"You want us to support the Seventh Princess?"
Before Hel could even finish speaking, an elderly bald man with a white beard—one who clearly disliked Hel—suddenly slammed himself up from his chair.
With righteous indignation, he declared,
"Her Highness Rachel is one of our own in the Alchemy Academy!
We will never abandon her for such a tiny bit of profit.
Give up on that idea."
The final sentence was practically shouted.
Yet after he finished roaring…the expressions of the others around him became oddly strange.
One of them—an ancient-looking elder who seemed the oldest of all, so frail he had been pushed in on a wheelchair—cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Well… supporting the Fourth Princess was only your Ul'dah faction's idea.
We of the Hermes faction said from the beginning that we would not participate in royal struggles."
"Yes, yes, that's right."
Not far away, a long-haired middle-aged man quickly echoed,
"Our Zurich faction was the same."
Within the Alchemy Academy, there were three major factions.
Only the Ul'dah faction, led by the dean himself, supported the Fourth Princess in the royal election.
The other two factions had refused from the start.
But later, the dean had endorsed the Fourth Princess without even consulting them.
And so, in order to preserve the academy's public image—to avoid becoming a laughingstock to outsiders—they could only tacitly accept it.
Of course, their acceptance came with its own calculations.
If the Fourth Princess succeeded, then the entire Alchemy Academy would rise with her.
But if she failed…then the ones to be purged would only be the Ul'dah faction.
Surely, no matter how unreasonable the Second Prince was, he wouldn't wipe out the entire Alchemy Academy.
After all, the Alchemy Academy sustained Savant's entire alchemical market.
If the academy collapsed, every transcendent in Savant would be affected.
The Mechanical Academy was the same—and most likely, they too had prepared scapegoats in advance.
So now, when these professors saw an opportunity for the Alchemy Academy to rise again…they approached without the slightest burden.
Naturally, just as they had done with the Fourth Princess, these old men initially planned to push forward only one faction to cooperate with Hel.
This "never placing all eggs in one basket" strategy was something Hel understood perfectly.
So she gave them a choice.
As long as they helped Vice Dean Albert hollow out the dean's authority, and led the entire Alchemy Academy to support Hiness…
Hel would trade with them.
Every month, she would sponsor them with a portion of Prima Materia and Philosopher's Stones—as research funding.
But if they failed to meet Hel's conditions, or pretended to support Hiness while secretly undermining her…
Hel could cancel the sponsorship at any time.
This was equivalent to gripping their lifeline.
As alchemists…who could possibly resist researching Prima Materia and the Philosopher's Stone?
These two supreme legendary substances were sitting right in front of them.
How could they refuse?
After all, obtaining even a single Philosopher's Stone from the Magic Empire required an enormous price—and Prima Materia was something even the Magic Empire did not possess.
Thus, among the nine people present—including Albert—five chose to support Hel.
The remaining four included: three scholars of the Ul'dah faction, and one Zurich scholar who attempted to seize Hel by force.
That unfortunate man was clearly a probe—a disposable pathfinder pushed forward by the other old foxes to test Hel.
But Hel had long been prepared.
She had already carved an alchemical formation into the laboratory floor.
A magic-suppression field.
An elemental seal.
Two high-tier spells descended—and before the man could even draw his wand…
Hel knocked him unconscious with a single strike.
After that display of strength, the professors immediately became far more obedient.
They even restrained the three Ul'dah scholars on the spot.
Then, in a rush, they stormed the dean's office—and drove the dean out of the academy while he was still organizing documents.
However…their performance was obvious.
Because even with Albert, a Sixth Rank powerhouse, and a group of Fifth Rank professors…they could not have expelled the dean so effortlessly.
And as the academy's leader, he would not have fled so decisively.
He was almost certainly acting.
At this point, Hel now held the support of four Sixth Rank transcendents.
Within the royal election's balance of power, she had secured a true seat at the table.
Whether facing the Second Prince or the Fourth Princess…she no longer needed to fear either.
The dean must have realized this as well.
And since he could not change Albert's mind…he chose to leave quickly, in order to avoid further damage to the Alchemy Academy.
Sure enough—that very night, the three imprisoned Ul'dah scholars knocked out their guards and escaped.
The next day, the exiled dean returned to the Alchemy Academy with his three supporters…and plunged the academy into division.
And all of it…had been exactly as Hel expected.
The Alchemy Academy was nothing but a nest of cunning old foxes.
Aside from Albert, every one of them possessed formidable political instincts.
They understood how vital alchemists were to Savant—and so they chose the strategy of betting on both sides.
But…that was enough.
With the Alchemy Academy now consumed by internal conflict, it could no longer provide the Fourth Princess with any meaningful support.
And that…was Hel's true objective.
Because a storm—long prepared—was about to arrive.
…
Inside the Mechanical Academy.
In the dean's office.
The dean of the Potion Academy—a blond middle-aged man—was glaring furiously across the desk.
Sitting opposite him was an elderly man with silver hair, wearing a suit and a black conical top hat.
The old man calmly wiped a gold-rimmed monocle in his hand, completely unbothered by the blond man's fury.
Only after the shouting had nearly exhausted itself did the old man slowly place the monocle into his eye socket, then curl his lips into a contemptuous smile.
"Dean Jeremy…hundreds of years have passed, and you are still as hot-tempered as ever.
You know, it was precisely because of that temper…that your beloved student…"
"Shut your mouth."
The blond man suddenly stood up, slamming his palm onto the desk with a heavy crash.
"I didn't come here to reminisce. I only want to know—for Savant's future—this Softwind Slime Gel…will your Mechanical Academy sell it or not?"