Kent’s “peculiar tool” was, in essence, a simple filter—albeit one that didn’t exist in the standard alchemist’s toolkit.
Kent knew that every solution contained impurities, and the way to remove them was by filtering.
Because the magic array solution was highly corrosive, he had to craft his filter out of crystal powder.
It was a bottomless crystal bottle, not unlike a glass tube from Earth, with one end tapering to a very fine point.
He packed the crystal powder inside with coarse grains at both ends and fine grains in the middle, thus creating a workable filtration system.
After filtering the solution, Kent poured it into his alchemy pen, which he had also modified, making the outlet narrower than the original.
In truth, the thickness of a magic array’s lines had little bearing on its function.
The power of an array was determined by the quality of the solution, just like on Earth, where a wire’s conductivity depended on the material rather than its thickness.
The same logic applied here: line width didn’t matter; the solution’s grade and the material’s quality did.
With the demon ape hide, for instance, any array engraved on it couldn’t exceed the equivalent of a third-rank spell.
Using materials from a fourth-rank beast would simply destroy the hide.
Kent steadied his nerves, picked up the pen, and began swiftly tracing the array across the hide.
A fine stream of fire-attribute mana flowed through the thin mithril line embedded in the pen, mixing with the solution and leaving precise lines on the demon ape leather.
For low-tier alchemical works, there was no distinction between elemental affinities.
Only at the fifth-rank alchemist level—where both the item’s user and the alchemist possessed formidable spiritual strength—did compatibility truly matter.
A further improvement Kent had made to the pen ensured that the solution wouldn’t dribble out on its own; it only flowed when the pen moved.
It was a principle any elementary school kid from Earth would recognize—the same mechanism as an automatic fountain pen, which Kent had instantly spotted as a flaw in this world’s design the very first time he’d seen an alchemy pen.
So he painstakingly polished a crystal nib and sealed the pen’s rear chamber using the demon ape’s bile sac.
To his surprise, it worked perfectly.
As Kent finished the final stroke of the array, a soft burst of earth-yellow light flashed across the hide—a clear sign of success.
The completed enchantment would slowly absorb the ambient earth elements, and when struck with heavy force, it would release its stored earth mana, materializing a palm-sized shield for protection.
That was the essence of low-tier alchemy: works from grade one to grade four.
Grade five and above required the inlaying of magic cores or crystals—something Kent had only read about in his basic alchemy primer and had no practical knowledge of.
“Heh heh.
A genius!
A first-rank mage who can actually craft a first-rank alchemical work.
It seems I was right to come personally.”
Kent had barely completed his first creation when a resounding laugh boomed from the doorway.
A mighty presence swept into the room.
Kent looked up to find an old man bearing a golden staff emblem on his chest, followed by two others with silver staff emblems.
His mind went blank.
Kent had wanted to make a name for himself, but a gold-rank mage—a being at the very apex of this world’s food chain—was far beyond what he had ever imagined.
His brain immediately went into overdrive, racing to figure out how to seize this incredible opportunity.
However, to the outsiders observing him, Kent’s stunned silence merely looked like a country bumpkin who had never seen true power before.
The old man glanced at Kent, then picked up the leather armor from the table and examined it carefully.
He noticed that the engraved lines were even and clean, the layout well proportioned, and the center point placed slightly to the left of the breastbone—not dead center.
That surprised him.
Only a high-tier alchemist would know that the human heart sits slightly to the left.
And most remarkable of all, he could find no seams where the armor had been stitched.
Any seam would have interrupted the magic array, making it impossible to carve the pattern across.
He didn’t question Kent right away; instead he picked up the alchemy pen and the strange crystal filter, turning them over in his hands, thoughtful but unable to guess their purpose.
The old man wasn’t deeply versed in alchemy himself, but he knew enough to recognize this: a first-rank mage who could forge a first-rank alchemical work—that wasn’t just talent.
That was genius.
“Kent, are you willing to accept an invitation from the Mage Guild and become one of us?” The old man set the armor down and asked directly.
This was the true purpose of his visit.
He hadn’t yet seen Kent’s instant casting, but this display of alchemy alone was enough to merit an invitation.
The two silver-rank mages behind him looked at Kent with unconcealed envy.
Every mage who entered the guild was recorded in meticulous detail—their history, their talents, and above all, who had extended the invitation.
That detail mattered enormously, for it determined one’s standing within the guild.
There were three tiers of treatment: C-tier granted basic protection, free magical education, and a modest living stipend.
B-tier came with the right to manage certain guild affairs, a doubled stipend, and—most importantly—the ability to purchase magical materials at half the market price.
