[4K+] The Alchemist

Soran looked at the approaching figure of the man. A sudden, throbbing, thumping pain began somewhere within his ribcage. It sent shockwave after shockwave, as well as making an awful, boisterous sound that only seemed to steadily grow louder. And as it did, so did his temper.

For each step forward that the figure with the bell took, his characteristics became clearer to distinguish. He was wearing multi-layered, loose clothing—too warm for the heat outside—with intricate embroidery stitched along the edges. The bell he held was silver and the incense burner seemed to be of copper making. His entire get-up, if described in one word, would be "occult". And, certainly, the orange haze emitting from the burning incense that covered half his form only insinuated this image.

As well, what Soran realized much to his horror after the distance between them had shortened enough, was that this man was clearly not human. In fact, he could not have been a being of natural making. His face was distorted and blackish-brown, glistening wet, and was in motion, writhing like worms. Behind him followed a sort of crimson mass, pulsating and bulging inwards and outwards, steadily, like a caterpillar made of a hundred men's innards. The stench of iron in the air had now changed into something more gut-wrenching. It smelled like how nausea feels, but also sweet like rotting fruit.

Initially, Soran had concluded that the mushrooms must have been the cause of this chaos. However, it was now obvious that this "thing" in front of him had instigated it. It even seemed to smirk at him through its writhing, abominable face.

Soran felt a sudden fire within; an uncontrollable fury that enveloped his thoughts and brought him to madness. He wanted now only one thing, and one thing only: to rip this monster to pieces.

Charging the man like a rabid dog, twitching and lurching all the like, he noticed the overwhelming aroma of the haze. It smelled of citrus and cinnamon, and as soon as it entered his lungs, the throbbing pain stopped, but the thumping kept going, for it was his own heartbeat. The bell of silver was rung. It echoed within Soran's head, linking together foggy thoughts and memories.

Suddenly, he found himself in the same tunnels, but this time they were just as they were before the carnage—dimly lit by torchlight and bothersomely sandy. There was no cacophony of screams, no crimson mass of innards, nor was there any nasty stench filling the air. As his vision focused, Soran noticed again the figure before him, now clearer and bound to a fairer form. It was no longer the writhing, black-brown monstrosity he vaguely remembered. Instead, the handsome face of a man, almost so as you'd mistake him for a wonderful maiden, was what faced him.

"You are back to your senses. How do you feel?" asked the man with a voice like cream and honey.

Soran hesitated. He did not know what was happening, but his thoughts returned to Monkey, wherein he looked back to see him trying to pry a sickly-looking burly man from a hole in the wall.

"What-" Soran stumbled on his words. "-what happened?"

"The line between the real world and the abstract, unreal world is treaded loosely when one hallucinates via the effects of the red fungus, my friend," said the occult man as he began approaching Soran. "What did you see?"

"I'm not quite sure. You are telling me that I hallucinated just now? This 'red fungus' you speak of must be the berserker shrooms." Soran rubbed his eyes. "My mind is covered in dark smog. I cannot tell you what I saw. In fact, I am yet confused about what took place." Soran looked back at the man stuck in the wall (who by Monkey's aid was now free) and commented in disbelief: "I hope I was not the cause of that."

"I don't know what took over you there, Soran," said Monkey as he stood up. "But, you sure lead me down a dozen more tunnels, each one darker than the last, and I can't say we got any closer to the path out of here."

"Maybe you should have stopped me, then," grumbled Soran, clicking his tongue in irritation.

"Perhaps," said Monkey. "But you kept mumbling about some danger, so I decided not to."

"If you just helped me from the beginning, without distracting yourself with random objects, perhaps we would have gotten out of here by now!"

The occult man moved in between the two to stop their trivial arguing before saying:

"Now, now. You may discuss that afterward. Oh, Soran, I wish to hear from you: what did you see?"

Before Soran could repeat himself, that he did not in fact remember what happened, the silver bell was rung once more, and his mind was filled with visions of carnage. After a quiet moment, Soran spoke.

"I saw crazed people slaughtering each other. My mind was twisted by fury, and everything had been stained red."

