table had been set up beside the hearth. The table was nothing elegant, just a work surface cleared of tools and dusted clean. Two slates leaned against the wall nearby, smeared with chalk diagrams and half-erased notations. Everything else sat in neat rows: shallow clay bowls, a battered kettle, a cracked wooden spoon, and a folded cloth holding dried herbs, scraped bark, and a small jar of thick, amber-colored honey sealed with wax. Among these, a particular bowl stood out, cracked but nonetheless still used—it had been one of the first vessels ever crafted in Harold's settlement, now a symbol of endurance and resourcefulness. 'That crack,' Harold thought, 'a reminder of what can be mended and what cannot.' This thought mirrored the challenges they faced, hinting at the resource scarcity that could become severe if their current efforts failed.Harold poured clean water into the kettle and set it on a wide iron trivet placed just above the hottest stones in the hearth. The flame didn't lick the metal directly but the heat radiated fast. It was the best way to control the heat.He pointed to the ingredients."You've got bitterleaf. Stalkroot. Ash-flower petal. Cracked pinebark. And honey to bind it. That's the base."Elia studied them with careful eyes."You don't just drop it all in," Harold said. "And you don't blast it with mana and hope it cooks right."He picked up a spoon and pointed to the steaming kettle."You have to listen. The water needs to be hot enough to draw out the essence and break down the ingredients, but not so hot as to destroy them. Sometimes that temperature is different for the ingredients you need to add. You start with the roots and bark — things that need time to break down. When they're softened, you add the volatile ones. Petal. Leaf. The honey goes in last to stabilize it."Elia nodded once. He looked her over carefully. "How's your mana?""Steady," she said, smiling up at him a little.He placed her hand on the kettle handle. "You'll keep that there the whole time. If your flow breaks, you'll burn, and the potion will fail.". Her fingers wrapped the handle — and she didn't flinch.Harold stepped back."Go." He said.She inhaled once through her nose, then released it. Her other hand moved slowly, selecting the first ingredient — a broken sliver of stalkroot — and dropping it into the steaming water.The reaction was immediate — a faint hiss and a muddy swirl that darkened the surface.She reached for the pinebark next. Dropped two curled flakes into the mix.Harold watched her knuckles. No tension. No recoil from the heat."Now one at a time," Harold said.A faint glow had begun to build around her shoulders, not visible but rather subtly inferred by the tiny disturbances it caused—like air rippling lightly in the heat or small motes of light momentarily shimmering before fading away. Her mana wasn't just flowing; it was extending, feathering out from her skin like a second pulse.The handle should have been scalding, but she didn't blink.Instead, her other hand now hovered above the kettle, shaping the flow with careful intention. Her mana didn't surge all at once. It came in slow pulses, matching her breath. Each time she exhaled, she pushed a thin layer into the water, threading it through the dissolving bark, teasing the essence out without boiling it away.The scent shifted. It was less pungent and richer.She let it sit. Harold talked her through the next steps.Then, she added the bitterleaf — torn into small pieces and scattered across the surface like herbs in a stew.Again, she adjusted. Shifted the mana flow. This time she split it — one thread for the leaf, one for the still-breaking bark. Her hand on the handle trembled briefly. She stilled it. The mana circulated roughly. Controlling two threads. It tested her control, and it showed.Sweat rolled down her neck, and Harold didn't speak.The last step came slowly. She uncorked the honey jar with her thumb, dipped a spoon just slightly, and let a single ribbon fall into the center of the mix. It pooled on the surface for only a second — then vanished beneath, swallowed clean.Her mana thickened like fog rolling low across warm stone. It now completely wrapped the kettle's contents, and Harold could feel the difference.Everything was integrating. Not separated ingredients soaking in water. A single mixture, bound by will.When she finally pulled her hand away from the handle, the skin was red. But not burned.She stepped back from the kettle and looked up.Harold stepped forward, leaned slightly, and stirred the contents once with the spoon. The mixture clung. The