End of the Semester (2)
I arrived at my senior's workshop. After knocking once and waiting a moment, I called out to the other side.
"Senior, I'm coming in."
I hadn't been this cautious before, but ever since diving into the Philosopher's Stone research, I'd started watching my step.
The workshop inside was pitch black, without a single light. The windows were sealed tight, leaving no gap for even a sliver of illumination. Thanks to that, I couldn't see a thing, but fortunately, the mana flowing across the floor gave off a faint glow in the darkness.
I gazed down at the magic formations covering the floor. Intricate large and small ones—each of high quality—linked together by lines and shapes to form a massive array.
This had required a major overhaul of the senior's workshop. Unnecessary furniture cleared out, walls completely rebuilt with special materials, safety measures embedded everywhere. It had cost a pretty penny too, apparently around ten million gold.
No wonder I had to tread carefully.
Minding the lines, I made my way to the center where my senior crouched, tweaking the core incantation. I tapped her shoulder. She turned her head.
"You're here."
"Yeah. But did you pull another all-nighter?"
"Yep."
She nodded, dark circles heavy under her eyes.
"Pushing too hard leads to mistakes later."
"It's fine. One good sleep fixes it."
She wasn't wrong. Her body was unique—most wounds healed in a flash. Skipping sleep wouldn't kill her.
Still, physical fatigue and mental exhaustion were different beasts. I got why she was grinding on the Philosopher's Stone, but rest was non-negotiable.
"Anyway, no all-nighters tonight. Get some real sleep."
I'd let her slide once, and she'd gone four straight days without shut-eye. Her obsession with the Philosopher's Stone bordered on madness.
But she listened, nodding. "Got it. Almost done anyway."
"Let me take a look."
I scooped her up effortlessly and set her aside. She'd probably been frozen in that squat for over twelve hours—her body was stiff as a board.
Then I checked the magic formation. It looked vastly different from before.
"You reworked the core entirely?"
"For safety."
A while back, some formations had spiked the ambient temperature during activation. Not a huge issue overall, though.
"That's within margin of error. Like I said before, making the Philosopher's Stone can't be perfect."
From what I knew, it often came down to luck.
"No. It has to be perfect."
She was firm. Not my call anyway—she was running the show. I was just the assistant.
"I see a few spots that need fixing."
I pointed out the issues in the formation and circuits. Activating alchemy now would cause mana clashes and runaway feedback.
"Yeah. I'll do it now. Help me up."
"Sure."
I infused mana into her body to loosen the stiffness. She twitched, starting to move. I helped her stand.
Watching this for nearly a month, one thought crossed my mind: How the hell did she handle this in the novel? No help back then. Completing the Philosopher's Stone solo was a miracle.
"Senior. Even without workouts, move around once an hour. You'd still be like this without me, right?"
"...Don't nag."
"Can't ignore your disciple's advice like that."
"...Sneaky."
No escape, and she grumbled. Since solidifying our master-disciple bond, her emotions showed more around me. And if she agreed, she'd actually try to fix it.
"I'll handle this side. You take that one."
"Okay."
We got to work, tweaking circuits and formations. Not easy. Fixing one spot rippled problems elsewhere. We debated solutions.
"Accelerating here might be better, no?"
"Makes it unstable. Better to cut it."
Scrap the unnecessary.
"Condensing this section seems smarter."
"Yeah. Looks good."
Add where needed.
Time flew, and we wrapped up. We surveyed the massive formation.
"Looks clean overall."
"Not messy."
When we started from her outdated notes, it had been a disaster—barely usable for alchemy. Adapting ancient data bred errors galore. We'd patched it bit by bit with our alchemy knowledge. Took about two weeks.
Even the basics of Philosopher's Stone creation were no joke.
But after weeks of effort, we'd nailed the best formation yet.
"Shall we test it?"
"Practice materials over there."
I grabbed test ingredients and placed them on the formation. No way we'd burn prime stuff without knowing if it'd work.
She stood at the center; I took the adjacent auxiliary spot.
"Ready?"
"Set. Go anytime."
She nodded, summoning a magic formation over her hand and aligning it with the center. They resonated with a hum, merging seamlessly.
Click!
She twisted her hand. Safety locks disengaged; alchemy activated.
The core spat mana in surges. I threw all my focus into controlling it. She handled alchemy; I managed mana.
Slow here, fast there. Circuits dictated flow rates, sequences, volumes—no room for error.
Exact amounts filled without shortfall. I called softly.
"Good."
"Okay."