"The signs of depravity. Interesting. Anything more?" The occult man stepped closer to Soran, their faces almost touching.

Soran stepped backward in an attempt to preserve his personal space, but the slow pursuit kept going; the occult man inched audaciously towards him.

"You were wretched and wicked, your face writhed like maggots." Soran kept speaking quicker and quicker and stepping faster and faster, wherein he tripped and promptly fell on his behind.

"The sign of wickedness, to be sure! What else?" The occult man now hung over Soran like drapery in the wind.

"I saw a crimson mass of innards. It pulsated and bulged, following behind you like a loyal dog."

The occult man paused for a moment widening his eyes slightly, before he continued his approach, loosely grabbed Soran by the chin, and stared into his eyes, inspecting the deep swirling darkness of his irises.

"Even in the darkest darkness, a lit candle always shines through. Yet, the candle may flicker, and there the darkness reveals itself momentarily again, reminding you that it still remains creeping; your story may be told in blood, my friend."

Soran tried moving the man off of himself but he had grasped Soran firmly with both hands.

"Certainly, though. . . Yet dark, your eyes glimmer so beautifully," said the occult man as he leaned in. Soran was now close enough where he could feel the man's warm, humid breath diverge upon his face.

Crouching down next to them, Monkey cleared his throat so as to interrupt their interaction.

"I'm sorry for disturbing your little affair, sorcerer, but Soran and I have a certain monarch to find."

Soran took this opportunity to finally give a proper push and shove to get the man off of him. He then scurried back behind Monkey, using him as a sort of barricade.

"What a shame," said the occult man. A smile spread across his face, but his voice seemed to hint at disappointment. "And, it shall be known: I am no sorcerer. I am an alchemist."

"I think those are the same thing," said Monkey as he rubbed his chin to mimic pondering.

"It matters not if he's a sorcerer or an alchemist—he's creeping me out, and I still don't know where the hell he came from or what he wants. He's only been speaking in riddles ever since he appeared," jeered Soran, shuddering at the thought of his regained memories and the man alike.

"Such harsh words, my friend, for someone who saved you from temporary insanity."

"For that, and that alone, am I deeply grateful."

An awkward silence followed. They stood there for only a moment, but it felt like it dragged on for much too long.

"Actually, conversely, perhaps it does matter if you are a sorcerer or an alchemist," said Soran, breaking the silence. "Who are you, and why, or more so how, were you here to help us in the nick of time?"

"I have been studying the effects of prolonged ingestion of the red fungus. When I heard a commotion in the tunnels—mind you, a very rare occurrence down here—I simply went to investigate. And, here we are."

"I guess that makes sense," said Monkey. "But, then, why was only my guide here affected so strongly by this 'fungus', but not these folk," he continued as he gestured over to the burly man, who previously had been buried halfway through a hole.

"I wasn't affected that badly..." grumbled Soran to himself, crossing his arms.

"Prolonged usage of the fungus seems to lead to increased immunity to its rage-inducing qualities, which explains why the commoners down here don't rampage." The alchemist reached in between the layers of his clothing and took out a strip of a bleak, red mushroom. "And I have also discovered, that if one analyzes the hallucinations caused by this here fungus, it can give one insight into the unforeseen future. The tool of a seer."

"So when you said my story may be told in blood, was that-"

Interrupting Soran by delicate shushing, he continued.

"Don't think about it too seriously. After all, I'm not a seer. I'm an alchemist." He gave a comforting smile and winked smoothly, but Soran could only shudder. "However, it seems your big friend here is already a potent user of this drug. You were not affected even a bit."

"It's my affinity. I call it full-body enhancing. All toxins are neutralized within me because of it."

"I see. I thought you a warrior by your looks, but it seems you were a sorcerer yourself. So much for name-calling."

"Sorcerer? I fight with my fists. I have no need for sorcery," said Monkey as he pumped his fist in the air, but it took the alchemist by surprise.

"But you said that your affinity neutralized all toxins within you—you even have a name for it! No 'warrior' has the magical capability to command an affinity, that is impossible!"

