The Lust of Blood-Fire

Lip-Blue Berry. This was the first time Kas had voluntarily consumed the food of the gods; he wanted to complete the circle that remained unfinished.

Yet, some inspirations, once interrupted, can never be resumed; the path leading to completion had been sealed shut.

No matter how he pondered, even after actively supplementing the Pythagorean Sacred Numerology, the status of [Project: Transmutation] remained in progress.

The Lip-Blue Berry, which allowed him to see the departed, had only caused his inspiration to flicker for less than a single punctuation mark.

[Project: Transmutation

Status: Failed

Inspiration: This was perhaps the correct choice. I have a feeling that if the Sacred Numerology were to be deduced to "10," something terrible would surely happen.]

Although the project failed, Kas had successfully figured out how to extract the magical capacity contained within minerals and transfer it to another ore.

It seemed no different than pouring a ladle of water into another.

However, the world contains many minerals with excellent magical capacity, yet very few can serve as metalwork materials; Adamantine and Mithril are typical examples.

If he could mass-produce Adamantine and Mithril, Kas would undoubtedly become the richest man in the Sorrow Mountains... though the barbarians didn't have much money anyway.

Inducing mineral conversion consumed mental energy; Kas already knew this. The hallucinogenic effect of the Lip-Blue Berry allowed his mind to more fully perceive the minerals melting inside the iron barrel.

The "Radel" produced this time was ten times heavier than the previous one, resembling a large silver ingot.

"Hoo~" Exhaling a long, turbid breath, Kas sat on the ground with no regard for his posture.

He had to admit, alchemy was truly interesting.

Transforming a mundane substance into something desired—the satisfaction gained from that was beyond words.

Holding the two silvery-white "Radel," Baize first scanned his surroundings and, upon noticing that one of the Black Guard who usually stood watch over the testing grounds was missing, his expression suddenly turned grave.

"Kas, there is no need for words of thanks, but you must listen to me now..." Baize crouched halfway before Kas, his expression more solemn and heavy than steel:

"You have successfully created a metal comparable to Radel. The Black Ember Tribe is willing to submit to the Great Shaman; this has been our long-cherished wish.

I will find time to visit Elder Hadi at Ferode Canyon and pray that he bestows this mystery upon us through your hands.

But for now, you must explain to your father's blood-sworn brother, Keck Bloodfire, that you only provided some insignificant ideas during the process of creating Radel."

"Why? He is my father's blood-sworn brother..." Kas frowned, puzzled, but he soon guessed something from Baize's wary expression.

"Will he harm me?"

Baize nodded with difficulty. To the Rishiman People, this was unbelievable, as one of the meanings of being blood-sworn brothers was the ability to entrust one's offspring to each other.

"Do not doubt Keck's resolve. He sacrificed all his own children to the Blood-Ash Furnace, simply because he heard a strange prophecy at Crone's Peak—the blood-fire shall ignite from the Black Ember."

"But didn't the Black Ember Tribe swear to King Vanak that they would no longer use Rishiman People as sacrifices for the furnace? If you oppose his actions, you could go to the Royal Court and report this."

Baize's meaningful gaze was something Kas would never forget. He moved his lips slightly:

"Kas, in the Sorrow Mountains, a child yet to be born does not count as a person."

The Shaman interrupted Kas's attempt to continue questioning, pressing down on his shoulders and staring straight into those ice-blue eyes:

"Our original intention in pursuing Radel was to find a way to replace the Blood-Ash Furnace. It has brought too much disaster and misfortune to the Black Ember Tribe, yet we are trapped deep within it and cannot break free.

The furnace is like a burning Blood Worm, burrowing into our bodies to make us stronger, yet it is also gnawing at our bone marrow.

And Keck wants to let this Blood Worm break out of its cocoon, using the Blood-Ash Furnace and Radel to forge an army capable of conquering the Sorrow Mountains, and perhaps the world."

"To you specifically, he will certainly use every method to keep you in the Black Ember Tribe..."

The sound of noisy footsteps made Baize look back. He saw Keck, who was rushing toward them like a scarlet flame, and gave a final instruction:

"Remember, we are the inheritors of ancient wisdom, the bottom line of Rishiman morality."

Keck, who had charged into the testing ground like a scarlet flame, saw the two "Radel" in Kas's hands, and the greed in his eyes was unrestrained.

With speed too fast to follow, he easily snatched away the long-cherished wish that the shamans had sought for hundreds of years, praising it with an almost obsessive gaze:

"It is truly beautiful; no metal can compare to this flawless luster... Kas, I sincerely thank you for your help. What do you need in return?

Wealth, women, power, peerless combat skills, or perhaps an artifact capable of decapitating a dragon with a single strike?"

This was a linguistic trap. Kas began to view the now greedy and violent Keck Bloodfire without any filter.

If I accept this offer, it implies that my subconscious believes I am the primary creator of Radel.

"I don't understand. Does the War Chief's permission determine whether Baize Shaman can receive these things for his contributions to the tribe?"

"Baize?" Keck glanced at the seemingly weak shaman; he did not like this young man.

He felt he was far too soft, hoping to conduct technical exchanges with the Southerners through peaceful means to improve the flaws of the Blood-Ash Furnace.

The War Chief looked back at the Black Guard who had tipped him off; that was his confidant planted beside the Shaman.

"But I heard that the creation of Radel was accomplished by you."

Baize smiled helplessly, walked up to Keck, and reached out to ask for the smaller piece of Radel.

"Keck, you should know very well that Malik's son will only be a born warrior. He is a consummate duelist. Including Malik's father, the dragon-slayer who took Crone's Peak, and countless ancestors, all were peerless heroes.

The Zagwell Clan has never produced a shaman or a wizard. Pure choices have made them purely powerful."

Kas provided me with some interesting ideas; he is a child with a very agile mind, and I am beginning to understand why the Great Shaman entrusted such a sacred duty to him.

As for Baize's words, the reasoning was sound, but Kaike preferred to trust his own people.

Blood-Fire cast his gaze into the lonely, dark dust, receiving a shake of the head in response; there were no traces of sorcery flowing through Kas, who was a pure warrior.

He pondered repeatedly, believing that Baize and Kas might have reached some sort of consensus:

"Kas is the son of my blood-sworn brother, and I regard him as my own son as well. I hereby set down my last will and testament: when I die on the glorious battlefield, awaiting the summons of Pierce, all my wealth, slaves, and honor shall belong to my only son—Kas.

My child, tell me, did you create Radel? I want you to swear it in the name of Malik Axe-Breaker!"