Chapter 174: The Alchemist

With a sharp sound, two figures materialized as the glow faded, revealing Merlin and the black-robed old man standing in a mysterious place. Towering statues loomed around them, covered in intricate runes that gave off an ancient aura, filling the air with an air of mystery.

"We're finally here—this is Floating City!" the black-robed old man said with a faint smile, glancing around.

Merlin pulled back his hood, exposing his youthful face as he surveyed his surroundings. This place looked like a bustling town, though it seemed less crowded than expected. Still, there was a constant flow of mystical energy, with runes and elemental fluctuations everywhere.

"Let's go. This is just the outskirts—the real bustle is inside," the old man said as he led Merlin deeper into the city.

As they moved further in, Floating City indeed turned out to be lively. Merlin could hear the hum of activity from the crowds. Men, women, the elderly, and even children wandered the streets. Each person was unique, many exuding an aura that marked them as spellcasters.

But these spellcasters looked unusual. Some were adorned with terrifying, venomous creatures clinging to them, while others bore monstrous appearances, more frightening than anything Merlin had ever seen.

Walking alongside the black-robed old man, Merlin soon noticed a strange figure up ahead: an ugly, brown-haired spellcaster leading a man dressed only in a loincloth and bound by iron chains. The man wore a metal mask, and silver spikes protruded from his wrists and ankles, gleaming menacingly in the sunlight.

Merlin's brow furrowed as he observed this "creature." The man with the mask appeared to be a living person transformed into a grotesque figure.

The old man's expression darkened as he muttered, "Merlin, don't get involved. Those people are alchemists—madmen. Avoid them at all costs."

He hurriedly pulled Merlin forward, putting distance between them and the ugly spellcaster with his masked "monster" before finally stopping.

"What exactly are alchemists?" Merlin asked, his voice low as he watched the grotesque figure.

The old man's expression grew grim, and he sneered. "Alchemists, strictly speaking, are spellcasters, but they're known for their cruelty and eccentricity. They often experiment on living beings. The man in the mask? He was once an ordinary person until alchemists transformed him using potions to erase his memories, turning him into a mindless servant, a so-called 'pet.' These pets serve the alchemists as mindless weapons. Most of an alchemist's power lies in these 'pets.' They'll do anything to gain power, even if it means losing their humanity. They've strayed from the true path of spellcasting!"

The old man's voice was filled with disdain. Merlin, too, felt a sense of revulsion. These "pets" were essentially biological weapons, created from ordinary people who were ruthlessly stripped of their humanity.

"Let's move on. You'll get used to it," the old man sighed. "The world of spellcasters can be a ruthless one. Many see themselves as above ordinary people, who are nothing more than tools to them."

Merlin took a deep breath, calming his mind, and followed the old man through the streets. Along the way, he saw more alchemists with their monstrous "pets," some of which radiated a palpable sense of danger.

As they continued, Merlin finally asked, "Where exactly are we headed, Hill?"

The old man stopped and explained, "You and I both need certain potion ingredients. I'll introduce you to an old friend who might help us locate what we need."

Merlin nodded, trusting that the old man knew his way around Floating City. They wound through several alleyways, eventually stopping at a tranquil courtyard. There, a man about Hill's age lounged in a chair, basking in the afternoon sunlight.

However, as they approached, a woman in a red leather outfit appeared, blocking their way. Her cold expression and sharp, needle-like spikes on her gloved hands suggested a latent threat. Her purple hair, also spiked, gave her an even more intimidating appearance. Her blank gaze and lifeless eyes marked her as a creation of alchemical experimentation—a "pet."

The woman moved swiftly, raising her spiked fists as if to strike.

"Button!" Hill called out urgently.

The lounging man flinched, and the red-clad woman froze instantly, standing motionless like a puppet before Merlin and Hill.

"Button, I can't believe you've become an alchemist!" Hill said, his tone laced with anger as he strode forward to face the elderly spellcaster.

Button glanced at Hill lazily, his gaze landing briefly on Merlin before he replied, "So it's you, Hill. All these years, you haven't changed—still rigid and unyielding. No wonder you've suffered all this time from an unstable spell model, while I've advanced to first rank thanks to my 'dear Needle' here."

Button looked proudly at the red-clad woman beside him.

"'Needle'? That's what you call this alchemical abomination? You've defiled your soul, betraying the ancient traditions of spellcasting. You're no longer a true spellcaster; you're just a twisted alchemist!" Hill's voice was seething with anger.

"A defiled soul?" Button's eyes flashed with hostility. Rising from his chair, he coldly retorted, "What's wrong with doing whatever it takes to grow stronger? The so-called 'orthodox' spellcasters you idealize are hardly invincible. Needle, greet my 'old friend'!"

At Button's command, the red-clad woman sprang into action, moving with a terrifying swiftness. Her spiked fists gleamed as she lunged at Hill, ready to strike.