C9 Chapter 9: Parting Gratitude, Visitor, Bright Green

Astrea awoke to the soft scent of herbs and boiling water.

His body no longer screamed in pain. The scratches on his forearm and shoulder had faded into dull aches, tightly wrapped and properly treated. He flexed his fingers slowly, relief flickering across his face.

Half healed… but alive.

He sat up carefully, rolling his shoulders once before standing. The world no longer spun when he moved, which he counted as a blessing.

Michaela was outside, hanging freshly washed cloth by the window. When she noticed him standing there, her eyes widened.

"You're up already?" she asked, lowering the cloth. "You should rest more."

Astrea smiled faintly. "If I rest any longer, your parents might chase me out with a broom."

She laughed, then hesitated. "They… mean well."

"Of course," he replied calmly. "I'd do the same if I were them."

Astrea bowed slightly, a gesture far more respectful than anything the villagers were used to seeing from him.

"Thank you, Michaela. For the herbs. For the help. For not leaving me to bleed out in the forest."

Her lips pressed together. "You don't need to thank me. Anyone would have done the same."

Astrea didn't say it aloud, but they both knew that wasn't true.

He stepped outside, the morning sun warm against his skin. His body still protested with every movement, but he could walk slowly, carefully.

As he reached the edge of the yard, Michaela's mother appeared, arms crossed.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She studied him for a long moment. "Don't drag my daughter into danger again."

Astrea met her gaze steadily. "I won't."

It was the first time she didn't scoff.

He left quietly.

The moment he disappeared down the path, the atmosphere in the house shifted.

Michaela's father slammed the door shut.

"What were you thinking?" he demanded. "Running into the mountains? Facing beasts? With him?"

"He would've died if I didn't help!" Michaela shot back.

"That is not your responsibility!"

"And if I ignored him and he died, would that sit well with you?"

Her mother interjected sharply, "This is exactly why you must stop associating with thieves! They bring danger wherever they go!"

Michaela clenched her fists. "He's not what you think!"

Her father's voice rose. "Enough! You will not throw your life away for someone with no future!"

The argument echoed through the house: fear, anger, and worry tangled together.

None of them noticed the sound of a horn blowing from the village center.

By noon, the entire village buzzed with rumors.

A second horn blast rang out, followed by the village guards moving through the streets.

"All villagers are to gather at the village center this afternoon!" one shouted. "A guest of importance is arriving!"

Speculation spread like wildfire.

Astrea stood near the edge of the crowd, leaning against a post, arms crossed. He wasn't fully healed, but curiosity pulled him there regardless.

By afternoon, the village center was packed.

At the center stood the Village Chief, an elderly man with a silver beard and sharp eyes.

"Chief Aldren Brighthollow," someone whispered.

Chief Aldren raised his staff. "Silence."

The crowd obeyed.

"We are honored today," he announced, "to host a distinguished visitor a Tier 4 Potioner from the capital."

Gasps rippled through the villagers.

"A Tier 4?!"

"From the capital?!"

Chief Aldren continued, "She seeks a disciple. One she will personally train."

The crowd erupted.

"Only girls," the chief added, raising his voice. "Ages fourteen to nineteen."

Excitement exploded especially among young girls and hopeful parents.

Astrea's eyes narrowed slightly.

A carriage rolled into the square, drawn by two sleek horses. The door opened, and a woman stepped down.

She wore flowing white robes, embroidered with faint silver alchemical circles. Her hair was chestnut brown, tied neatly behind her back. Her face was calm, refined, and confident someone who had spent years mastering her craft.

She looked to be around thirty.

Not old.

Not young.

Powerful.

Astrea felt it instinctively.

"She doesn't look arrogant," he murmured. "That's dangerous."

The woman stepped forward.

"I am Eliz Vaelthorne," she said, her voice clear and composed. "A Tier 4 Potioner of the Royal Alchemist Guild."

She gestured, and her assistant stepped forward carrying a stone pedestal.

"This is an Aptitude Stone," Eliz explained. "It measures affinity for alchemy precision, perception, and resonance."

"One by one," she said calmly, "step forward."

The line was long.

Hours passed.

Girls stepped forward, placed their hands on the stone, and waited.

Some stones remained dull.

Others flickered faintly red or pale yellow.

A few passed.

Most didn't.

Astrea watched silently from the crowd.

Then he saw her.

Michaela stood in line.

His eyes widened slightly.

So she decided to try…

When her turn came, she stepped forward nervously and placed her hand on the stone.

For a heartbeat nothing.

Then—

The stone glowed bright green.

A sharp gasp rippled through the crowd.

"Bright green?!"

"That's high affinity!"

Eliz's eyes sharpened with interest.

"Well now," she murmured.

Only three girls passed.

Two had dim glows.

Only one shone brightly.

Michaela.

Her parents were stunned then overjoyed.

Eliz approached them calmly. "Your daughter possesses rare talent."

Her father bowed deeply. "It is an honor."

"She will need to come with me to the capital," Eliz said. "To formalize the master-disciple ceremony. You will be provided residency."

Michaela swallowed, then bowed. "Master."

Eliz smiled faintly.

"We leave tomorrow morning."

Astrea watched from the crowd, unreadable.

So her life just changed.

The village buzzed with envy, pride, and disbelief.

Astrea turned away quietly.

The world moves… whether you're ready or not.

And somewhere deep inside, the system remained silent waiting.