Mr. F carefully took the orb from Albert's trembling hands. He examined it thoroughly, turning it over and scrutinizing every facet. Without warning, he hurled it against the wall of the laboratory.

Albert gasped in shock, instinctively ducking behind Mr. F for cover, anticipating a violent explosion. But the detonation he feared never came.

In the split second before impact, Mr. F had conjured a vacuum-sealed hemispherical barrier around the pill, containing any potential blast. As the smoke cleared, only a charred black mark remained on the stone wall, evidence of a controlled and contained explosion.

Turning back to Albert, Mr. F's stern face softened into a proud smile. "Very well done, Albert. You've successfully created the elixir."

Relief and joy washed over Albert, his eyes lighting up at his master's praise. This acknowledgment meant more to him than any accolade he could imagine.

Mr. F continued, a hint of teasing in his voice, "And it only took you 54 attempts to get it right. We're working with an impressive success rate of nearly 2%. Excellent, truly excellent..."

Albert's initial happiness wavered as he realized Mr. F was jesting at his expense. A slight blush crept up his cheeks, but he couldn't suppress his grin.

"All jokes aside, Albert," Mr. F said, his tone turning serious once more, "your success rate is commendable. Remember, you're not even officially a Rank 1 alchemist yet, and you've managed to produce a Rank 2 elixir. That's no small feat."

He placed a reassuring hand on Albert's shoulder. "Now, our next goal is to improve your success rate. To be recognized at each alchemical rank, you need a minimum success rate of 20%. Don't forget the feeling you had during this successful brew. Your situation is unique, so instead of writing down notes, it would be better for you to meditate for half an hour and mentally revisit the brewing process."

Mr. F paused, considering. "The explosive power can also be enhanced, but that's a challenge for another time. For now, focus on consistency and improving your success rate."

Albert listened intently, absorbing every word his master said. He nodded earnestly, determination gleaming in his eyes. He immediately settled down on a nearby cushion, closing his eyes and delving deep into meditation, replaying each step of the successful attempt in his mind.

The rest of the day passed without incident, filled with focused practice and quiet reflection. Albert's confidence grew with each meditation session, and he could feel himself becoming more attuned to the delicate balance required in the brewing process.

…

The third day dawned bright and clear, bringing with it a sense of anticipation and nervous energy. As the morning light filtered through the laboratory windows, Mr. F approached Albert, who was already diligently preparing for the day's work.

"Today is the day, Albert," Mr. F began, his voice steady and encouraging. "This evening, Matilda will observe your brewing process. You're already well-prepared with a current success rate of 15%. With a bit of luck and focus, you should be able to achieve two successful brews out of ten attempts. Use the rest of the day to practice, and make sure to rest for an hour before the scheduled evaluation."

Albert looked up, a mixture of excitement and anxiety playing across his features. "Won't you be staying here with me, Master?" he asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

"I have some matters to attend to in the neighboring lab," Mr. F replied calmly. "Yesterday, there were no explosive mishaps during your brewing, and I trust you'll maintain that standard today. However, if something unforeseen does occur, remember to throw the pill back into the cauldron and evacuate the lab immediately."

Albert nodded firmly, absorbing his master's instructions. "Understood, Master. I won't let you down."

With a final reassuring pat on Albert's shoulder, Mr. F exited the laboratory, leaving his apprentice to his preparations.

…

Mr. F made his way down the corridor and entered a lab two doors down. Once inside, he cast a series of protective spells, sealing the room from outside interference and ensuring complete privacy for his work.

It was time once again to brew the Day's Boost elixir. He had already gathered all necessary materials during his previous visit to the alchemical supply room. The last batch had been successful, and he hoped for similar results today.

Laying out the reagents meticulously, Mr. F began the familiar process. The alchemical ingredients bubbled and simmered in the cauldron, emitting a faint, luminescent glow as he added three Rank 5 souls encased in specialized phials. These phials, made from Waterstone, vaporized seamlessly under heat, integrating the souls into the concoction.

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After a precise duration, the elixir was complete. Mr. F carefully decanted the shimmering liquid into a fresh phial, sealing it tightly. He contemplated his next move, recalling his previous plan to wait until his vitality decreased before consuming another dose. However, recent side effects had made him reconsider.

He pondered whether his lowered vitality might have exacerbated the side effects he experienced. Perhaps consuming the elixir at peak vitality would yield different results, possibly minimizing adverse reactions. It was prudent to conduct this experiment now, using lower-ranked souls, before progressing to more potent ones where the risks would be significantly higher.

Content with his reasoning, he stored the phial in his spatial pouch. At that moment, familiar ethereal text materialized before his eyes.

[System Analyzing...]

[Procedure analyzed]

[2 mistakes were made in the last alchemical process]

[Mistake 1: ...]

As usual, the system listed minor flaws in his technique, though none severe enough to compromise the elixir's efficacy. Grateful for the feedback, Mr. F cleansed the workspace with a wave of his hand, dispersing residual energies and restoring the lab to pristine condition.

