PROLOGUE: Destruction and Awakening

01

That day, in a dark, cramped cellar that eerily resembled a grave, a lone girl awoke.

Ba-dum.

Her stopped heart sprang to life.

Her congealed blood began to circulate again; her lungs sought oxygen.

When she inhaled with a wheeze, a massive cloud of dust flew into her mouth.

“Hack, cough, cough, gack.”

Can’t…breathe… Air, fresh air…

Her head pounded from the lack of oxygen, and the first thing she noticed was how painful it was to breathe.

“Ventilate.”

Between her parched throat and stinging lips and tongue, she couldn’t manage to speak, but as long as she knew the incantation by heart, she could still cast the spell silently. Slowly but surely, the dust and stagnant air in the room were replaced with lifestyle magic, and she could finally breathe normally again.

Now, how did I end up here again…?

The girl pondered, her mind still foggy from the lack of oxygen. Although she wanted to scope out her surroundings, her eyes refused to focus, and she could only faintly feel the light shining through the ceiling from the back of the room.

It seemed she’d been asleep for a very long time. Her stiffened joints screamed in pain as she tried to get up, making awful cracking noises with her every movement. She managed to sit upright, her face contorting in pain from a splitting headache as she cupped her weakened hands together in the shape of a bowl.

“Drops of Life.”

Droplets of water glowing white filled the palms of her hands. The portion that spilled through the gaps in her fingers ran along her arms and dripped from her elbows, but it dissolved into thin air before it could wet her clothes. This was Drops of Life, an earthly blessing sourced from the soil’s ley lines.

Although most of it had already spilled from her hands, when she brought the rest to her lips, it proceeded to spread throughout her withered body. The water moistened her cracked throat, lubricated her joints, boosted her circulation, and made her headache melt away. Every cell in her body was invigorated. Had any onlookers been present, they surely would have gawked at this miracle liquid.

Only the alchemists with alchemic skills could use Drops of Life, and it was thanks to this liquid that the girl, Mariela, at last remembered why she was here.

“The Stampede.”

02

The Kingdom of Endalsia, where Mariela lived, was a small country bordered by the Fell Forest and a steep mountain range. The kingdom had to be wary of the monsters that lived in the forest, but the mountain range acted as a natural fortification that both protected the kingdom’s people and provided an abundance of minerals. Endalsia was small, and there wasn’t much space for cultivation, but the land blessed the people with an abundance of bountiful harvests.

The multitude of blessings more than made up for the danger of the monsters in the forest, and Endalsia prospered as a small but powerful nation.

People from all walks of life gathered here, from the lowest-ranking nobleman looking to make a name for himself, or even a penniless villager, all the way to the most experienced adventurers and the merchants who served them all. The kingdom was always in need of adventurers to cull the monsters in the Fell Forest, and it was rich enough to provide for them.

Those who struggled to make ends meet were told to go to Endalsia.

In the blink of an eye, it had become a nation consisting of two main groups: the subjects who coveted the peace and tranquility found within its walls and the adventurers who battled the monsters near the forest.

Although some might call them adventurers, they were essentially just refugees who lacked adequate support. Many perished without ever managing to escape their day-to-day struggles, but some stubborn few were able to rise among the ranks and build themselves a small fortune. A vibrant food culture blossomed within Endalsia thanks to the earth’s bounty and the region’s multicultural cuisine, while the improvements in armor smithing developed to combat monsters were further boosted by the rare materials found in the Fell Forest. The marketplace was bursting with a wide variety of goods, and along the wall’s exterior were bars, gambling parlors, and bordellos that served adventurers who were just passing through. At some point this region became known as the Citadel City. The place was full of people and goods and was brimming with enthusiasm and ripe opportunities.

Mariela was an orphan within the Citadel City.

She had no recollection of her parents. As with most orphans, she was probably the result of an encounter between an adventurer and one of the bordello women, immediately cast into an orphanage the moment she was born.

Yet, she never considered herself unfortunate.

There were many children just like her, and most of all, her mother had written the name Mariela on her swaddling clothes. This was her True Name, one given to her by a blood relative, something necessary to harness the world’s powers and utilize skills. Possessing this True Name was what led Mariela to be taken in by an alchemy master before eventually becoming a successful alchemist herself.

Alchemic skills weren’t uncommon, and potions weren’t as easy to use as healing magic. Alchemy wasn’t a particularly profitable trade, but she was able to eke out a living in the small cottage her teacher had left her on the edge of the Fell Forest. Though she wasn’t wealthy, she enjoyed crafting a variety of potions, and living on the edge of a forest suited someone like her who was lacking in social graces.

She thought her modest way of life would continue forever—until the day it met an abrupt end.

Why the Stampede happened was beyond the comprehension of a humble alchemist like Mariela.

Once the desperate screams of those trying to escape alerted everyone to the Stampede, the Kingdom of Endalsia shut its outer gate tight. The swarm of monsters came crashing down like a tidal wave and threw the Citadel City into utter chaos.

