Chapter 44
To the verdant east of the Valderian Empire, where the sunlight filtered through towering trees and the scent of wild herbs laced the wind, stood the great Florentel Estate—an emerald jewel nestled at the empire’s edge. The land of alchemy, brimming with medicinal herbs, mana-rich soil, and ancient botanical secrets, it was a paradise for potion-makers and scholars alike. Its nickname, "The Land of Potions," was well-earned. Alchemy was not merely a profession here; it was a culture, a tradition, and a way of life.
The estate was vast, home to over five million people. Many of them were mages, scholars, and alchemists who had chosen to settle in the Florentel domain to pursue their craft. Massive greenhouses filled with rare plants dotted the estate like glass blossoms. Potion shops, both quaint and grand, lined cobbled streets. Incense from simmering cauldrons drifted into the air, blending with the constant rustle of leaves from the lush, enchanted forest beyond. Beyond that lay the treacherous Twilight Glade, home to beasts from which countless alchemical ingredients were harvested. Past the glade lay the realm of the elves—the Elven Kingdom ruled by the royal elven family the Sylvandel Imperium.
The Grand Duke of this land, Henri Florentel, was a stern but just man known for his extensive knowledge of magical flora. Beside him, Archduchess Camille Florentel—a famed potion master and former guild head of the Imperial Alchemist Society—managed the household with grace and intellect.
Within the central mansion of the estate, behind heavy oak doors and spell-locked chambers, was a room that looked more like a chaotic lab than a noble’s bedroom. Glass flasks filled with swirling colored liquids bubbled gently atop enchantment-runed stoves. Scrolls, charts, and old leather-bound books lay scattered across the floor. There were test tubes arranged by size, racks filled with shimmering ingredients, vials marked with scribbles only their creator could understand, and a faint scent of lavender mixed with gunpowder.
Amidst the alchemical clutter was a tiny girl with long, curly green hair tied in a bushy ponytail. A pair of oversized protective glasses covered her eager aqua eyes. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, her tiny gloved hands shuffling through loose parchment.
"No, no... not this one either..." she muttered, voice filled with mild frustration. "I wrote it down... I know I did!"
This little genius was none other than Aurelie Florentel, daughter of Henri and Camille, and one of the fated 16 heroes.
Despite being only five years old in this life, Aurelie was a regressor—her memories from the previous timeline sharp and intact. Her former self had been a potion-obsessed prodigy, and nothing had changed in this era. She had spent the morning rearranging her lab, only to misplace a crucial potion sequence she’d developed at sunrise.
"Aha!" she cried victoriously, holding up a slightly crumpled piece of parchment like it was a holy relic. "There you are! I knew I didn’t imagine the stabilizing sequence."
With renewed energy, Aurelie skipped across the room and clambered onto a high stool behind a wide table, already cluttered with potion materials. She glanced at the ingredients with a gleam in her eye.
"This one’s going to be my masterpiece," she whispered like a secret to the room. "A potion to increase mana recovery and physical resilience... if it doesn’t explode again."