The silence in the grotto was no longer tense; it was thick with the weight of a transformed reality. Vincy stood over the stone table, his breathing finally level, the internal heat of the Primeval Earth Fire now a controlled hum behind the pill's protective shell.
Master Olin looked from the perfectly formed pill-shell to the soot-stained boy, then back to the sword buried in his floor. He opened his mouth as if to ask about the strange, royal-like rotation Vincy had used, but then he caught a glimpse of the violet flickers in the boy's eyes—a depth of soul that didn't match his age.
"You have a lot of ghosts in your pockets, boy," Olin said, his voice unusually soft.
Vincy tensed, his hand instinctively twitching toward the heavy hilt of the Void-Cutter. Seraphina, too, shifted her weight, her silver eyes narrowing as she prepared to defend their secrets.
But Olin simply waved a dismissive hand, a wry smile tugging at his beard. "Don't look so frightened. In this world, anyone worth their salt is carrying a few skeletons or a hidden master. I've lived long enough to know that some questions are like unstable acids—best left in the jar. Your secrets are your own, provided they don't blow up my cave."
Olin walked over to a locked wooden chest—the only clean item in the entire workshop. He pulled out a small, metallic disc etched with the image of a three-legged cauldron surrounded by five stars.
"Listen to me, Vincy," Olin said, his tone turning serious. "Most people see alchemy as a way to get rich or a way to heal wounds. But you... you have an innate connection to the flame that I haven't seen in fifty years. With that Primeval seed and the way you just harmonized those ingredients, your potential is, quite frankly, limitless."
He pressed the disc into Vincy's palm. It felt cool and vibrated with a faint, official Qi signature.
"This is a Provisional Apprentice Token of the Alchemist Guild," Olin explained. "It's not a full license, but it identifies you as a talent under observation. If you ever make it to a major city, show this to the Guild Hall. It will grant you access to libraries and materials that the Myriad School would never even dream of."
"Me? An alchemist?" Vincy looked at the token, bewildered. He had always seen himself as a "trash" disciple struggling to survive.
"Don't act so surprised," Piet's voice drawled, though there was a rare note of approval in it. "The Archive was built on the backs of Alchemist-Kings. If you're going to help me reclaim my throne, you'll need to be able to forge your own path—literally and medicinally. The old man is giving you a golden ticket."
Seraphina looked at the token with a trace of envy, though it was quickly masked by her usual stoicism. "It seems we are no longer just fugitives. We are a Foundation Establishment prodigy and a Guild-sanctioned apprentice."
"Don't get ahead of yourselves," Olin cackled, returning to his mess. "You're still two children in a forest full of people who want to skin you. But at least now, you have the tools to bite back."
He gestured toward the cave exit. "Go. The 'Qi Flare' from that pill is fading, but the forest is waking up. Take your heavy sword and your silver-lady and get as far from here as possible. I have soup to finish, and I prefer to eat it without the Myriad School's soldiers knocking on my door."
Vincy bowed deeply—a gesture of genuine respect. "Thank you, Master Olin. For everything."
Olin just grunted, already back to scrubbing a rusted cauldron. "Just don't waste that fire, boy. It's a gift from the stars. Try not to burn your fingers off."
As they stepped out of the grotto and back into the dimming light of the Whispering Woods, Vincy felt the weight of the token in one hand and the soul-tether to the heavy black sword in the other. He wasn't the same boy who had stumbled through the Secret Realm.