When the barbecue uncle started talking about the Verdant Festival, he visibly became excited. He picked up a huge mug of ale and gulped it down, then began casually telling Punk about the festival.
As Punk ate his barbecue, he silently listened to the uncle's scattered introduction. It turned out that the middle of Greenleaf Season was when the seeds planted by farmers began to sprout, and the Verdant Festival was held to celebrate that occasion. People used it to express their hopes for the crops to grow strong and healthy. On that day, everyone wore emerald-green clothes and grass wreaths to celebrate. What the public looked forward to most was the song and dance performances by the young female followers of the Harvest Church, which worshipped the Goddess of Harvest, Maisena. When the barbecue uncle mentioned the dances performed by those young followers, his face was utterly besotted.
Once Punk learned that Konola City's changes were merely due to a festival, he lost interest. He calmly continued eating the barbecue, wondering how he could sell the huge bag of junk he had brought back to the Mage Guild. But just as Punk was seriously thinking it over, his thoughts were interrupted.
Sitting ramrod straight and cutting his barbecue with a small knife, Punk felt someone tugging at the hem of his mage robe. Looking down, he saw a pretty little girl with light golden hair. She wore a grass wreath decorated with many tiny flowers. The pale green wreath complemented her pale golden hair, while her fair little face was innocent and delicate. Her large, bright eyes stared at the face beneath Punk's hood, her slightly open mouth showing her surprise. Her tiny nose twitched, making her little face look adorably dazed.
"Big brother... you're so pretty..."
Punk's expression remained blank, but inwardly, he twitched. This was the first time in his life that someone had called him "pretty"!
The barbecue uncle walked over with an awkward, somewhat fearful grin. "Hehe, this is my daughter. She's young and doesn't know any better. Please don't mind her, Mage..." Then he deliberately darkened his face and said to the little girl, "Get back inside now. Don't disturb the mage brother!"
"No, no, I won't! I want the mage brother to show me magic!" The little girl glared at the barbecue uncle with an expression that said, "Keep bothering me and I'll cry for you to see." Then she looked back at Punk, her expectant eyes seeming ready to sparkle with little stars.
"I'm truly sorry, Mage..." The barbecue uncle spoke as he prepared to forcibly carry the little girl back into the room. But how could the little girl, who wanted so badly to see magic, be willing to leave like that? She tightly clutched Punk's mage robe and refused to let go, leaving the barbecue uncle unsure whether to pull her away or not.
"It's fine. It's only a child's little wish." Punk waved at the uncle, stopping him. The uncle stood there awkwardly, worry and concern practically written across his face. But Punk ignored him. He opened his hand and made a light gesture, gathering the water in the cup on the table into a floating sphere above his palm. Under the little girl's astonished, unblinking gaze, the water sphere transformed into three tiny figures in short skirts, dancing a tango as they spun across Punk's palm.
"Wow..." The little girl was completely captivated. Even after Punk returned the water to the cup, she still wore an adorably stunned expression of delight. Punk reached out and patted her little head. She made an expression of enjoyment like a kitten and softly murmured.
"This really is a real world." After finishing his barbecue, Punk murmured almost inaudibly to himself.
"What did you say, Mage?" The uncle hurriedly carried the little girl, who seemed somewhat sleepy, over to a chair beside him. Only after putting more distance between her and Punk did he wipe the sweat from his forehead, looking greatly relieved.
"Nothing. The barbecue was delicious, and the little girl is very pretty."
"I-Is that so? Hahaha..." The uncle habitually scratched the back of his head, but did not try to act familiar with Punk again.
Punk paid no attention to the barbecue uncle's state. To him, a commoner's thoughts were hardly worth spending time to speculate about. He simply tossed out a silver coin, left behind a rather lavish "Keep the change," picked up his "bag of junk," and turned to leave the barbecue shop.
Outside, pedestrians dressed in emerald-green clothes and hats chatted and laughed. Only Punk, wearing a pale cyan mage robe with most of his face hidden in the shadows of his hood, stood out from the noisy street while seeming somewhat out of place. Yet Punk enjoyed the feeling. The path of the strong was destined to be lonely, and loneliness was something he had already conquered in the void!
The old man at the Mage Guild had, after all, experienced much in life. When he saw that Punk had reached Journeyman Level, he merely froze for a moment. He did not lose his composure in shock like the old man at the city gate. However, the old mage's attitude toward Punk changed noticeably. That ridiculous manner of a lofty senior expert vanished as though it had never existed, leaving not the slightest trace. In its place was a strange familiarity, as if they were old friends and relatives of the same generation. Punk's bag of junk also easily sold for the high price of eight hundred gold coins, pleasantly surprising Punk, who had thought it would fetch six hundred at most.
However, Punk also knew that the old mage was trying to curry favor with him. After all, Punk's potential was clearly far greater than that of an old mage with one foot in the grave. The old mage's attempt to win over a "future dignitary" was understandable. At least Punk was the one benefiting for now.
But the old mage's calculations regarding personal favors were destined to fail. Punk was not someone who cared about such things, much less when he had already decided to cast aside his useless Mage Guild membership as soon as he found a reliable mentor!
Therefore, no matter how many times the old mage tried to start a conversation, Punk ignored him completely. He simply bought the Night Vision Potion he had long "admired" from the Alchemy Golem, along with several necessary materials. Then Punk closed his eyes and leaned against the cool wall while waiting for the small golem to retrieve the formula book. Seeing that he had talked himself hoarse to no effect, the old mage could only curl his lips helplessly and turn to leave.
Is that old man a street performer? He's been making so much noise that my ears can't get a moment of peace. Punk rubbed his pointed ears and silently complained.
Holding the ancient, thin Night Vision Potion formula, Punk arrived at a gloomy little alley in a particularly remote part of Konola City. Though the houses there were somewhat dilapidated, the place was quiet and deserted, far from the bustle. It was perfect for an Alchemy Workshop. Alchemy was a delicate craft, and beginners especially could not tolerate the slightest disturbance. Otherwise, at best, the potion would be ruined; at worst, it would explode on the spot! Although Punk was very confident in his own "skills" and the system's analysis, it was better to be extra cautious in matters where one could never be too careful.
With the formula, the materials, and the equipment, Punk's first alchemy session was finally about to begin!
The alchemy begins. Come save and vote!
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