Adventurers young and old took up arms with a rallying cry: “Protect our town! Now is the time for glory!”

Some of those unable to fight packed the narrow roads like sardines and evacuated to the mountains, while others who hoped to ride it out barricaded themselves in their homes.

Mariela hurried to the cottage her master had left her. She didn’t think she’d make it in time to evacuate, and there was nowhere in town to take shelter. The thin wooden walls of her house would be as fragile as scraps of paper in the face of the horde.

Monsters reacted to human magic.

Long ago, her master taught her that rampaging monsters were very perceptive of human magic, and in such situations, even wards wouldn’t be effective.

So if the creatures from the Fell Forest ever grew out of control…

Just as her master had instructed, she rushed to her cellar and locked the heavy iron door securely shut.

To minimize the chance of being detected, she chose not to use illumination magic. Instead, she lit an oil lantern with a substantial supply of fuel and took out a large piece of parchment from a box in the corner of the room. In the dim light, she spread the huge three-foot-square sheet on the floor and checked the magic circle inscribed on it for any defects.

This was a last resort, her master had said, and she’d reluctantly prepared it.

Stolen from the monsters, this parchment was worth a month of Mariela’s earnings, and the ink used to inscribe the magic circle was even more expensive; it was specially crafted from dissolved magical gems. Even the magic circle itself was dense and difficult to create, and she had drawn it over a period of several months so as to not waste the expensive materials.

When her master told her that creating this circle would serve as her final certification exam, Mariela had thought, What a waste! but thank goodness she’d done it.

The cellar was so small that the petite young woman felt her head might touch the ceiling merely by standing. If she sprawled out on the floor, she and the parchment would be enough to completely cover it. But unlike the house, it was sturdy, built from stone, and the iron door wouldn’t break even if it was trampled by monsters. If they sensed that someone was inside, however, they would dig her out in an instant.

Unless every last monster was killed, the Stampede wouldn’t stop until all the humans were dead.

She could hear the earth trembling. The swarm was coming.

Mariela lay down on top of the magic circle.

I’m scared.

In the cramped, dark cellar, the flame in the oil lantern trembled.

I’m so scared.

How many monsters were coming? The rumbling was getting closer.

I’m really, really scared. Somebody, anybody…!

Mariela’s extremities were colder than the stone floor, and her thoughts became overtaken by fear.

If I don’t trigger the magic circle correctly… If this cellar can’t withstand the weight of the monsters, then I’ll…

Her breathing grew shallow and quick, and her heart hammered so loudly, she was sure the swarm could hear it. As the tremors grew, both the cellar and the lantern shook, making the flame flicker and dance.

I’m scared. I’m so, so scared. I don’t want to die here all alone.

Just as she felt as if she would be swallowed by fear, Mariela activated the Magic Circle of Suspended Animation.

03

Ah, right, she had fled to her cellar and activated the Magic Circle of Suspended Animation.

“I survived.”

The spell was meant to revive her once the danger had passed. Thanks to the Drops of Life, her sight had mostly recovered, and she could tell that the sunbeams at her feet were coming from the entrance in the ceiling. It looked as if the door had collapsed. There was no sign of any wind or rain inside the cellar, so perhaps it happened fairly recently.

When she went to exit, she found the wooden ladder had rotted away; maybe the tremors from the Stampede had weakened it. Using gaps and protrusions in the wall’s stone framework as footholds, she managed to clamber out of the cellar.

“Hmm.”

Mariela was caught by surprise upon emerging aboveground. The spot where her house should have been was now overgrown with trees and vegetation.

“Guess it’s safe to say there’s no trace left of my cottage. Must’ve been swallowed by the Stampede,” she muttered as she pulled up a bundle of herbs growing at her feet. “This is a medicinal herb I grew in my garden… Why’s the entire ground covered in it?!”

The total disappearance of her house suggested she’d been gone for at least a few decades at the absolute best. Mariela held her head. She’d felt something was strange since the moment she awoke. Her body had been extremely stiff, and both the ladder and the iron door were in ruins.

“Did the Magic Circle of Suspended Animation fail somehow?”

It shouldn’t have. She’d checked everything before activating it.

The flickering lantern light may have been faint, but she must have examined every inch of the parchment. She remembered the lantern’s flame as if it were just yesterday.

“Hmm? The lantern’s…flame?

“Ohhh…” With a miserable groan, Mariela sank into a crouch.

She normally used illumination magic, so she forgot—lighting a fire in a locked room would just deplete all the oxygen. Even when the Stampede was over, she must have continued to sleep indefinitely until the entrance door rotted away.

“How long was I asleep…?!”

Mariela’s grief echoed fruitlessly through the forest.

Her misery lasted about ten minutes. She finally stopped holding her head and began plucking herbs.

“Dehydrate! Dehydrate! Deeehyyydraaate!”

“Aaargh, without a bag, this is such a pain. I’ll have to hang these all from my waist to keep both hands free. And the place is overgrown with nothing but cheap plants. All I can make with these are monster wards and low-grade salves.”

