Chương 151: 66. The Alchemist

I'm weirdly nervous while we sit in the meeting place waiting for Tefi. It's an outdoor cafe, or maybe more accurately a bistro—though neither is exactly accurate. It's a cozy little restaurant that serves cold drinks, simple meals, and light snacks. Talla and Rara are both with me, making small talk while we enjoy some refreshing drinks. Mine is something that looks kind of like pink lemonade, made of—surprise surprise—stingroot berries.

It's not bad, honestly, but wow you really do need to go out of your way if you don't want something spicy. But it's mild compared to the actual roots, and has a tart sweetness to it that isn't too far off of lemonade. The wine was better, but I'm not complaining. Normally, I'd be happy to join the sisters in conversation, but I'm stressing over the notes I've taken on Vi's heat exchanger idea. I mean, less "idea" and more "memory" but still.

I can't even explain why I'm so nervous—Vi's right here to explain things if I get confused, and worst comes to worst we can always switch. I guess it's just that this is potentially our only chance at making a connection to the Alchemist, and I don't want to mess it up. It also doesn't help that Tefi is late. Precise timekeeping isn't very common, but we've been here long enough that it's starting to get concerning. I can only review the notes so many times before I start to get bored.

I look up from the papers to scan the crowd for any sign of him, and I'm met with an unfamiliar pair of black and yellow eyes staring back at me.

"Bwah!" I'm so startled that I nearly knock over my drink. I don't know when he got there, but sitting across from us is one of the strangest looking Fa'aun I've ever seen. His fur is dark black, much darker than even the deepest brown I've seen on anyone else, and he has two pairs of horns—one which points up from the top of his head, and another that starts just above his ears and curls downwards. His shoulder-length hair has an impossible gradient to it, going from black at the roots to neon-purple at the tips.

But his eyes are the first thing I notice, and the part that draws the most attention. He's got the same yellow iris and horizontal pupil as most Fa'aun, but his sclera are pitch black.

"Maev Allison," he greets me, his voice surprisingly high and melodic for a man.

"I've heard so much about you."

"Excuse me... sir?" Talla asks uncertainly.

"This is a private table and we're waiting to meet someone." In response, he just smiles gently and turns his attention to Rara, who meets him with a frozen, wide-eyed stare like a deer in headlights.

"Y-you—you're..." she stammers.

"Lady Tara Goa Baanu, I have to thank you for adopting my new dyes so enthusiastically," he says.

"I'm sorry we couldn't meet sooner, but your mother can be such a pest." My mind feels fuzzy. It's coming to conclusions, but those conclusions aren't matching the things I thought I already knew. At the same time, I feel an inexplicable sense of familiarity with this man I've never seen before in my life. Part of that is the certainty that he is a man, despite his somewhat androgynous voice.

I'm still not the best at telling Fa'aun apart, but his face and body are also kinda feminine—at least, more slender than most men I've met—and his clothing covers his chest, which is unusual for Fa'aun men. Nevertheless, I immediately recognized him as a man.

"Who are you?" I ask dumbly, even as my own mind screams the answer at me. He turns his smile to me and inclines his head politely.

"I prefer to keep my name private, as it's one I'm not particularly proud of, but most know me by my epithet. I am the one they call 'The Alchemist.'" As I thought. I refused to believe it because of my own preconceptions, but it's hard to argue with that confirmation. That doesn't stop my headmates from trying.

"The fuck?!" Maggie protests.

"I thought he was supposed to be another dungeon borne!"

"Why would he be meeting us here and now?" Vi wonders.

"Unless... no, never mind."

"He looks like a woman," Evie adds, unhelpfully. The Alchemist chuckles at my silent disbelief and turns his attention back to Talla for a moment.

"Please forgive me for the sudden and unexpected meeting," he says.

"I have to be careful about public appearances, and the simplest way to avoid my enemies is to just show up unannounced." Both of the ladies at my side are stunned into silence, so it falls on me to say something. But what? I can see how much this man enjoys turning over people's expectations. He knows that we're shocked, and he's reveling in it. I can't really change that, but maybe I can turn things around on him a bit.

"You look pretty good for two hundred," I observe.

"Keeping the best potions for yourself?" He snorts.

"If I had potions like that, I wouldn't waste my time producing mana tinctures. My longevity comes from a combination of skill and circumstance." I raise an eyebrow.

"Circumstance? Like something that happened at a certain convergence point two centuries ago?"

"Allie..." Talla warns me. She's worried, since I'm not supposed to be talking about that, but something tells me the Alchemist already knows all about it. Probably more than anybody else. I haven't forgotten what Arelii told me, and while I'm not sure how much I believe her, or how much I can trust the Alchemist, I'd like to hear more perspectives if I can.

"Naturally," the Alchemist says.

"I'm sure we have much to discuss about that, but this isn't the setting for it. But yes, I came from the same convergence point as you."

"Does that mean he was there when I was murdered?" Evelyn asks. Good question, but probably too confrontational right now.

"So you are dungeon borne?" I ask instead.

