Tales of Neglected ones

The workshop was silent except for the rhythmic bubbling of the cauldron.

Sylas's hands moved automatically now—each step etched into muscle memory after months of repetition. The room was dimly lit, a soft violet glow pulsing beneath the alchemy table where a spirit crystal sat embedded in a carefully drawn rune array. It thrummed faintly, resonating with the energy he poured into it.

Tonight's batch was nearly complete.

He reached for the infusion flask, added a precise amount of powdered sunroot, and gently exhaled.

> "Too much, and the structure collapses. Too little, and it does nothing."

He had learned that lesson the hard way. Dozens of failed brews. Weeks wasted. Burnt eyebrows. Sleepless nights.

But now… he was close to mastering it.

The potion shimmered with an iridescent sheen—like liquid starlight contained in glass.

He held it up, eyes narrowed. The energy inside was unstable, yet harmonized. Wild, yet tamed.

Spiritual Infusion.

A term he had coined himself. A technique not taught, not researched, not even imagined by the academy scholars. Born of desperation, curiosity, and silent nights of isolation.

The potion did something ordinary ones couldn't.

It strengthened the body, not just in temporary bursts—but subtly, permanently, if taken consistently over time.

He had tested it on himself.

> "One potion a day," he muttered.

"That's what I thought."

But things had changed.

After completing his hundredth infused dose—after a full year of experimentation—he began to feel something different.

A subtle heat behind his ribs. A smoother flow when channeling energy into the flask. His mind remained clearer after brewing, and his recovery was faster.

> "My spiritual energy… it's nearly doubled."

At first, he thought it was a mistake. But after consistent testing, there was no denying it.

He had evolved.

> "I can create two now."

His gaze shifted to the second cauldron he'd installed just last week—anticipating this breakthrough. The second flask beside it was already cooling, glowing with the same soft radiance as the first.

Two infused potions per day.

The result of patience, endurance, and slow spiritual refinement.

He flexed his fingers and smiled—not with arrogance, but with purpose.

> "Progress."

---

He walked to the storage rack and carefully placed both potions into his hidden drawer beneath the floorboards. Each flask was dated, numbered, categorized.

He glanced at the growing rows—small bottles stacked like silent victories.

> "I've already taken a hundred potions… and with each dose, my spiritual energy adapts. I didn't just strengthen my body. I strengthened my soul."

But the path forward was still brutal.

> "To reach second-level swordsman stats, I still need eight to ten thousand doses."

And worse…

> "To reach the third level… I'll need a hundred times more than the second."

That meant over a million.

It sounded impossible.

But for someone like Sylas—someone who had started with nothing—it meant something different:

It meant it could be done.

---

Seraphina still thought he was working on basic alchemy. Healing tonics. Minor salves.

She didn't know he was quietly transforming himself into something that shouldn't exist.

A non-swordsman with a warrior's body. A commoner with a scholar's mind. A boy using spiritual force to challenge divine gifts.

> "They call strength a gift. I'll make it a craft."

---

Later that night, he laid on his mattress, eyes open, both hands behind his head.

> "Two potions a day now."

A few weeks ago, even one left him exhausted.

> "What will happen after the next hundred? Will I reach three?"

That was the hope. That his growth was not just physical, but exponential. That his path—slow as it was—had no ceiling.

> "I don't need to rush."

"One day, two potions will become four. Then ten. Maybe more."

> "And while they fight each other with blades and borrowed bloodlines…"

He smiled.

> "…I'll be building something real."

---

One potion at a time.

One step forward.

And now… twice as fast.

With just Rank One… he had already begun to change the rules.

End of chapter