Chapter 22: The Hidden Alchemist

Victor rode into a small village as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets. The village was quaint, with thatched-roof houses and bustling market stalls, a stark contrast to the eerie ruins he had recently left behind. He needed rest, and more importantly, information.

Victor stabled Midnight and found a modest inn. Inside, the common room was filled with villagers sharing stories over mugs of ale. Victor took a seat in a corner, listening to the conversations around him. One story, in particular, caught his attention.

"Old man Horace's granddaughter is still sick," a woman said, shaking her head. "He's been searching for that moonflower for weeks now, but it's too dangerous."

"Aye," another man replied. "The flower only blooms under moonlight and is guarded by a fierce beast. No one's been able to get close."

Intrigued, Victor approached the group. "Excuse me, I couldn't help but overhear. Where can I find this old man Horace?"

The villagers eyed him warily but eventually gave him directions to a small cottage on the outskirts of the village. Victor thanked them and set off immediately, his curiosity piqued.

As he approached the cottage, he saw a grizzled old man with a long white beard tending to a small garden. The man's eyes were sharp and suspicious, and he gripped his walking stick tightly.

"What do you want?" Horace barked, not bothering with pleasantries.

"I'm here to help," Victor replied calmly. "I heard about your granddaughter. I'm a hunter, and I can retrieve the moonflower."

Horace narrowed his eyes. "Why would you help a stranger?"

Victor knew trust wouldn't come easily. He focused his mind, gently probing Horace's thoughts. He sensed fear and desperation, but also a fierce protectiveness for his granddaughter. "Because I can," Victor said softly. "And because I know what it's like to be alone."

Horace's eyes softened slightly, but he remained guarded. "The moonflower grows in a cave to the north. It only blooms under the light of the full moon and is guarded by a monstrous beast. Many have tried, but none have returned."

Victor nodded. "I will go. And I will return with the flower."

The journey to the cave was treacherous, the path winding through dense forest and rocky terrain. As night fell, the full moon bathed the landscape in a silvery glow. Victor moved silently, his senses heightened, until he reached the cave's entrance.

Inside, the air was cool and damp, the walls glistening with moisture. He ventured deeper, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. At the heart of the cave, bathed in moonlight from a small opening above, was the moonflower—a vibrant red bloom that seemed to pulsate with life.

But Victor was not alone. Emerging from the shadows, a hulking creature with sharp claws and glowing eyes roared, its body covered in thick fur and scales. Victor drew his sword, prepared for battle.

The fight was intense, the beast relentless in its attacks. Victor's movements were precise and calculated, his blade finding its mark repeatedly. After a fierce struggle, he managed to drive his sword deep into the creature's heart, felling it with a final, anguished roar.

Breathing heavily, Victor approached the moonflower. He carefully cut the stem and placed the bloom in a protective pouch. The journey back to the village was swift, urgency driving his steps.

Horace was waiting anxiously at the cottage. When he saw Victor approach, his eyes widened in disbelief. Victor handed him the moonflower, and Horace's hands trembled as he took it.

"You did it," he whispered, tears welling in his eyes. "Thank you."

Horace's granddaughter began to recover, the moonflower's magic working quickly. Grateful but still wary, Horace invited Victor into his home. "Come," he said, leading him to the basement. "There's something you should know."

In the dim light of the basement, Horace revealed shelves lined with books, potions, and strange devices. "I am an alchemist of the fifth rank," he said quietly. "Alchemists, like wizards, have ranks from one to nine. The higher the rank, the more powerful and knowledgeable we are. No one has ever surpassed the ninth rank."

Victor showed Horace the alchemical text he had found in the ruined tower. The old man's eyes widened as he read through the pages. "This is a basic text for beginners," he said, surprised. "Written by a genius alchemist of the ninth rank. It's said he tried to surpass the limits of alchemy and either died in the process or succeeded and vanished."

Victor realized he no longer needed to travel to the capital. Horace could help him understand the fundamentals of alchemy. The old man spent days teaching Victor the basics, explaining the principles and methods in the book. Victor learned quickly, his mind absorbing the knowledge like a sponge.

One evening, Horace spoke gravely. "If anyone finds out you possess this book, you'll be in great danger. Many would kill for such knowledge."

Victor nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Tell me about your past," he asked. "Why is your granddaughter sick because of you?"

Horace sighed deeply. "In my pursuit of knowledge, I experimented with forbidden magic. It backfired, and she has suffered ever since. I will do anything to make amends."

After helping Victor, Horace offered his assistance for the future. "If you ever need an alchemist's help, come to me. But be careful, Victor. This path is perilous."

Victor thanked him and prepared to leave. With a newfound understanding of alchemy and a promise of future aid, he set off once more into the night, the road ahead filled with uncertainty and danger.