Alchemy God: the Ultimate Pill Master

Sandro stepped out of the Alchemy wing, a list of ingredients penned by Elder Miyotashi clutched in his hand. The paper felt thin between his fingers, but the weight of the task ahead settled in his mind. Miyotashi had stressed the importance of gathering his own ingredients, not only to improve his botanical skills but to better understand the essence of each plant he would be working with in the future.

The academy grounds stretched out before him, and beyond that, the dense forest where most of the herbs and plants could be found. The path leading out of the academy was familiar, but this time it felt different. Sandro wasn’t just gathering herbs like a novice—he was doing this with purpose, with a sense of duty and focus.

As he made his way toward the forest, he unfolded the list and scanned the names of the plants. His thoughts drifted as he mentally cataloged each one, recalling what he had read about them during his studies.

“Moonshade Fern… used for calming the mind and balancing emotional energy,” Sandro muttered to himself, remembering how it could help stabilize someone’s energy after an intense fight. Its deep blue leaves absorbed moonlight, which gave it its distinct power.

Then there was “Bitterroot,” a harsh and gnarled plant that grew in the most barren patches of earth. Its name was well-earned; the taste was so foul that it required special preparation to even be palatable. However, it was incredibly useful for detoxifying poisons or cleansing one’s internal energy. Sandro could almost picture the rough, twisted roots, tangled like a mass of snakes.

Next on the list was the “Golden Dewdrop,” a small, fragile plant that bloomed only in the early morning hours. Its leaves held tiny droplets of nectar that shimmered like gold in the light. It was said that these droplets contained the power to rejuvenate one’s spirit, making it a prized ingredient for energy-restoring pills. Sandro frowned slightly, knowing how delicate the plant was—harvesting it without damaging its properties would be tricky.

He turned down a narrow path, which led him deeper into the forest. The trees became denser here, their thick trunks casting long shadows that stretched across the ground. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappling the forest floor in patches of gold and green. The air was cool, and the scent of damp earth filled his nostrils as he walked.

“Frostberry Vine,” Sandro continued in his monologue, recalling its frosty blue berries that grew in the coldest regions of the forest. They were often used in pills to enhance physical endurance, especially in harsh environments. The berries had a bitter taste, but their effects were worth the effort.

As he moved through the forest, Sandro’s eyes scanned the underbrush for any signs of the plants on his list. His mind was focused, but there was a certain peace that came with this task. Being in the quiet solitude of the forest allowed him to think, to reflect on everything that had happened over the past few days.

He reached down to examine a patch of soil where some small blue flowers were blooming. “Bluepetal Sage,” Sandro recognized immediately. “Good for improving focus and mental clarity. Perfect for meditation pills.” He carefully plucked a few of the delicate flowers, making sure to leave enough for the plant to continue thriving.

The further he ventured, the more his mind wandered. Sandro thought back to his master’s teachings about nature and its relationship with cultivation. Every plant, every herb had its place in the ecosystem, and its energy could either be drawn out or disrupted based on how it was handled. This was more than just gathering ingredients—it was about understanding the life force within them.

“Jade Blossom,” Sandro muttered, scanning the forest floor for the telltale sign of its smooth green petals. This rare plant was often used in high-level elixirs to enhance one’s magic reserves. Sandro knew that finding it would be difficult, as it only bloomed once every few months in specific conditions. But Elder Miyotashi had hinted that it might be growing deeper in the forest, where the energy was more concentrated.

He knelt by a cluster of shrubs, brushing aside some leaves as he spotted what he was looking for—a small patch of Golden Dewdrop. Its tiny blossoms glistened with golden droplets, just as he had imagined. Sandro took a deep breath, steadying his hands as he carefully plucked the blossoms, making sure not to spill the precious nectar they held.

“Got you,” he whispered, placing the blossoms gently into his pouch.

As he straightened up, a cold wind rustled through the trees, causing the leaves to shiver. Sandro frowned. The forest had grown strangely quiet. The usual sounds of birds and small creatures had faded, leaving an eerie silence in their wake. His senses sharpened, and his hand instinctively went to the dagger at his belt.

He continued walking, but his movements were more cautious now, his eyes scanning the shadows between the trees. Something didn’t feel right. The air had grown colder, and a faint pressure weighed down on him. It was subtle at first, but the further he walked, the more it pressed in on him, like an invisible force surrounding him from all sides.

