CHAPTER 96— Alchemy City(2)
The student cohorts flooded the bustling streets of Alchemy City, marching in structured, organized rows with the instructors leading the way at the front.
"Do not wander off on your own," Instructor Valeria's commanding voice echoed sharply over the ambient hum of the metropolis.
"You are not children anymore, so make sure you don't lose your footing, drift away from the patrol lines, and create extra headaches for your instructors. You are here representing Grand Aetherion, so act like it and don't cause any mess."
Despite the warning, the freshmen collectively dropped their jaws the moment they took in the full visual scale of the city.
Rowan's eyes were practically wider than dinner plates, straining so far that it looked like they might pop out of his skull. Alchemy City was an absolute technological marvel.
At every single intersection, they witnessed magitech and machinery so advanced that they could do nothing but stand back and gawk.
'Whoa... it genuinely feels like I've been dropped into an entirely different world.' Rowan thought, staring up in awe.
He spotted self-propelled vehicles running on silent mana cells, automated delivery drones weaving through the upper airspace, and storefront doors sliding open automatically the second a pedestrian approached. Giant floating holographic billboards towered over the boulevards, broadcasting real-time news feeds across the skyline.
Truly this place was a living, breathing miracle of innovation.
"Huff..."
Despite the breathtaking sights, it appeared at least one student in their vicinity was failing to enjoy the excursion.
Ritvik was huffing loudly, his face twisted in deep, localized frustration.
"What's crawled up your collar?" Rowan asked, leaning over. "You've been acting like someone dragged you to a doctor all morning. I thought you were excited to come back here."
The energetic boy from the train ride had completely vanished, replaced by an aura of pure gloom.
"Ugh... what do I even say? That red-haired tyrantness completely ruined my mood" Ritvik complained, rubbing his temples. "Why do I keep crossing paths with her everywhere I go?"
"Are you sure you two secretly aren't magnets who constantly attract each other." Sarina chimed in smoothly, a slight teasing smirk playing on her lips.
"If we were magnets, I wish I were North and she was South, at least that way we would stay worlds apart from each other's lane."
"But doesn't North and South attrect each other?" Sarina muttered softly, tilting her head.
"Ah, Whatever, my mood is completely ruined, I don't know if I would even be able to enjoy the rest of the trip or not."
"Hey come on take a deep breath and look around." Rowan encouraged, giving his friend a friendly slap on the shoulder. "The city is amazing. I'm sure your mood will pick up once you look around a bit."
Ritvik exhaled a long, dramatic sigh, forcing his shoulders to drop as he attempted to reset his mood.
Rowan smiled, turning his attention back to the futuristic storefronts lining the avenue. But as he scanned the vibrant streets, a sudden twitch of recognition crossed his face.
No matter where they looked—every building, every transit stop, every corporate sign, and every public bulletin board—featured the exact same face. It was an older, middle-aged man with a wonderfully thick, sweeping mustache, radiating the warm, grandfatherly vibe of a friendly neighborhood uncle.
Rowan's mind instantly flashed back to a specific paragraph in his brother's letters:
"All over Alchemy City, you'll find posters and pictures of this one old guy. At first, I thought he was just some local celebrity, but when I asked around, I found out..."
"The pictures of this Oldman are everywhere aren't they?"
The voice snapped Rowan out of his thoughts.
He turned to see Sarina walking beside him, her sharp eyes studying his reaction.
Rowan slowly nodded. "Um... yeah. This uncle is on every single wall."
"Uncle? Oh, you mean him?" Ritvik chimed in from a few paces ahead, pointing at a massive digital display hoarding.
"Yeah, you literally can't escape him in this city. Look, there he is again," Ritvik pointed across the street.
Sure enough, another holographic banner showed the smiling old man holding a sleek medical scanner.
As they walked further, the sheer frequency of his appearance became comical. The man's face was printed on massive billboards outside restaurants, where he smiled while holding a frying pan and spatula.
On a nearby financial exchange board, he beamed next to stacks of golden bullion. His smiling visage was stamped on the sides of delivery vans, hotels, vending machines, and even printed directly onto aluminum beverage cans.
The other students around them quickly began noticing the bizarre trend, voices rising in disbelief.
"Who is this guy?"
"Look! There he is again!"
"Is he some kind of a pop star?"
"Hold on, over there he's selling electronic circuit boards!"
"Are you kidding me? Now he's selling industrial steel poles!"
"Does this man have any sense of brand loyalty? He sells literal gold bullion one second and bags of concrete the next!"
"It's like he'll endorse literally anything for a quick buck," another student groaned.
Ritvik let out a soft chuckle at the collective bewilderment of his peers, turning back to Rowan and Sarina. "Well? What do you two think? Any guesses on who this guy actually is?"
