The standard for a master alchemist in the Magus Realm was the ability to create Tier 8 products. Achieving such a level required decades of experience, yet the Magus Alliance boasted tens of thousands of accomplished apothecary masters capable of crafting such potions and pills.
In contrast, the standards in the Tartarus Realm were notably lower. Here, successfully concocting a Tier 8 product earned one the title of a Grade 7 alchemist, while the rare few capable of creating a Tier 9 product were granted the prestigious rank of Grade 8—equivalent to a Grand Master in the Magus Realm.
With these standards in mind, it was clear that Ery was akin to competing with twenty-three masters and two grandmasters—Gelael and Ada. For a contest of this magnitude, crafting a Tier 8 potion was the minimum requirent. However, what would truly set an alchemist apart was the ability to push beyond that boundary—to create a Tier 9 potion, a masterpiece of alchemical refinent.
Unfortunately for Ery, he had yet to succeed in creating a pure Tier 8 product. The last high-tier potion he had crafted was during his master's examination, where he managed to produce a Tier 6 body-tempering pill infused with Level 3 originality—a remarkable feat, but one that fell sowhere between Tier 8 and 9 in terms of efficacy.
Since then, his experience has grown exponentially. He had spent years refining his craft and was now capable of producing Tier 7 products daily. However, he had never truly achieved the breakthrough needed to create a true Tier 8 pill, let alone a Tier 9.
While he has an undeniable advantage in sheer knowledge from hundreds of masters and grandmasters through the magus alliance and celestial database, Ery realized that technique was where the alchemists of the Tartarus Realm excelled. So of the thods he observed here were beyond anything he had witnessed among the Grand Masters of the Magus Alliance.
Across the arena, Both Grade 8 alchemists, Galael and Ada, demonstrated exceptional mastery over their craft, effortlessly manipulating each ingredient with nothing more than a delicate touch or the sheer force of their soul strength. With precise control over their cosmic energy, they infused their concoctions with power, enhancing the alchemical process in a manner reminiscent of Ery's divine skill, [Photosynthesis].
This was alchemy at its highest level—where knowledge and overwhelming prowess rged into an art form.
Two hours into the competition, Galael reached a critical phase of his concoction. With a smooth motion, he lifted the lid of his burning cauldron. The mont it opened, a flickering dark fla ignited above his palm. A re spark at first, it rapidly expanded, engulfing his cauldron in a swirling inferno. His unique cosmic fla rged with the already blazing fire within, transforming it into a brilliant orb of golden-red energy—a miniature sun radiating searing heat.
The entire arena took notice. The oppressive heatwave washed over the competition grounds, forcing several participants to flinch. The eight towering runes inscribed on the arena's pillars shimred in response, activating protective enchantnts to shield the audience. However, the protective asures only extended to the stands—within the competitor's area, the sheer intensity of Gelael's power posed a serious challenge.
Several alchemists grimaced, beads of sweat forming on their foreheads. So hurriedly reinforced their barriers, channeling spirit energy to shield themselves. A few, more desperate, even unleashed their Battlefield Domains, expanding their influence to fortify their platforms against the infernal onslaught.
Despite the rising tension, Ada, the other Grade 8 alchemist, remained unfazed.
While Gelael wielded fire, Ada's domain was the exact opposite—ice. She remained deeply engrossed in her work, her fingers flicking between eight delicate glass tubes, each bubbling with an eerie, frost-laden mist.
Then, with a sudden motion, she raised her hand and chanted her spells.
"Co forth!!"
A freezing gust erupted from her platform, spiraling into a storm of glacial winds. The howling chill expanded outward, clashing against Gelael's oppressive heat. The contrast was stark—one side of the arena burned like a furnace, while the other descended into an icy tundra.
Spectators gasped as the two opposing forces expanded, creating a dramatic spectacle of fire and ice battling for dominance.
The pressure in the arena escalated. So competitors struggled to maintain their focus amidst the overwhelming clash of elents. One particularly unfortunate noble alchemist caught between the two extres, let out a frustrated cry as a crucial miscalculation caused his concoction to explode in a puff of acrid smoke. Cursing under his breath, he was forced to start over from scratch.
anwhile, on one of the platforms, Ery stood in deep concentration, his focus unwavering as he ticulously prepared his ingredients.
There were over three dozen ingredients spread before him, primarily Tier 6, with only a few reaching Tier 7. While the other alchemists had already begun their concoctions, Ery remained fully engrossed in [Photosynthesis], channeling his energy into each component to enhance its quality. The process required absolute precision—not just to strengthen the ingredients but to refine their very essence, ensuring they would blend seamlessly into the final product.
Next, he began the ticulous task of processing each component, maximizing their effectiveness through carefully asured techniques—cutting, peeling, braising, and crushing each ingredient with an artisan's precision. Every movent was thodical, each preparation was done with a level of control that left no room for error.
To the untrained eye, his thod appeared slow, even tedious, a stark contrast to the breathtaking displays of power from the two Grade 8 alchemists. While they commanded flas and frost with grand gestures, Ery remained calm, thodical, and deliberate.
Adding to the intrigue was his assistant, Baldoni, a Grade 6 alchemist who was equally imrsed in his own work. The burly man hunched over his cauldron, moving with quiet confidence.
Among the spectators, Shinta sat attentively, her eyes fixed on her father's every move. Beside her, Grand Magus Soltz frowned in bewildernt.
"What is your father doing?!" the old Magus blurted out, his voice tinged with both curiosity and exasperation. "Why is he making two concoctions? He knows he can only submit one, doesn't he?!"
Shinta remained composed, her lips curling into a knowing smile. Unlike Soltz, she had observed her father's ticulous preparations the day before and had so idea of what he was attempting.
"Don't worry, Elder," she said confidently, "My father will definitely win!"
Soltz scoffed, crossing his arms. "Hmph! Win? No way! I don't think he'll even make it into the top five. I just hope your father doesn't embarrass himself and end up among the bottom five."
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