"It is not impossible," said Soran as he stepped up. Soran may have been petty regarding this whole hallucination situation (and in general), but, as a fellow martial artist, or 'warrior', he had truly garnered great respect for Monkey in the short time they had spent together, and therefore wished to bring justice to his name. To give it the honor it deserved. "I have crossed fists with him, and I could almost not believe it myself. His name should be commonly spoken throughout all of the lands, yet I have not heard of him, and to top it off, his memory has failed him. However, I have not stumbled upon a greater fighter. Take my word for it, and show him the respect he deserves."

Monkey was surprised, to say the least. He could not remember much, but somehow, someone standing up for his name made him feel quite warm inside. As if his true name which was forgotten, and therefore tarnished, had been restored by Soran's words. Though, Soran did complain to Monkey about his self-conduct and distractibility just a moment earlier, so perhaps his words were bound in hypocrisy. But then again, he still felt rather touched by Soran's regard, and it is not like receiving criticism from one's allies points to their animosity. Chalking it up, Soran was just simply the type of person to point out his allies' faults, all the while standing up for them when the time came.

"He remembers nothing, speaks of monarchs, and commands both the power of the fist and the power of an affinity?" Suddenly, the alchemist was possessed by a deep intrigue. He quickly flew up to Monkey who stood stalwart and waved the strip of mushroom in front of him.

"What say you, great warrior? Consume this strip of fungi flesh, and I shall see if I can see your memories which have been lost."

"I told you: I neutralize all toxins. I won't see anything."

"You'll never know until you try, my friend."

Monkey pondered for a moment, before snapping his finger and agreeing to the proposition.

They proceeded to sit down in a circle upon the grainy dry soil, and then the alchemist put his copper incense holder in the middle. He dug around within the layers of his clothing again, grabbing a handful of bleached powder and tossing it at the tiny embers of the incense, which in turn started to blossom rapidly, therein filling the area with the same orange haze from earlier that smelled of citrus and cinnamon.

"Eat this, warrior," said the alchemist as he handed Monkey the strip. Monkey tossed it in his mouth without hesitation and started chewing it as if it were just a treat. However, his face twisted and turned, and the audible churning of his stomach could be heard.

"I thought the toxin wouldn't affect you!" cried Soran as he shot a piercing glance at the alchemist who looked just as surprised.

Through his audible choking and half-regurgitations, Monkey said: "Don't worry, it's not the toxins. It just tastes really bad."

Soran's expression went from shocked to mildly confused, yet somehow he expected this. The alchemist only sighed in relief.

As Monkey swallowed the final pieces of the mushroom, the alchemist told him to stare into the embers of the incense, and so he did. Then, the alchemist rang his silver bell. It seemed to vibrate the air as they sat there, invoking a sense of meditative emptiness.

After a good while, but what somehow seemed like just a moment, the alchemist asked what Monkey saw in front of him.

"I see a large featherless bird."

"Where is it?" said the alchemist in a calm voice, but Soran noticed his excitement. Indeed, it was exciting for Soran as well, for he did not think this would work. All eyes were on Monkey.

"It's standing over an open flame. The fat renders from its skin, making it nice and glossy."

"The ever-burning fire of Inferno! It's a sign! What else do you see?" Both Soran and the alchemist now stood on their knees in anticipation.

"I see a hole, a dark hole."

"Can you see inside of it? What is inside?"

"Inside is a swirling liquid. Ah, yes. I know what it is."

"What is it?" asked the alchemist, his eyes glistening. Even Soran was invested enough to continue with: "Come on, tell us."

Suddenly, a growling noise loud enough to vibrate the inner ear canals erupted from inside Monkey's stomach.

"It's dark beer, and the rotisserie is well-seasoned mind you. I'm hungry."

"God damn it, Monkey," exclaimed Soran, completely disappointed. The alchemist sighed heavily but promptly shrugged, knowing that this was most probable.

"Well, fair enough. I guess it is about time," said Soran, standing up and brushing the sand off his clothes. "But, first, we have to figure out a way out of here."

"We've got ourselves so deep within these tunnels, I'm unsure if even I can find a way out," noted Monkey as he cupped his ears to listen for any faint whistling of wind.

