Chapter: 97
Every once in a while, an “alchemist” pays a visit to the Library of Transcendence in my dreams.
It doesn’t feel like an intruder at all. Even if it’s someone I’ve never seen before, there’s this comfy vibe, like I’m talking to a familiar friend—no awkwardness, no trouble.
“My friend wants to meet you; is that okay?”
“Hmm? A friend…?”
“Ha ha! That’s right! It’s someone I’ve known since before I became a Transcendent, and he read ‘The Wizard of Oz,’ was totally impressed, and wants to meet you.”
“Wait, before you became a Transcendent? Like a thousand years ago?”
“That’s right! He might even be older than me.”
“…Did he also take the elixir of immortality?”
“Nope, that friend… he just doesn’t age.”
“What?”
“Because she’s a witch!”
Sometimes, the alchemist introduces me to other people like this.
Just like when he introduced me to the Transcendent of Dragonflesh.
“Since he’s not a Transcendent, I can’t invite him to the library, so you’ll need to find him in the real world!”
“Uh, okay. Where do I go?”
“Let me think….”
The alchemist pondered for a moment, rolling his eyes, then smiled and replied.
“Why not visit my friend’s workshop? It’s in a small place called the Republic of Cydel!”
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The Republic of Cydel.
I’ve heard the name a few times, but this was my first visit. It’s this tiny little country stuck between the Mediterranean and the western ocean.
The constitution of this Republic starts with the following line:
[“Cydel is an indivisible, non-religious, democratic, social republic.”]
In simple terms, this country takes extreme secularism to a whole new level right from the get-go.
Like, they go beyond just being “okay with non-religion” to saying “you must not be religious” in every aspect of life. You can’t wear or display religious symbols like rosaries or crosses in public, and if public officials are caught engaging in religious activities outside of the “church,” they can actually get punished for it!
Of course, this is just in the “public” sphere, and most people in the private sector totally still believe in something.
In fact, the more the state stays indifferent, the more zealous the individual believers become.
There, I found someone that the alchemist referred to as a ‘witch.’
She lived in a cozy little cabin in the woods. It looked like something straight out of a fairy tale. Not a harsh, hunting-style hut, but a round, smooth home oozing with charming innocence.
“Ah! Welcome…. Thanks for showing up. It’s a bit shabby, but feel free to make yourself at home….”
“Uh, yeah. So, how do you know the alchemist?”
“I’ve known Galen for ages… he’s one of the few friends I still have…. Life’s short and all that jazz, you know? Even if you’ve got immortality promised, there comes a moment when you have to say goodbye for good…. So, in that light, having a 1,000-year friendship with Galen is like, the luckiest thing ever….”
“Hmm.”
It’s such a long time that I really don’t know how to react.
A thousand years might not sound like much, but it’s plenty of time for an entire empire to rise and fall. Back in my previous life, ‘Don Quixote’ got published right at the tail end of the Renaissance in the early 17th century, and they usually say the Renaissance kicked off in the 14th century.
The Renaissance rises, it falls, and then boom! We get this new age connected by the internet.
And it takes just under two of those times to add up to a thousand years. So trying to grasp what it really feels like for human connections to last through such a timeline is honestly baffling.
So, I just quietly listened.
Thankfully, the witch, the alchemist’s friend, was a great storyteller.
“Before we dive in, I should introduce myself properly… I’m a witch named Mary Jane.”
“…Is there, like, a spider living nearby?”
“What?”
“Oh, never mind.”
“Ah… well, it’s not a spider that’s coming, but my alchemist friend…”
“What?”
I turned at the witch’s words and saw the alchemist grinning at me with that oh-so-familiar smile.
“Ha ha! I’m here too!”
“Oh, yeah….”
And then.
With the alchemist’s booming laugh giving us the green light.
Mary Jane, the witch, began her story.
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[The Tin Woodman was very careful not to be cruel or unkind, because he knew he had no heart.]
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Mary Jane was indeed a witch. Wicked, unable to feel love, a gifted girl sporting eternal youth and mesmerizing beauty.
Her talents stood out even among witches.
Witches can do many things—but one of the core skills is witchcraft, also known as the “witch’s cauldron.”
She had a natural flair for witchcraft.
“By any chance, do you know the difference between alchemy and witchcraft?”
“Uh, not really.”
“Here’s the key point: Alchemy, which I have transcended, is all about changing one ‘thing’ into another! Altering properties, changing states, switching things around, transforming lead into gold—the ultimate goal? The Elixir of Immortality—the Philosopher’s Stone!”
“Hmm, got it….”
“But witchcraft is different. For that… you’d better hear her explain it!”
“Ah, yes. For us witches… our life’s goal is to create ‘love potions.'”
“A love potion…?”
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[“Can you give me your heart?” asked the Tin Woodman.]
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Witches are immortal beings. They don’t age, don’t die in water, and can live for nearly eternity without needing divine blessings or magical orders.
But.
