Asmon didn’t bother heading back to his residence. Silvercrest Martial Institute could wait; he had bigger fish to fry. Instead, he strode through the gates and straight into the lively chaos of Goldenridge City. The streets bustled with merchants hawking their wares, children darting between carts, and the occasional donkey braying in protest at being overworked.

As Asmon walked, his mind replayed recent events. The Thrumpwood and Yates families had been at each other’s throats for generations, so it wasn’t exactly shocking when Owen had sent one of his follower to teach Asmon a lesson. Too bad for Owen, though—his plan backfired spectacularly. Still, Asmon knew this was just the opening act. Owen wasn’t the type to let a grudge go, and the next move would likely be more personal.

“If he’s smart,” Asmon mused to himself, “he’ll bring me a proper challenge next time. Maybe a fruit basket as an apology while he’s at it.”

Shaking off the thought, Asmon focused on the matter at hand: getting stronger. The fastest way to power up? Pills. And for pills, he needed money. Lots of it. Wandering through the streets, he eventually stopped in front of Vitalstone Apothecary, a well-known shop for high-quality medicinal pills. Its ornate sign shimmered under the sun, practically screaming, “Only serious alchemists allowed.”

Asmon stepped inside, and the scent of herbs hit him like a wall. A cheerful young woman behind the counter greeted him with a smile so bright it could rival the sun. “Welcome to Vitalstone Apothecary! How can I help you today?”

“I’m not here to buy,” Asmon said with a casual grin. “I heard you’re recruiting alchemists. I’d like to apply.”

The girl blinked, her smile faltering for just a moment as she gave him a once-over. He looked like he belonged in a martial arts competition, not an alchemy lab. But his confidence gave her pause. “We are hiring,” she said carefully. “One moment, please.”

She scurried off, returning moments later with a man who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. The middle-aged man, with a sour expression to match his sour mood, sized Asmon up like he was a stray dog begging for scraps.

“You’re here to apply as an alchemist?” the man asked, his tone oozing skepticism. “Do you even have a first-rank badge?”

Asmon’s smile didn’t waver. “Does it matter?”

“Yes, it matters,” the man snapped. “Without a badge, you’re wasting my time. Vitalstone Apothecary doesn’t hand out jobs to amateurs.”

“Amateur?” Asmon raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with mockery. “And here I thought alchemy was about skill, not how shiny your badge is.”

The man’s face flushed red as laughter rippled through the shop. “If you’re so skilled, then show me your badge,” he spat. “If you can prove you’re a first-rank alchemist, I’ll hand over my position as chief alchemist right here, right now!”

The crowd snickered, thoroughly enjoying the drama. One customer whispered, “Does this kid think he can fake his way into an alchemy gig?”

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Asmon ignored the peanut gallery, his gaze fixed on the man’s chest. “Second-rank alchemist, huh?” he said, nodding toward the two-star badge pinned there. “Took you what? Decades to get that far? Impressive.”

The crowd went silent, jaws dropping in unison. Xander Monroe —chief alchemist and all-around big shot—was now glaring at Asmon with murder in his eyes.

“Who do you think you are?” Xander growled, stepping closer. “You’ve got ten seconds to leave before I—”

“Hold on!” A clear, commanding voice cut through the tension.

The room turned as one to see a stocky young man entering the shop. Travis Shepherd, young master of Vitalstone Apothecary, strode in with an easygoing smile. “Brother Asmon,” he greeted warmly, “what a surprise to see you here.”

The crowd collectively gasped.

“Isn’t that Travis Shepherd?”

“Wait, he knows this kid?”

Xander’s face drained of color. His earlier bluster vanished as he realized he’d just picked a fight with someone who clearly wasn’t an ordinary ‘kid.’

Travis Shepherd clapped Asmon on the shoulder, ignoring the stunned silence around them. “You’ve got some explaining to do, brother. What brings you to Vitalstone Apothecary?”

Asmon stared at Travis Shepherd, wide-eyed, as if the young man had just announced he owned the moon. "Wait, 'you’re' Travis Shepherd? As in the heir of Vitalstone Apothecary?"

Travis Shepherd chuckled, scratching the back of his head as if the title embarrassed him. "Yeah, my dad’s Vincent Shepherd. But let’s not make this a big deal, alright?" His expression turned serious as he shifted his gaze to Xander. "Master Xander, care to explain why you’re picking a fight with my buddy here?"

Xander Monroe crossed his arms, his glare colder than last week’s leftovers. "This kid doesn’t even have an alchemist badge, yet he’s here applying for a position. It’s a joke. A waste of our time."

Travis Shepherd’s face darkened. "Vitalstone Apothecary doesn’t require an alchemist badge for applicants. My dad made that very clear. And for the record, Asmon’s talent in alchemy is extraordinary. Having him here is an honor. If you’ve got a problem with that, I’ll gladly take it up with my father."

The crowd buzzed at the mention of Travis Shepherd’s father. The man was a legend, and his word was law. Even Xander Monroe couldn’t completely hide his unease, though his sneer remained firmly in place.

"With all due respect," Xander Monroe began, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "your father entrusted me with recruitment. If you’d kindly refrain from interfering, I’d appreciate it."

Travis Shepherd didn’t back down, stepping closer. "Let me spell it out for you, Master Xander: I want Asmon hired."

Xander smirked, leaning forward like a snake preparing to strike. "And if I refuse? Are you going to override my authority? I’ve got decades of experience as a second-rank alchemist. Are you ready to throw all that away for a kid?"

Travis’s jaw tightened, but before he could respond, Asmon raised a hand, cutting in with a grin that was equal parts cocky and charming. "Relax. I’ve decided I don’t want the job anymore."

The declaration hit the room like a thunderclap. Xander laughed mockingly. "Backing out already? Guess all that bravado was just hot air."

The crowd murmured, some shaking their heads in disappointment.

But Asmon’s grin widened. "Who said anything about backing out? I’m just aiming higher. Forget being an alchemist here—I want your job, Mr. Xander."

A collective gasp filled the room. Someone in the crowd muttered, "Did he just challenge Xander? This guy’s insane!"

Xanders smug expression faltered for a split second before he burst into laughter. "You? Challenge me? You’re not even an alchemist! Fine, kid. Let’s play. But when you lose, you’ll become my pill servant for life. Deal?"

"Deal." Asmon shrugged, looking as relaxed as someone picking a flavor at an ice cream shop. "What’s the challenge?"

Xander’s smirk returned. "Simple. We’ll each refine ten Body Tempering Pills. Whoever has the higher success rate wins. Don’t say I didn’t give you an easy chance."

"Works for me," Asmon replied smoothly, turning to Travis Shepherd. "Mind fetching us the stuff? A pill furnace and twenty sets of ingredients should do."

Travis blinked, then nodded, quickly pulling himself together. "Sure thing. Let’s see how this plays out."