A Tailored Alchemy Lesson
Ever since I arrived in Arca, I've thought the same thing: the weather here is truly wonderful.
The sky is a perfect blue, and the air is fresh. It feels like something a god might craft if they set out to engineer the ideal climate by hand.
"Ah, Miss Jerie. You've arrived?"
Basking in that fine weather, I was taking a break in the campus park of Origin Academy.
"Aren't you a little too relaxed? Don't you need to keep up some kind of instructor's dignity?"
"There aren't any other classes for me anyway. And I don't have much to do before I can clock out."
Half reclined on the bench with my face tilted toward the sky, I watched Jerie stare at me and tip her head to one side.
Apparently, as an instructor of Origin Academy, she'd assumed I was a busy man.
I was an instructor, yes—but I was exempt from ordinary administrative work. My only real duty was to step in and run alchemy classes for Charlotte from time to time.
"Aren't you coasting a little too hard?"
When I casually filled her in on that fact, Jerie let out a short, disbelieving laugh and settled lightly onto the bench beside me.
She brushed her hand a few times over the tree growing next to the bench, then tipped her face up to the sky the same way I had.
A pleasant breeze swept over us.
Maybe it was the gently warm sunlight, but a lazy, drowsy feeling stole over me without warning.
Jerie was probably savoring the same mood.
I was just about to close my eyes with that thought when—
"Ugh, this is boring."
"…Pardon?"
Jerie shot up from the bench without warning.
Contrary to my expectations, she had found this stretch of quiet time thoroughly dull.
But there truly wasn't anything that needed doing.
If I had a job left on my plate, it would be dismantling the Hohenheim family and the Green Forest Dawn Society—and even that required waiting until they stuck their heads out of the ground of their own accord.
Until then, I was free to enjoy days like this.
Jerie might experience this peace as a kind of boredom, but that didn't mean I could go around manufacturing incidents for her entertainment.
"Instructor Ryu Seojun!"
Then a familiar voice called out.
We had never properly spoken, yet the sound of it lingered somewhere in my memory as it drew closer, calling my name.
Who was that?
While I sifted through the hazy recollection, a shadow fell across my face.
I looked up at the owner of the voice casting that shadow, and the fog lifted—the blurred memory snapped into sharp focus.
"Greetings, sir! I am Victor Militaris, enrolled in Instructor Charlotte's class!"
The crisp military salute and diction.
And a body trained so thoroughly that the grain of muscle showed through his uniform—both of them locked the identification in place.
If you had to name the rarest of rare specimens inside the Academy—the kind of eccentric already on the endangered list—his name would rank first.
And yet his skill was the real deal, solid enough that he had forced recognition from the students and instructors around him by walking a path that was entirely his own. A genius.
Among the throng of geniuses gathered at Origin Academy, he stood as the strongest combat alchemist among the students.
That was Victor Militaris.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Cadet Victor. What brings you looking for me?"
I rose from the bench.
A student had sought me out in person; I could hardly keep sprawling there like a limp noodle forever.
Truthfully, I already had a fair idea why Victor had come.
By now the uproar from Ecclesia's classroom would have spread across campus, and for an alchemy fanatic like Victor, hearing that rumor would have sent him hunting for me at once.
And the answer he gave me proved my guess correct.
"I humbly request your instruction, sir!"
"Instruction… Since you've come to me, I assume this is about alchemy?"
"That is correct, sir!"
Ordinarily, students at Origin Academy built knowledge and experience by interacting with instructors through regular classes.
But every so often, especially passionate students sought an instructor out directly and asked to be taught.
Victor was one of that type.
"All right. What would you like to learn?"
I gave a small nod and asked.
Coming to me in person meant there was something he specifically wanted from me.
Victor hesitated a moment, then answered—not with the bold energy of a second ago, but in a voice edged with seriousness.
"Stronger alchemy, and real combat application."
"So Cadet Victor is a combat alchemist, then."
"…Yes, sir. That is correct."
Combat alchemist.
It was a new possibility for alchemists pioneered by Charlotte van Hohenheim.
But because its history was still so short, the public gaze on combat alchemists was far from kind.
Even specialists poured out assessments claiming that Charlotte had simply been an exceptionally skilled alchemist as an individual—that alchemy itself was unsuited to combat.
And this student is the one who will overturn that reputation completely.
I held a faint smile and pictured Victor's future.
For now, he didn't receive high evaluations compared to other students.
If anything, choosing alchemy meant he tended to be undervalued.
But after graduating from the Academy, Victor would achieve something monumental.
