Louis had just stepped out of the lab door when he abruptly stopped.
He raised an eyebrow, as if he had suddenly rembered sothing important.
“Wait a mont—” he muttered to himself, looking back at Silco, who was still tidying up potion bottles, “I almost forgot about the main business.”
He turned back, walked between the racks of potions, and called out to the alchemist genius who was engrossed in organizing: “Silco, I actually ca to see you today not just about the Knight’s Potion.”
Silco looked up at his words, blinking in confusion: “Not because of ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) that? You ca at just the right ti. I thought your nose was sharper than the lab cat’s.”
Louis cleared his throat and said a little awkwardly, “I wanted you to help make a—well, a special kind of thing.”
“Oh?” Silco beca interested, tilting his head and crossing his arms. “What kind? A weapon? A potion? Or a magic device? Or a Magic Bomb!”
“None of those,” Louis paused, as if weighing his words, then slowly said, “I want to make sothing that can bloom with light in the night sky.
Preferably colorful, shaped like—a flower, exploding in the air, then slowly scattering.
But not a real explosion. Just a kind of—a celebratory item.”
The expression on Silco’s face gradually beca subtle, his brows furrowed into a question mark: “You said it explodes, glows, makes a sound, and doesn’t hurt people?
Sounds like a—weakened Magic Bomb? Are you planning to blow up a few birds to celebrate when besieging a city?”
“It’s not an explosive!” Louis waved his hands repeatedly. “It won’t kill people, and it won’t set houses on fire. It’s—beautiful, romantic, placed in the night sky, like a giant flower blooming in the heavens.
It will also drop fire points like stars, twinkling. Sotis red, sotis blue, also gold and purple. It would be best if it could also be accompanied by several bursts, like dancing in the air.”
Silco’s face was practically screaming, “What nonsense are you talking about?”
He blinked in confusion: “Are you describing a magic spell? Why co to ? I’m an alchemist, not a mage?”
“It’s not magic, and it’s not an illusion; it’s a physical object,” Louis sighed, only then realizing he was explaining sothing that didn’t exist in this world.
“You want to make a—‘rhythmic, non-dangerous explosive device,’ specifically for—‘looking pretty’? What’s the use of that?” Silco’s tone already carried a subtle hint of doubt.
“It can be used for celebrations, for ceremonies. For example, during a wedding, set off a display, everyone looks up at the night sky, *bang*, a golden flower explodes, and everyone below applauds and cheers. That feeling must be great.”
“You’re going to set off Magic Bombs at your wedding?”
“It’s not a Magic Bomb!” Louis emphasized, losing his patience.
Silco gave an expression of “it’s all the sa,” silently unscrewing a potion bottle he had just capped, perhaps to confirm he hadn’t misidentified the scent of so hallucinogenic material.
“I understand, I guess,” he scratched his head. “You want an alchemical device that can launch Magic Bombs into the air, doesn’t hurt people, has varied effects, and is as beautiful as possible. In short—‘Magic Bombs that don’t kill people’?”
“Yes! That’s pretty much it,” Louis breathed a sigh of relief. He was finally getting sowhere.
“Alright, I’ll give it a try,” Silco shook his head helplessly.
As the sun set, golden-red afterglow spilled over the open ground north of the Red Tide Territory, coating the endless wilderness with a serene, gentle warmth.
The wind blew through the gaps in the wild grass, kicking up so dust and bringing with it the approaching night.
Louis, leading his horse, stepped into this sowhat desolate testing ground.
Silco’s figure was clearly visible in the distance.
He stood beside an alchemical launch fra, looking focused, directing several apprentices to place peculiar alchemical devices onto the fra.
On the ground, several baskets of thick tal tubes were neatly arranged. Being hastily manufactured, they were sowhat crude, looking like a pile of giant radishes waiting to ascend to the heavens.
“Woah—” Louis blinked. “This thing is even—stranger—than I imagined.”
And the inventor himself, Silco, wearing his smoke-blackened alchemist’s robe, stood excitedly in front of the launch fra, directing apprentices to pour powder into the tal tubes.
Sif muttered under her breath, “Why do I feel like it’s more like Red Tide Castle?”
Louis’s mouth twitched. How was it similar? Red Tide Castle was so cool!
Then he scanned the ground, his brows twitching slightly, “Also, on these cylinders—what’s written?”
