Chapter 97: An Invitation from the Herbalist Guild? Imperial Academy of Magic

Words : 1397 Updated : Sep 17th, 2025

Ka-chunk! The heavy, dark brown double doors groaned open, each panel carved with intricate floral designs that Lyle didn't recognize. Judging from their prominence and craftsmanship, they likely represented the crest of the minor noble family that had once owned this estate. Expensive craftsmanship—no question about it. And yet... The sharp squeal of leather hinges grinding against rusted iron clasps betrayed the truth: these doors hadn't seen a drop of maintenance in years. A middle-aged man in a jet-black gentleman's suit stood beyond the doorway. His skin was smooth and ruddy, clearly well maintained, but his eyes flickered with irritation—though it disappeared the moment he laid eyes on Lyle. "Good evening, Lord Lyle." Before Lyle could even utter a word, the man stepped forward with a courteous half-bow and a professional smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. It was the kind of polished, overly friendly expression people wore when they were trying to hide a dagger behind their back—charming on the surface, condescending underneath. "You already know my name," Lyle said calmly, unfazed. "Seems you've done your homework." The name "Lyle" wasn't something even Imina knew. And for someone acting as a middleman, there shouldn't have been any need to investigate the client's identity so thoroughly. But tracking down his residence wasn't hard—after all, every potion he'd made flowed through Imina's hands. Anyone with patience could have traced the source back here. "So, was it through the rental contract?" Lyle gave a wry smile. He'd signed that lease under his adventurer alias. The man's fake smile faltered just slightly. He had assumed this mild-looking alchemist, dressed in a pristine white priest's robe, would be easy to manipulate. But after just two sentences, he realized this young man was not only sharp—but also annoyingly difficult to corner. "My name is Bert," the man said, recovering quickly. "A licensed apothecary under the Herbalist Guild. Tonight, our guild is hosting a banquet and has extended invitations to apothecaries from all the major herbal workshops." "Although your potions are alchemical in nature and don't use traditional herbs," Bert continued smoothly, "they are still classified as healing concoctions." "Our Guildmaster has expressed great interest in your work and would like to invite you to join us this evening." As he finished, Bert stepped aside and gestured to a four-wheeled carriage parked behind him. "Not interested," Lyle replied flatly, turning back toward the manor without hesitation. Political banquets, scheming, flattery disguised as politeness—it was all a waste of time. He had no interest in playing at civility with people who would gladly stab each other over a recipe. Utterly boring. Completely pointless. "Lord Lyle!" Bert's voice rose sharply, his tone turning cold. "Are you certain you want to refuse? This is a rare opportunity—for both of us." Had this been before the Bloody Emperor's rise to power, the Guild wouldn't have bothered with polite invitations. If anything, they'd have tried to seize Lyle's formulas by force and made sure he didn't live to see the next sunrise. Of course, that was back in the old days—when assassinations were cheaper than contracts. But now, with Emperor Jircniv the Bloody on the throne, the rules had changed. Innovation was not only tolerated, but actively encouraged. The empire was flooded with new technologies, inventions, and ideas. People who tried to solve problems the "old-fashioned way" had already been weeded out. No one wanted to draw attention from the Bloody Emperor—not if they valued their heads. Bert took a deep breath and softened his tone. "I noticed your potions have rather short shelf lives. They're likely lacking a preservation enchantment." "We could offer you that spell," he added enticingly, "along with other advanced alchemical techniques." "With your talent, learning these methods would surely elevate your craft to a whole new level." He smiled again, more confidently this time. "All we ask in return is just a little... guidance, regarding your healing potions." Lyle paused mid-step. Slowly, he turned back, a pleasant smile spreading across his face. Bert's heart lifted—he thought he'd won. "No thanks," Lyle said lightly. Whoosh! A sudden gust cut through the air. A black chain, like a striking serpent, shot forward and coiled tightly around Bert's neck before he could react. His face turned purple as the breath was choked from him. Grrrrr... The little Barghest beside Lyle gave a low growl as its bone-crafted tail snapped, yanking Bert into the air and flinging him like a rag doll into the parked carriage. CRASH! The wooden frame splintered under the impact, followed by a painful yelp. Whinny! The startled horses neighed in panic, breaking into a gallop and dragging the shattered remains of the carriage down the street. Pedestrians scattered as chaos erupted. "Your control over Bone Chain is getting better," Lyle said approvingly, giving his demonic pet a pat. Then, without sparing another glance at the mess, he turned and walked back into the courtyard. The heavy doors swung shut behind him with a satisfying thud. As for the aftermath? He wasn't the least bit concerned. This world respected strength. As long as he revealed his third-tier ability: Angel Summoning, most people wouldn't dare so much as breathe in his direction. The Next Day Thanks to Imina's subtle publicity efforts, word quickly spread across the city: a mysterious alchemist had developed a new potion capable of treating permanent injuries. The news exploded across hotspots like the Adventurers' Guild and Singing Apple Inn, places packed with working-class mercenaries and exploration teams. The new alchemical potion was already making waves—cheap, effective, and perfect for the injury-prone life of an adventurer. If only it could be stored longer... Unfortunately, Lyle's diluted regeneration potion only lasted five to six days before spoiling. That limitation alone prevented opportunists from hoarding it in bulk. Yes, a preservation spell could extend the shelf life—but for a potion that only cost eight copper coins? Using magic for that was like enchanting a toothpick: wasteful and ridiculous. Later That Day For once, Lyle left the comfort of his manor with his demon hound in tow. The main streets bustled with life. Children laughed, merchants barked out prices, and citizens strolled along raised sidewalks flanking the central road, where horses and carriages rumbled by. The layout reminded Lyle faintly of modern city planning—a curious contrast to the crumbling aristocratic garden he lived in. The longer he stayed, the more he could feel the deep divide between the Re-Estize Kingdom and the Baharuth Empire. Following the crowd, Lyle made his way toward the central plaza. The empire had three crown jewels: The Imperial Ministry of Magic The Imperial Academy of Magic And the infamous Imperial Arena. Of these, the Ministry was the most mysterious—established by the Fifth Emperor himself, and sealed off in a private district within the capital. Nearly every magical artifact in the empire came from its workshops. Its security rivaled that of the royal palace itself, and the man overseeing it? None other than Fluder. The Academy, however, had been built under the rule of the Sixth Emperor. And that was where Lyle was headed. In a cozy restaurant just outside the Imperial Academy... The aroma of freshly brewed red tea drifted across the table. Lyle sipped it slowly, gazing out the window as he waited for someone. He didn't have to wait long. A girl—twelve or thirteen at most—stepped nervously into the restaurant, nearly hidden behind the enormous iron staff she carried. She was thin, dressed in a loose mage's robe that was a size too big, and had chin-length golden hair that framed her wary eyes. She scanned the room, and upon spotting Lyle by the window, visibly relaxed as he waved her over. "H-Hello, sir," she said hesitantly. "Are you the one who posted the commission?" "That's right. Please, have a seat," Lyle replied warmly. Her name was Arche—a future member of the mercenary group known as the Foursight. And also, quite possibly, their most tragic. Lyle had sought her out for a reason. Arche possessed a rare innate ability known as the Mystic Eye of Revelation—an ability eerily similar to Fluder's. And Lyle needed her help... to confirm something very important.

Chapter 97: An Invitation from the Herbalist Guild? Imperial Academy of Magic

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