The creature that had launched herself into Sherlock’s arms was about the size of a medium dog.
Her body was pure white, soft and squishy like jelly, with the kind of crude simplicity that made her look as though someone had doodled her into existence in thirty seconds.
And perched on top of that blob-like body was the chibi head of a pink-haired anime girl.
“Doro!”
Sherlock’s face immediately lit up.
“Doro!”
He hugged the little creature and reached toward one of the steamed buns on the table.
Red lightning crackled across his fingers.
A second later, the bun had become an orange.
“ORANGEEE!”
Doro’s expression instantly transformed.
Her eyes locked onto the fruit.
Drool practically appeared on cue as her two stubby white arms stretched desperately upward.
Sherlock raised the orange just beyond her reach.
Doro stretched harder.
He raised it again.
Doro’s tiny arms trembled with effort.
Sherlock grinned.
The Ancient One watched this display in silence.
After tormenting his pet for a few more seconds, Sherlock finally took pity on her and handed over the orange.
Doro immediately hugged it like she’d recovered a priceless treasure.
Sherlock stroked her springy little head, then looked up at the Ancient One.
“Cute, isn’t she?”
The Ancient One was silent for several seconds.
For perhaps the first time in centuries, she wondered whether she had officially become too old to understand the younger generation.
What kind of lunatic sacrificed pieces of his own body through human transmutation to create…
this?
Calling Doro a living creature was already being generous.
Of course, Sherlock had absolutely no intention of telling her the truth.
Doro hadn’t actually been the goal.
He’d attempted human transmutation because he wanted to see Truth.
For an alchemist, directly confronting Truth was essentially the ultimate shortcut.
The knowledge he’d gained from that encounter had massively accelerated his understanding of alchemy.
It was, admittedly, an extremely questionable training method.
But effective was effective.
Doro had merely been an unexpected bonus.
After all, Sherlock had already paid the price.
He’d prepared the materials too.
And under the principle of equivalent exchange, letting all of that go to waste without transmuting something would have felt downright criminal.
As for why that something had become Doro?
Simple.
By human standards, Doro was unquestionably a monster.
A very cute monster, yes.
But still a monster.
That made her one of the rare items in Sherlock’s extensive catalog of alchemical creations that could best be described as a successful failure.
Which was also why the Ancient One occasionally borrowed her.
Officially, Doro served as a cautionary example.
The Ancient One would bring her back to Kamar-Taj to demonstrate to the other sorcerers what could happen when supernatural experiments went wrong.
At least, that was the excuse.
Sherlock had never actually gone to Kamar-Taj to verify it.
For all he knew, the Ancient One was secretly kidnapping Doro for cuddle sessions.
He’d spent nearly five years as a shut-in, after all.
Most of his attention had gone toward alchemy.
Sherlock set Doro down once she’d finished her orange and let her scamper around the study.
Then he looked back at the Ancient One.
“All right.
Enough about Doro.”
He leaned back in his chair.
“What’s the real reason you’re here?
Don’t tell me the Sorcerer Supreme personally dropped by just to bring me breakfast.”
The Ancient One’s expression settled.
She reached into empty space.
And pulled out a spear.
Sherlock straightened immediately.
The weapon was roughly as tall as a person.
Its silver-white spearhead alone was nearly the length of an arm, covered in intricate engravings.
The shaft beneath it was a deep blood-red, threaded with countless golden cracks.
The Ancient One held it out.
“The Holy Lance of Longinus.”
She paused.
“I’d like you to repair it.”
She released the weapon.
Instead of falling, the lance remained suspended in midair and slowly floated toward Sherlock.
His eyes widened.
With a snap of his fingers, the unfinished breakfast vanished from the desk.
Food could wait.
Ancient magical artifact?
Absolutely not.
Sherlock hurriedly caught the floating lance and carefully laid it across the desk.
Then he began examining it with alchemy.
Several minutes passed.
The longer he studied it, the more serious his expression became.
Finally, Sherlock lifted his head and sucked in a breath.
“Jesus.”
He stared at the Ancient One.
“Kamar-Taj is loaded.
You people seriously have artifacts like this just sitting around?”
The Ancient One’s smile became distinctly suspicious.
“So?”
There was unmistakable amusement in her eyes.
“Still certain you don’t want to become Sorcerer Supreme?
If you agree, all the treasures of Kamar-Taj could one day be yours.”
Sherlock rolled his eyes.
Nice try.
He immediately went back to studying the lance.
The Ancient One shook her head with a quiet laugh.
Then, before leaving, she casually reached into empty space again and pulled out…
Two bags of oranges.
Doro came running.
The Ancient One handed them over with a smile.
Sherlock’s eye twitched.
Mystery solved.
That woman was absolutely taking Doro back to Kamar-Taj so she could cuddle her.
What a load of crap about “research” and “cautionary examples.”
Just admit you like her!
Behind him, the familiar golden sparks of a portal began to glow.
Sherlock kept his attention on the lance.
“Ancient One.”
“Hm?”
“You’re seriously not worried I’m going to disappear with this thing?”
She didn’t even turn around.
“If you like it, you can keep it once you’ve repaired it.”
Sherlock’s head snapped up.
“What?”
He stared at her back.
“You’re giving it to me?”
This was new.
Over the past five years, Sherlock had successfully mooched plenty of meals and stolen—borrowed—some excellent tea from the Ancient One.
But magical artifacts?
Nothing.
Not once.
And no, the Eye of Agamotto hanging around her neck did not count.
The Ancient One paused at the portal.
“The coming era will be…
turbulent, Sherlock.”
Her voice remained calm.
“Compared to Kamar-Taj, I believe you will have far greater need of this weapon.”
Sherlock’s expression slowly changed.
The Ancient One stopped.
Then she glanced back at him through the glowing portal.
“I’ve watched you for five years.
I trust you won’t disgrace an artifact of this caliber.”
Her smile deepened.
“Consider it an investment from Kamar-Taj.”
“An investment in the man you’ll become.”
And then she stepped through.
The portal vanished.
Sherlock stared at the empty space she’d left behind.
Once.
Twice.
Several seconds passed.
Then his face twisted.
He pointed furiously at the spot where the portal had disappeared.
“GET OFF MY PLANET WITH THAT CRYPTIC BULLSHIT!”
Doro jumped.
Sherlock wasn’t finished.
“I’m just some guy trying to enjoy retirement!”
He slapped a hand against the desk.
“Nobody—and I mean nobody—is ruining my peaceful life!”
The repaired-or-not-yet-repaired divine artifact lying directly in front of him remained conspicuously silent.
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