【Prototype · Ornantal Magic Bomb】
【DO NOT LICK!!!】
【Side Effects: Tinnitus / Slight Dizziness / May Induce Romantic Feelings】
“Where do I even begin to complain?” Louis rubbed his forehead, headache-ridden.
Just then, Silco finally noticed their arrival and waved his hand sharply: “Your Lordship! You’ve arrived just in ti! It’s almost ready!”
In the center of the clearing, the last set of devices was in place.
“The main ingredient is newly formulated magma essence powder, one of the core energy sources,” Silco explained to Louis while inspecting, “It’s mixed with trace amounts of crimson platinum magic crystals—”
“Is it really safe?” Louis repeated softly, his tone subtle.
“Safe under normal circumstances,” Silco replied without hesitation.
Louis’s eyelids twitched slightly. So, was it safe under abnormal circumstances?
“For color, we rely on fire moss ash and gold and silver dust,” he continued, his tone as calm as water. “Fire moss ash appears bright red at high temperatures, and gold and silver dust can reflect blue and gold light under different lighting conditions. If the proportions are adjusted well, it can simultaneously explode with red, blue, and gold color gradients.”
He spoke very seriously, as if describing a high-precision explosive engineering project.
“Only the sound might be a bit loud,” Silco paused, then turned to Louis. “Roughly the sa loudness as—a large Magic Bomb.”
Louis shrugged. He didn’t really care, after all, the fireworks display would be far from the wedding venue.
In the distance, several alchemy apprentices had finished the final preparations, and one rushed over to report: “All devices are ready,
magma essence loaded, procedure clear and precise.”
Silco’s spirits lifted at the news, and a rare look of anticipation appeared on his face.
He waved a hand at everyone, his voice clear: “Everyone, step back thirty paces! Begin release!”
The alchemy apprentices quickly scattered, and Silco pressed the activation device in front of him with one hand.
The next mont, several cylindrical devices emitted a low hum, then with a “bang” they sliced through the night sky, whistling upwards with tallic, air-tearing contrails.
Imdiately following, a “boom!”
Above the sky, the first firework suddenly burst open, like a raging lotus of flas. Crimson flas cascaded down like a waterfall, trailing burning patterns across the night sky.
“Pop!”
The second one burst with blue light, cold and deep, like ice crystals shattering amidst the red flas, instantly illuminating the night.
“Dong—bang—pop!”
Consecutive explosions reverberated through the air like drumbeats, three colors interwoven, golden stardust streaking across the firmant like teors.
The trailing contrails crisscrossed and spiraled in the air, like a divine painter’s brushstrokes, coloring the pitch-black night sky into a giant burning masterpiece. It wasn’t a harsh roar, but a deep, heavy explosion, like war drums, or perhaps a heartbeat, pounding heavily in everyone’s chests.
Louis looked up at the fading traces of flas, his eyes subtly moving, a faint smile quietly appearing on his lips.
He murmured to himself, “A little better than I expected.”
Although it couldn’t replicate the layered, star-like brilliance of New Year’s Eve fireworks from his previous life, lacking complex patterns and a prolonged rhythm, and being overall cruder.
Yet, in this world where the concept of “fireworks” had never existed, this scene was already enough to stir the heart.
Crude, yet shocking; simple, yet real.
He slowly turned his head to look at Silco, who was standing by the launch platform not far away.
He stood with his arms crossed, his expression quite peculiar, looking like, “What kind of explosion is this?”
“Good—” Louis said earnestly, “This is what I wanted. It just needs a little more improvent, to make it even more beautiful. For example, less violent, softer colors, and shapes more—like flowers, not explosions.”
“Flowers?” Silco frowned, as if he had heard so heretical gibberish.
He made an unstandardized gesture, seemingly from nowhere: “If you really want to make those soft, harmless fireballs that don’t hurt or explode, I might need to re-examine the definition of the word ‘explosion’.”
Louis said helplessly, “I’m going to set them off at a wedding, not on a battlefield!”
“However, it’s not difficult to change,” Silco, after complaining, regained the alchemist’s calm that transforms any emotional request into a formula. “You first have to tell what exactly makes it ‘beautiful’?
Is the flower shape not elegant enough? The colors not pure enough? Or the burst frequency not rhythmic enough? Of course, I can try all of them.”
