A short minute passed as all the students stood against the railing on all three sides of the giant cauldron on the first floor. They were spread out equally, with their teacher, Madam Scarlett, in the middle.
Gazing down into it from above, Lyrian noticed that the cauldron wasn't empty. Inside it seemed to be some sort of purple haze. From his distance, he couldn't discern if it was a liquid or not.
Truth be told, Lyrian barely knew the basics of this class—let alone how to create anything with alchemy.
"As you all know," Scarlett began to say, as Lyrian heaved a light sigh of relief.
'Perfect... she might explain some stuff. I don't want to completely flop this.'
"Alchemy is a form of creation. We alchemists are the backbones of the front-line mages and warriors. The horse of the stable!" She began to proclaim.
