In the midst of a very elaborate and luxurious room filled with various alchemical apparatus, a man stood with his head bowed, waiting for another who seemed lost in his own world.
Both men had vivid red hair, and although the bowing man appeared to be someone of great strength, his every attempt at dominating the air around him was futile.
The man he was bowing to moved slowly, mixing different ingredients together effortlessly. His every move was precise and deliberate, each action seemingly ordained from the heavens.
The bowing man didn't dare make a single sound, as he had long since become entranced by the other's actions. Despite the fact that he was simply mixing different ingredients, there was an artistic element to it—a beauty and deadliness regardless of how absurd it sounded.
