"Some people claim that Alchemy exists solely for crafting Magic Potions, but I insist they're mistaken. Anyone who studies Alchemy should firmly believe that Alchemy is omnipotent."
— Albert
Arya closed her eyes for a moment, letting the words settle before she switched off her Talent. Resting on a bed of sun-dried straw—now softer and warmer thanks to the afternoon heat—she opened Albert's Alchemy Handbook once more.
The sentence she had just read stood boldly at the beginning of the book, half like a motto, half like a personal declaration. It made her pause.
"Alchemy is omnipotent, huh? Quite the claim…" she murmured.
Yet as she continued turning the pages, Arya felt an unexpected fascination growing. She had intended to skim the handbook only to pass time while her mana recovered. Instead, she found herself drawn in—slowly, then deeply.
Even setting aside Albert's bold confidence, it was clear he understood Alchemy far better than any ordinary practitioner. To her surprise, his writing wasn't obscure or overly technical. Despite being a total beginner, Arya found herself following his explanations with little difficulty. It felt like a seasoned teacher patiently guiding students through each idea—dissecting concepts, breaking them down piece by piece, and rebuilding them in simple, understandable language.
To support his arguments, Albert even included examples of basic potion recipes. As Arya read through them, she felt something strange rising within her.
…I could do this.
She blinked. Wait—why would I think that?
The realization startled her. She, who had never completed high school, who had never studied anything remotely like Alchemy, and who currently could not even walk, suddenly thought she could attempt this craft?
She placed the notebook on her chest and stared up at the ceiling of the Shelter.
But once an idea takes root in a person's mind—no matter how much doubt or fear they layer on top—it eventually demands to be tested. Some call this curiosity. Others call it the drive of sentient beings. Whatever the name, it had taken hold of Arya.
"Well… why torture myself wondering whether I can or can't?" She exhaled sharply. "I'll only know if I try."
Her mana bar had fully recovered. That meant she could go out and gather the herbs Albert mentioned. Standing from the straw bed, she moved toward the door.
"Right—containers," she muttered. "I can't go around collecting herbs with my bare hands. Maybe I should bring a wooden box?"
She reached toward the storage interface—then stopped.
A massive red exclamation mark pulsed on the screen.
Her heart jumped. "What—what is that?!"
It hadn't been there during lunch. How had it suddenly appeared while she was reading? Was it some kind of emergency alert?
Without hesitating, she tapped the symbol.
A window appeared:
[Dear Blue Star Human, 9 hours and 51 minutes remain until the Novice Tool Selection deadline. Please select your Novice Tool immediately.]
"Oh… right." Arya rubbed the back of her head in embarrassment. She'd forgotten completely.
Yesterday she had been overwhelmed by everything—the Tower, her Talent awakening—and the Novice Tool selection slipped her mind. This morning she had been too focused on exploring, finding treasure chests, and reading the handbook to remember anything else.
Honestly, she blamed Albert. The man wrote textbooks disguised as personal notes. Anyone would be sucked in.
She opened the Novice Tool interface and began reviewing the choices seriously.
Weapons were an obvious no. Even if her legs worked, she had neither combat training nor strength. A bow or crossbow might work, but only if they came with arrows. If they didn't, she'd be carrying a useless frame. In comparison, even a simple fire poker might prove more reliable.
Then she scrolled down—and something caught her eye.
[Gardening Hoe (E)]
Function: A small tool for gardening and loosening soil around plants.
Description: Don't underestimate its tiny size. It's practical— and cute.
Arya blinked. "Wait… this might actually work."
Albert's notes had emphasized that herbs should be removed with their roots intact to preserve medicinal value. A small hoe seemed perfect for that.
"Well, decision made." She tapped the option. "Even if it's not the best choice, at least I can use it."
Light shimmered on the screen, and a compact Gardening Hoe materialized. It was about the length of her forearm. One side of the head was a flat-edged mini shovel; the other, a small three-pronged digging fork.
Tool in hand, Arya tied her treasure chest to her back with braided vines and stepped outside.
Herb gathering turned out to be much easier than she expected—almost relaxing, actually.
Before reading the handbook, the plants in the Abandoned Forest had all looked like indistinguishable weeds. Now she realized the place was practically overflowing with raw alchemical materials.
Albert had included detailed descriptions and illustrations of the herbs required for the Apprentice-level Magic Potion. The drawings were simple yet incredibly recognizable, making field identification almost effortless.
The first herb was kuxing grass, with long, serrated leaves resembling a saw blade. The second was huangwei flower, its petals yellow, flat, and rounded like tiny golden ovals.
According to Albert, these two ingredients formed the foundation of the potion—perfect starting material for a complete beginner like herself.
Arya swung the hoe downward. The soil loosened; the herb popped free. She shook off the dirt, tossed the plant into her chest, and moved on.
Within thirty minutes, she had filled more than half of the box.
"Wow… this is easier than I thought."
Just as she uprooted another cluster of huangwei flowers, Arya lifted her head and froze.
"…Huh? How did I end up back here?"
Ahead was a familiar wall of tangled vines—the same place where she had discovered Albert's handbook earlier that morning.
She hadn't been paying attention to where she wandered while digging, apparently circling around until she ended up here again. But instead of being annoyed, Arya felt a small spark of excitement.
Perfect timing.
Albert had mentioned in passing that he once had an Alchemy Workshop near this area. She had originally planned to come back tomorrow to search. After all, a master alchemist's workshop—no matter how ruined—was bound to contain something valuable.
Since she was already here, she might as well start looking.
The problem was: Albert hadn't exactly written down his address. Which sensible person would write their home location into their personal diary?
Arya floated upward, scanning the surroundings from above, circling once, twice, three times. She saw only forest, rubble, and vines.
"…Don't tell me it's under that collapsed section."
Her gaze drifted to the vine-covered ruin she'd crawled through earlier. With a resigned sigh, she drifted back down and prepared to enter again.
If there was anything left of the workshop, it would be inside.
And if she wanted to take her first real step into Alchemy… she needed to find it.