The Root of Wisdom

"Squeak, squeak-squeak, squeak!"

As the meatball made a sound that Olive couldn't understand but could only imagine was thoroughly filthy, she carefully ground the [Tartar Emetic] into an even powder and sprinkled it over the still-twitching skin of the meat. Its tentacles spasmed. Then the lid of the transparent tank was opened. With a wet slap, the meatball rolled around inside a few times before flattening out completely, seeming to give up on life.

I'm tired. Just destroy the world already.

Olive turned her attention away from the tank and carefully wiped the slime from her palm with a handkerchief. Then, without warning, she spoke up, offering her first greeting to her apprentice since their reunion.

"Hmm. The one Veronica mentioned, the alchemy apprentice who awakened the First Seal at the site of the old Sacred Heart Hospital—that's you?"

"...Huh?"

Even knowing his mentor's personality, Horn still stiffened for a moment at the blunt question. His instinct was to bluff his way out of it, just as he had when concealing the existence of the [Flame of Destiny]. But after a brief hesitation, he nodded.

"That's right."

Now it was Olive's turn to fall silent.

She pressed her lips together slightly. Calcite-like patterns spread across the bottom of her right pupil as she opened her [Alchemy Eye], scrutinizing the young man before her as if examining a precious material.

Or rather, the ceaseless flow of hot blood inside him.

Threads of [Ember] spirituality coiled through his veins, using his blood as a vessel. With each beat of his heart, they flowed throughout his body. They resembled the manifestations of the [Heart] principle, yet their core was entirely different.

First Seal—[Blood Scorcher]!

Olive stared at Horn without changing expression, as if considering something—or perhaps simply lost in thought. The long, unbroken moment made Horn uneasy.

The meatball began slapping its tentacles against the tank again, and the young man was just about to ask what was going on when Olive rubbed her brow, looked away, and let out a slow sigh.

"I don't understand."

?

???

??????

Thoughts spun through Horn's mind, colliding, splitting, multiplying, and finally fusing into one enormous question mark. He had expected disappointment, anger, even delight—but never that answer.

Fortunately, Olive was merely bad at socializing and prone to dramatic pauses. She wasn't the sort to speak in riddles.

"...Although I don't understand it, this is good. Much better than I expected."

"Originally, I wanted you to spend a few years as an alchemy apprentice and build a foundation. Once you were ready to study [Great Knowledge] and make something of yourself at the Tree of Wisdom, I would introduce you to the supernatural world."

"But now, there's no need to go through all that."

Olive tugged at her sleeve and beckoned with her right index finger for Horn to come closer. Then she lightly touched the hollow of his collarbone.

He couldn't see what she did. Horn felt only a slight chill, then watched as a strand of orange-red thread was drawn out and wound around Olive's finger. As her breath stirred it, the strand visibly disintegrated into finer threads and dissolved into the air.

For an instant, Horn imagined Veronica plucking out strands from the [Mist Spider] with effortless ease. The technique was similar, but the focus was different—gentler and more precise.

Going by the naming conventions of the system's display, this move might be called Skill: [Sampling and Investigation]?

Holding the orange-red strand, Olive grew serious. Horn's thoughts were still wandering when she asked him to confirm:

"You have a real talent, Hohenheim. As a self-awakened one, your First Seal is a rare dual Aspect. That means your desires are enough to sustain the foundations of both the [Ember] and [Grail] principles. And it seems you've already chosen between the two paths."

Horn understood what she meant.

In the cramped apartment building in the Lower District, he had exhausted every possible option and chosen to bite into the monster's flesh. The moment that truly awakened the [Flame of Destiny], he had entered the long period of stress that preceded becoming a supernatural being.

During this stage, an uncontrollable passion filled one's heart, preparing one to bear a Mark. The behavior of these "candidates for ascension," driven subtly by that passion, reflected the path they were being drawn toward.

The [Grail] path, for example, corresponded to the intense hunger and urge to devour that Horn had felt. It would naturally draw him toward the high-level ritual, the [Blood Pool], beneath the Hound Bar. He could either fall into the pool and become its nourishment, or risk everything to usurp the ritual, claim Belloc's accumulated power, and drain the Blood Pool to ascend.

—But he had chosen a very different path.

The ferocity of [Ember], cleansing all that was impure.