He grinned, “This is very simple, I can make all of them.”
Sif stood beside Louis, gazing up at the night sky.
The fireworks slowly blood overhead, like a waterfall of teors hanging upside down in the night, red, blue, and gold intertwining, like a divine painter’s brush, sketching an incredible dream stroke by stroke.
A mix of shock and joy flashed in her eyes, like a child seeing the world’s wonders for the first ti.
It was a romantic scene she had never imagined, like a fairy tale, like a dream, like a miracle that would only happen in a distant land.
But that joy didn’t last long.
Because she suddenly rembered sothing.
These fireworks were not prepared for her.
Although she had told herself long ago not to expect anything, although she had long understood that they couldn’t be open about their relationship.
But even so, upon witnessing such a miracle with her own eyes, it was inevitable that she would feel a little sad.
The smile on her face gradually faded, her eyes dropped a few degrees, her long lashes slightly lowered.
The wind blew through her hair, and she gently bit her lower lip, as if trying to suppress an emotion that shouldn’t surface, then turned and quietly tried to leave the afterglow of the light and fire.
“You’re seeing this for the first ti too, aren’t you?” Louis’s voice suddenly sounded from behind her.
Sif froze, her steps halted.
When she turned around, he was already smiling, blocking her path, a hint of subtle cunning on his face, yet also a clumsy tenderness.
“How is it, beautiful?” he asked, his tone as light as if discussing a rainbow after a rain.
She didn’t answer imdiately.
Because it was indeed beautiful.
But—that beauty didn’t belong to her. She lowered her gaze, not saying the “but,” but her serene expression had already revealed her feelings completely.
Louis looked at her, didn’t press further, just fell silent for a mont.
Then he suddenly stepped back half a pace, bowed slightly, and extended a hand, making an exaggerated but extrely gentlemanly gesture of invitation.
“Then—would you care to dance with ?”
He said with a smile, his voice soft, as if afraid of disturbing sothing.
Sif was stunned.
She hadn’t expected to hear such an invitation in such a setting, at such a mont.
Even more, she hadn’t expected that at this mont, with the fireworks not yet completely faded, Louis would use this thod, as if deliberately—to leave a unique mory just for her.
“Do you dance?” she asked softly, her tone carrying a hint of doubt and challenge.
“No,” Louis answered frankly. “But I’ll try my best not to step on your feet.”
At that instant, Sif couldn’t help but laugh, the slight disappointnt in her eyes re-illuminated by the afterglow of the fireworks.
So she reached out her hand and gently placed it in his palm.
They stood in the center of the clearing, with no music, no dance floor, only the lingering flas in the sky and the faint flicker of fire in the wind.
Their steps were not graceful, their movents slightly clumsy, but neither of them cared.
Sif leaned gently against Louis, her palm against his, feeling the slight coolness of his body temperature, like the night wind, and like—a long-lost sense of security.
The longer she stood by him, the more Sif felt that his eyes held a gaze deeper than his age.
Behind that gentleness lay an extrely firm will and a terrifyingly calm judgnt.
He was truly soone who could change the course of war and reshape order.
And in this ruthless wasteland, he was one of the very few willing to leave a spark and light a lamp for others.
She watched his not-quite-standard dance, yet his efforts to maintain a gentlemanly posture, and a tenderness she couldn’t quite describe suddenly welled up in her heart.
Perhaps in his heart, she wasn’t special.
He was destined to marry other won in the future, perhaps more than just one or two.
This world was always terribly tolerant of the strong, especially a noble Lord like him; marrying three wives and four concubines was not at all unusual.
She knew it very well.
She had always known it very well.
Just as she knew this dance wasn’t prepared for her, the fireworks didn’t bloom for her, and the future wasn’t reserved solely for her.
Yet she still reached out her hand.
As long as, in this mont, he was dancing with her.
As long as, in this fleeting mont of unextinguished light, she could stand by him, even if only once, only for a mont.
She was willing to hide this mory in the softest part of her heart, without demanding, without asking for more.
“Louis—” she whispered his na, her voice almost inaudible, as if afraid to disturb this quietly descending dream.
She didn’t know what expectations she should have for him.
Perhaps none at all.
But she was willing to accompany him, at least for now.
Not for power, not for responsibility, but only—for this mont, he was looking at her, holding her hand.
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