A-tier was the pinnacle: not only a full stipend, but access to any material you required, provided the guild leader approved, and in return, forty percent of all research results belonged to the guild.
That was an extraordinary arrangement, for a single experiment could consume tens of thousands of gold coins in materials—with no guarantee of success.
“Do you…
do you protect a mage’s family?
I mean ordinary people—like a wife or children—not distant relatives, of course.” Kent had actually meant to ask about the benefits, but the thought of Delis made him change course.
To the others listening, it sounded like nervous, awkward rambling.
The old man let out a hearty laugh.
“A mage under the protection of the Mage Guild—why, even his dog is not to be bullied by anyone.”
Kent’s heart leaped with joy.
“Then I gladly accept your invitation, honored master.” He knew perfectly well that when a gold-rank mage extended an invitation, you didn’t refuse.
Even if the old man never troubled you personally, his subordinates could make life unbearable across the entire continent.
So Kent didn’t press about benefits.
The old man, in turn, saw this as a sign of loyalty and good character.
“Very well.
You two,” the old man gestured to the silver mages, “pack up everything here and send it all to headquarters—not one piece missing.
Kent will come with us.” He was practically buzzing with excitement, for he had made a bet with someone over this boy, and the stakes were considerable.
Kent’s alchemical talent alone was astonishing, let alone his magical gifts.
“Wait!
I have companions,” Kent said hurriedly, his mind racing.
“Hmm.
You may bring two with you,” the old man replied, not irritated at all—if anything, even more pleased.
“The rest can follow by carriage.”
Kent bolted back to his room, where Delis and Alice were waiting.
Before he could say a word, Delis burst into tears and threw herself into his arms.
Kent, utterly confused, stammered, “We can talk about whatever this is later—there are people waiting outside…”
“Y-you…
you’re not abandoning me, are you?” Delis asked, her voice choked with tears, her eyes red and swollen, her face a mask of shock.
“My darling, how could I ever abandon you?
Hurry and pack—we’re going to the Mage Guild headquarters with the gold-rank mage.
Leave behind anything that isn’t essential.” Kent kissed her softly on the lips before answering.
Delis had almost nothing to pack.
Alice, however, hesitated for only a moment.
She had originally planned to stay behind, but watching Kent and Delis together stirred something uneasy in her chest.
And when she heard they’d be traveling with a gold-rank mage to the Grand Mage Guild, she made up her mind on the spot.
Leaving a quick message with Tori, she followed Kent without another word.
Tori was practically bursting with excitement.
Before leaving, Kent had told him that both he and Terry were welcome to come find them at the Mage Guild headquarters later.
Now Tori just had to see what the old knight would say.
“Hey there, little Kent,” the old man finally remembered what he’d intended to do in the first place, “would you mind showing me a spell?”
“Sure.” Kent noticed the old man was entirely without arrogance or pretense.
He raised two fingers—a small fireball appeared on one, and a pale cyan wind blade shimmered on the other.
He glanced around the street; it was practically empty, so throwing magic about here wasn’t a concern, but he nevertheless dispelled both spells after a moment.
The old man and his two companions drew in sharp hisses of breath.
The gold-rank mage in particular stared at Kent so intently that the boy’s scalp began to prickle.
Realizing he was making a spectacle of himself, the old man turned away—but he kept muttering under his breath.
The two silver-rank mages behind him nearly stumbled, exchanged a look, and shook their heads with wry smiles.
Before leaving the city, one of the silver-rank wind mages cast a Levitation spell on the group, and within minutes they had passed through the gates.
Then Kent said something that stunned everyone present.
He stared up at the enormous creature before him—a bird easily fifteen meters long and seven or eight meters tall, resembling an egret—and blurted out in pure admiration: “Wow, what a huge bird!
Where did this thing come from?”
The bird immediately shot back: “You’re the bird.
Your whole family are birds!”
Kent was instantly petrified, and both Delis and Alice were just as shocked as he was.
Only later did he recall that this was a rare magical beast known as a Wind Heron.
It was incredibly fast, almost impossible to capture, and possessed extraordinary intelligence—in fact, it could speak human language as early as the seventh rank.
Kent forced himself to act as though he’d known all along, climbing onto the Wind Heron’s back as the old man helped him up.
The others followed: the two silver mages, Delis, and Alice.
Once seated, the two women each latched onto one of Kent’s arms.
As Harry City shrank below them, Kent smiled inwardly.
Every choice had been deliberate—revealing the wind blade spells, showing off his talents.
He had wanted to stand out, to become a coveted asset, and it had worked exactly as planned.
Otherwise, he’d still be grinding away at the Loya Province Mage Guild.