Though Saliba's interference had interrupted the process of ascension, the possibility of "being on the verge of ascending" had exposed him to covetous eyes. In the end, however, he had turned misfortune into fortune. The [Flame of Destiny] kept him conscious, and in the status of a "sacrificed messenger," he had seized Saliba's ritual in turn. Amid despair and flames, he had crowned himself, earned the Hours' attention through the convergence of favorable circumstances, and attained the First Seal—[Blood Scorcher].

As if it were fate, his desire had been established as his foundation—and desire was the source of power.

Olive gave him a moment to think, then continued.

"But before we go any further, I still have to ask you: do you want to continue studying under me, follow the [Ember] path, and pursue [Alchemy], a branch of Great Knowledge?"

Even her question sounded like a foregone conclusion. Just as she had once arranged Horn's path as a scholar on her own, Olive seemed certain he wouldn't back down in the face of the supernatural. As his mentor, all she had to do was offer him a choice.

A choice that could change his fate.

Her matter-of-fact explanation continued.

"I'm not exactly popular in the Endeavor Society. I've only opened a workshop in a small place like Birmingham, and achieved a little something on the [Ember] path. But compared to the truly powerful organizations, I'm nobody. Other than teaching you alchemy, I don't have much to offer."

"Your surname is Lancaster. I thought it was either an attempt to climb the social ladder or that you were from a fallen branch of the family, but now..." Olive adjusted her glasses and declared, "The bloodline of the Lancaster family, victors of the War of the Roses, runs through your veins."

"If you wanted, the Endeavor Society would be more than happy to put you on a pedestal and perform yet another one of their 'noble deeds.' If you set your sights on worldly power, you could claim the throne of Avalon on the strength of your bloodline. Once that little queen can no longer bear the weight of her enormous Heavenly Mandate, you could even lay claim to it..."

"...I think I'll pass. Studying under you, Professor, is more than enough for me."

The future Olive described was getting more and more outrageous, and Horn could only shake his head in alarm. He was, after all, a loyal citizen of Avalon, and he felt no hesitation at all.

He might seem like a prize catch now, but only because he had a good pedigree and inherited the so-called "noble blood." What was more, his birth parents had both died under mysterious circumstances. How could Horn be sure he wouldn't become the next Sacrifice?

In other words, they didn't care what he wanted. How were they any different from Saliba, who needed him as a symbol and a support for his ascension ritual—a stepping-stone to prop himself up?

They were simply better at hiding their true intentions.

Where had those people been when he was still unknown? Only the professor before him had chosen him, and not because of some so-called [noble blood].

For now, he was a contractor with the Prevention and Suppression Bureau. He ought to seize the opportunity to improve himself as much as possible. At the very least, he needed to reach the Knower level to stand on his own. Until then, it was best not to get involved in the Lancaster family's mess.

"...Sigh."

Olive rubbed her brow, looking troubled. The professor, who usually seemed far too young, finally took on a solemn air befitting her true age. Looking at the brash young man who feared nothing, she was reminded of herself when she had been younger.

No. If she had possessed this kind of dazzling potential back then, she would surely have been even more arrogant.

"That's exactly why you're making this so difficult for me now, Hohenheim."

"Huh?"

Looking at Horn, still uneasy before her, Olive adjusted her glasses. For the first time, she regarded the uncut talent before her with the eyes of a craftswoman rather than a mentor, a faint hope rising within her.

Like embers that refused to cool, a blazing fire had begun to burn anew.

"Surgeons wield scalpels, and stonemasons swing chisels. But there are tools finer than either of those."

"My teacher once said those words to me, and now I'm passing them on to you."

"Come on. Let's see if you're really cut out for this."

As if a fantasy had come true, the professor's unprecedented, earnest anticipation brought Horn's thoughts to a sudden halt. A chill ran down his back.

Since crossing into this world, Horn's alchemy had gone smoothly thanks to the [Flame of Destiny]. He had grown used to the thrill of gaining experience. Even the most troublesome problems could be solved by making things "move on their own," and he had begun to think he could produce results without even trying, then lie back and sell the patents.

Alchemy was no big deal after all~

Now, at last, Horn realized that beneath those thick lenses, the true [Great Knowledge] in Olive's eyes was smiling at him.

It was telling him:

His real studies began now!