During the ride, Jason bombarded him with advice on how to flirt with women and Res listened to such talk for the first time. Finally, the carriage came to a halt and the carriage door was opened by a servant. Even though he had already been there, the sight was still humbling. Giant white stone arches towered over the surrounding buildings. They interlocked and merged into a giant colosseum. What shocked him the most, were the thousands upon thousands of people waiting to buy a ticket. Res still couldn’t believe that he was about to make a fool of himself in Trianon’s second-largest arena. Res helped Granny out of the carriage and whispered in her ear.

“I knew that the alchemy tournament was popular with the nobility, but why are there so many citizens? They couldn’t even afford the simplest potion.”

Granny gave him a mischievous grin and replied: ”You see, the apprentices like to make a scene. They throw around powders and create explosions to get the attention of the judges. Every round, one can expect a participant to fail in a violent explosion. Sometimes alchemists even die. Putting the spectacle aside, the citizens are fascinated by the powerful effects. They will never come closer to such treasures in their life. Please don’t fall into stage fright. There will be only around 15.000 people.”

Res began to sweat under his mask at the mention of so many people watching him fail. Granny led him to the back of the colosseum where a small shield marked the competitor’s entrance.

“My boy, do your best.” Having said her piece, she left.

He tried to affect a confident gait and made his way to the clerk at the entrance. The deafening sound of a horn being blown and hooves on asphalt resounded through the streets. “Make way for Prince Robert! Make way for the royal alchemist!”

Following the command, Res stepped off the path and watched as a squad of riders thundered past him. With a grim expression, two riders took up position near the entrance. What followed the riders was the largest and most ornate carriage Res had ever seen.

“Bro, what the fuck. I was king, and I didn’t even have such a fancy ride. That is a fucking stretch limousine.”

“Let’s register before the procession arrives. Else I would have to wait for ages.” Res made his way over to the clerk, but his way was blocked by two sharp pikes from the prince’s guards. They looked at him in disdain and the smaller one spat out: “The registration booth is closed.”

He knew that fighting them on the point would be more trouble than it is worth, so he stepped out of the way. When the carriage rolled to a stop next to Res, the sneering prince stepped out of the carriage. His blonde hair framed his delicate facial features and his blue eyes seemed to look down on everyone. The only redeeming factor was his clothes. The tight-fitting trousers and his loose and puffed up shirt made him look like a parrot.

“Bro, I never believed that there were faces that one couldn’t resist punching. The prince has taught me otherwise. Seems like my genes have been diluted to the point of being non-existent.”

Behind the prince followed an ancient-looking man with a stereotypical long white beard. The only jewelry was a golden medallion with the Alchemy Alliance insignia.

That must be the royal alchemist – Evudor”.

The prince ignored him, but the old geezer looked him deep into the eyes and demanded: “I do not know you. Who is your backer?”

He didn’t like the deep intelligence in the royal alchemist’s eyes, buts still replied: “Granny, my lord.”

The royal alchemist’s eyes flared up, and he sized Res up. More of a question than a demand, Evudor called over to Prince Robert: “My prince, you should see your true competitor in this tournament.”

The prince whirled around and fixed Res with a frowning glare: “YOU are my competitor? You don’t deserve a second of my attention.” The prince walked over to him and plucked at his shirt. ” Your clothes are waaaaay out of fashion, have you ever even ONCE visited the southern court? Guess you haven’t. Look at those arms, they are … ”

Res stared at the prince in disbelieve. “Bro, he is roasting you. Hit him back. ‘Your hairline is still missing even Dora can’t explore it’ always lands. Oof, he wouldn’t recover from that.” Res only stared at the prince as he cursed his family and fertility. After some time, the prince ran out of shallow insults and stood there panting and glaring at Res. When Res didn’t reply, the prince cursed at him for the last time and then left.

“Jason, that was my first time seeing a young adult with the mental capacities of a six-year-old.”

Evudor, the royal alchemist, hissed at him about ‘killing your family’ and ‘castrating’. Res was too engrossed with thinking about what would happen if the prince turned king to process the threat. When the last of the prince’s hangers-on had left, she registered without difficulties. Apart from the fact that the clerk asked four times whether Res only wanted three kilos of wyvern leaf. He was led into a small cabin by a servant and given the number 103. From his small room, he could already hear the announcer calling out the names of participants. Once again, he was reminded that he was going to make a fool of himself in front of 15.000 people.