scent was new — layered and complex.And the surface shimmered when the light from the fire hit it; the color shifted in the liquid, like oil catching sunlight.The quality wasn't there, but it was a potion. As Elia leaned in to take her first full breath, the scent enveloped her. It was a deep, layered aroma, reminiscent of the herbal remedies her grandmother used to prepare back home—an earthy blend mixed with the sweetness of wild honey and the sharp bite of pine.Harold met her eyes. "Elia," he said. "That's real."She blinked, sweat trickling past her temple.Then something chimed — clear, distinct, and not heard by anyone else in the room.The sound hit Elia like a hammer.She staggered, one hand snapping to the table's edge. Her breath caught, sharp and sudden.Harold was there instantly. "Elia."She didn't answer at first.Then she swallowed and spoke, voice tight."I got a World First. It just popped up." The room froze.Her eyes unfocused as words burned themselves into her vision.WORLD FIRST ACHIEVEMENTPOTION BREWEDPERK GAINED: FIRST ALCHEMIST (Epic)Foundational Mastery• Potions you brew have a 15% increased chance to succeed.• Mana loss during potion infusion is reduced by 10%• Early-stage instability during brewing is suppressed by 10%• First-attempt brews are less likely to fail catastrophically.Elia sucked in a breath as the weight of it settled into her.Then the subsequent notice followed immediately.PERK GAINED: COMMON POTION BREWER (Uncommon)Refined Basics• Common-grade potions you brew have improved potency by 6%.• Ingredient integration is more efficient by 6%Another chime.PERK GAINED: HEALING POTION BREWER (Uncommon)Restorative Focus• Healing potions you brew restore 8% more health. Elia let out a shaky breath and finally looked at Harold."I… I got three."The silence was shattered."Three?" someone breathed."You've got to be kidding me."A man near the fire dragged both hands down his face. "I knew I should've gone first.""You couldn't even keep your flow from leaking," someone snapped back."Still!" he shouted back.Harold let out a low breath, more like a whistle."That's not small, if I had that before…" he muttered.Harold raised a hand. The room quieted — not instantly, but enough.Harold turned to Elia first, "You earned it," he said plainly. "All of it."Then he turned to the group."isten carefully. This wasn't luck."He gestured to the kettle. ""Can anyone tell me what she did right?"One of the trainees hesitated but then spoke up, "She didn't rush, right? She waited until she was ready before starting."Harold nodded, "Exactly, she stabilized her body before touching the brew. What else?"Another voice piped in, "She followed the order. Roots and bark first, then the others.""Right," Harold said, holding up two fingers. "Timing is crucial. And?"Someone in the back ventured, "She didn't force it with too much mana.""Correct," Harold confirmed. "he used mana to bind and empower, not overpower. That final infusion with the honey was timed correctly . The infusion meldd the ingredients anto one whole. That's why it registered.""Elia swallowed, nodding along. Harold's tone shifted slightly."And what she did wrong." A ripple of attention."You overcommitted early," he said to Elia. "If I hadn't told you to slow the flow, you would've destabilized the base. You tried to infuse two ingredients at a time. If you had done one at a time, it would have gone smoother."Her shoulders tensed. "I felt it slipping.""And you corrected," Harold said. "That matters more than being perfect."He turned back to the others."The Epic perk didn't make the potion. The potion earned the perk. Remember that."The kettle still shimmered faintly, catching firelight in rippling color.One of the trainees leaned forward. "So… this means we can actually do this?"Harold nodded."Yes," he said. "As long as you can control the mana flow through your body. More complicated potions will require more control."Elia stared down at her hands — hands that had just changed the future of the settlement.Harold's voice softened, but only a little."Tomorrow, you'll do this again."Her head snapped up. "Tomorrow?""You're the first Alchemist of the Landing," he said, smiling at her. "We're gonna work to make you better, all of you," he said to the room.She nodded slowly.Around them, the fire cracked and shifted, throwing light across the walls of the hall. The shimmering potion cast a luminous glow, catching in the eyes of those gathered—a glint of hope and promise. It reflected the beginnings of a brighter future, whispered in the quiet anticipation shared among them.