Sandro’s heart rate quickened. He could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up as an unfamiliar energy brushed against him. It wasn’t natural. It was dark and heavy, like a presence lurking just beyond his line of sight.

He stopped, his hand tightening around the hilt of his dagger. His eyes darted around the clearing, but there was nothing—no movement, no sound. Yet, the feeling of being watched grew stronger.

Something’s here, Sandro thought, his muscles tensing. The energy wasn’t just nearby—it was close. Very close.

He took a slow, deliberate step forward, his senses on high alert. Whatever was out there, it wasn’t friendly. The forest, once peaceful, now felt like a place of danger. Sandro’s pulse raced as he prepared for whatever might emerge from the shadows.

And then, just as he was about to take another step, he felt it. A presence—dark and malevolent—looming over him, unseen but unmistakable.

Sandro’s muscles tensed as the dark energy grew stronger. He felt it before he saw it—a presence so overwhelming, it made the air feel thick and suffocating. His hand tightened around the hilt of his dagger, but something deep inside him knew that the weapon wouldn’t be enough for what was coming.

From the shadows, a creature emerged—a Demon Newt. It was massive, easily towering over the trees, its slimy, blackened scales glistening in the fading light. Its eyes glowed a fiery red, and thick, smoke-like tendrils of darkness seeped from its body, tainting the air around it. Its body slithered and coiled with unnatural grace, though its sheer size made it all the more terrifying. The ground shook beneath its weight as its claws scraped across the earth, leaving deep gouges in the dirt.

Sandro’s heart dropped. A Demon Newt? Here?

The stories flooded his mind—a calamity-class monster, said to be controlled by the demon lord himself. It was rare, almost unheard of, to encounter one. The last recorded sighting had been decades ago, and it had taken an entire army to drive it back. And now, here it was, only a few dozen feet from where Sandro stood.

Sandro didn’t wait. Instinct took over, and he quickly darted behind the trunk of a massive tree, doing his best to conceal himself from the creature’s view. His breath came out in short, controlled bursts as he fumbled for his phone, fingers shaking slightly as he pressed the contact for Elder Miyotashi.

The phone rang once—twice—before her calm voice came through. “Sandro? Is something wrong?”

Sandro whispered into the phone, his voice tense. “Master Miyotashi, I just encountered a Demon Newt… it’s right in front of me.”

There was a brief silence on the other end before Miyotashi responded, her voice deadly serious. “A Demon Newt? Are you sure?”

Sandro peered around the side of the tree, his stomach knotting as the creature’s massive form lumbered through the forest, its eyes scanning for prey. “Positive. You need to tell the academy to go into lockdown. This thing isn’t just passing through—it’s hunting.”

“I’ll notify the Dragonlord and the elders immediately,” Miyotashi said, her tone clipped with urgency. “What about you? Can you get out of there?”

“I’ll find a way back,” Sandro whispered, though even he wasn’t entirely sure how. “Just make sure the academy is prepared.”

“Be careful,” Miyotashi warned, and with that, Sandro hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket.

His heart pounded in his chest as he silently moved through the underbrush, doing his best to stay out of the Demon Newt’s line of sight. The creature’s heavy, guttural breathing echoed through the forest, each step it took sending tremors through the ground. Sandro’s instincts screamed at him to run, but he knew better than to make a sound.

He crept forward, one step at a time, keeping the massive trees between him and the Newt. He had almost made it to a clearing when—

CRACK!

A dry twig snapped under his foot, the sound piercing through the silence like a gunshot. Sandro froze, his heart leaping into his throat. He turned his head slowly, just in time to see the Demon Newt’s fiery eyes lock onto him.

The creature let out a deafening roar, its long, serpent-like body snapping toward him with terrifying speed. Sandro didn’t wait to see what would happen next.

“Shit!” Sandro cursed under his breath as he broke into a sprint.

The Newt crashed through the trees behind him, its massive form plowing through anything in its way. Trees splintered and cracked as it bulldozed forward, its roars shaking the forest to its core.

Sandro’s feet barely touched the ground as he darted between trees, jumping over rocks and logs, his movements fluid and precise. His new abilities kicked in, his agility and speed heightened by the power he had gained from the pill. He vaulted over a fallen tree, ducking low as the Newt’s massive tail whipped past him, tearing through the forest like a battering ram.

But the Newt wasn’t slowing down. It bulldozed through everything in its path, crashing through trees and smashing boulders as if they were nothing. Sandro threw himself forward, using the branches and natural obstacles of the forest to his advantage, his body moving with newfound grace and precision.