"Not from this world?" He spreads his hands apart and sighs.

"I know you were hoping to find someone from your own world, but I am in fact both dungeon borne and native to this world." Talla finally finds her voice and interjects.

"That doesn't make any sense. How can it be both?"

"Did you leave this world and then come back somehow?" I ask.

"Good guess," he replies.

"The answer is both yes and no. I can't go into detail here, but what happened two hundred years ago severed me from this world. I wasn't anywhere else, but I wasn't here, either. It took me a long time to find my way back, and the process changed me."

"Okay, why the fuck is he telling us this?" Maggie asks.

"What does he want from us?" That's a good question, actually. This is all so sudden that it's throwing me off balance, and there's a cynical part of me that suspects that's exactly the point.

"I'm afraid I can't offer a full explanation yet," he says, as if in response to Maggie, "but I feel compelled to at least tell you that if anyone else from your world exists, I'm not aware of them." What a fricking disappointment! But then where did all the guns and cars come from? Did he just invent them on his own? I mean, I guess it's not that crazy. Am I being biased here?

Is it some kind of discrimination to assume that people in this world wouldn't be able to come up with the same ideas our world did, but sooner? Argh! Never mind all that!

"At least tell me you know something about what's going on with that stupid fricking convergence break," I insist desperately.

"I'm stuck in the middle of a total nightmare, and the more I learn the less I understand. Please, just tell me you have some kind of answer that doesn't just make things even more complicated!" He leans back away from my outburst and blinks.

"I may, though I fear I don't know everything. Lady Tara, can you ensure our privacy?" Rara jumps, surprised by the sudden attention.

"What? How did you know I have a skill like that?" Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

"You're a high level confidante," he answers simply.

"Which must drive your mother quite mad, and is the only reason I'm willing to have this conversation in your presence."

"Most people don't know that, either," she grumbles.

"But fine, I'll [Keep This Between Us]." I'm surprised that she'd give the skill away as a [Message] like that, but once I read the description, I understand. [Skill - Keep This Between Us] Form an agreement between yourself and any number of willing and informed parties. Anything spoken under this agreement will not be heard by others, and you will be unable to share it without permission. The agreement may optionally be reversed or made mutual with the informed consent of all parties.

"Your skill only works if you let us read it?" I ask curiously.

"Yep, and you have to actually agree to the terms," she answers.

"I don't use it much, since I prefer actual trust, but it's got its uses. It's also got its gaps. Even if you agree to be silenced, you're only prevented from sharing the content of the conversation. It doesn't stop you from talking about anything you learned."

"That's fine," the Alchemist says, waving her off.

"I only wanted to make sure we wouldn't be overheard. A skill is more subtle than a meeting in the shadows." He's pretty shrewd, this guy. Just what has he gone through over the last two hundred years to make him so paranoid? And again, why is he bothering with us if he's so secretive? Talla just stares at the Alchemist, eyes narrowed as he proceeds.

"The convergence point we came from is not natural," he says matter-of-factly.

"It was created for a very specific and extremely heretical purpose—to serve as the locus of a goddess' embodiment."

"A goddess?" I ask.

"Not the Goddess?" He nods.

"Well spotted. Indeed, the ritual that created that dungeon was meant to bring a new goddess into the world. Thankfully, it failed."

"Because there's only one Goddess," Talla says firmly.

"And She is not subject to mortal magic."

"Mm. Perhaps, but the ritual did something," he replies.

"Killed everybody present at its activation, for a start. Everybody within its area was torn from reality along with the dungeon itself, creating a new convergence point."

"Including you?" I ask.

"Yes. I was there to stop the ritual, but I was too late."

"That's awfully convenient," Maggie interjects.

"Framing himself as the good guy like that." I have to agree, and I don't want to let him get away with such an obvious manipulation.

"How did you know the ritual was happening at all?" I ask.

"Oh, because I helped to create it," he answers easily.

"I was a member of the Cult of the True Goddess." Talla's fists clench on the table, and her entire body tenses up as if ready to spring into violence at a moment's notice. Dang, we got baited.

"You're a Chaos cultist?!" she demands angrily. He waves a hand dismissively.

"Reformed. Even before they murdered me. The ritual was only meant to create demons—embodying Chaos would be utter madness."

"Oh, of course, just summoning demons is fine though," Talla says sarcastically.

"The folly of youth," the Alchemist argues with a shrug.

"I've spent nearly two centuries trying to atone for those mistakes. One can't stay guilty forever."

"Let's stay focused," I sigh.

"So you were torn out of reality, and then?"

"I fought my way back," he says.

"It felt like an eternity, though relatively little time passed in reality. Most of the others had their souls swept up in the ocean of possibility and were washed away. It wasn't easy, but I established a little beach for myself until my soul could find its way back to reality."

"That's impossible," Talla says. The Alchemist chuckles.