Alchemy kicked in. Formations lit up, merging and splitting along circuits, applying their effects to the materials. Over a hundred formations, all for processing ingredients.
Under her guidance, they levitated, mana orbs wrapping them as formations glowed again. Circuit mana rushed into the orbs.
"Focus."
Her low voice snapped me back. I refilled the drained circuits. She pressed on.
Ingredients deconstructed, components orbiting the orbs. Her will directed them again.
Incredible. She juggled dozens solo, her alchemy more refined than ever. Beyond grand mage territory. Maybe this research sparked enlightenment.
"Hoo…."
Reconstruction done, she exhaled. But not over.
"Mana. Pour it in."
I gathered every scrap of mana in the workshop and circuits, flooding her.
Whoooong—!!
Vast mana whipped up winds. We ignored it, zeroed on the alchemy.
Ingredients streamed into a line toward her hand, mana sucked in behind. A black sphere formed, sealed in an isolating membrane—opaque from outside.
But I saw inside clearly. Some materials reformed; others fed into others, vanishing. Creation and destruction cycled endlessly.
The sphere swelled, like a bomb primed to blow, growing to head size before halting.
Thump….
A small echo.
Thump….
Again. We stood ready. It had burst here last time.
Five minutes passed. Ten. No explosion. Instead, the hoped-for reaction: compression.
Black faded to transparency. Fully compressed into a clear orb.
"Senior, this…."
"It's done…! We did it!"
Before I could finish, she bounced in place, voice high, face blooming with joy. Anyone could see she was thrilled.
I stared blankly. Had she ever smiled like that—genuinely?
Or shown any human expression? Novel, webtoon, game—no. Minor shifts, sure, but never real emotion.
Honestly, shocking. This was her father's order, yet she beamed like she'd won the world.
"Senior. Happy?"
I called softly.
"Yeah! The Philosopher's Stone… it's everything to me…!"
Her eyes sparkled, vitality overflowing like at the crafting contest.
"Good then."
Just the basics, but her smile wouldn't quit.
And maybe that's why—her grip tightened on the orb.
Crack—!
Something shattered. She opened her hand. The orb lay in shards, formless.
"Ah…."
"Broke."
"Yeah. It did."
Not absurd. Practice materials—expected. Lasted less than a minute, and her tone flattened back to normal.
But motivation brimmed.
"Making the real one now?"
"Yeah. Materials next room."
Success confirmed—no delays. She fetched the precious stock, placing them precisely.
Soon, alchemy fired again.
"How's it? Perfect?"
"Flawless."
I took the orb from her, inspecting. Unlike the test, it didn't shatter easily. Even slashing with aura-clad Carssa left it unscathed—no dent.
The Philosopher's Stone was called perfect for a reason. Basics or not, par for the course.
Structure looked ideal.
"Basics done, then?"
She nodded. "Now wait. Till next stage."
Her method was odd: ten stages, each with a maturation wait. Stage one needed three months for two.
So, waiting it was. Unique process, even for formless Philosopher's Stone crafting.
She stowed the orb in the safe, then approached and grabbed my hand.
"Thanks. Finished fast because of you."
I brushed it off. "You'd have nailed it without me. Two weeks to a month, you said."
Her estimate.
But she shook her head. "No. Would've taken longer. Too many variables."
True—we'd burned nights early on, heads together. Might've dragged without me.
"So, good job."
Releasing my hand, she tiptoed, reaching for my head. I bent my knees instinctively.
"Good boy. Meeting you was lifelong luck."
"That so."
"Yeah."
She ducked shyly. Moments later, back to normal, she asked.
"So? What's the commission?"
She'd remembered. Straight to business, huh.
"Not tired?"
"Fine. Won't make it yet. Just hear details."
"Alright then…."
I pulled materials from my modified uniform's subpocket: metal from Carssa, lich's life vessel, mage killer artifact, Mythic Age artifact. Core stuff. Plus assorted sub-materials gathered here and there.
She tilted her head. "Gonna wreck a city?"
"What kinda grim talk is that."
"Bomb materials, right?"
"No."
How'd she jump to bomb from this combo?
Finally, I unrolled the blueprint with rough design and specs.
"This is what I want made."
Her eyes scanned it. Then:
"Overkill. Cut materials, still hits your spec."
"I know."
"Then? Why?"
"Got reasons. Think it's best."
"Fine. I'll make it like this."
She packed the materials and blueprint.
"Thanks."
"Yeah. Leave it to me."
Her fired-up vibe was rock-solid reliable.