Come on, come on…

But no matter how fast he moved, the Demon Newt was relentless. It tore through the underbrush, its roars growing louder and angrier with every step. Sandro could feel the vibrations of its movements shaking the ground beneath him, and it was getting closer.

He veered left, dodging around a large boulder, and then right, weaving through a dense thicket. His lungs burned, but his mind was sharp, calculating every movement, every turn.

He spotted a large, looming cave entrance up ahead—the kind of cave that led into the deeper, unexplored parts of the forest. Without thinking, Sandro pushed himself harder, his legs pumping with adrenaline as he made a break for the cave.

The Newt let out another furious roar as it followed, smashing through the trees and underbrush like a living bulldozer. Sandro didn’t look back. He was almost there.

With one last burst of speed, Sandro leaped into the cave, his body sailing through the air and landing on the slick stone surface just inside the entrance. He skidded forward, his feet slipping on the wet ground as he tried to regain his balance.

But then the ground beneath him gave way.

Sandro’s eyes widened as he realized too late that the cave floor sloped downward, a steep, treacherous drop into the darkness below. He tried to catch himself, but the momentum carried him forward, and before he knew it, he was sliding down into the depths of the cave.

“Damn it!” Sandro shouted, his hands scrambling for something to hold onto, but there was nothing—only smooth, wet stone and the deep, echoing darkness ahead.

He slid further and further into the cave, the roar of the Demon Newt growing fainter behind him as he descended into the unknown.

Sandro awoke with a groan, his body aching from the fall. His vision was blurry at first, but as he blinked a few times, the darkness around him began to take shape. He was lying in a shallow pool of water, his clothes soaked through, and his skin scraped and bruised from the rough descent. His limbs felt heavy, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins was enough to keep him moving.

He sat up slowly, wincing as the movement pulled at the scratches on his arms. “Great,” he muttered under his breath. “Just what I needed.”

Reaching for his phone, Sandro’s hopes of contacting Elder Miyotashi or anyone from the academy quickly evaporated as soon as he saw the shattered screen. He pressed the power button out of desperation, but nothing happened. The phone was dead—completely useless.

“Figures,” Sandro muttered. “I wish they'd at least give me a Nokia. I mean, my phone was already shitty and old, but at least Nokia is durable.”

He shoved the broken phone into his pouch, which was thankfully still intact and full of the medicinal plants he’d managed to gather. The thought of those plants gave him a brief moment of comfort—at least something had gone right. But that small victory didn’t change the fact that he was now stuck in the depths of an unknown cave, far from the academy, and without a way to communicate.

As Sandro took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves, he glanced around. The cave he had fallen into wasn’t just a cave—it was different. Odd. The walls were smoother than natural rock formations, almost as if they had been shaped by something—or someone. The air was thick with an energy that hummed just below the surface, making his skin prickle with unease.

His eyes adjusted to the dim light, and he could make out the outlines of strange symbols carved into the stone walls. The pool of water he had landed in wasn’t just a natural spring—it was part of a larger, almost ritualistic setting. The cavern opened up in odd ways, with passages leading off in multiple directions.

Sandro frowned. This isn’t just a cave... this feels like a dungeon.

He had learned about dungeons during his classes at the academy. They were dangerous places—labyrinths filled with monsters, traps, and ancient relics. Many adventurers were hired by guilds to map them out, fight off the monsters, and bring back whatever treasures they could find. But dungeons were unpredictable. Some were known to shift and change, making it nearly impossible to find a way out without proper knowledge or tools.

Sandro cursed under his breath. The last thing he wanted was to explore a dungeon, but staying here wasn’t an option. If he was going to make it out, he’d have to move—and fast.

He stood up, his legs a little shaky from the fall, and started walking, his eyes scanning the walls for any clues about where he might be. The symbols carved into the stone were unfamiliar to him, but their presence made him uneasy. They glowed faintly, as if imbued with some ancient magic.

I’ve got to be careful, Sandro thought, gripping the hilt of his dagger. No telling what’s lurking down here.

The air grew cooler as he ventured deeper into the cave, and the sound of dripping water echoed around him. His steps were cautious, his senses on high alert. Every shadow seemed to move, every sound amplified in the cavern’s silence.

