Lip-Blue Berry was the first food of the gods Kas had ever willingly eaten. He wanted to complete the circle that was still unfinished.
But once certain inspiration was interrupted, it could never be resumed. The road to completion had been shut forever.
No matter how he pondered it, even when he deliberately tried to complete Pythagorean Sacred Numerology, the status of [Project: Transmutation] remained in progress.
The Lip-Blue Berry that let him see the dead had only made his inspiration flicker for less than a punctuation mark.
[Project: Transmutation Status: Failed Inspiration: This might be the right choice. I can't shake the feeling that if Sacred Number Theory reaches "10," something bad will happen.
Though the project had failed, Kas had at least figured out how to extract the magical capacity of minerals and transfer it to another ore.
It might not seem like much—like pouring a ladleful of water into another ladleful of water.
But while the world held many minerals with excellent magical capacity, very few could be worked into metal. Adamantine and Mithril were typical examples.
If he could mass-produce Adamantine and Mithril, Kas would undoubtedly become the richest man in the Sorrow Mountains... though Barbarians didn't have much money to begin with.
Kas already knew that coaxing minerals to transform consumed mental energy. The hallucinogenic effects of Lip-Blue Berry let him perceive more fully the minerals melting inside the iron bucket.
The "Radel" he'd made this time was ten times heavier than the last one, like a large silver ingot.
"Whew..." He let out a long breath, then sat down on the ground without a shred of grace.
He had to admit, alchemy really was fascinating.
The satisfaction of transforming an ordinary substance into something he wanted was impossible to describe.
Holding two silver-white "Radels," Baize first looked around. When he noticed that one of the Black Guards assigned to watch over the testing ground was missing, his expression turned grave.
"Kas, there's no need to thank me, but you must listen to what I have to say..." Baize crouched in front of Kas, his expression as stern as steel.
"You've succeeded in making a metal that rivals Radel. The Black Ash faction is willing to submit to the Great Shaman. This has long been our wish.
"I'll make time to visit Elder Hadi in Ferode Canyon and beg him to grant us this secret through you.
"But first, you must explain to your father's blood-sworn brother, Keck Bloodfire, that all you did in making Radel was offer a few insignificant ideas."
"Why? He's my father's blood-sworn brother..." Kas frowned in confusion, but he quickly guessed the reason from Baize's wary expression.
"Would he hurt me?"
Baize nodded reluctantly. The idea was hard for the Rishiman People to accept. One meaning of being blood-sworn brothers was that they were close enough friends to entrust their children to each other.
"Don't doubt Keck's resolve. He sacrificed all his children to the Blood-Ash Furnace with his own hands, all because he heard a strange prophecy at Crone's Peak: 'Blood-Fire will rise from Black Ash.'"
"But didn't the Black Ember Tribe swear to King Vanak that they'd stop using the Rishiman People as sacrifices for the furnace? If you oppose what he's doing, you can go to the royal court and report him."
Baize's meaningful look stayed with Kas. His lips moved slightly.
"Kas, in the Sorrow Mountains, unborn children don't count as people."
The shaman cut off Kas's attempt to ask more questions. He put a hand on Kas's shoulder and stared into his ice-blue eyes.
"Our reason for seeking Radel was to find a way to replace the Blood-Ash Furnace. It has brought the Black Ember Tribe too much disaster and misfortune, but we're caught up in it and can't escape.
"The furnace is like a Blood Worm on fire. It burrows into our bodies and makes us stronger, but it also gnaws at our marrow.
"And Keck wants to let that Blood Worm emerge from its cocoon as a butterfly. He intends to use the Blood-Ash Furnace and Radel to forge an army capable of conquering the Sorrow Mountains—and even the world."
"As far as you're concerned, he'll use every means to keep you in the Black Ember Tribe..."
The clatter of approaching footsteps made Baize look back. He saw Keck charging toward them like a scarlet blaze, and gave one final warning.
"Remember, we are inheritors of ancient wisdom and the moral boundary of the Rishiman People."
When Keck stormed into the testing ground like a scarlet blaze and saw the two "Radels" in Baize's hands, the greed in his eyes was impossible to restrain.
Moving too fast for the eye to follow, he easily snatched away the long-sought dream the shamans had pursued for centuries. Gazing at them almost obsessively, he exclaimed, "They're beautiful. No metal can compare to this flawless sheen... Kas, I'm truly grateful for your help. What would you like in return?
"Wealth, women, power, peerless combat techniques, or a divine weapon that can behead a dragon with a single stroke?"
It was a linguistic trap. Kas began to see Keck Bloodfire for what he was: greedy and violent.
If I accept his offer, I'll be admitting that, deep down, I think I was the one who made Radel.
"I don't understand. Does the contribution Baize made to the tribe really require the War Chief's permission before he can receive these things?"
"Baize?" Keck glanced at the weakened shaman. He disliked the young man.
He thought Baize was far too weak, hoping to exchange technology with the southerners peacefully and fix the Blood-Ash Furnace's shortcomings.
The War Chief glanced back at the Black Guard who had brought him the news. He was an informant he'd planted among the shamans.
"But I heard you were the one who made Radel."
Baize gave a helpless smile, stepped up to Keck, and held out his hand for the smaller Radel.
"Keck, you know very well that Malik's son could only be a born warrior. He's an unflinching duelist and killer. Malik's father, the dragon-slayer who took Crone's Peak, and countless ancestors were all peerless warriors.
"The Zagwell Clan has never had a shaman or a mage. Their pure path has made them purely powerful.
"Kas gave me a few interesting ideas. He's a clever boy, and I'm beginning to understand why the Great Shaman entrusted such a sacred duty to him."
Baize's explanation was convincing, but Keck would rather trust his own people.
Blood-Fire looked toward a patch of lonely darkness and dust. In response, someone shook their head. There was no trace of sorcery flowing through Kas; he was a pure warrior.
After hesitating for a while, he decided Baize and Kas had probably reached some kind of understanding.
"Kas is the son of my blood-sworn brother, and I regard him as my own son. I hereby make my will: when I die on the glorious battlefield, awaiting Pierce's summons, all my wealth, slaves, and honors will go to my only son—Kas.
"My child, tell me: did you make Radel? I want you to swear it in the name of Malik Broken Axe!"
Before you continue