Chapter 1283
It took Gandalf a full three minutes to finish the final disassembly, extracting a fist-sized lump of pitch-black substance with his bare hands. It looked like a ball of black slime kneaded together, or molten asphalt left to cool...
There was no subtle detail, nor any trace of magical aura emanating from it. It appeared utterly ordinary, yet Gandalf carefully placed the substance into a box crafted from obsidian, then set up three layers of seals around it. The innermost seal was made from the gelatin of a Diamondback Turtle shell, while the other two were an alchemical array and a magic seal.
The seals weren’t particularly powerful, but they shared one trait: they blocked magic.
The obsidian Gandalf used was famous for its aversion to magic, almost completely unresponsive to mana. The gelatin boiled from Diamondback Turtle shell was specifically used to seal special items, its purpose to prevent magic from entering and avoid magical contamination...
Watching Gandalf’s actions, Leon frowned slightly. To dismantle a level forty-three Alchemical Golem, even using the perfect disassembly method, shouldn’t take more than five seconds!
But now, just for this final part, for that black substance, Gandalf had already spent five minutes on it. Even with Gandalf’s strength, he seemed unusually cautious...
Only after securing the pitch-black lump did Gandalf stand up, cradling the box.
“Archmage Merlin, do you know what this stuff is?”
Leon had never seen anything like it before. The Sky Rank Alchemical Golems he’d defeated never contained such a thing. Leon shook his head.
“Never seen it, don’t recognize it either...”
Gandalf simply tossed the box to Leon.
“Then take it back and study it. If you figure this thing out, you’ll understand why you’re being sent to meet that particular existence.”
Seeing Gandalf’s expression, Leon knew that any further questions would be pointless; Gandalf wasn’t going to reveal anything useful. Leon simply put the box away.
Afterwards, Gandalf led Leon back, flying for several hours toward where they had come from. Along the way, the Alchemical Golems they encountered grew weaker in rank, until they returned to a vast wasteland of discarded parts. Only then did Gandalf tear open space again and bring Leon back...
The moment they stepped back, Leon released a rune into the space here, marking it with a coordinate.
This was the most barren scrap wasteland in the Plane of Golems, littered with countless corroded and rusted parts. Only Alchemical Golems below level twenty could be found here.
At the same time, this was practically the birthplace of new Alchemical Golems. Acid rain, rust-eating insects, and other strange phenomena made this place unique. Any possible part that could exist in the Plane of Golems could be found in this wasteland.
There was also the Wasteland Sea in the Plane of Golems. Unlike the ocean of the Northend Plane, which was filled with seawater, the Wasteland Sea stretched for thousands of kilometers and was filled with endless scrap parts, rare materials, and even countless Alchemical Golems living in the sea of debris...
Sky Rank Alchemical Golems often appeared there, searching for new parts.
Strictly speaking, the strongest beings in the Plane of Golems far surpass those in the current era of Northend World—their overall power is simply on another level.
The first hurdle to conquering the Plane of Golems is the air—there’s almost no atmosphere here that humans can breathe. Add in the other hazards, and the Plane of Golems is nearly impossible to conquer.
Leon had never dared to come recklessly before, afraid that opening a planar path might drop him right beside one of the Iron Cities, or worse, inside a Steel Megacity. That would mean certain death—and he’d be handing those metal monsters a path straight into his own world.
Now, with a safe spatial beacon, next time he could enter the Plane of Golems from here...
Back in Northend World, Leon immediately began researching that black substance. Gandalf had handled it with extreme caution, and Leon had never seen anything like it—in fact, even his vast repository of knowledge came up empty. He dared not be careless.
Returning to the alchemy lab, Leon first replicated the anti-magic tools Gandalf had used. Normally, alchemical instruments are designed to conduct magic well, and even the rare ones that aren’t are built to stabilize mana. But Gandalf’s tools—all of them—were strictly anti-magic.
Such tools had never appeared in any of Leon’s experiments before. After crafting them, he carefully opened the obsidian box, broke the seals, and sliced off a fingernail-sized piece of the pitch-black, asphalt-like substance for study—sealing the rest away with the original protections.