“Bro, chill, relax. We are not doing this for the people out there. We are doing it for us.”

“You are right.”

Finally, the announcer shouted out his new alias, Leonard Avvenci. One wall of his room glided to the side to reveal the arena beyond. The low hanging sun blinded him for a moment but found his bearings. As instructed by Granny, he walked out without making a fuzz and over to his workstation. All around him complicated instruments were bubbling with different colored liquids. Most participants wore some kind of special white protective coat. Transparent glass constructs that shielded their sight completed the look. The length of the different tubes in the workstations alone could span to the moon.

“Bro, I hate to say it, but the moon is far away. Like really far.”

“That was only an idle thought.”

The barrenness of his small workstation was made even more obvious as it stood next to the prince’s podium. The prince fumbled around with complicated constructs that were pumping liquids through tubes. Hundreds of small vials of powder were arranged around him for easy access. His wooden platform only consisted out of an herb sack.

When the prince saw him, he sneered and nodded at his bare podium: “Are you joking around? Do you want to open an herb shop? You are pitiful.”

Several other young alchemists around him sneered in agreement. Res didn’t let his distress show as he stepped onto his barren wooden podium. He tried to act as if he knew what to do and examined one leaf in the sack.

The voice of the announcer resounded through the arena: “Ladies and Gentlemen! Today we have a crowd-favorite at the krata-colosseum. The next generation of young alchemists has three hours to prove that they are worthy. Will they even fail against themselves? You all love explosions, don’t you! ”

“Yo, bro. Did the cheers of the crowd turn bloodthirsty?”

The announcer counted down to zero and all the participants began combining various powders and liquids. Res made himself comfortable on the floor and stared at the wyvern leaf. He felt the energy radiating out from the leaf and pulled on it. Something in the leaf’s structural aether snapped, and he immediately threw it away. The damaged leaf immediately pumped out its deadly poison onto the stone floor.

“Bro, that was close.”

His heart was racing, but he still continued his attempts at extraction. In his first attempts, he lasted four seconds before he triggered the defense mechanism. Again and again, he pulled a leaf out of the linen sack and again and again he failed. A small mountain of rejected and now poisonous leaves formed. Yet, with every attempt, he got farther and farther away from the core of the leaf. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead, but he endured. Another in his place wouldn’t have been able to maintain the concentration for half an hour.

Yet, Res had been sitting still and relaxing for most of his life. With increasing determination, he followed the channels with the plant’s aether in tow. After an eternity of struggling in the maze of channels, Res finally broke out. He tore open his eyes and could only watch in horror as the valuable drop of green liquid fell to the ground.

Exuberant cries of joy resounded through his skull. “Bro, you did it. Even though a cup would come in handy now. Why did you only ask for the wyvern leaves?”

“Hubris. I can’t change it now. There is still another way. Do you like to put your life on the line?”

“Bro, stop. That is stupid. That would be like driving a formula one race without a seatbelt. It could work, but you shouldn’t try it.”

He had come this far and wouldn’t stop so close to his goal. Not giving himself enough time to overthink, he positioned the leaf over his opened mouth. Once again he retreated into the black abyss of his mind. Failing now would mean death.

“I just can’t fail.”

His heart beat faster and faster, the longer he guided the aether through the tiny channels of the plant. After what felt like an eternity, he felt the end of the tunnel and pushed through it. All his senses came back in time for him to feel the pleasant drop of green liquid falling into his mouth.

“Bro you did it. That was totally mad.”

He sent Jason feelings of gratitude and grabbed another leaf out of the pile. After his seventh successful extraction, he fell into a rhythm. Guiding the liquid through the channels became second nature to him. With every successful attempt, his knowledge of the plant grew. He reduced his time from five minutes down to four seconds. Several times Res scraped the wall of a channel but always caught himself.

With only ten minutes left, Res found a technique with which he could draw from four leaves at once. Still, there was no way he could extract all the leaves on time. When the final gong rang, Res had converted one and a half kilo of wyvern leaves.