The Alchemists Guild lobby was full of people talking in hushed tones as the sad news was spread like a plague to everyone in the guild.

  Young Tobias, the guild’s unofficial messenger boy as well as an up and coming apprentice, had been found dead on the street, his body broken, and all of his possessions taken.

  Sven, standing in the corner of the large lobby, stood next to Jackson, could hardly believe what he had been told, as the child’s fate seemed just too cruel to even contemplate.

  Yet, beneath his and everyone else’s confusion and disbelief was a simmering outrage.

  For while alchemists had a rather infamously selfish and disinterested reputation, no group could easily stomach one of them being murdered. Not even a room full of old foxes.

  The aura of the guild master washing over them all turned the room silent as he emerged from his office with a cold and terrifying expression on his face.

  His aura was far different than it had been when he had announced the competition as Sven could feel deep in his bones the bloodlust that the man harbored in his heart as he walked out and onto the grandiose mahogany balcony overlooking the guild lobby.

  Then, after wrapping one of his hands around the balcony’s banister, he proclaimed, “Colleagues! I have gathered you here today to deliver the gravest of news.”

  The man’s aura only intensified as he continued, “Last night, as young Tobias was out running one of his usual errands, an evil struck out at him, and in doing so struck out at all of us!”

  “For this evil, whoever or whatever it was, was no mere brutish thug,” The guild master roared in a voice that sent shivers down Sven’s spine, “but a cultivator of the demonic arts!”

  The other people in the room barely had time to gasp in shock and horror before the guild master bellowed, “A wretched curse has crawled out of the sewage of humanity to kill one of us!”

  The imposing man’s aura then intensified to the point where Sven found it difficult to remain in an upright position as the pressure of a fully fledged [Earth] realm cultivator bore down onto him.

  “It is our duty as cultivators of the Orthodox Path to purge this taint on the very fabric of existence with all due prejudice!” The infuriated man boomed.

  “So, prepare yourselves!” The man then ordered forcefully, “For it has fallen to this here guild to be the deliverers of Heaven’s Justice! Of dignity! Of Righteous Vengeance!”

  “I want you all to produce as many elixirs and status potions as you can! For today the blood of an innocent child has been spilled, and so now must the heads of a thousand demon scum be forced to roll across the field of battle, straight into the pits of damnation where they belong!”

  The guild hall erupted with applause and monotone affirmative jeering and roaring from the more vigorous alchemists in the room.

  In that moment, the blood lust in the room was amplified tenfold as everyone’s auras blasted out and the fury toward the unknown killer became palpable.

  Unlike last time, Sven was somewhat caught up in the mood of the room as well. For he had spoken with the boy many times over his months in the guild.

  He had been young, talented, and while he could sometimes come across as a little smug, he had had a burning passion in his eyes for the craft of alchemy that made him impossible to dislike.

  At least, impossible for Sven to dislike.

  Standing there, bathed in the killing intent of others, Sven began nurturing some dark thoughts of his own as he imagined what he’d like to do to-

  Sven forced himself to release a deep breath as he slowly unclenched his whitening fists.

  He had never felt anger like he did now and it was oh so hard to control.

  But, if his own father’s example had taught him anything, it was that it was precisely when angriest that one needed to be able to exert the most control.

  Or else, you’d end up in a very bad place, very quickly.

  He was thus much more clear headed than were many of the people around him, as a receptionist handed him a scroll which he said contained the elixirs that Sven would be required to make.

  Sven had nodded in response before quickly moving to get back to his workshop.

  For, despite having been an alchemist for many months, he had yet to truly make an elixir.

  Elixirs were, in many ways, akin to potions. However, due to the nature of the permanency of their effects, they were prohibitively more expensive and rare.

  For example, the elixir that he had received for successfully finding the city of Narses improved an individual’s bodily integrity, boosting strength, durability, etc.

  Whereas, while you could take potions that increased your strength and durability, this would only be a temporary boost, and would also incur a lot of backlash afterwards.

  The usefulness of elixirs was thus much more than a regular potion, and therefore demanded a far greater price point due to the insane ingredients that were required to make them.

  It was thus only in very rare circumstances when the guild would put out a request for elixirs that it didn’t intend to sell to an already lined up buyer as that would very quickly drain its funds.

  The murder of one of its own by a “demonic” cultivator, whatever that meant, clearly was one such occasion, and for so many reasons Sven was willing to comply with the concoction request.

  As not only would it help hopefully bring Tobias’ murderer to justice, it would also simultaneously allow him to experiment with a branch of alchemy that he hadn’t yet tried out.

