When Saine returned to Mentor Mosesdo's laboratory, the latter's pale-yellow eyes studied him with keen interest.
"Heh heh heh, you little troublemaker, you sure know how to stir up trouble."
"Just a simple mandatory academy mission, and yet you come back covered in injuries again." Mentor Mosesdo clicked his tongue in amusement.
Faced with his mentor's mocking remarks, Saine lowered his head awkwardly.
Before coming here, he had already been scolded by Lina.
Fortunately, the situation had turned out fine—after a thorough examination, no lasting aftereffects were found.
His superficial wounds would just take some time to heal.
Even the gash on his neck, though it looked frightening, wasn't a serious injury—aside from the troublesome paralyzing toxin left by the Blue Moss.
Seeing Saine's silence, Mosesdo didn't press further.
However, before entering the lab, he added, "Hmph, this time I won't be casting any tissue regeneration spells on you. Let these wounds serve as a lesson—maybe you'll think twice before acting so recklessly in the future."
With that, Mentor Mosesdo strode into the lab without another glance at Saine.
Instead, it was Saine's senior brother and sister who approached to check on him.
Seizing the opportunity, Saine asked Sister Fehr if she could teach him how to brew nutrient potions.
At the same time, he requested Senior Brother Zorro to spare some time to guide him in alchemy.
Of course, asking for their help meant Saine would have to offer something in return.
Mages strictly adhered to the principle of equivalent exchange.
If Boss managed to sell that batch of goods successfully, Saine would have enough funds to compensate his seniors.
Even if that fell through, Saine still had a few valuable items on hand—whether it was the magic core of the Saltwater Crocodile or the low-tier core of the Green-Jawed Feather King, he could offer them as tokens of gratitude.
Saine had long realized one thing: wealth was ultimately fleeting, but true power—real, tangible strength—was something that belonged solely to oneself.
And for mages, knowledge was power.
Sister Fehr readily agreed to Saine's request.
The process of brewing nutrient potions wasn't particularly complex, but the fact that Saine wanted to learn from her filled Fehr—who wasn't exactly skilled in cooking—with a peculiar sense of excitement and satisfaction.
Senior Brother Zorro, however, wasn't as quick to agree.
After a moment of contemplation, he replied, "I'm currently assisting the mentor with an important alchemy experiment. I won't have time during the day—only at night can I spare some moments to teach you."
The underground world had no concept of day or night, but the general timekeeping still followed the surface world's standards.
The Black Magic Academy had designated chimes for each period, including the rest and class schedules for apprentice mages.
Both seniors had agreed to Saine's requests without specifying any immediate compensation, which touched him deeply.
In truth, Mentor Mosesdo had already instructed them to guide Saine whenever possible.
With the mentor himself too busy to teach, it fell upon these senior disciples to share the responsibility.
With renewed enthusiasm, Saine—still nursing his injuries—returned to his private side chamber.
Today, his main task here was to focus on mental meditation. Until he fully recovered, he wouldn't be able to assist in any experimental research.
Sister Fehr soon left, but Senior Brother Zorro lingered for a moment, watching Saine enter his chamber before turning away in thought.
"Just as I suspected… The mentor took Saine in because he sees traces of Second Brother in him, doesn't he?"
"Beyond the golden hair, it's the temperament and way of doing things that bear the most resemblance…"
Remembering the junior brother who had tragically perished thirty years ago, Zorro sighed softly.
Among Mentor Mosesdo's disciples, the one with the greatest potential should have been Second Brother.
Like Zorro, Second Brother had followed Mosesdo all the way from the Western Isles to the Shadow Abyss.
As for the later disciples—Third Sister Fehr, Fourth Brother, and now Fifth Brother Saine—they were all taken in after arriving in the Shadow Abyss.
In terms of the mentor's investment of effort and emotion, the late Second Brother had been the true heir to Mosesdo's legacy.
With another sigh, Zorro turned and entered the lab.
Recently, the alchemy tasks assigned by the mentor had grown more pressing—the two deputy deans from the Shadow Valley had already begun making demands.
Before a small experimental table, Saine's eyes were fixed intently on a secured Green-Jawed Feather Claw.
In his hand was a triangular magic awl—a gift from Senior Brother Zorro a few days prior.
Delicate, intricate patterns gradually spread across the claw's surface as Saine carefully traced the awl over it.
By the time these fine lines covered two-thirds of the claw, a momentary lapse in concentration caused an elemental disturbance.
The previously unremarkable claw suddenly emitted intense heat, melting part of the steel stand on the table and completely erasing the painstakingly carved patterns Saine had spent hours creating.
Feeling the faint elemental energy within the claw dissipate entirely, Saine slammed it onto the table in frustration.
"Another failure!"
This was the third Green-Jawed Feather Claw he had ruined. Considering that each claw could withstand three or four attempts at enchantment, this meant Saine had already failed over a dozen times.
Indeed, there were no born geniuses in this world.
Even though both his mentor and senior brother had praised his talent in alchemy, Saine still couldn't immediately craft any magical artifacts—not even a simple Sharpness enchantment on a claw.
And this was with the claw being inherently magical as a monster material.
If he were working with enchanted steel or ordinary metal—materials lacking innate elemental energy—the process would require forcibly infusing them with magic, increasing both the risks and instability. The failure rate would be even higher.
It was no wonder why even the most skilled alchemists had to endure countless failures before mastering their craft.
No wonder someone as free-spirited as Sister Fehr had no interest in alchemy.
Repeated setbacks could easily crush one's confidence.
Shaking off his frustration, Saine began analyzing his mistakes and possible improvements—not just in his technique, but also the limitations of his small experimental table and the flaws in the previous two failed claws.
After a long silence, instead of immediately starting anew, Saine turned to Lina, who had been quietly reading a magic tome beside him.
"This table really is too small. We should reconsider moving to a better place soon."