If the Alchemist was really capable of being happy without the help of her Balm, then we can say without any doubt that she would be happy while studying. Her arms waved and swung from side to side, as if she was directing an invisible orchestra, while several books floated and danced, orbiting around her like tiny moons full of secret knowledge.

Her eyes darted from book to book, passing pages, jumping from footnote to footnote, checking that every citation made was still relevant and properly made, while also making sure that the spells in every grimoire were still as fresh as they were the moment they were written. It was a thankless job, but one that she really enjoyed doing!

She was in the middle of her housekeeping when a distant sound echoed through the caverns. An alarm? Had time truly advanced so fast that she had skipped sleeping entirely again?

No. This wasn’t her alarm clock. This was her computer, calling her back to her room.

With a frustrated sigh, the Alchemist clapped twice and sent all books back to their spots. After that, she tapped her foot on the floor thrice in rapid succession, and her body was then violently ripped from that little pocket dimension of hers and pulled right out of her portal-book, back to the depressing, gray bedroom.

Rubbing her eyes softly, she walked over to the noisy computer and tapped a few buttons to turn the screens on. Whatever could be so important to interrupt her studies?

“TEMPORAL DISPLACEMENT ALERT.”

What? Temporal displacement? Some idiot in some corner of the world was probably trying to mess with Time again. The fool was probably a bloody pulp by now, poor bastard. The Alchemist sighed and shook her head softly, clicking the dismissal button and turning the alarm off… when suddenly, her eyes locked on the Lefebvre Compass.

233.C.828.XXX

What.

Corner one had shifted. That never happens. And then corner three had advanced by almost eighty units! Did a breakthrough happen? Did someone discover a new Axiom or something like that?

With another annoyed sigh, the Alchemist opened the Ermes browser and went straight to Universe Beta. The forum remained as dead and insubstantial as ever… she chastised herself for ever thinking that useless site would ever produce anything of note, and accessed ‘The Belltower’, the main arcane newsletter sanctioned by the government. It wasn’t that reliable considering the heavy censoring, but if something truly important had happened, the Brotherhood would certainly make a post about it, even if to cover it up!

Nothing. Just shareholding meetings, law changes and useless factoids meant to entertain the old readers.

Next was ‘Styx Riverside’. A gossip place for those who were smart enough to not trust the government. No one was bragging about a new breakthrough, no new job postings for studying mysterious events were made either.

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These were the moments where the Alchemist wished the technology behind the Lefebvre Compass was available to the public, but alas. She only knew of three other computers with a functional device…

… of course, just as she thought of Him, her phone started ringing.

Her hand reached for the old flip phone, hesitating for a moment before holding it and opening it next to her ear.

“What did you do.” She immediately said.

“Well now, is that a way to say hello to an old friend?”

“What did you do?”

“Funny that you ask, for I’ve done nothing this time! I was about to ask you though…”

The young boy’s voice was as warm and calm as usual, totally unconcerned with what was probably one of the biggest advancements in human history, at least for the last fifty years. She hated that, she hated that this man could still keep up with the “happy, careless boy” act even in the face of change.

She really wanted to slap the smile off his wrinkled face.

“I have been limiting myself to my own studies.” The alchemist finally said, letting out a grumble. “But if it wasn’t you, and it wasn’t me… do you think it was the Brotherhood?”

“I sincerely doubt they would manage to push the timeline by THAT far” He said. “They lost their interest in reaching the Safe Quadrants a while ago.”

“So we are looking for a third party.” She loudly sighed. The annoying surprises never stopped. “Great. That will take years to find, and we don’t have that much time.”

“Do you think it could have been Humiko?”

“She’s dead.” Again, she shot him down.

“I-I know, I know! But. You know how she enjoyed preparing things for a while! Maybe–”

“She is gone, Giovanni. Get over it.”

There was a moment of pained, awkward silence. Mustafá the Alchemist looked back at her compass… the numbers were going back down.

233.C.382.XXX

“Whatever it was, it was temporary.” She finally said.

“The fact that it happened at all is enough of a good sign to try to look for it, right?” He said with determination growing stronger once again. “I will keep my eyes open. You do as well.”

“I will do so, but not because you told me.”

“Good to know you are still as stubborn as ever… remember to take your medicine soon, alright?”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

The conversation was over. To be honest, it had been going on far longer than it needed to anyways. Mustafá chastised herself for allowing that while setting down her phone, walking slowly to the one window on her home and looking out to the skies.

The Sun was setting down. Time was still ticking, slowly but surely, towards the End of Everything.

The Alchemist closed her eyes, and turned off the light on Universe Gamma to let her crabs know it was time to play.

In a way, it was also a sign for herself. She had to act now, before it was too late… no matter how convenient that breakthrough could have been, it meant nothing if it couldn’t be replicated anyways.

She was tempted to just ignore it and go back to cleaning her house… but she had already promised she would keep her eyes open…

Patting both of her cheeks in exasperation, Mustafá decided to actually do her part of the job, and walked back to her computer. With some luck, the Brotherhood had already noticed this shift as well, and their measures would help narrow the field on where to look…

Bad news for the poor bastard causing all this ruckus though, but that really wasn’t Mustafá’s problem or concern in the slightest.