You Are All Wrong

At first, I had planned to simply toss out some passable results and be done with it. After all, not enough time had passed since my return for me to get a proper grasp of this world. Their recipe levels were low, but perhaps something else about it excelled — the process behind that was unclear, but I'd assumed it would be the latter.

Alchemy was a craft built from all manner of different ingredients, and it had one rule: combine strongly toxic substances, and the result changed depending on how you tuned your mana and distributed it through the kit. It could become an entirely different medicine — or a poison with the exact opposite properties. That was what made it fun.

But in this world, the ingredients were truly diverse. The other ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠veterans, rather than choosing alchemy, tended to bury themselves in cooking, with its guaranteed early-game edge, or in blacksmithing, which kept its strength even in the extreme late game. And if neither of those, they would major in magical scholarship and craft artifacts instead. Alchemy was a discipline far more difficult than any of the above. The others who fell behind along the way drifted into blacksmithing or cooking, but I alone kept stubbornly digging away at alchemy. In a way, it would be no exaggeration to say that among all the veterans, I was the one who held a special affection for it.

"So you take the red lizard's tongue and mix in three sprigs of petroleum tree leaves and..."

"When you combine poison with poison, it usually splits into two reactions: a poison whose toxicity blends into something no antidote can touch, and one where strange interactions entangle and..."

It was all a mess — this wasn't it. They were using high-grade ingredients in bizarre combinations, and threaded through the whole process was that base, hope-for-the-best mentality: Veritas did it this way, so who knows, it might work.

It was like... that kind of approach. Like buying a lobster, only for your younger sibling to dump it into ramen and declare it delicious. Or grilling a steak and plopping it on top of Chapagetti. Of course, since those ingredients were premium and delicious, the result could certainly taste good. But anyone who had worked with them long enough knew there were far better dishes those ingredients could have become.

It made my head spin. Every time another presentation rolled on, I clutched my throbbing head.

"M-Master?"

"L-Lord Seoha, are you all right?"

Heukcheon and Yeongcheon called out to me, worry thick in their voices. But I was not... all right.

Heukcheon.

"...What is it?"

If something angered me, how far would I be allowed to go?

"Hmm."

Heukcheon put on a thoughtful expression, then spoke. "That is for you alone to decide, Master. You are the Heavenly Demon. The Heavenly Demons of old were beings bound by nothing. Others may refuse to acknowledge it, but you bear the energy of Defying Heaven, and the previous Heavenly Demon's Black Divine Martial Arts have been passed down to you in full."

"That's right! Let's smash this rotten world — a world where men strut about in a girl's guise and decrepit old fatties parade around as beauties!"

Yeongcheon declared, thoroughly displeased. Apparently her anger was about something else entirely.

Anyway. It was far worse than I'd thought. Having experienced it firsthand, I could say this much: they were frogs at the bottom of a well. I could see them 'satisfied' — content that these renowned masters, players on the world stage, had delivered such decent presentations.

...I couldn't stand it.

"Veritas. You will need to come up to the stage shortly."

"I have a question."

"Yes?"

"Is there a set time limit?"

"Normally it would end after thirty minutes, but... if the audience desires more, it can be extended."

Then that was all I needed to hear. I rose from my seat.

"And now, the one so many of you have been waiting for is in attendance at today's gathering."

The moderator's voice trembled.

"Veritas is now entering."

I headed for the stage.

Click, click. The tap of my dress shoes rang out with a strange, jaunty lightness. Quietly, I activated Tyrant Soul.

In an instant, the atmosphere plunged. Virtual or not, Tyrant Soul exerted its force directly upon the soul — closer to a kind of pure mysticism than any technique. This alone would tell them, more than words ever could, what manner of being I was.

Well. Nothing for it. Even behind the mask, the corners of my mouth curled upward. It couldn't be helped. If this world's alchemy was this primitive, then I would simply have to drag it upward myself.

I'll have to recruit B-Lab. The plan crystallized in my head. No more of that scrub-tier nonsense, grinding out recipes one by one. By absolute standards, this world's alchemists had only just scraped past the newbie threshold. But by my standards, they looked like newbies begging on their knees for someone, anyone, to help them.

Better to teach a man to fish than to hand him one. Teaching newbies was the veteran's fate, after all.