Exiting the lab, he headed back towards Albert's workspace, curious to see his apprentice's progress. As he approached the door, he was met with the muffled sounds of small explosions and... laughter?

Mr. F raised an eyebrow, puzzled by the unexpected noises. Cautiously, he opened the door, only to have a tiny orb hurtling towards him. Reacting swiftly, he caught it mid-air, his reflexes honed from years of practice. Inside, Albert stood frozen, a mixture of shock and relief evident on his face.

"Albert! Have you lost your mind? What are you doing?" Mr. F's voice was stern, tinged with concern.

Albert immediately dropped into a deep bow, stammering apologies. "I'm so sorry, Master! I didn't mean for that to happen. Let me explain."

Seeing his apprentice's genuine distress, Mr. F's demeanor softened slightly. "Very well, explain yourself."

Albert straightened up, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "During the brewing process, I wondered what would happen if I didn't concentrate the compression magic on a single focal point for the pill but instead allowed it to disperse freely. The result was several smaller orbs, like the one you just caught. Don't worry, Master, they have minimal effect. They just make a small pop and a tiny flash upon impact. When I tested them, I found it... fun... to throw them around. Please don't be angry; I was very careful!"

Mr. F eyed the bowl of tiny orbs on the table, curiosity piqued. He picked one up and tossed it onto the floor. True to Albert's words, it produced a minuscule explosion, barely enough to startle, let alone cause harm.

Unable to suppress a smile, Mr. F picked up another and threw it, watching it fizzle delightfully. For a moment, the stern master and eager apprentice shared a light-hearted exchange, the room filled with soft pops and brief flashes.

Realizing himself, Mr. F cleared his throat, regaining his composed facade. "Ahem... while it is indeed somewhat amusing, you should focus on creating a pill capable of delivering significant impact. Remember, Matilda will assess you based on the criteria of the original elixir I provided. Deviations like this, no matter how entertaining, will be considered failures."

Albert's face turned serious, nodding earnestly. "Of course, Master. I'll get back to work immediately."

As Albert resumed his preparations, Mr. F watched him for a moment, pride swelling subtly within him. The boy's ingenuity and willingness to experiment were promising signs of a great alchemist in the making.

Hours passed, filled with diligent effort and meticulous practice. The sun began to set, casting long shadows across the lab, signaling that the time for Albert's evaluation was drawing near.

"It's time to rest now, Albert," Mr. F advised. "Take this hour to relax and center yourself before Matilda arrives. You'll need to be in top condition for the demonstration."

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Albert nodded, settling down to meditate and replenish his energy.

…

As dusk settled, the laboratory doors swung open to reveal Matilda, accompanied by Betty at her side. Both women entered with an air of anticipation and scrutiny. Betty's eyes darted around, taking in the state of the lab and the preparations in place.

Albert rose from his meditation, straightening his attire and taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. This was the moment he had been preparing for over the past three days.

Mr. F approached Matilda and Betty, offering a courteous nod. "Good evening, Matilda, Betty. I appreciate you coming at this late hour. Here is the recipe that Albert will be demonstrating today. I believe you're in for quite a surprise."

Matilda accepted the parchment, her eyes scanning the contents swiftly. Beside her, Betty leaned in to read as well. As they delved deeper into the recipe, their brows furrowed in confusion and disbelief.

Matilda looked up, her voice laced with skepticism and a hint of irritation. "Is this some kind of joke? Explosive alchemy? And a Rank 2 recipe I've never even heard of? I can't tell if you're brave or just reckless."

Betty, maintaining a composed demeanor, chimed in thoughtfully. "Ms. Matilda, is this truly a Rank 2 recipe? From the instructions, it seems the alchemist merely tosses various reagents into the cauldron and then forms them into a pill."

Matilda sighed, understanding Betty's confusion. "The reagents involved are highly unstable. Even the slightest mistake could result in a catastrophic explosion, which justifies its ranking. Additionally, the process requires the use of compression magic. Regardless of the simplicity of the steps, any recipe involving such magic qualifies as Rank 2."

She continued, her gaze shifting back to Mr. F. "The real challenge here lies in compressing these volatile materials without causing self-destruction. I'm intrigued to see what methods you and your apprentice have devised to manage this."

Meanwhile, Albert took several deep breaths, centering himself as he prepared for the demonstration. He was unaware of the conversation unfolding behind him, his focus solely on executing the process flawlessly.

The stage was set, and the atmosphere in the lab grew tense with anticipation. Mr. F moved to stand beside Albert, offering a subtle nod of encouragement. Matilda and Betty positioned themselves at a safe distance, observing keenly, ready to scrutinize every move.

"The time has come, Albert. Show them the fruits of your labor," said Mr. F. With a determined gaze, Albert opened his eyes and began the brewing process.