Amberxiu once lived three distinctly different lives.
In his previous life, he was a student who earned a degree but was filled with confusion about life. He buried his ideals in cheap forms of entertainment, an ordinary science student. It wasn't until his death that Amberxiu realized that the fleeting moments in life were filled with trivialities of no consequence.
Then, the heavens granted him another chance, sending him into this chaotic yet ever-thrilling alternate world. The young man, full of youthful arrogance, believed himself to be born to be the protagonist—destined to become a legend in three years and a god in ten. Amberxiu set out with grand ambitions, starting as an adventurer, only to later realize that even achieving legendary status would make him nothing more than an inferior version of the real thing.
It is often said that one grows when they realize they are not the center of the world.
Amberxiu was no exception. When he found himself aging, only to discover that he was still a counterfeit legend, unable even to afford the rejuvenating youth potions, he realized that he was merely a lucky individual in the vast sea of humanity, and that being a transmigrator was not so special after all.
What did it matter being a legendary mage if he was still a pauper? He might as well give up on being human altogether.
Turning into a lich wasn't so bad either.
Free from a beating heart, his brain barely functioning, Amberxiu gazed at his former self in the mirror, slightly dazed. He changed from his dark, ominous robe into simpler attire, preparing to leave the ancient castle for supplies.
As he passed another laboratory, he saw Isabelle inside, preparing potions.
Petrification Lizard Oil was a magical potion capable of reversing petrification. When combined with some cheap ingredients, it made for an excellent rock softener, ideal for land reclamation when diluted with water.
However, for an alchemy apprentice, producing Petrification Lizard Oil was no easy feat.
Amberxiu, concerned that Isabelle might waste too much potion, stopped and observed for a while. Unable to resist, he finally spoke up: "Your basics are solid, but the flame temperature is off. The flask is positioned too low, and the reaction temperature is too low, causing incomplete reactions. The potion will be of poor quality and waste materials. The outer flame temperature is the highest—didn't your teacher teach you such a basic thing?"
Isabelle, startled, turned to find a young stranger standing in the doorway, his expression one of surprise.
"You..." Isabelle was about to ask if Amberxiu had been recruited as a free citizen, but then quickly realized, excitedly exclaiming, "You understand alchemy too? What's an outer flame? I've always used fixed equipment in my teacher's laboratory and never seen anything that adjusts freely..."
Amberxiu smirked, dismissively replying, "The usual secrecy tactics—afraid to teach their disciples."
Many alchemists treated their skills as more valuable than their own lives, unwilling to teach basic principles, and custom-made equipment was the simplest and most effective method of secrecy.
Fixed height, fixed flame temperature, fixed material ratios... Because the equipment was custom-made, apprentices were only able to perform basic, foolproof tasks. While the success rate was high for certain potions, the fewer failures, the fewer things apprentices truly learned.
It was like Amberxiu's previous life, working on an assembly line, performing repetitive tasks with little to no real skill gained. Without these specialized devices, many apprentices couldn't even make the most basic of potions.
Isabelle, able to still produce a peace potion after switching labs, was already quite a competent alchemy apprentice.
"Alchemy isn't just about following recipes. Environmental temperature, humidity, and even airflow are all crucial. Each step in your notes is actually a principle of reaction. If you don't understand these, you'll forever remain an apprentice."
Amberxiu walked into the laboratory, adjusted the flask's height, and made several changes to the ingredients, successfully crafting a flawless batch of Petrification Lizard Oil.
Isabelle watched in awe as Amberxiu worked with ease. Despite seeming younger than her, the black-haired boy's understanding of alchemy far surpassed her own. Even his explanations were clearer and simpler than those of her teacher.
Isabelle wanted to ask more questions, at least inquire about the boy's name, but as soon as she set down the bottle of Petrification Lizard Oil and turned around, Amberxiu had vanished.
Isabelle stood frozen for a moment, a chill running down her spine.
Could the lich's castle... be haunted?
Isabelle's mind immediately conjured up a story: the genius young alchemist who died in the castle, unable to let go of his resentment, now appearing to others during alchemy experiments. The more she thought about it, the more frightened she became, and soon, her back was drenched in sweat. This ancient castle truly emanated an eerie sense of dread.
Isabelle could only hope that what the lich had said was true—that after the land reclamation, they would be able to leave the castle and build houses elsewhere.
Amberxiu, wearing his human appearance, walked out of the castle and cast a flight spell, soaring into the sky.
After flying for about half an hour, covering fifty to sixty kilometers, Amberxiu finally saw the abstract city—the City of Alchemy, Arkemia.
This city stood proudly upon the vast plain, its towering stone walls embedded with numerous magical metals, inscribed with thousands of alchemical runes. It was rumored that this city was a massive alchemical creation, capable of transforming into a mechanical giant when needed.
That was surely an exaggeration. If the entire city turned into a mechanical giant, the inhabitants would likely be wiped out by their own creation before an enemy could even strike.
Nonetheless, these runes undoubtedly contained immense power. After all, before the economic crisis, Arkemia was known as the richest city on the continent.
The reason the city was described as abstract was not because of the runes on the walls, but because, from above, the city featured seven towering alchemical spires lined up in a row. These towers, seemingly constructed from various gemstones, shone dazzlingly in the sunlight.
The seven spires varied in height and color, with each having a distinct style, but all shared a twisted, grotesque aura. Even Amberxiu, who had little knowledge of art, could tell that these towers were terribly ugly—no, they were hideously abstract.
And it wasn't just Amberxiu who thought so. The City of Alchemy had been the champion of the "Ugliest City" contest in the Nine Kingdoms for several years running. Even the Alchemists' Council couldn't stand it.
But they couldn't change it because these towers were a "gift" from the gods.
The Alchemists' Council had once attempted to create a god, blaspheming the divine, and as punishment, the God of Alchemy had cursed them. Not only were they unable to make further breakthroughs in alchemy, but they were also cursed with these seven towers.
Anyone familiar with alchemy could immediately recognize the shapes of these towers.
The greenish tower resembled the residue left by a potion that had been heated too much; the red tower resembled the clumped residue from an unbalanced brew of Bear Strength Potion... and so on. The seven towers symbolized seven types of alchemical products, each representing a classic, failed experiment.
The gods had nailed Arkemia to the pillar of history's shame with these seven towers of failure.
But the shame had nothing to do with Amberxiu. He entered the city gate in the most ordinary manner, with his human form. However, shortly after entering, Amberxiu felt that the City of Alchemy had changed drastically.
End of Chapter