Chapter 133: The Alchemy Begins

Although there was no elven elder to provide a recharge, the "magic storage device" was already saturated with natural energy. If Bourne were willing to go all out and continue the forced growth, harvesting another seven or eight crops would be entirely possible.

However, due to the rapid-fire forced growth earlier, the nutrients in the alchemy workshop's soil had been essentially drained. The reason the plants continued to grow afterward was largely due to the elven elder's natural energy. Of course, that low-quality "Gold-Kela" fertilizer also deserved some credit; toward the end, without caring about which specific nutrients were missing, Bourne had been pouring it in as if it were worthless.

Now, the soil in the alchemy workshop was essentially ruined; it had begun to acidify, become sparse, and all original nutrients had been long since sucked dry, leaving only the remnants of the fertilizer.

This wasn't even the worst of it. The magical plants almost all had to be uprooted and replanted, especially those harvested six or seven times in a row. They had nearly all mutated, becoming filled with "aggression" and proving quite dangerous!

Leman was currently in a state of being both pained and happy; while enjoying the "bountiful harvest," he also had to bear the side effects that came with it. The boss had his fun, but he was left to clean up this mess, which would likely take him two or three days to renovate. However, he had grown somewhat accustomed to it.

Such changes were entirely within Bourne's expectations. In this world, humans had no custom of "fallow land," nor was there any concept of intensive cultivation. Farming was simply scattering a handful of seeds—simple and crude—and the rest was left to praying to the Earth Mother, "Ghanas," for a bountiful harvest.

And here is where the absurdity occurred: "Ghanas" was the elven pronunciation; when translated into Common, the name was "Chauntea."

The primary domains of "Ghanas" were earth, animals, and plants. As one of the most ancient deities, he did not need faith to sustain his divine power, and even when he manifested a projection or avatar, he appeared in the form of a man. Elves, dwarves, and other races knew this, as did the nobles of Netheril, but the human commoners and serfs were completely unaware.

The nobles wouldn't bother explaining this to a bunch of mud-footed peasants, so the lower classes had to imagine it for themselves. Since the name "Chauntea" sounded extremely feminine, his image was reimagined by the peasants as a middle-aged woman with snow-white hair and a loving smile, holding a sturdy, large reaping sickle that served as a walking stick or a weapon (should she occasionally need to fight).

This laid the groundwork for the later changes to "Ghanas"!

"Fallow periods" are meant to restore soil fertility, but in the world of Toril, no such thing existed. Even with a magical fertilizer like "Gold-Kela," the land couldn't withstand Bourne's methods.

However, compared to the harvest, it was still quite cost-effective, especially now with the elven elder's natural energy; even if the soil needed replacing, it would recover quickly.

The front lines had already begun issuing missions within the academy. If the situation deteriorated further and they started conscripting students, there would be trouble. The first to be conscripted would undoubtedly be high-level students like him who were about to graduate.

Although serving in the military meant a short term and the potential to earn military honors, the military was also the least free place to be. When a mission came, you took it—if you tried to refuse, even the Emperor couldn't save you, unless you could defeat Headmaster Giles, Lord Bourne Concinnio!

Furthermore, Bourne had always felt that Hussein was eyeing him with hostility. The military was the one place he absolutely could not go; he feared he might get in but never get out.

Forget two years—even one month was crucial to Bourne right now. After forming his magic ring, Bourne's mana had begun to grow again. Not only did he have an external magical source, but he had also successfully generated a spell ready to cast at any moment, and he was now pushing toward a second standby spell.

Wouldn't it be better to just find some idle post in Seaven? Not to mention he was the only grandson of Earl Iolum, even with his current strength and ability, any place would offer him extremely generous benefits.

Only this way could Bourne have enough time to conduct spell experiments and advance his progress toward sixth-circle arcane arts. Bourne had been suppressing his advancement to higher levels specifically to aim for a direct promotion to a High Arcanist!

In his memories, there was no record of this specific event, which suggested that the final outcome was a victory for Netheril.

That made sense; if Seaven had been breached, the later floating cities would likely have had no stage to perform on. Regrettably, Bourne only had a general sense of all these events and lacked any specific details. He had no idea how Netheril had managed to resolve this "invasion."

Bourne did not want to change history, but he also didn't want to be affected by it. If he were conscripted into the military because of this, that would truly be awful.

Going to the front lines was absolutely out of the question; he could never go to the front, as it was far too dangerous.

The elven race had lost nearly all of their legendary and demigod-level powerhouses during the several "Crown Wars," and according to records, one or two legendary figures perished in almost every battle. Bourne dared not take that risk.

However, providing some spell potions was perfectly fine. Bourne positioned himself as a support-type player; he hoped that his spell potions would shine brightly in this battle and open up a sales channel with the military.

Bourne immediately returned to his private laboratory and began the preparation of the spell potions.

He had long since prepared the formula for the spell potions. Seeing Bourne start the preparation, the elven elder grew curious, his anger forgotten, and he hurried over to join the fun.

Initially, he thought Bourne would find a group of spellcasters to assist with the configuration, but he hadn't expected Bourne to complete the production of the spell potions entirely on his own.

When he saw Bourne making storage canisters again, the elven elder asked with some confusion:

"Are you planning to use the same method you used to configure 'Gold-Kela' to prepare these spell potions?"

"Yes. You have a sharp eye; you saw right through what I'm planning!"

Bourne nodded, immediately offering a bit of flattery.

The old man ignored him, remaining silent as he contemplated Bourne's operational process in his mind. The method was indeed excellent; it would certainly be effective if used for preparing ordinary potions.

However, spell potions required more than just mixing materials; they required the integration of magical interference and the chanting of incantations.

Bourne was clearly more familiar with these processes than he was. As he spent more time with Bourne, the elven elder realized that the person before him was already his equal in alchemy; it would be no exaggeration to call him an [Alchemy Master].

Seeing that the elven elder didn't speak, Bourne was happy to enjoy the quiet. Within his vision, the chip had already simulated the entire plan. Bourne only needed to follow the chip's instructions to "pinch out" an assembly line machine by hand in the shortest possible time!

But when Bourne began to assemble the rack mechanism, the elven elder's expression turned strange. As Bourne installed gears, transmissions, and conveyor belts, the elven elder finally couldn't help but ask:

"How do you possess the construction and mechanical technology of the Imaskari Empire?!"

Bourne paused, turning to look at the elven elder in surprise. "Have you been to the Imaskari Empire?"

"No. They were not very friendly to foreign races. I saw them using golems and constructs during the Elf Wars."

Perhaps due to his advanced age or the passage of time, the elven elder recalled, then shook his head. "It's somewhat similar, but there are differences. The wild and crude style of the Imaskari Empire is quite different from your refined style!"