"Everything is possible, and I was drowning in a world of pure possibility. It was extremely improbable, however. It took everything I had, and even then I returned as a corpse and had to craft myself a new body. Not that I was all that attached to the old one." I hold my head in my hands, trying to hold myself back from groaning. So much for answers that didn't give me more questions.

"That's a really fascinating story," I hiss.

"But I don't see how it helps us."

"You're right," he says.

"I apologize for the digression. When I returned, I was barely alive and focused only on my own survival. I thought my soul was the only one that survived the ritual." His eyes meet mine, and for a moment it feels like he's staring past my eyes to look at something deeper within. Then he looks away and continues.

"It was a failure, but everyone who knew of it was gone," he says.

"I thought that was the end of it. A terrible tragedy that I regretted my hand in. But the ritual hadn't truly ended. The convergence point continued to gather power, fed in secret by remnants of the cult that I didn't know existed until... it finished." He gestures at me and sighs.

"And now here you are—the ultimate product of my failure. A mistake that could have destroyed everything, but for a lucky coincidence." I feel a cold sweat forming now. Suddenly I'm not sure I actually want to hear the answers the Alchemist has for me. But it's too late now.

"The ritual required a specially prepared vessel—a priestess with very specific skills that would allow her to contain an aspect of the divine." Again, his gaze seems to pierce my soul.

"A volunteer, normally, but they took shortcuts. When the ritual failed, her body was destroyed, but her soul remained. Preserved for two centuries by the power of the ritual."

"Please stop," Evie whimpers.

"I don't want to hear this."

"I don't know how, but it seems that something went wrong in those two hundred years—or perhaps had been twisted from the start," he goes on, ignorant of Evie's plight.

"The vessel's role was reversed, and to contain her, the ritual pulled something— someone else from that ocean of infinite possibility." He spreads his hands out and gestures towards me.

"That's the only true answer I can give you," he says.

"You wanted to know what brought you here and why—now you know." I clench my hands in my hair as my entire body shakes. This is so much more than I thought I'd hear.

"Can—can it be reversed?" I choke out, holding back the tears that threaten to spill out of me.

"Can we go back to our own world?"

"I don't know," he answers quietly.

"I'm not even sure there is another world for you to return to, or if you were just conjured out of the ocean of possibility by the ritual." Okay. So Evie's real, we might be fake, and even if we aren't there's no way home—not even from the guy who brought us here in the first place. We're no closer to figuring out who's responsible for keeping that ritual going for two hundred years, and there's pretty much nobody we can trust, including our closest and only friends in the entire world.

I'm trying really hard not to think about what our amnesia means for the possibility that we were created by the convergence point rather than brought over from somewhere else. We're here now, we're real enough, and there's no point in panicking over problems that we can't actually solve. I feel I'm back in the dungeon again, facing down that dang [Angel] and desperately trying to understand what's happening. But I've been here before, and I'm not alone anymore.

I take a deep breath, hold it for a moment, then let it out.

"Okay." Talla, Rara, and the Alchemist all look at me curiously.

"Thanks for explaining," I say flatly.

"That's good to know. This was all a gigantic waste of time, but I—we can salvage this."

"Allie?" Violet calls out quietly, sounding concerned.

"Alchemist—Alchy? Al? Can I call you Al?" I ask. He blinks.

"Uh, if you wish."

"Great! Okay, Al, we need your help," I tell him.

"Our friend needs help. He's in a mess that's all our fault—by which I mean it's all your fault."

"I'm not sure I—""And we can't really do frick all to save him," I continue, ignoring his protest, "except give our word to a bunch of rich [pricks] that are probably just going to ignore us anyway." Talla hesitates, frowning.

"You can trust the arbiter to be fair, I'm sure. You just need to tell her—""The truth?" I ask facetiously.

"Not the ones they want to hear. No, I know how courts like this work. A noble daughter is dead—an heiress of the most powerful noble family. One way or another, blood demands blood. Am I wrong?" She bites her lip and turns away, but Al is happy to answer for her.

"You're right. Even if you could prove your friend's innocence, it would not be enough." I nod.

"So someone else needs to answer for it. And you're going to help me find out who." He raises an eyebrow.

"How? And why would I do this for you?"

"We're going to figure out who is responsible for keeping that ritual going and reveal them," I answer.

"And you'll do it because you owe us! Because you're the only one who can. Because we'll give you something to make your stupid cars work better!" I toss the notes in his face, and they scatter in every direction.

"Or maybe just because it's the right thing to do," I sigh, deflating in my seat.

"Take your pick."

"Altruism is rarely a strong motivator," Al sighs, inspecting one of the sheets I threw at him.

"But very well, I'll do what I can to help. Lady Talla, you can tell your mother I'm willing to work with her on this—I know that she's been looking into it already, and there's not much time." Now it's my turn to be surprised.

"Wait, really? Just like that?"

"I already planned to help you in any way I could," he says.

"Since long before we met here. The moment you washed up on my shore." What?

"The dream!" Violet exclaims suddenly.

"I knew it was him! So that was real, after all." What?!

"It was," Al confirms.

"It's good to see you again, Violet." WHAT?!