Mariela complained as she harvested herbs, dried them with alchemy, and then hung them from her waist. In no time, the dried plants completely encircled her hips like a grass skirt, lending her an indigenous sort of look. Before, her style had been kinda plain, but at least it was…wholesome? Now the grass skirt just made her uncool. She looked nothing like a sixteen-year-old girl.

“Hee-hee-hee… If I wrap myself in this many monster-warding herbs, the weak ones won’t come after me. Whee, an anti-monster skiiirt!”

As she playfully shook her hips and rummaged around in the herbs to make a few more bundles, she produced five small empty bottles from her waist pouch.

“Dehydrate, Pulverize, Drops of Life, Extract Essence, Separate Dregs, Condense, Anchor Essence, Enclose.”

Using her alchemic skills in quick succession, she finished a potion in moments. She then crafted a monster-warding potion with the same process and stored it in her pouch. Even if she ran into a bit of trouble on the way, she could probably make it to town just with these.

A potion, to put it simply, was a magical medicine that used Drops of Life to boost an herb’s efficacy to its maximum potential.

For example, there was the herb curique, which was used in low-grade heal potions. If you simply ground it up and applied the paste directly to the affected area, it could sterilize the wound, stop any bleeding, and encourage healing, among other things. Some injuries would heal within a few days; however, taking it orally had no effect.

Dissolving it with Drops of Life, though, turned the paste into a magical medicine that immediately closed a wound when applied directly, and ingesting it not only healed external injuries but restored one’s strength as well.

Immediate recovery was also possible with healing magic. However, because that kind of magic simply increased the patient’s own ability to recover, using it to treat large wounds would cause a proportional rebound effect once the healing was complete. And for patients who were in poor physical shape, the restorative effect would likewise be weak.

Conversely, potions had no associated rebound effect because they used the power of Drops of Life. They were even effective on near-fatal wounds.

Drops of Life was an intangible form of energy originating from ley lines; it nurtured plants, gave strength to animals, and eventually dissolved into the atmosphere before returning to its original ley line. Said to be the source of all life, this power dwelled within the soil and was given form by alchemy. Therefore, even if it was fixed in place with Anchor Essence, it would fade in less than a year and turn into plain medicinal water.

Furthermore, any Drops of Life taken too far from the ley line it was drawn from would be lost.

Alchemy involved many processes that expended a proportionate amount of magical energy. Healing magic used less magical energy and fewer resources than creating a low-grade heal potion, so medical treatment was inexpensive. Many people earned pocket change on the streets of the Citadel City with healing magic, and as a consequence, low-grade heal potions sold for cheap there as well.

Specialist shops sold all kinds of expensive high-grade potions with unique effects. However, only people of certain occupations bought them, and these shops were managed by skilled master alchemists and their apprentices, so they had no room for someone like Mariela who lacked any connections.

Alchemic skills themselves weren’t rare. In the Citadel City, there were more alchemy users than there were bakeries.

For Mariela, who had no combat skills to speak of, just being able to earn her daily bread with alchemy alone was something to be thankful for.

“Oh, skipira herbs.”

One important source of her income had survived.

Mariela’s custom potions combined a base of skipira herbs with several other kinds of plants for use by the bordellos’ streetwalkers. Citadel specialty potion shops wouldn’t display products made by a sixteen-year-old girl who wasn’t even an apprentice, and even though curio shops also dealt in goods from the potion shops, they wouldn’t buy them from a stranger like Mariela.

Mariela earned her meager daily income by opening a stall in the plaza and selling potions in addition to making deliveries to several small shops she’d become personally acquainted with. Of course, the selling price was less than the market price, so she could make a profit only by growing the ingredients in her garden. A certain bordello caretaker zeroed in on her and offered a business proposal. He was most likely trying to replenish his stock with cheap potions and pocket the difference, even if they were low quality.

Contrary to the man’s expectations, Mariela’s potions were quite good and cheaper than anyone else’s. Unbeknownst to Mariela herself, he made a killing selling the massive number he’d bought from her to bordellos all over the Citadel City. She was grateful to him for allowing her to remain self-sufficient once she was on her own.

Even if she’d known the truth and tried to negotiate a markup, the caretaker wasn’t the kind of man who would let her. In fact, attempting as much would have most likely put her in danger. Mariela lived independently despite her limited means, but it was fair to say that it was because she was content with smaller profits and blissfully unaware that she was being exploited.

As she took a good look at her herb garden, she spotted other rare plants with unique effects that had survived.

“With these, maybe I can rebuild.”

First, she needed to gather information in town. If she bought some vials and turned the herbs at her waist into potions, that would probably earn her enough to cover a night at an inn. She’d been sleeping on the stone floor of that cellar for ages. She wanted to clean herself off and, if possible, sleep in a nice, soft bed.

“Hopefully, the price of potions hasn’t gone down.”

Mariela set out toward the Citadel City, dried-herb skirt and all.