The rest of the hour flew by, and right on the dot, Albert appeared back in Mr. F's laboratory.

He was panting heavily, clearly having run all the way after committing the recipe to memory.

"Come. We're moving to a different lab," Mr. F said.

"A new lab? Just what I'd expect from my master!" Albert responded, his excitement evident.

Mr. F led the way, and Albert followed closely behind. On the way to the new lab, Mr. F gave him a stern reminder. "I haven't accepted you as my apprentice yet. Whether you're worthy of that title depends entirely on whether you can successfully create the elixir within the next three days."

Albert wanted to protest, to assure Mr. F of his determination, but he swallowed his words. Mr. F had already done so much for him, treating him far better than any other master had before. Even if Mr. F were to replace him now, Albert resolved to cherish the memories of the past few days. But before that, he would give it his all to meet Mr. F's expectations.

With this newfound determination, he clenched his fists. Mr. F noticed the gesture but chose not to comment. The rest of the walk to the new lab passed in silence.

When they arrived at the lab, they both entered slowly. The door opened into the main room of the laboratory, which was furnished with a luxurious sitting area featuring several plush armchairs. Next to the chairs were shelves, likely meant for books, though they were currently empty.

On the table between the armchairs was a porcelain tea set adorned with small black cats. A coincidence? Mr. F wondered.

To his left, there were several tables with chairs—a workspace that could be used for writing, studying, or teaching. To his right was a small kitchen, equipped with an oven, a fireplace, and some countertops for food preparation.

At the far end of the room were doors, which presumably led to the labs where alchemy would be performed.

Albert took in the room with wide-eyed amazement, darting around like a chicken with its head cut off. But Mr. F couldn't blame him. He himself could hardly wait to fill the bookshelves with recipes and books, cook a warm meal in the kitchen, and experiment with new elixirs in the labs.

Mr. F cleared his throat to get Albert's attention and began to speak. "Listen, Albert. I know you're excited, but there's a lot at stake here. Not just your place at my side, but also my honor as a teacher and an alchemist. I need you to focus and give your best effort over the next few days."

Albert stopped what he was doing and listened intently. His playful expression turned serious as he realized the truth in Mr. F's words.

"Did you memorize the recipe?" Mr. F asked.

Albert nodded.

"Recite it for me."

Albert took a moment to gather his thoughts and then began:

"The main ingredients are black powder, the core of a Rank 1 Fire Salamander, and obsidian slag.

"The black powder must have a purity of at least 80%. You can tell by lighting it—a pure sample will produce a direct flame and burn immediately.

"The core of the Rank 1 Fire Salamander should be carefully shaved with special tools and then ground in a mortar.

"The obsidian slag is a byproduct of melting obsidian. It's also called obsidian dross because it contains impurities from the obsidian.

"All three materials are to be compressed into a small pill using compression magic at high heat."

"Very good," Mr. F replied. "This recipe is highly unstable, but since it's only a Rank 2 recipe, I should be able to contain any unforeseen explosions. However, don't take this lightly, Albert. My magic is limited; you can't just keep trying without improving. When my magic runs out, we'll have to stop for the day."

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

Albert understood the gravity of the situation and resolved not to waste any time. He asked Mr. F for the reagents, which Mr. F handed over without hesitation.

The first set of reagents, however, was a test. Mr. F was curious to see if Albert would pass it. The black powder in the first set was only 50% pure. Mr. F wanted to see if Albert would blindly trust that he had been given the right materials or if he would take the initiative to test it himself to ensure everything was correct.

But Mr. F's concerns were unnecessary, as the first thing Albert did was test the black powder. It didn't burn immediately; instead, it took about two to three seconds to combust fully. When Albert pointed out to Mr. F that the material was inadequate, Mr. F promptly handed him the correct reagent.

Albert performed the subsequent steps without any issues. The Fire Salamander's core could be identified by its fiery aura, ensuring that it was the correct crystal. It's worth noting that likely any creature's core would work as long as its magical potency was similar to that of the Fire Salamander.

The obsidian slag only needed to be crushed. Small clumps were acceptable since the stone would liquefy under heat.

Everything was ready, and Albert mentally prepared himself for brewing the elixir. But when the critical moment arrived, Albert slipped into a trance-like state. He cranked up the fire to its maximum and tossed all the reagents into the cauldron.

To an untrained observer, it might have seemed like he was mindlessly throwing everything into the cauldron, just like before. But a keen eye would notice there was more to it. Not only did he follow the recipe precisely in terms of order and quantities, but he also left small pauses between adding the reagents, allowing him to identify the ideal timing.

The materials were boiling in the cauldron, but the most crucial moment was yet to come. Albert placed the lid on the cauldron, gathered all his magical energy, extinguished the fire, and began to apply compression magic to the contents.

This was the hardest part. Even if he had made mistakes earlier, it would have only resulted in a slight reduction in the potency of the alchemical ingredients, and the final product would have been only marginally inferior.

But the real challenge lay in successfully compressing everything into a pill.

Sweat beaded on Albert's forehead as he felt his mana reserves rapidly depleting. Mr. F hadn't anticipated this. Although Albert was a Rank 2 alchemist, his reserves were draining faster than expected.

A minute passed, and Albert collapsed to the floor, drenched in sweat. He gasped for breath but quickly stood back up to check if he had succeeded. He lifted the lid, only to find a lumpy, baseball-sized mass in the cauldron. Scattered around it were some burnt alchemical ingredients, and he knew that the first attempt had not been a success.

Mr. F stepped forward and picked up the clump. Albert expected a reprimand, but Mr. F simply said, "Your first attempt wasn't bad at all. You're still unpracticed in the use of compression magic, but you carried out the brewing step flawlessly. Just focus on improving your technique at separating the impurities during compression on the next try."

"This will take practice and won't happen in a day, so restore your mana and try again."

Albert was grateful for his master's encouragement. He sat down in a meditative position and began actively restoring his mana. Since he was still young and of a lower rank, it only took about twenty minutes for his mana to be fully replenished.

During this time, Mr. F used his magic to clean the cauldron. Since he wouldn't need his magical power for anything else today, he decided to use it for this. After all, it seemed like Albert would be able to attempt fewer tries than Mr. F had originally anticipated.

At this rate, his mana wouldn't run out until late into the night.

When Albert had regained his strength, he began the next attempt. Once again, he checked all the reagents and got to work. Hours passed as the sun set and the moon rose in the sky. After another failed attempt, Albert prepared to sit down and restore his energy but was stopped by Mr. F.

"That's enough for today. Go to your room and get some rest. We'll continue tomorrow."

Albert hesitated at first but then remembered that he couldn't keep his master up all night.

"I understand," he said and bowed slightly before leaving.

Mr. F glanced around the room, his eyes landing on a small pile of Albert's failed attempts—at least, the ones that hadn't exploded. He could see the progress Albert had made, each failed attempt a step closer to success. The anticipation of what the next day might bring filled him with a sense of quiet satisfaction.

With a thoughtful nod, he turned off the lights and exited the lab. Mr. F felt a twinge of pride, though he quickly brushed it aside. The young man's progress was promising, but there was still much to be done. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, and Mr. F was eager to see how Albert would handle them. He had pushed the young alchemist hard today, but he knew that such pressure was necessary to forge true skill.

The next day passed without incident until midday, when Albert finally extracted an oval, black ball about the size of a golf ball from the cauldron.

Albert was overjoyed and brought it to Mr. F, who was sitting nearby, writing something. Mr. F looked up as he sensed Albert approaching and was eager to see what Albert held in his hands.