  Hence, when Sven walked into his workshop, his mind was already resolved, and his eyes were full of determination. As he swore that he’d help in whatever way he could to avenge young Tobias.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  He had been mere seconds away from getting to work when he suddenly froze up as he rewound a bit as a thought came to him, ‘Wait a minute… now where did I put those rewards I got?’

  Godfrey nodded gratefully to the young serving woman who placed the steaming hot plate full of food before him with a professional’s grace.

  “I hope you enjoy the food, young lord,” The luxuriously dressed man sat opposite implored with a smile a bit too wide to be genuine, “My wife made sure that the chef made it all properly.”

  One of Godfrey’s squad mates, Gregory, nodded beside him as he asked in response, “Will Lady Jill soon be joining us for dinner, Lord Harold?”

  The 34 or so year old man laughed heartily at the question before replying cheerily, “Oh no! Like a lot of women, my wife has no interest in politics and the like. So, I’m afraid, it’ll stay just us men for tonight. Better not to involve her in things that don’t interest her, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Quite so.” Godfrey and the rest of his squad politely affirmed as they began to slowly eat away at the food on their newly served up plates.

  After a few slices of meat had been eaten, Godfrey set down his cutlery on his plate, and asked, “It has been a long time since I was in Narses last, how would you say the city is these days?”

  Lord Harold wiped off his mouth with a nearby cloth before replying, “Hmm, from what my agents in the city have told me, everything is mostly the same as always.”

  “Which is to say?” Godfrey replied, interested. He had been only a boy the last time he’d resided in the city he was to rule one day, and so he wanted to get a clearer picture of it in his mind.

  For all he had now was vague foggy glimpses of the city from his early years.

  “Well, you know,” The older lord began, “The oasis district is still as beautiful as ever. The slums are still dreary and foul smelling. The guilds, sects, and common enterprises are as low and brutish as always. In other words, it is as I said, pretty much unchanged from when you left it as a boy.”

  “I see,” Godfrey responded, not exactly sure the man had clarified much for him.

  “Though, now that I say that,” The older noble said with a scratch at his chin, “I did hear rumors an old friend of mine shared with me that there was some kind of demonic cultivator attack.”

  “There was a what?!” Godfrey exclaimed, his heart skipping a beat inside his chest.

  The other man waved his hands dismissively as he answered, “A demonic cultivator attack. Though I do doubt the source, that alchemist bastard is hardly reliable at the best of times…”

  A tense silence fell over the room as Godfrey’s look of shock slowly faded and he leaned back into his chair as internally his thoughts became chaotic.

  He inwardly cursed himself out for having taken so many breaks along the way as he was now still a month and a half’s journey away from Narses when it needed him.

  Or, maybe it was more accurate to say, he was still a half a month’s journey away when he needed to be there, preferably the day before it happened.

  As now the city’s sects and or guilds would seize the opportunity to make his family seem weak as there was no way his ailing father was in any kind of condition to fight a demonic cultivator.

  Especially not one capable of bypassing the city core’s anti-demonic perimeter shield.

  Godfrey’s concerns only grew as more and more details about recent developments within the city of Narses were casually revealed to him by the man sitting opposite.

  For while Lord Harold insisted that everything was pretty much as it always had been, that just had to be false. There was no way that his family’s territory had always been this bad.

  It just couldn’t be that random women and children being taken hostage or sold into slavery was a normal thing that his family just put up with.

  But, there was no other way to explain or justify the man opposite’s seeming cavalierness to the issues. To him, these were issues that had just become a normal part of life in Narses.

  Godfrey left the dinner with the lord shaken to his core as his childish memories of the city that his father ran were now tainted with the harsh realities of the lives of the common people.

  He knew that most of his squad mates were equally disturbed by what they heard, but they didn’t seem to be as surprised as he was to hear just how bad things had gotten.

  Maybe Godfrey had been somewhat naive in assuming his father’s domain was just as safe for the common man as the capital, but he refused to allow himself to accept the current status quo.

  Before the Sand Maw Gang had been an excuse for him to return to see his father before he died, but now, Godfrey felt a slowly growing fury inside his chest toward the group of brigands.

  Thus, upon reaching his guest chambers for the night, he immediately began cultivating. For while he was confident he could deal with most opponents, demonic cultivators were always tricky.

  And, considering this particular cultivator seemed to be able to phase through the barrier, he was likely currently much stronger than was Godfrey.

  Hence, Godfrey needed to grow. He needed to progress. As otherwise the alchemist boy may not be the last victim that the demonic cultivator claims. Heck, they might just claim the whole city.

  As the heir to the city, and thus someone who bore the solemn responsibility to defend it, Godfrey could and would not let that happen.

  That he swore to the heavens.