And this moment was also the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠great turning point at which the discipline of alchemy would carve itself into history.

"You are all wrong."

Those were the first words out of Veritas's mouth upon taking the stage.

"...What did you say?"

At first, the words simply wouldn't register. Most of them might not have been legendary masters, but they were artisans all the same — figures their guilds had hoisted onto pedestals. Disbelief came first. Then shock. An arrogant bastard.Spouting nonsense. Leave it to alchemists to run their mouths as they pleased.

In the audience, a blue-haired man raised his hand. "I'll grant that you're remarkable. But I fail to see by what measure you can declare every one of us wrong."

Those around him nodded quietly along. In fairness, the recipe that man had put forward really was quite solid by their standards.

"No matter. I'll go through every one of them, step by step."

Lee Seoha looked upon them with genuinely warm eyes — the way a parent watches a child taking its very first steps.

"First, allow me to point out the flaws in that gentleman's recipe."

A holographic screen bloomed into the air.

"Do you know what's wrong with this recipe? You simply mixed together ingredients that fuse well with one another."

The craftsmanship on display — coaxing the mixture into fairly different properties — was worth watching, in its way. The problem was that "worth watching" was all it amounted to.

"This much is the basics of the basics. Herbs that blend well together, refined into something marginally better. And the very fact that you rate this elementary work as acceptable..."

Lee Seoha turned his head. Behind the mask, his eyes looked down on them.

"...is proof that you are wrong."

Click. One step forward.

"Here we have a salamander's flame and a Sachosa's poison sac. Combine the two, and what do they become?"

"The Sachosa's fire-resistant poison sac fuses with the flame, producing a poison that inflicts burn damage."

Someone bit out, voice sharp with irritation. He nodded. It wasn't a wrong answer.

"By the common sense you possess, I'm sure it is. Alchemy changes depending on how you shape it with mana."

Lee Seoha extended his hand. His telekinesis moved at his whim, drawing the salamander's flame and the Sachosa's poison sac toward him. While brewing that elixir the other day, he had realized one thing: tuning Defying Heaven was easier than tuning mana for alchemy. Perhaps it was thanks to the power of a conceptual stat. Or maybe just reality smoothing things over.

"Then let me pose a question. Using the salamander's flame and the Sachosa's poison sac — do you truly get a poison that inflicts burn damage? The answer is wrong."

Telekinesis.

With it, he lifted the ingredients into the air. With an alchemy kit ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on hand, it would have been perfect — but where was the flair in that?

He crushed the ingredients with telekinesis alone. Then he tuned them, simply, with Defying Heaven — a faint thread of its power was all he used, and that faint power denied the ingredients' nature and pushed it out. It was possible only because the power of denial in Defying Heaven ran stronger than its power to shatter. And the nature of the liquid that emerged was simple.

"...!"

"No other ingredients required. So long as you tune it — even a little."

In this world, they taught that alchemy was thirty percent ingredients, sixty percent recipe, and ten percent mana tuning. That was wrong. Ingredients were thirty percent. Recipe, thirty percent. Mana tuning, thirty percent.

"You recited the basics of the basics, then preened as though you'd achieved something by brewing an elixir with them. That is why I said you were all wrong."

In truth, this was a failing no one could fairly blame them for. To tune mana to that degree, one had to study magic as its own discipline. A skilled mage would have to look through an alchemist's eyes and enter an entirely new field of learning. Only then would alchemy become a true discipline. Alchemy had been far too insular for far too long. The Mage Tower was no different.

"And if you learn to take this one step further..."

Wooooom! He poured Defying Heaven into the mixture. Then he crushed the ingredients with telekinesis and drew out a liquid.

It turned out better than I expected. Perhaps that was Defying Heaven's denial at work. I flung the liquid into the air.

Crackle, crackle. The empty air froze solid — and above it, flame bloomed alight.

"...!!"

"...Insane."

Every emotion imaginable rippled through the hall. But most of them were the same at their core: shock, and utter disbelief.

"Hm. Thirty minutes have passed."

Lee Seoha swept his gaze across the alchemists. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠"Unfortunately, unless you wish for more, I can remain here no longer. So — what will it be?"

Naturally, the lecture disguised as a presentation was extended. And for a long while after, Lee Seoha fielded questions from alchemists driven to the very edge of madness.