A week later, at the Alchemy Workshop.
"Next batch! Hurry!"
Old Sam bellowed at the top of his lungs. Sweat ran down his grease-stained cheeks and quickly evaporated in the scorching air.
Beneath his feet, energy conduits cast from mithril and orichalcum glowed faintly, channeling power from the Ether Tower into the workshop's two Morningstar Model Three Alchemy Devices.
Workers in matching smocks operated them like an assembly line. They fed preliminarily processed medicinal ingredients into the intake and pressed the rune buttons, letting the devices automatically carry out a series of complex procedures: grinding, extraction, and initial blending.
A task that had once taken an experienced alchemy apprentice half a day now required only ten minutes from a literate worker.
"Finished product number three hundred and twenty-one!"
A young worker removed a sealed vial of blue medicine from the output terminal and carefully placed it into a specially made metal transport case. The slots inside were nearly full.
"Quick hands, lad!" Old Sam said as he passed, clapping him on the shoulder. "How many does that make for you today?"
"Uncle Sam, this is my twelfth!" The young man's face shone with undisguised excitement and pride. "I only learned how to operate this Morningstar yesterday, and today I'm already working it. According to the Merit Point Handbook's formula, the merit points I've earned this morning alone are enough to get a whole roast chicken at the canteen!"
Old Sam grinned. He looked toward the other end of the workshop, where Master Valerius stood beside an enormous magic array, working out its faults.
Within the array, lines of magical power divided the space into separate alchemy compartments, where apprentices performed the final blending in their individual rooms. This was the last step in the entire process, and the most crucial.