He placed the small fragment onto a crystal tray. Instantly, Leon sensed something strange—the tray was just ordinary ceramic, a staple in the alchemy lab, since it never interfered with experiments, much like a glass beaker.
But now, he could clearly feel the faint residual magic in the ceramic tray being devoured at a startling rate by the black fragment. As the magic vanished, the tray shattered, and the black substance tumbled onto the crystal table.
He watched as a patch of murkiness spread across the nearly transparent crystal table. Wherever the black substance touched, the clear surface rapidly clouded, the corruption fanning outward. In mere seconds, half the tabletop was opaque, and a good portion of the interior had lost its clarity.
Reflexively, Leon cast Mage Hand to grab the black fragment, but the moment it touched, he felt a chunk of his mana bitten away, the rest draining rapidly toward the substance...
He instantly dismissed Mage Hand, and the black substance switched targets, resuming its feast on the crystal table's magic.
Leon watched in silence, letting it be. After a minute, the once-transparent crystal table had turned into something resembling gray limestone—its surface dulled, all its luster gone.
That meant the crystal table’s internal magic was completely consumed. Once it finished with the table, the black substance began slowly devouring the ambient magic in the air—its pace was slow, but it seemed utterly relentless.
Leon stayed silent, utterly unprepared for how this black substance could devour magic so indiscriminately—and with such ferocity.
Those ceramic trays were usually chosen for their anti-magic properties—they could barely hold mana at all. After long use in the lab, they inevitably picked up traces of magic, but it was so faint it felt part of the dish itself.
Yet the black substance could forcibly consume even that magic. The same went for the crystal table—its material was designed to stabilize and lock away mana, making the internal magic almost entirely unusable.
But even that was devoured. Spell mana, ambient mana—none of it was spared.
Leon ran more than a dozen experiments and confirmed it: anything with mana, anything imbued with magic, would be consumed by the black substance. Only pure anti-magic materials like obsidian could safely touch it.
Even if left untouched, the black substance would still steadily devour all the magic around it, its appetite unwavering and constant.
Leon fashioned an array of anti-magic alchemical tools, then began dividing the black fragment further. No matter how small the pieces, their hunger for magic never ceased—and the rate of consumption was directly tied to their size: the larger the fragment, the faster it devoured mana.
He even calculated that the speed didn’t scale linearly—the larger the black substance, the more its appetite curved upward, growing ever more voracious.
Leon spent three days experimenting, but never found where the devoured mana went. The substance emitted no magical ripples—any trace of mana was instantly swallowed, vanishing like a black hole. Once magic entered, it was gone for good.
The fragment was tiny, yet in three days of testing, it consumed mana equivalent to a Level 20 mana crystal...
He tried more than ten detection methods, but none could trace where the mana went. Even when he used a special tracking energy to mark it, once the magic was consumed, it disappeared without a trace—as if devoured by the substance, it simply ceased to exist.
Leon exhausted every trick he knew, but nothing worked—the black substance continued its endless, insatiable feast on all nearby magic.
He placed the tiny fragment back into the obsidian box, and it merged with the larger mass as effortlessly as a drop of water joining a bowl—no change, no resistance, just seamless fusion.
Leon frowned, resealed the obsidian box, and went off to find Gandalf.
Half an hour later, Leon walked out of Gandalf’s wizard tower, brow furrowed, letting out a helpless sigh.
Gandalf could talk endlessly about any topic—alchemy especially. If you let him, the discussion might last a year or two without pause.
But the moment the black substance came up, Gandalf just smiled and kept silent, almost daring Leon to challenge him for answers...
Recalling Gandalf’s terrifying strength, Leon left the wizard tower without pressing further. He hadn’t gotten a single answer—if anything, Gandalf had tricked him into sharing several novel alchemical theories instead.
Back in the alchemy lab, Leon spent several more days researching, but made no progress. The black substance was impenetrable—apart from measuring its appetite for magic and the types it could consume, he was at a total loss.
Meanwhile, Neverwinter City was suddenly bustling—the Alchemy Expo had begun.
Walking down the main avenue, Leon noticed all eighteen shops had swapped out their magical signs. Even three streets away, the emblem of the Gilded Rose floated in midair. Every prime storefront along the avenue now belonged to the Gilded Rose.
