Ah, the choice of cauldron, everyone’s favorite topic. Some say buy the best, others suggest the ones with better mana conductivity, or heat retention, or essence insolation, or… The list of options is endless.

  Since you are reading this, you have already joined the alchemists' guild. Pay the use of a higher quality alchemy chamber, test out the different cauldrons, and you will find the right one. If not in a day, then in a week.

  — Excerpt from Thoughts on Pots and Brewing

  Day 154, 8:15 PM

  On my way back to the cave in which Newstar and I had secluded ourselves, I encountered a problem. Namely, Alarm was armed and active, and I would trigger it upon entering.

  I took about an hour of mental gymnastics to figure out a solution. By scaling the cavern walls, I could move like a spider and enter the cave through a corner. Unless I was mistaken, the ceiling was high enough for me to avoid Alarm’s hemisphere if I kept to the edges.

  The plan worked, and the return went smoother than I’d expected. Then I spent eight days sculpting my realm with Newstar none the wiser about my little jaunt. I would have loved to stick around until I had completed my second realm and entered the third. But I had barely begun working on the eighth layer, and wrapping up my second realm would take another twenty-five or so days. If I followed my gut, I’d be way too late for the meeting with Flare Brighshine, the woman who probably had me assassinated once and incarcerated on several different occasions. Not that she knew that in this timeline.

  So, with a date and destination in mind, I left my cave, wished Newt a good time while I was away, and set off. The whole matter with Brand still bugged me a bit, and I had ample time to fix it. Not that I had done everything wrong, but the stress of the loops was getting to me, and I ended up silly towards the end, which is not the kind of image I want to project as Dandelion, the heavenly genius.

  That got me thinking - why can’t a heavenly genius make jokes? What’s stopping them? Maintaining a persona like that all the time would be stressful, especially if I take into account that some loops might just work on the first try. If I went in thinking I always had to be proper, I would end up stiff all the time except in the loops designated for horsing around.

  As I sprinted towards Thunderbluff, I was reconsidering my life choices, but I found I couldn’t come up with any better ones. Survival is paramount, so I can learn as much as I can from all the disciplines I can get my hands on. Leveling Anarchist is unfortunately impossible until I can stand up to the imperial family. While the Eternal Light Empire has ten kingdoms, dozens of counties, and countless smaller territories, the only real law is the Imperial Decree. Any small cog turning a blind eye to injustice isn’t a representative of the authorities, but simply a corrupt individual.

  For advancing my class, worlds with smaller, less monolithic governments were the best. Had Eternal Light been my first reincarnation, I would have still been stuck at level zero.

  By the time I reached my destination, I confirmed I was already doing the best I could, which was unfortunate. I would’ve preferred finding a flaw and making new progress at a renewed, rapid pace. Then again, self-assessment and confirmation I was on the right track also had value.

  It was dawn of the day one hundred and sixty-three, or sixteenth of Season of Water, when I entered through the gate. I had a day and some five hours before the first official meeting with the citylord.

  Nearly thirty hours, a body which doesn’t need sleep during those hours, and a whole mountain of chores I had to take care of.

  First, I went to the adventurer’s guild and checked the new missions. Unfortunately, the winter had started, and the board was dead, save for the perpetual missions. While disappointing, the guild attendant had already explained the situation in a loop which never happened, so I took a room, washed the travel dust from myself and my clothes, and headed for the next place on my list.

  “Morning, Anise,” I greeted the female clerk at the alchemists’ guild

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  Her face brightened, eyelashes fluttered, and she smiled way too cordially.

  “Dandelion! I haven’t seen you in a while! How have you been?” She folded her arms and leaned on the counter, trying to showcase her assets, but fortunately, the guild’s modest uniform kept her decent.

  Maybe I should just bang her and get it over with? But for some reason, a woman trying too hard really wasn’t my type, and getting involved with her would lower my self-esteem. Strange, really, knowing myself.