As Sandro turned a corner, he came across an old, worn-out statue. It was half-crumbling, but he could still make out the shape of a humanoid figure, arms outstretched as if in offering. The statue’s eyes were hollow, and the stone looked like it had been weathered by centuries of neglect.

Sandro knelt down and examined the base of the statue. More strange symbols, but this time they were partially eroded, making it difficult to decipher anything useful.

Definitely a dungeon, Sandro thought. Great.

He stood up and continued down the corridor, his mind racing. The air in the dungeon felt... different. Heavy. Like it was alive with some kind of energy that pressed down on him the further he walked. The strange symbols etched into the walls only added to the feeling of being watched, as though the very stones had eyes.

Sandro had no idea how deep this place went, or if there was even a way out. The thought of getting lost down here, in the darkness with no one knowing where he was, made his stomach turn. But he couldn’t stop. He had to find a way out.

As he carefully navigated the winding passageways, his foot suddenly slipped on the damp stone. Sandro cursed, his balance faltering as he reached out for the wall to steady himself. But before he could regain his footing, the ground beneath him gave way once again.

“Damn it!” Sandro shouted as he tumbled forward, his body lurching down a steep, rocky incline.

He tried to grab onto something—anything—but the walls were smooth and slick with moisture, offering no handholds. His descent was quick and uncontrolled, and before he knew it, he was falling. His body hit the ground hard, and he was swept away by a strong current of water that surged through the cave.

The cold water dragged him deeper into the dungeon, twisting and turning as it rushed through a series of underground rivers. Sandro struggled to keep his head above the surface, his hands grasping for something to hold onto, but the force of the current was too strong.

He was completely at the mercy of the river, and all he could do was let it carry him, hoping it wouldn’t lead him to his doom.

The water rushed on for what felt like an eternity, but finally, the current began to slow. Sandro gasped for air as he was spit out onto a stone ledge, his body aching from the ordeal. He coughed, his lungs burning, but he forced himself to sit up.

As he looked around, Sandro’s eyes widened in surprise.

The cave had led him to a corridor—an old, candle-lit corridor. The flickering flames cast long shadows on the walls, illuminating the same strange symbols he had seen before. But this time, there was something else—something more ominous about this place.

Sandro stood in the dimly lit corridor, his heart still racing from the fall and the unexpected river ride. The flickering light of the candles danced on the walls, casting eerie shadows. But something didn’t sit right with him.

“Wait a minute…” Sandro muttered to himself, squinting at the candles. They were freshly lit, the wax barely dripping. He felt a chill run down his spine. “Who the hell lit these? No way they’ve been burning all this time.”

His instincts told him to be cautious, but then a gentle breeze brushed against his skin, causing the flames to flicker slightly. Sandro turned his head, following the breeze’s path, and felt a surge of hope. There’s an exit down this corridor… there has to be.

Taking a deep breath, Sandro began walking down the candle-lit path, his footsteps echoing softly. As he walked, his mind wandered. This is too easy. There’s no way a place like this would be unguarded… His thoughts trailed off as he glanced around, the eerie silence pressing in on him.

His perception, heightened from his training, kicked in just in time.

Wait…

Sandro instinctively jumped to the side as a panel on the floor clicked, and a set of razor-sharp spikes shot out of the wall. “Yikes!” he exclaimed, watching as the spikes retracted back into the stone. Booby traps.

He continued forward, now hyper-aware of the traps hidden around him. With every step, he noticed something—the slight shift of the floor, a barely visible wire, the faintest sound of gears turning within the walls.

Nice try, Sandro thought with a grin, skillfully sidestepping a pressure plate that would’ve dropped a massive boulder onto him. This place is full of traps, but I’ve got this.

As he moved further down the corridor, more traps triggered, but Sandro dodged each one with precision. He leaped over a floor trap that would’ve sent him plummeting into a pit, ducked just in time to avoid a swinging blade, and gracefully rolled under a set of arrows that shot out of the wall.

“This is almost too easy,” Sandro said aloud, a smug grin spreading across his face. “Guess they weren’t expecting someone like me.”

As he neared the end of the corridor, Sandro stood tall, brushing the dust off his clothes. He glanced back at the now-dormant traps and laughed, throwing his hands up triumphantly. “Look at that! I dodged every single one of them! Piece of cake!”

His pride was palpable as he mockingly bowed to the deactivated traps. “Oh, traps, you tried your best, but I’m just too—”

THWACK!