Sarina spared a brief, calculating glance toward Rowan, but Rowan was entirely focused on reading a nearby public placard.
"Some retired celebrity that everyone in the city worships?" Sarina guessed flatly.
"I mean... yeah, everyone here practically idolizes him, but he isn't an entertainer," Ritvik explained, puffing up his chest slightly.
"This guy is the supreme sovereign of the entire metropolis. The legendary Alchemist King—"
"Stalin."
Silence dropped like an anvil.
Ritvik froze dead in his tracks. The voice hadn't come from him, nor had it come from Sarina. He whipped his head around, finding Rowan staring blankly at a nearby banner.
Sensing the sudden weight of the silence.
Rowan blinked and shifted his gaze back to his friends. Ritvik was staring at him like he had just spoken fluent ancient dragon-tongue, while Sarina maintained her trademark stare.
Rowan's brain raced. He had accidentally blurted out the exact name his brother had written down in his letters.
Desperate for an excuse, he scrambled to sound as casual and natural as humanly possible.
"What?" Rowan asked innocently.
"Well... I didn't think someone with your baseline general knowledge would actually know the name of the Alchemist King," Ritvik sputtered, adjusting his glasses in shock.
"Ah, well..." Rowan pointed a finger triumphantly at a massive, colorfully decorated banner hanging across a municipal building. "His name is literally printed right there in giant letters: Happy Birthday, Alchemist King Stalin Bolievia!"
There, indeed, hung a massive festive banner celebrating the ruler's milestone.
Ritvik blinked, looking between Rowan and the banner. "Wow... you can read?"
"What type of question is that? Of course I can read." Rowan retorted with feigning righteous offense.
"Well sometimes you asked so foolish and clueless questions that it had made me wonder if you had spent your school life flying paper plans instead of studying."
"Hey! you—"
"What are you two idiots doing lagging behind? Are you planning to get lost? Didn't instructor Valeria said to stick with the group."
Both Rowan and Ritvik flinched. Sarina, who had been lingering behind them, had suddenly bypassed them and was now marching at the front of the student column.
They both snapped their heads forward, realizing that while they were arguing, the rest of the student cohort had marched a full block ahead.
Unwilling to suffer any disciplinary actions from Instructor Valeria, both boys scrambled forward at a full sprint to catch up to Sarina and rejoin the group.
---
At long last, the students of Grand Aetherion spilled past the grand gates and onto the sprawling, high-tech campus of the Grand Academy of Alchemy (GAA).
The grounds were massive, rivaling the campus of Grand Aetherion itself. Towering statues, shimmering fountains, and vibrant city flags snapped proudly in the breeze.
Rowan paused, staring closely at the academy's official banner. Unlike every other poster or sign plastered across the metropolis, this flag didn't feature the face of Stalin Bolievia. Instead, it bore the crest of two interlocking flasks—one round-bottomed and one conical—leaning against each other to form the letter A, surrounded by elemental glyphs and alchemical symbols.
'Huh. So there is actually one place in this city that isn't dedicated to his face.' Rowan thought, blinking in quiet surprise.
Around him, his peers were gazing at the impressive architecture with a mix of awe and excitement.
"Wow... I had no idea the GAA campus was this huge," a student near the front muttered.
"Yeah, it feels just like Grand Aetherion's main quad."
"This place has definitely changed quite a bit since the last time." Ritvik murmured, crossing his arms.
Rowan glanced over at him. "Oh right, you mentioned you've visited before. What looks different to you?"
"Well... it just feels rearranged, you know? Some of the older buildings look entirely remodeled, and they've added a bunch of new magitech transit lanes."
Rowan narrowed his eyes. The answer was so suspiciously broad that he couldn't help but wonder if Ritvik was just making it up on the spot to sound experienced.
"Wow so that wasn't just an old legend, this Place really changes every year. Right Ashwin."
Rowan looked over to see Kaizen, Ashwin, and the rest of their Sanctum group chatting among themselves a few yards away.
"Yeah, If I remember correctly that statue wasn't here before."
"Right, and that fountain wasn't here if I remember correctly, Looks new to me though."
"Looks like they too have been here before." Rowan muttered.
"Of course, it's very common for the people of Sanctums or Elemental houses to travel and visit various places."
Rowan's mind drifted back to his primary objective. 'If Ritvik has actually been here before, could he possibly know anything about the guy my brother mentioned in his letter? Should I just ask him directly?'
"What are you staring at so intensely?"
Ritvik noticed Sarina staring at something.
Sarina standing in her usual posture tilted her chin.
Ritvik and Rowan followed her line of sight, noticing a small crowd of students whispering and pointing toward a bizarre duo standing near the perimeter wall.
"Wow, are they cosplayers?"
"What's with that guy's hat? Is he filming some kind of crime-drama?"