  “I’ve been fine, thank you. You?” No need to be rude or unprofessional, but perhaps she took that as a sign I was interested?

  I don’t have time for nonsense. Another lie. I had all the time in the world to entertain all sorts of nonsense, but I didn’t want to.

  “I’m here to see the manager. Could you please tell him I’m here?”

  Five minutes later, Guildmaster Rust and I were enjoying excellent tea brewed by junior alchemists.

  Other than getting my shiny new expert’s badge, we’ve had a fruitful, yet ultimately disappointing conversation. The master title was still outside my reach for several reasons.

  The senior alchemist conducting the test had to be a master alchemist, but the guildmaster was merely an expert, which technically made us peers in the eyes of the guild. Next, he told me he was still years away from reaching his master’s title.

  The best way to reach the title was under the tutorage of an existing master pointing out flaws in mana control and brewing techniques, but for that I would need to head to a larger city. Another, insanely more expensive option was heading for a princely city or the Couatl City, the capital of the kingdom I’m living in.

  The entrance fee was a third realm manarium crystal, so that was the end of that idea. An hour and a half passed in building rapport with the senior alchemist, with whom I had grown quite familiar in loops during which I studied alchemy under him.

  “About your realm, the old mage finally broached the subject.”

  “I have shattered it and started again. Very risky, very painful experience, would not recommend unless you’re as desperate as I was.” I told him the truth for the most part and kept going. “I’m not sure I would’ve done it, but my path forward was blocked, and there was no chance I would become a mageknight if I kept going the way my past self started in his ignorance.”

  “And how’s your progress?”

  “I should enter the third realm again in a moon or two unless the citylord executes me for abandoning my duty.”

  “She won’t.” Rust took another sip of tea. “You’re famous enough with the right people, you have done a favor to a moderately influential clan from a different kingdom, and you have enough money to pay the fines. Flare will take a pound of flesh, but you’ll have your freedom.”

  With those reassuring words, I left the alchemists’ guild and headed for the blacksmiths’ guild, then to herbalists’, followed by the artificers’ and kept going.

  I spent over a day socializing with a bunch of guildmasters, and soon enough, only an hour remained until my fateful meeting. A nondescript butler took me to a large, empty parlor in the citylord’s mansion. There I waited for two hours, watching an extremely detailed mural depicting a saurian onslaught. Most such art was depicted with heroics in mind, but the one I was looking at represented a grim reminder of an even grimmer reality.

  The walls lay ruined, homes destroyed, saurians rampaging with corpses littering the ground. I even recognized the scene. It was from the twenty-ninth era, some five or six thousand years ago, when a particularly nasty outbreak happened after two hundred years of peace.

  It kind of reminded me of the current situation, with the onslaught long overdue.

  Suddenly, the double doors opened, and the fashionably late citylord entered. She wore a tight-fitting dress reaching down to her ankles, with a long slit starting from her hip, revealing her thigh as she walked in.

  Flare Brighshine was at the peak of the fifth realm. She was fit, looked young, and was so hot, air simmered around her like a summer haze. Quite literally. She had entered the room, aura blazing, to suppress and cow me, and when faced with most second realm awakened, her approach would have worked.

  I rose from my seat and offered a deep, polite bow befitting her station.

  “Lady Citylord.”

  She moved like a specter, appearing five steps in front of me, just behind the coffee table. She took her seat and crossed her legs, her eyes trained on me.

  I’m not sure whether she expected me to sweat or something else, but I just kept standing at ease, waiting for permission to sit.

  “Townlord Dandelion Blackfist, have a seat.” She turned towards the entrance. “Mile, bring us some tea.”

  She deigned me a glance only when we were sitting at eye level, never looking up to meet my gaze.

  “So, Townlord of Hailstown, you are considering abandoning your post in these trying times, despite everything the exalted imperial family has done for you.”

  I looked at her, the mural blurry in the background, and her choice of meeting place suddenly made a whole lot more sense.