When Profit Meets Philosophy
By the end of the week, our potion shelves groaned under demand and mild moral ambiguity.Daniel was already talking about "market saturation" and "brand identity," while Ayaka was suggesting flavors that "smell like confidence and emotional availability."
I just wanted sleep.And maybe a potion that cured existential dread.
Professor Vastel, ever helpful, gave me new homework instead.
"Valentine, you've mastered material refinement. Time to attempt spiritual transmutation."He dropped a crystal vial on my desk. Inside shimmered liquid light."Distill emotion itself. If you survive, publish your findings."
"Survive first, publish later," I said automatically.
Soul Alchemy 101
Alchemy room: quiet, too clean, smells faintly of hope and ozone.
Ayaka lounged nearby, tails flicking through beakers. "So, what emotion are you cooking today?""I thought I'd start with something simple. Joy.""Dangerous choice. It's contagious."
I drew the Nihility Fire.It coiled above my palm like a tame serpent, curious but calm.
"Alright, buddy," I whispered. "No eating emotions. We just refine them."
The flame hovered over the vial. The light inside pulsed—then sang.Not sound, but memory: laughter, warmth, the smell of spring.
The Nihility Fire responded—not by devouring, but by echoing.Its color changed—red bled into gold, then white threaded through the edges.A soft hum filled the air, deep and alive.
Ayaka sat up, eyes wide. "It's… singing back.""Yeah," I whispered. "Like it remembers."
The Second Layer
The flame split.Half remained the familiar black-red void.The other half—gold-white, luminous—spiraled upward.The mirrors in the room flickered, runes appearing:
Nihility Fire: Layer II – Soulflame Detected.
Vastel's ghostly voice echoed from the nearest mirror:
"Congratulations, Valentine. You've invented feelings."
The Soulflame radiated warmth that wasn't heat—a steady calm that reached through me, balancing the constant pull of the void.For the first time, it didn't hurt to hold it.
Ayaka approached carefully. "What does it do?"I exhaled. "It refines emotion instead of matter. Turns fear into focus. Pain into memory.""Alchemy for the soul," she said softly. "You just weaponized healing."
"Hopefully in the metaphorical sense."
Proof of Concept
We bottled the first batch of Soul Elixirs.Each shimmered differently—hope, courage, nostalgia.Daniel arrived right on time to monetize enlightenment.
"Emotions in bottles? That's genius!" he said, holding one up. "Sell heartbreak cures before exams, bravery before duels. We'll triple sales!"
"I'm not selling people's feelings," I said."Of course not," he replied, already designing labels. "We're renting them."
Ayaka laughed so hard one of her illusions fainted.
The Real Test
Later that night, after everyone left, I sat with the last vial—the one that had formed when the Soulflame first awakened. Its light pulsed softly, like a heartbeat.
I uncorked it and let a single drop touch my hand.It sank into the skin, glowing under my veins.
The Nihility Fire stirred—and didn't devour it.It absorbed the warmth, the emotion, and for the first time it whispered something gentle.
We can create too.
I closed my eyes, letting the new flame flow through me.The black-red void shimmered gold at the edges—balance.
Maybe this was what my curse had always wanted: not destruction, but expression.
Closing Reflections
Ayaka's voice floated from the doorway. "Still awake, Philosopher?""Just redefining thermodynamics," I said.She smiled. "You look lighter.""Feels that way. Turns out, the fire likes joy."
She stepped closer, tails brushing my arm. "Good. Keep feeding it, then."
Outside, Celestara's mirrors reflected streaks of black and gold fire racing through the sky, as if the city itself were celebrating.
I smiled into the glow."Maybe nothingness just needed a little hope."