Rowan squinted. Standing near a brick pillar was a man in his late thirties wearing eccentric, old-fashioned exaggerated detective attire—complete with a tweed deerstalker hat, an Inverness cape, a swinging pocket watch, and a polished wooden walking cane.
Beside him stood a young woman in her mid-twenties wearing standard tactical field clothes, looking utterly exhausted.
"Are they street performers for the campus tour?" Ritvik tilted his head.
"Who knows," Sarina shrugged indifferently.
Rowan shook his head to clear his thoughts.
'Focus, Rowan. This is your chance.' He took a deep breath, building up the courage to speak.
"Hey, Ritvik—"
Suddenly, a loud burst of heavy footsteps echoed across the stone pavement, cutting him off.
The students straighten up and organised.
From the side of the plaza, an elevated viewing platform lowered, and an older man in his fifties stepped forward.
He wore a warm, grandfatherly smile that radiated the cozy energy of a friendly neighborhood uncle, perfectly complemented by the enormous, sweeping mustache resting on his upper lip.
Rowan's eyes went wide.
There was no mistaking that face. It was the exact same man whose portrait was plastered on every wall, billboard, and vending machine across the entire city.
The supreme sovereign of Alchemy City himself—Alchemist King Stalin Bolievia.
"Welcome, students of Grand Aetherion,"
Stalin began, his voice carrying clearly across the courtyard with a smooth, welcoming tone. "It is an absolute honor for our city to host such brilliant young minds for this academic exchange..."
As the long official address droned on, the collective attention of the exhausted students began to drift.
"Ugh... another endless elder speech," a student groaned softly.
"I'm already getting motion sickness from hearing his speech."
"Doesn't that uncle look kind of cute?"
"Yeah, he honestly looks like a walking teddy bear with that mustache."
While the speech continued, Rowan and Sarina noticed a sudden spike in ambient temperature. They glanced over and saw that Ritvik was sweating profusely, his face turning pale.
Rowan tilted his head in confusion before following Ritvik's terrified gaze. Standing directly beside Ritvik was Seraphine. Her eyes were narrowed into razor-sharp slits, radiating an intense, murderous aura as she stared daggers into space—god knows who she was imagining incinerating.
Even though those fiery glares weren't targeted at Ritvik at that exact second, the sheer atmospheric pressure radiating from her was enough to soak his collar in cold sweat.
Ritvik shot a desperate, pleading look toward Sarina. Letting out a soft sigh, Sarina didn't say a word; she simply stepped into Ritvik's space, gracefully swapping positions with him to shield him from the psychic blast.
Rowan looked like he wanted to ask what was happening, but Ritvik aggressively shook his head, signaling for absolute silence.
"So now I will conclude what I had to say. Enjoy your trip and the students of GAA will help you guild through the campus." Stalin smiled, finally opening his eyes.
As he scanned the crowd, one of his eyes flickered with a sudden, sharp, suspicious glint. His gaze shifted past the student rows toward the two eccentric figures standing near the perimeter wall.
The man in the exaggerated detective gear gave Stalin a cheerful, sheepish wave, while the raven-haired woman standing beside him violently slapped her palm against her own forehead in sheer mortification.
Stalin's expression remained warm and cozy but a sublet expression of annoyce clouded his face for a second before turning and walking away, flanked by a phalanx of silent guards.
"Alright, everyone. Let's see what this place has to offer!"
"Finally! Let's go check out the advanced synthesis labs."
"I wonder what kind of crazy tech they have in the subterranean floors."
The student body immediately broke formation, scattering across the massive GAA campus in small groups.
A short distance away, Damon stood ramrod straight, hands shoved deep into his pockets, staring intently at the eccentric detective standing by the wall.
"Ah, Pratik... Come on, when are you ever going to take an assignment seriously?" the raven-haired woman hissed, aggressively rubbing her temples.
"Oh, come on, Aoi! I told you, I am always serious." the man—Pratik—replied with a playful, teasing grin. "Besides, who gave you permission to address your superior by his name?"
"Yeah, yeah, my 'great superior.' If you actually acted like one, maybe I'd start calling you captain," Aoi retorted flatly.
"Ouch. Shouldn't you call me senpai though? I'd really prefer that title."
While the two bickered, Pratik suddenly felt a heavy, analytical gaze locked onto him. He turned his head and caught Damon staring right through him.
Pratik's eyes flickered with a brief flash of familiar intensity before his expression instantly smoothed back into a carefree smirk, the corners of his lips curling upward.
Damon held his gaze for a second longer before turning around in silence and walking away into the crowd.
"What's with you? Who were you staring at?" Aoi asked, crossing her arms.
"Ah... nothing," Pratik chuckled lightly, slipping his hands into his cape pockets.
"It felt like I saw someone faimilar but seems like that wasn't the case."
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CHAPTER ENDS