Mr. F examined the pill he had just created. It was about the size of a fingernail on a little finger, with a slightly greenish surface. The pill was oval and had some irregularities on its surface, not yet the picture of perfection he was aiming for. Without hesitation, he tossed the pill into his mouth, his expression thoughtful as he assessed its quality. Shortly after, he murmured to himself, "About 80% of the impurities have been removed. Additionally, I managed to integrate 40% of the effectiveness of the ingredients into this pill."
He paused, reflecting on his efforts. This couldn't yet be considered a finished product. To be recognized as a pill of the lowest acceptable quality, it needed to incorporate at least 50% of the effectiveness of its ingredients. The realization of this shortcoming gnawed at him, but it also fueled his determination.
Mr. F knew that achieving this level of quality was a challenge, but it was essential for proving his alchemical prowess to the family. He set his mind to improving his technique and refining the process. He was acutely aware that his future dealings with Lady Emma and her family depended on his ability to deliver results.
Determined to succeed, Mr. F prepared another batch of ingredients. This time, he vowed to be more meticulous with the temperature and timing, ensuring that every step was executed with precision. His hands moved with practiced ease, guided by the knowledge and instincts he had honed over decades of magical practice.
Minutes passed as Mr. F worked tirelessly, his concentration unwavering. He repeated the process, adjusting the heat, timing, and compression with greater care. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he produced another pill. This one was smoother, more uniform in shape, and emitted a faint glow that indicated a higher level of purity.
He inspected it closely, feeling a sense of accomplishment tempered by the realization that it still wasn't perfect. "This should be closer to what is required," he thought, but knew deep down that it still fell short of his standards.
Determined not to let this setback deter him, Mr. F turned his attention to the remaining reagents. He noticed that two of the five sets were of inferior quality and would not yield good elixirs. The last set was of medium quality, sitting between the two previously used sets.
An idea struck Mr. F. He decided to use all the ingredients and attempt to brew multiple elixirs simultaneously. Mass-producing simple elixirs using riskier cauldrons was not unheard of in the world of alchemy, but Mr. F aimed to take it a step further. He wanted to see if he could compress several pills in one go. What would happen? Would it result in a single, larger pill? Could he produce multiple smaller pills simultaneously? Or was it even possible to enhance the potency further by using the pressure generated to expel more impurities from the ingredients?
Mr. F had many questions and was eager for answers, so he put it to the test. He began by carefully preparing the cauldron, ensuring that the temperature and magical aura were perfectly balanced. He arranged the ingredients meticulously, sorting them by quality and potential magical output. He then placed the inferior sets in the cauldron first, followed by the medium-quality set.
As the ingredients started to meld together under the intense heat, Mr. F applied his magic to increase the output of the cauldron. The mixture began to bubble and churn, releasing a potent aroma that filled the room. Mr. F's concentration was unwavering. He meticulously regulated the temperature, ensuring it stayed within the optimal range. When the right moment arrived, he sealed the cauldron with a heavy lid and activated his compression magic.
This was the crucial phase. The pressure inside the cauldron built up rapidly, and Mr. F maintained a delicate balance to prevent another explosion. He could feel the impurities being forced out, and the essence of the ingredients condensing into a more refined form.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Just as Mr. F thought he had succeeded and had everything under control, he felt his magical powers waning, and his concentration slipping. The compression magic he had applied lost its effect, and the cauldron's lid burst open with a loud bang, sending all the ingredients and steam billowing into the room.
Mr. F grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself, feeling the strength drain from his legs. He started coughing uncontrollably and quickly pulled out a healing potion and a mana potion from his pouch. It took several minutes for him to regain his composure.
As the potions took effect, he felt his energy slowly returning. The healing potion soothed his strained body, while the mana potion replenished his magical reserves. He wiped the sweat from his brow and surveyed the room. The once orderly laboratory was now in chaos, with scattered ingredients and a lingering mist.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath. He had been so close, only to be thwarted by his own limitations and body. The frustration gnawed at him, but he knew he couldn't afford to give up. He had faced setbacks before, and each one had only served to strengthen his resolve.
Meanwhile, in another part of the city, Matilda entered Lady Emma's estate. In a rose garden at the rear of the property, Lady Emma could be seen sitting under a pavilion, dressed in a simple summer gown, sipping tea. On the table before her were an assortment of sweet delicacies, including cookies and cakes of various kinds.
A butler escorted Matilda to the pavilion and then took his leave. Matilda remained standing before Emma.
"We are alone," Emma said, smiling warmly. "No need for false modesty. Please, sit down."
Only then did Matilda take a seat, pouring herself a cup of tea. She took a moment to compose herself, then spoke. "I have just come from observing Mr. F in the laboratory."
Emma raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. "And? How did he fare?"
Matilda took a sip of her tea before responding. "I wanted to slap him in the face right there," she said, her frustration evident. "Not only did he destroy a brand-new alchemy cauldron and wreck his workspace, but he also had the audacity to ask for a new cauldron. If it were my decision, I would..."
Before she could finish her sentence, Emma interrupted her. "But it is not your decision," she said firmly, then softened her tone with a warm smile.
Emma and Matilda had known each other since they were children, over 80 years ago. Although they were both of an advanced age by normal standards, this was nothing compared to the lifespan of magicians. Emma was already a true mage, capable of living up to 300 years. Matilda, a Tier 5 magician, could also live up to 240 years. Both women retained their youthful appearances, coupled with a subtle charm of maturity. This was made possible through numerous elixirs that allowed them to preserve their youth.
Emma's voice softened as she continued, "Matilda, I understand your frustration. But Mr. F's potential is worth the risk. We must give him the chance to prove himself."
Matilda sighed, her earlier anger dissipating. "I know, Emma. It's just that seeing him make such a mess and ask for more resources felt like a slap in the face to all the discipline and effort we put into maintaining this place."
Emma nodded sympathetically. "I understand your concerns, Matilda. But let me promise you one thing. No matter who he is or who he was, if it turns out after a week that he's been making a fool of us, he will pay dearly for it."
Matilda felt a sense of relief wash over her upon hearing this and decided to stay a while longer to enjoy Emma's company. They chatted about various matters, reminiscing about old times and discussing future plans, the tension easing as the minutes passed.
Meanwhile, Mr. F was in his quarters, recovering from the exhausting day. He lay on the bed, eyes closed, allowing his mind and body to rest. The strain of the day's failed experiment weighed heavily on him, but he knew he couldn't afford to dwell on it. Tomorrow would bring another chance, and he needed to be ready.
As he drifted off to sleep, his thoughts turned to the challenge ahead. He knew that Lady Emma and Matilda were watching him closely, their expectations high. But he also knew that his survival depended on his ability to succeed in this endeavor. The pressure was immense, but Mr. F had faced greater challenges in his long life. He would find a way to overcome this obstacle, just as he had overcome so many before.
As the moonlight filtered through the window, casting a soft glow over the room, Mr. F's breathing slowed, his body finally surrendering to the exhaustion.