"Nature's Blessing!"
A bundle of roots and vegetation burst from the ground, slamming toward the abomination.
Though the battle had only just begun, Ernest didn't hold back. Time was a luxury he didn't have—not when Gwen's condition worsened by the minute. His tactics shifted rapidly, but the power gap between them was undeniable. He felt it in every movement. The fiend was beyond the average guardian, something far darker.
"Take this!!"
A single swing from the creature sent Ernest hurtling through the forest. He barely blocked the blow with a summoned barrier of entwined roots. Winded, he had just seconds. From his bag, he retrieved several syringes and stabbed them near his chest.
The stimulants surged through his body.
Now in a frenzied state, he charged the demon, dragging their fight far from Gwen. The rain muffled the chaos, and his knife slashed low—targeting the beast's legs. But even this proved futile. The creature's flesh, once pliable, now resisted even sharpened steel.
"You've got some nerve thinking you're a match for me!"
The fiend's thunderous kick crushed Ernest's abdomen and launched him skyward.
Midair, pain overwhelmed him, but he grit his teeth and began chanting. Sensing danger, the demon leapt after him—but met only a cruel, knowing smile.
"Gotcha."
Ernest smashed a vial of paralysis potion, coating the demon. As its limbs froze, Ernest twisted in the air, reversing their positions. When they crashed into the earth, the beast took the brunt of it.
He rolled free, gasping for air. His body screamed in protest, but he forced himself up and resumed chanting.
Around them, summoned monsters emerged—an ambush. The demon, disoriented and slowed, fended off the beasts, but Ernest needed only seconds.
"Manifest before me—Dirt Control!"
The mud around them shifted, swirling at his command, and blinded the fiend. While the demon flailed, Ernest struck true. But then silence.
The crater was empty.
He barely had time to react before a thunderous stomp approached. The demon had escaped—laughing, triumphant. A jagged claw shot forward, aiming for Ernest's heart.
"What… is this!?"
The claw didn't reach flesh. Instead, it scraped harmlessly against a gleaming barrier—metal.
"Alchemical Conversion," Ernest said coldly. "In the myths of old, alchemists were seen as madmen, trying to turn iron into gold. But I've done more than that. I've turned mud into iron."
The demon struggled. Its claws were stuck.
"And that's not all. I can change the property of what I touch. Iron into platinum. Raindrops into gas. Even increase friction."
He raised his hand, now glowing with transmuted energy.
"And with that—let me show you what burning alive feels like."
Flames erupted, igniting the metallic trap that now acted as a superheated cage. The demon howled—until silence returned to the forest.
Ernest collapsed moments later, using the last of his strength to retrieve Gwen and rush back to the shack. He crumbled from exhaustion and the backlash of the drugs. But days later, Gwen was cured. Her disease—gone. The townsfolk rejoiced. The demon that had tormented them was no more.
A tale fit for legends.
"Are you sure this is the reward you want?" the dwarf asked. "Just a few herbs and spices? At least let us throw a celebration."
Ernest shook his head. "If you're truly grateful, promise me one thing… Take care of Gwen. That's all I want. Her smile—that's enough."
Gwen clung to his clothes, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Idiot! Master, you're such an idiot! I don't want anything. I just want things to stay the same. Please, don't leave me…"
She was terrified—haunted by the memory of her father's death and the trauma of abandonment. Ernest sighed deeply, crouching to meet her tear-streaked face.
"I'm sorry. But I can't take you with me. You're too weak. If you really want to follow me, then grow stronger. Become a Guardian. Learn from these people."
He handed her a thick, leather-bound book. His notes—his legacy.
"You want to be my apprentice? Then prove it. I'm not training a snot-nosed brat. If you want my path, earn it."
It wasn't a goodbye—it was a challenge. And Gwen accepted it.
Years passed.
She honed her craft, driven not by vengeance but the hope of reunion. She became known across the land—Gwendolyn Mystralath—a healer, a saint, an alchemical prodigy.
[Gwendolyn Mystralath]
Race: Elf
Age: 22
Title: The Great Alchemist's Apprentice, Alchemical Prodigy, Medicine God, Saintess
Background: A countryside elfling saved by the legendary alchemist Ernest Quelt
Specialty: Grand Alchemical Arts
"Finally... I've decoded my master's formula for the antibodies. I even volunteered for this journey into the Dark Forest," she said, clenching the weathered book. "But there's more… I've found traces of his final project."
She turned to the last page—inscribed with strange equations.
"The Homunculus Project... What were you planning, Master?"