Suddenly, without warning, a hidden mechanism triggered as Sandro turned around. A spring-loaded plank swung out from the side of the wall, hitting him squarely between the legs.

“Ughhh!” Sandro groaned, his voice breaking into a high-pitched squeal as he crumpled to the ground, clutching his injured area. He rocked back and forth, tears forming in his eyes as the pain radiated through his entire body.

“Not… cool…” he gasped between breaths, his face pale as he tried to steady himself. He glanced up at the trap, glaring at it with a mix of disbelief and agony. “Stupid dungeon… freaking traps…”

For several long moments, Sandro lay there, moaning in pain. His confidence was shattered, replaced by the sharp reminder that even the most skilled adventurers could be caught off guard.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the pain subsided enough for him to stand. His legs were shaky, and he moved with the caution of someone who had just been thoroughly humbled.

Sandro limped forward, muttering curses under his breath. “Who even designs traps like that? Who hurt them?”

As he stumbled toward the exit of the corridor, he found himself standing in a large, open chamber. The air was still, and the temperature had dropped noticeably. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the stone walls, but Sandro’s attention was drawn to the centerpiece of the room: a massive, ancient casket.

It was made of dark stone, etched with intricate, ominous symbols. Sandro hesitated for a moment before cautiously approaching it. His eyes scanned the inscriptions, his mind racing to make sense of the ancient language.

The words were carved deep into the stone, and though they were faded, Sandro could make out the general meaning:

Here lies the First, Protector of the Flame. Beware, for the power within is not for the faint of heart. Disturb only with a soul worthy of the eternal flame.

Sandro frowned. “Great. Ominous inscriptions on a creepy casket in a hidden dungeon. Just what I needed.”

He reached out to touch the casket, curiosity getting the better of him. But the moment his fingers brushed the stone, the entire room began to shake violently.

“What the—?” Sandro barely had time to react before the casket shook violently, sending a shockwave through the chamber. The force knocked him off his feet, and he was thrown back against the wall with a painful thud, his vision blurring as he hit the ground.

Dazed, Sandro struggled to regain his senses. His head pounded, and his limbs felt heavy as he tried to sit up. But before he could get his bearings, a deep, guttural growl echoed through the chamber, sending chills down his spine.

The casket lid burst open with a deafening crack, and from within, a massive, glowing green dragon emerged. Its scales shimmered with an ethereal light, and its eyes glowed like twin emeralds, burning with ancient power.

The dragon stretched its massive wings, casting a shadow over the entire chamber. Its gaze swept across the room before settling on Sandro, who was still struggling to sit up.

The dragon’s eyes narrowed as it approached, its claws scraping against the stone floor. Its maw opened slightly, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth as it loomed over Sandro.

“I see… another grave robber has come to disturb my slumber,” the dragon rumbled, its voice deep and ancient. “How many have I devoured before you, I wonder?”

Sandro froze, his heart pounding in his chest. The dragon’s presence was overwhelming, and he could feel the immense power radiating from it. His body screamed at him to run, but he couldn’t move.

The dragon leaned closer, inspecting Sandro with a disdainful snort. “Pathetic… you are no different from the others. Another foolish mortal seeking—”

It stopped suddenly, its eyes narrowing as it sniffed the air around Sandro. The dragon’s expression shifted from disdain to shock as it sensed something within him.

“The flame… the green flame…” the dragon whispered, its voice filled with awe. It backed away slightly, as if unsure of what it was sensing.

Then, in a voice that trembled with reverence, the dragon uttered a single word: “Patriarch.”

Before Sandro could react, the dragon began to glow brighter, its body radiating with energy. It looked down at him, its expression filled with a strange mixture of gratitude and relief.

“With my last breath of power,” the dragon intoned, its voice echoing through the chamber, “I surrender my soul to the eternal patriarch, long may he live!”

The dragon’s form shimmered, and in an instant, it dissolved into pure energy. That energy surged toward Sandro, enveloping him in a blinding light. He felt the power enter his body, merging with the green flames within him. The sensation was overwhelming, but not painful—it was as if the dragon’s very essence was becoming part of him.

Sandro’s eyes widened as the energy surged through him, filling every part of his being. His body glowed with the same emerald light that had surrounded the dragon, and for a moment, he felt as though he were floating in a sea of pure power.

And then, as quickly as it had begun, the light faded, and the chamber fell silent once more.

Sandro lay on the ground, gasping for breath, his body trembling from the intensity of what had just happened.