"If you have lost your way, my friends, I can be your temporary guide," the alchemist said as he picked up his copper holder and stood up.

"You know the way out, sorcerer? That's gonna save us time! Thank ye, thank ye!" Monkey gestured his gratitude dramatically, as it meant that his looming hunger was now soon to be sated.

"Once again, I'm not a sorcerer, I'm an alchemist," chuckled the alchemist, but Soran could hear the slight irritation behind it. It seemed as if Monkey wasn't the first one to irk the alchemist with a faulty title.

With the alchemist as their guide, they were led efficiently through the torchlit tunnels. Soran didn't hesitate to bow deeply to the burly man, who had passed out on the ground, as a sort of karmic apology. On the way, the alchemist explained that as long as they were within smelling range of his incense, they would not be affected by the hallucinogenics. Furthermore, after being asked numerous questions about his livelihood, he noted that he was primarily a traveling merchant, and had visited many places in this world and witnessed many more mysteries. However, no matter how many inquiries he received, the alchemist would always answer as shallow as seemingly possible.

Eventually, Monkey noted that the sound of whistling wind had become increasingly louder, and shortly after, they could see rays of dim light illuminating a pathway out. The outside matched the brightness of the tunnels—dusk had come to the town of River Valley.

Stepping out was like moving through a wall of freshly turned, cool pillows. The dark evening sky was dotted by dim glittering specks of white, and the fading sun illuminated the horizon with the color of orchids. All of them took a short moment of rest, breathing in freely the dry but invigorating air. A light wind whirled from the ground upwards, carrying sand halfway up their legs.

"I'll never go underground again!" groaned Soran, although relieved. His mind had all but forgotten the earlier terror-world he had found himself in.

"I wish I could say the same, but much of my work takes place underground," sighed the alchemist lightheartedly. He had already come to terms with his lifestyle, which yet remained mysterious to the others.

"That must be suffocating. Why can't you do your work above ground? I could understand if you need minerals or crystals for alchemical reasons, but those can be extracted from the surface of mountainous regions, like here for example. Alternatively, any hard-to-get materials could always be bought via the privilege of coin, could they not?"

"Perhaps, but I am not fond of mountains, nor am I rich. But, I would probably live the way you describe lest it were for other reasons, which, unfortunately, it is," said the alchemist, lowering his head in humility. "Alchemy is partly something I control by my own will and power, and partly something that controls me by its own regulations. When one is located below the earth, the energies radiate more intensely. The further down one goes, the stronger the energy radiates."

"That is something I noticed as well," said Monkey. An unexpected intrigue was painted on his face. "When we were down there, sitting in a circle around that holder of incense you have, I didn't think much of it. However, when you rang your bell, something within me felt a sort of pull from below; I don't mean gravity! Maybe you could say it was the imagination, but I have long since passed the point of being able to be tricked by my own mind. Do you know the reason for this?"

The alchemist crossed his arms and pondered, then answered:

"Your senses are certainly honed if you can feel the energy. I wish I could be more certain with my answer, but truth be told: I don't know for sure. In all the scholarly scriptures about magic I've scoured over, there has always been proof of the existence of this phenomenon, but only theories regarding its cause," explained the alchemist. He proceeded to flick his wrist, and suddenly, a deep blue stone, not bigger than the size of a strawberry was gripped between his thumb and index finger. He proceeded to draw out arcane forms and shapes in the air, before continuing. "This is the celestial body in which we inhabit. As you may know, we scholars call it "Tria Existantus": the third plane of existence." He had drawn out the shape of a rough orb, which started to morph into a more perfect sphere. He then drew both straight and curved lines across it. "This is what is known among scholars as 'leylines'. They are theorized to be the origin of all magic. That means that if these leylines did not exist, magic would not exist either."

"First off, I thought you said you were an alchemist, not a scholar?" said Monkey as he raised his eyebrow. "Second off, what in the seven planes of existence is a leyline? I know you explained what purpose it serves, but what is it?"

"Firstly, an alchemist is a scholar by nature. Secondly, I am not sure, but potentially they could be as currents, like rivers, flowing on endlessly, deep within the depths of our world."

