Ascension The Making of the Strongest Sage

Chapter 1

The shock wave slammed Reinas against the wooden shelf behind him. Coughing, he struggled to sit up, his ash-covered face etched with disappointment. His trembling fingers brushed disheveled black hair from his forehead, revealing eyes bloodshot from days without sleep.

"Damn it, failed again," he cursed, surveying the devastation. Broken flasks, spilled potions, and charred notes littered the workbench. His seventh failed experiment. The furnace—once gleaming metal—now bore cracks and black scorch marks from his volatile formula.

Footsteps echoed from the doorway. Workshop Master Albert Hort stood there, his expression thunderous. His gaze swept across the chaos before settling on Reinas with a mix of disappointment and resolve. Wordlessly, he pulled a letter from his pocket and extended it. The red rose seal stood out starkly against the smoke-filled backdrop.

Reinas took the letter, his hands shaking. He knew what was coming but clung to hope anyway. As he unfolded the paper, the words cut like a knife: "In light of your consecutive experimental failures and damage to workshop equipment, we must terminate your apprenticeship..."

"Your talent does not lie in Alchemy," Albert said, his voice cold and matter-of-fact. "Continuing would only waste time and resources."

Just then, Viktor Greene appeared behind the workshop owner. A few years older and the workshop's most talented alchemist, he was everything Reinas had tried to become. Viktor patted his shoulder with feigned sympathy, a telling gleam in his eyes. After all, Reinas's dismissal meant Viktor would now pocket his share of the salary.

"Well, don't be discouraged," Viktor said with a smirk. "No point forcing yourself to learn something you're not cut out for. Even if you managed it, you'd only ever be second-rate." His seemingly comforting words dripped with venom, each syllable a reminder: you'll never match me.

Reinas robotically tidied the lab bench, his fingers moving between beakers and cylinders. The tools that once thrilled him now felt like cold, dead weight. As he sorted through a pile of powdery materials, something caught his eye—white particles mixed into the black powder, like stars that had no business in a midnight sky.

"What the hell?" He frowned, picking up a particle and cautiously sniffing it. Confusion flashed across his face. This ingredient had no place in his experiment unless... A terrible suspicion formed, but he pushed it away.

Viktor lingered in the doorway, watching Reinas's every move. When Reinas bent to gather the scattered books, Viktor slipped away, the corner of his mouth twitching into a cold, satisfied smile.

Just as Reinas was about to leave, Albert appeared silently from the back door, his eyes filled with conflicting emotions. After a furtive glance around, he pressed a small burlap-wrapped package into Reinas's hand.

"A week's worth of medicine and a special mineral ore," Albert whispered, his eyes flickering with apology and concern. "Reinas, you worked hard, but..."

His words died abruptly, as if choked by all the things he couldn't bring himself to say.

Reinas opened his mouth to ask more, but Albert had already vanished, leaving him clutching the parting gift. He couldn't blame the man—Albert was decent and honest, but in this city, those virtues alone wouldn't keep the lights on.

Yado Reya, capital of the Kingdom of Yado. Golden spires caught the sunrise over mountain peaks, the royal city standing proud against the sky. As the economic, cultural, and political heart of the Kingdom, it devoured the unprepared and spat out their bones.

Dusk found Reinas dragging himself back to the small cottage he shared at the city's edge. Each step intensified the burning in his chest—like someone had lit a fire in his lungs. The price of working with alchemical materials, and why he needed his medicine.

The door creaked open to an empty room. Seraphina's magic textbooks lay scattered across the table, but his roommate was still at Saint Xian Academy. Reinas sighed—relief mixed with disappointment. He still hadn't figured out how to tell her he'd been fired.

He pulled a pot from the cabinet, added the pre-prepared herbs and water, and lit the stove. The green liquid bubbled, releasing a bitter medicinal scent. Reinas stirred mindlessly, the wooden spoon tracing patterns as directionless as his thoughts about the future.

Outside, the sun still hung high. Reinas's mind wandered toward the void where his future should be—a future without Alchemy.

Alchemy had swept through the empire like wildfire. Ten years ago, it was a mysterious art practiced in shadowy corners. Now it was a state-sponsored industry. Workshops multiplied in every major city, alchemical products revolutionized daily life, and skilled practitioners found themselves courted by powerful factions.

Reinas gazed out at the bustling capital streets, marveling at how quickly a year had passed. He could still taste the mix of anxiety and hope he'd felt upon arrival. Alchemy ran in his Ashford blood. Despite losing his parents to the border war, despite being raised by his struggling grandmother, he had never wavered from this path.

"The harmonization ratio must be precise to one-thousandth, and heat control maintained between three and four marks. Never rush the process." Albert's words still echoed in his mind. The strict but caring master had shared a lifetime of knowledge, and Reinas had absorbed it all—mastering basic formulas, mineral purification, and energy conversion techniques with remarkable speed.

Then, just as he approached his final assessment to become a certified Alchemist, the nightmare began.

The first accident struck three weeks ago during a simple healing potion—a formula he'd perfected through dozens of repetitions. Yet when he added the final catalyst, the crucible violently shook before exploding, rocking the entire workshop. Only his quick reflexes had prevented serious injury.

"Pre-assessment jitters," Albert had suggested kindly. "It happens to everyone."

Reinas had accepted this explanation and doubled his caution. But the explosions continued, eroding his confidence. The second disaster came when an energy crystal went haywire during solidification. The third struck while purifying a common mineral that somehow triggered a violent reaction.

Each time, he'd followed procedures flawlessly. Each time, he'd meticulously checked materials, tools, and formulas, finding nothing amiss.

Late at night, Reinas would pore over his ancestral alchemy notes, recalling his grandmother's teachings. The old woman from that remote mountain village lacked formal credentials but possessed ancient techniques lost to modern practitioners. He refused to believe he'd make such elementary mistakes, or that "bad luck" could explain everything.

As he dug through his memories, Reinas's suspicions grew. He recalled subtle details: ingredients that seemed less pure than before, tools with nearly invisible scratches, items shifted slightly on his workbench after he'd left...

All signs pointed to a disturbing possibility.

Two weeks ago, the third explosion had erupted without warning from his meticulously prepared potion. Glass shards flew everywhere as dark green liquid spread across the table, filling the air with sulfur. His right arm still bore the faint burn marks from that day.

The clock tower struck three. Reinas closed his eyes, fighting to calm the storm inside him. He remembered his grandmother's weathered hand on his head: "Ashfords don't make mistakes, especially in Alchemy." Her final words before he'd boarded the carriage to the capital.

Reinas's eyes snapped open, a dangerous glint in their gray-blue depths.

The residue at the bottom of his cauldron. Viktor's smug smile.

"Niter powder," he whispered, his voice deadly calm. "Someone mixed niter powder into my reagent."

Someone once told him that when you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains—however improbable—must be the truth.

Equipment, materials, assessment—besides Albert, only one person knew his assessment topic.

Viktor had sabotaged him.

The realization hit him like a physical blow, bringing waves of dizziness and nausea.

Since day one, Viktor had shown such care—offering guidance, asking about his health, playing the role of concerned mentor. All this time, Reinas had thought of him as a friend.

Coming from the countryside, Reinas had never before witnessed such calculated betrayal. The capital, it seemed, taught lessons beyond alchemy.