The founder of standardized military alchemy—the man who would one day be called Grand General Victor.
The hero who took the possibility Charlotte had opened and forged it into a sure road.
That was Victor Militaris.
"As you know, the reputation of combat alchemists isn't particularly good."
I spoke as I walked past him.
"And it isn't entirely wrong. Compared to other fields, alchemy is half-baked in every respect."
I glanced back. Victor's expression didn't look pleased.
He was probably feeling as if the path he'd walked all this time was being denied—but he needed to hear this first.
If he wanted to raise the level of his alchemy and pursue real growth, he first had to understand, in detail, the essence that produced alchemy's strengths and weaknesses.
Claiming you would research alchemy without knowing that essence was like throwing equations and functions at someone who couldn't even handle the four basic operations.
"Have you ever thought about why that is?"
"Why that is, sir?"
"Yes. Why alchemy produces such middling results. It's an important point, but most people don't pay it much mind."
Alchemy was a kind of program.
Feed materials and quantities as variables into a function called a Transmutation Circle, and you got the corresponding result.
That was why alchemy's greatest strength was its overwhelming versatility.
Alchemists like me who didn't need Transmutation Circles were a separate case—but even ordinary alchemists could perform all manner of alchemy so long as they had the circles.
"This world is made of matter, and an alchemist is someone who freely manipulates that matter."
A mage hurls a fireball?
Remove just one of the three elements required for combustion through alchemy, and it vanishes on its own.
Someone closes in with overwhelming physical ability for close combat?
No need to flinch. A martial artist, by nature, can't properly generate force without solid ground under their feet.
If they try something that reckless, simply change the terrain—fling the ground upward or drop it out from under them.
Never allow yourself to be placed at a disadvantage in any situation. Ruthlessly exploit only the opponent's matchups and weaknesses.
That was the ultimate combat style an alchemist should aim for—and alchemy's unique strength.
"Do you understand? You need to change the idea that you have to become stronger."
An alchemist didn't need to grow stronger.
They needed to know more.
Understand a vast range of transmutation reactions, and memorize the substances those reactions produced.
Only after accumulating knowledge on that scale did an alchemist's true combat begin.
"Training is fine. But if you dig into that hoping to overpower people with it, an alchemist has no answer."
I was training under Sayulcheon myself.
I intended to temper my body further and learn ether cultivation methods as well.
But I had no intention of matching Sayulcheon with that, or of sweeping enemies aside through sheer physical might.
I was learning it simply because everyone else used it—because I needed it to avoid being forced into a disadvantageous position, and to apply alchemy more broadly.
"But hearing it in words alone probably doesn't land, does it?"
I turned and met Victor's eyes.
When I stretched my lips into a gleaming, crooked smile, Victor swallowed hard and tensed.
"Cadet Victor. What alchemy do you primarily use?"
"Moisture manipulation, sir."
"Excellent. A single attribute, but a well-rounded hexagonal alchemy with fine versatility."
Though of course the size of that hexagon changed with the practitioner's capability.
I swallowed the rest of that thought and beckoned to Jerie, who had been staring blankly in our direction.
"So it's my turn, is it?"
Catching on to what I meant to ask of her, Jerie let out a short laugh and stepped up beside me.
"In my view, what Cadet Victor needs right now isn't the strength or weakness of alchemy. Alchemy has no concept of strength or weakness to begin with. What matters is only the flexibility of thought that comes from application and use."
So first, that way of thinking had to be properly set in place.
Since alchemy itself couldn't be measured by raw power, he needed to train his body to deploy it broadly across every kind of situation.
And moisture manipulation, luckily, was an attribute with outstanding versatility—perfect for this kind of training.
"So chew on what I've said, and in actual combat, think about the essence of alchemy I just explained."
"What do you mean by—"
Unfortunately, Victor never finished the question.
His mouth snapped shut as he had to dodge a tree trunk that suddenly burst up from the ground under his feet.
Plants and moisture.
Even the elemental matchup lined up just right.
In other words, a perfect situation for building experience and insight through real combat.
"Understood. Further questions are unnecessary."
With a sharp snap of fabric, Victor tore off the upper half of his cadet uniform and flung it aside.
A tight black underlayer clung to his body, and the Transmutation Circles drawn across it began to glow with a soft light.
Moisture gathered around Victor. A clear sphere of water formed above his palm.
The instant he clenched his fist as if crushing it, murky steam billowed outward in every direction, blotting out my view and Jerie's alike.
"Miss Jerie! Keep it moderate! Not like when you fight me—moderate!"
Real combat was fine, but I absolutely had to say that much.