All eighteen shops had been merged into a single complex, expanded further with spatial magic. From the outside, they looked like eighteen five- or six-story buildings, but inside, the combined space rivaled a small city.
The main street was blocked off, a grand stage erected in the center, crowded with people.
As Leon entered, he was swept up by the feverish energy. Nearby, two Ninth-Tier Title Magi gazed at the stage with envy.
“Who knows what kind of background the Gilded Rose has? To open eighteen shops at the best locations on Alchemy Avenue—and merge them all together...”
“No idea, but if they convinced the original owners to sell, they must be powerful. Look—the Alchemy Expo has drawn a vice dean from Astral Academy, a royal prince, and several major family heads...”
“Rumor is, the royal family itself handled the negotiations for these shops. Otherwise, you think the owners would have sold so easily? Even the worst shop here does better business than most places...”
“Enough talk, let’s go in! I heard that on opening day, every Title Magus or Sword Saint who comes gets a free Mana Purification Elixir—Gilded Rose’s new formula. Normally, only master alchemists can craft one, so let’s hurry...”
Leon listened to the two Ninth-Tier Title Magi, their faces twisted with envy and longing. The Mana Purification Elixir was the Gilded Rose’s flagship product, its effects at least seven or eight times stronger than any on the market. Both swordsmen and magi could take it—it purifies mana or battle qi, even cleanses the body of impurities and negative energy...
Its effect was similar to a Baptism Elixir, but targeted Sword Saints and Title Magi. For them, potential often plateaued without a rare opportunity. The Mana Purification Elixir could push their limits—though such potions existed, their effects were mediocre and the price exorbitant...
Farrow had spared no expense to launch the Gilded Rose in the Odin Kingdom. Today, at least four or five hundred Title Magi and Sword Saints had gathered. If sold normally, those potions would fetch millions of gold coins—purple Odin gold, no less.
Thanks to powerful research, the cost per potion was only a few hundred Andalusia gold coins...
As the Expo kicked off, five squadrons of griffin riders patrolled the skies, all led by Sky Rank powerhouses. On the ground, Gilded Rose’s own guards and Neverwinter City’s patrols mingled with at least a thousand Alchemical Golems.
Anyone who dared cause trouble here today would meet a truly miserable end...
Stepping into one of the alchemy shops, Leon felt the space expand tenfold. Transparent display cases lined the room, each showcasing a Gilded Rose research achievement, with detailed descriptions beside them. The signature elixirs were all meticulously graded.
Every potion was divided into four grades by quality. Each grade had its effects, side effects, and possible positive or negative outcomes clearly labeled, all backed by precise data.
Ordinary, Fine, Superior, Perfect—the four grades developed by the Gilded Rose.
Leon gazed at a display case holding four Volcano Elixirs, each representing the Gilded Rose and Alchemists’ Guild’s grading system. The ordinary Volcano Elixir sold for six thousand gold coins, but the perfect one cost fifty thousand!
But when you saw the data and effects marked for the perfect elixir, no one thought fifty thousand was expensive. If anything, they felt lucky to buy it so cheap—before, such potions were so rare they only appeared at auctions, fetching two or three hundred thousand coins, sometimes double that if competitors bid.
Everywhere Leon looked, the potions were the same—even many low-tier elixirs started at Fine grade, with no Ordinary ones at all.
A faint smile crept onto Leon’s face. Seeing all this, he finally understood—he’d once suggested mass-producing alchemical potions to Farrow, but hadn’t expected Farrow to succeed just by following a few of his steps.
At least the lower-tier potions were now clearly mass-produced. Without mass production, those prices wouldn’t yield much profit, and the Gilded Rose always insisted on perfection—success rate was everything before they’d even begin brewing.
That’s why there weren’t any Ordinary-grade potions among the lower tiers...
Leon did a quick calculation—following the Gilded Rose’s usual profit model, every potion sold had to bring at least tenfold profit after costs. The only reason prices could be kept low was their control over expenses.
After crunching the numbers for several low-tier potions, Leon realized each batch needed at least three hundred units. Only with mass production and subsequent bottling and sealing could costs be slashed compared to handcrafting one by one—plus, success and quality were both assured...