"I've studied that theory," added Soran. "They say the reason magic is unstable and changes in potency from time to time depending on the region is because these so-called leylines shift and move."

"You are well-read, my friend," said the alchemist as he applauded subtly. "It is true that something certainly shifts, whether it's the Leylines or not. That is why areas like Cïna Quor, at the roots of the Iron Alps, inhabit creatures of which the common folk of places like this here River Valley believe to be fairy tale nonsense."

"Not for a hundred years have the folk of River Valley believed such things to be nonsense. Not after the cataclysmic shifting that happened over two centuries ago, down south, of what is now known as the Far Lands. It has become the town's main source of income by the grace of travel and trade, alchemist." Soran squinted his eyes and looked suspiciously at the alchemist, who now shuffled around in an awkward manner. "You speak as if you've lived for longer than any mortal should."

"Well, we alchemists are strange, even among our fellow scholars," he averted his gaze for a moment, but his normal composure quickly returned. "I hope you've learned something new, now, Monkey of the Fist, and I have certainly enjoyed your company, Soran friend. However, I must depart, as I do not have all day. Tonight is a double full moon—a rarity indeed—and I shall use this opportunity wisely."

"So be it, alchemist. But, I can't help but remember that we never got to truly introduce ourselves. Might I ask of you your name?" asked Soran, who had finally warmed up completely to his newfound ally.

The alchemist only smiled and said:

"It has no importance to you now."

What he meant by that, Soran did not know. However, from the time of his appearance, his way of speaking in riddles had not particularly changed. Thus, Soran left it at that. "The Alchemist", is what he shall remember him by. Monkey then asked a more merry question:

"Why don't you join us for dinner, first?" He put his arm around the alchemist in a friendly manner.

"I would love to, but, unfortunately, I have research and experimentations to attend to. My apologies."

"Soran and I haven't discussed or decided upon any plans yet, but I'm guessing that we're heading north tomorrow morning. So, after your double full moon research extravaganza, what say you? Do you wish to join my company, and together depart on an adventure?"

For just a blink, the alchemist's eyes seemed to sparkle in the dim evening light. As if he was just about to burst out in joyous laughter and lock arms with both Soran and Monkey, dancing off into the night. However, shade overtook his gaze as the sun finally sunk beneath the edge of the valley.

"I cannot, unfortunately. I have my own reasons for that, of course. And, besides, I'm a bringer of bad luck. A cursed omen, perhaps. It would be within your best interest not to bring me along."

Soran could feel the sudden bleakness of the alchemist's mood. It felt as if being dragged through wet gravel, only that it was an emotion. However, Monkey remained merry still.

"You do you, sorcerer-, I mean, alchemist," he said, catching himself slipping upon his words. "If you ever feel like joining my company, though, just look for the nearest information broker. All he shall say will be about me, my company, its achievements, and my whereabouts, I'm sure. I'll keep a position open, just for you, I promise." Monkey's face widened as a white-grinned and prideful smile radiated from it. At this, the alchemist's gaze lightened a bit, and he too smiled. Then, they finally parted. The alchemist went back into the tunnels, whilst Monkey discussed dinner options with Soran, who was becoming increasingly worried about the future state of his near-empty money pouch.

However, just as they were about to leave, Monkey slipped a couple of whispers of advice to the alchemist.

"I can tell what follows you. Soran saw it in his hallucinatory rage, and he described it well: 'it follows you behind like a loyal dog'. I know it is not your ally, for your thoughts avoid it. Indeed, your very aura fears it. I don't know what it is, or what its capabilities are, but I assure you, it stands no match against me. I may not remember much, but I know that I am among the greatest of warriors; of that, I am not oblivious. If you shall find yourself backed into a corner, I will help you. Thank you for saving my guide, and farewell, friend."

The alchemist walked slowly through the dimly lit tunnels. The dark whispers in the back of his mind chattered on like usual, telling him things he did not want to hear. Thinking back to what Monkey had told him, he felt a strange sense of comfort, yet his eyes started to water, and his chin trembled.

"Please, don't give me false hope," he muttered on his breath.