Since witches are immortal, they also can’t change. More specifically, witches aren’t allowed to experience “emotions” that could transform them. Witches don’t laugh for joy, don’t cry for sadness, don’t sigh for regret, and don’t feel sad for misery.
Imagine a tin woodcutter, rusted and unable to move.
A junk heap whose essential function is broken, only able to imitate a person if constantly oiled.
That’s basically what it means to be a “witch.”
So yeah, ‘Witchcraft’ exists to fill in what witches lack.
“For instance, this potion in my hand is called the ‘Potion of Gentleness.’ Drinking it will mellow your mood, soften your speech, make you kind to others, and make you worry about their weaknesses….”
Demonstrating, the witch popped the potion open and downed it in one gulp.
And just like that, her eyes drooped like a puppy’s, and the corners of her mouth curled up gently, putting everyone at ease.
With a voice laced with affection, she continued.
“Witches can’t feel any emotions without these potions… that’s why sometimes they make irreversible mistakes….”
Being devoid of kindness means you won’t even care if the other person is out of sight.
Without kindness, you won’t lift a finger to help someone in distress.
Knowing she has no feelings, the witch must always be a bit more cautious than most. She can’t differentiate between crushing an ant or stepping on a person, so she’s got to be careful enough to avoid even a single ant.
That’s the essence of the fairy tale “witch.”
The alchemist beside her chimed in.
“Honestly, the ‘potions’ witches brew could easily lead to some serious oppression! A potion that can manipulate a person’s mind? That’s just wrong, don’t you think? Ha ha! Anyone who wants to bend minds would risk anything to grab it, and if they can’t, they’d want to burn it down!”
“…”
“Well, better that all the witches get burned than letting such a potion fall into greedy hands! If that potion can give a person any emotion they need on demand, how is that any different from drugs? Of course, organized witch hunts kicked off!”
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[“Oz replied, ‘Wanting a heart might be the wrong desire. Most people end up unhappy because of their hearts. Knowing this, you might see being heartless as a luckier fate.'”]
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Witch hunts.
The initiative was taken by the king of a small land known as the Wasteland King. This guy allied himself with many factions to expand his territory, including the popular religion that was the Church back then.
For him, ‘witches’ were prime targets for hunting.
If he could catch a witch living in a resource-rich forest, he’d get rights to the land and absorb her followers. Witches are incredibly powerful, but… they were simply too few in number.
People who went to them for medicine got hooked on a new drug known as “religious fanaticism” and led the charge for witch hunts.
“Our witches scattered and ran, but the forests they could inhabit just kept shrinking. The Wasteland King’s small fiefdom became a huge empire, gradually expanding by dominating all surrounding territories.”
And.
During the course of fleeing, he ran into an ‘alchemist.’
– “Whoa? Carrying around some good materials? Have you studied pharmacology? This is a coincidence! Let’s have a common introduction!”
– “…….”
– “I’m Galen Lanion! I run a small alchemy workshop.”
– “…….”
– “If you prefer not to share your name, that’s alright! But could you gather me a few ingredients? I’m working on something important, and I can’t find quality herbs!”
– “…….”
– “As for compensation, a cottage to stay wouldn’t be too much, right? We actually have a private property set up for gathering herbs for our alchemy! It’s a place where even the Imperial soldiers wouldn’t dare to step; perfect for hiding!”
– “…….”
The alchemist made life easier for witches in many ways.
Sometimes, he’d show up with weird stuff, claiming it was new medicine.
– “Check this out; it’s a potion that turns you into a beast! Well, sort of! But if you change into a beast, you become so wild that controlling those animal urges gets tricky. So I thought, why not let a witch with no emotions give it a whirl?”
Through that experimentation, a new race known as beastmen was born.
“Wait, what? What did you say?”
“Why?”
“What’s a beastman…?”
“Oh! Beastmen are descendants of witches that drank the ‘beast-transforming potion.’ Didn’t you know that?”
“…Yeah.”
“Well, it’s not important! It was a failed experiment! Drinking that potion increases the chances of pregnancy, and if they get pregnant, there’s no going back to human form. Still, witches seem pretty satisfied since turning into animals allows them to experience instincts that are closer to emotions!”
Anyway.
Thus, the alchemist was trying to learn something with the help of the witches.
─ “The Alchemical Transcendent, Galen Lanion, answers the call of heaven.”
And finally, he carved his name into the heavens.
He succeeded in developing the Elixir of Immortality and achieved transcendence. Now that he was an alchemist in the heavens, no worldly power could hold him down.
Thanks to that, witches living under the alchemist’s protection could now have a bit more freedom.
– “What’s this thing?”
– “It’s a potion of joy! The alchemist has this perpetual grin… I thought, if I could smile like him, that would be great!”
– “Ha ha! Can I have a sip?”
– “For sure!”
– “Just kidding! I’m already cheerful enough!”
The witches whipped up lots of potions under the alchemist’s support.
But there was one particular potion they just couldn’t create—the one they wanted the most.
– “What about this time?”
– “Failed again…. We’ll call it the Potion of Generosity….”
– “Oh, such a pity.”
– “Potion of Excitement, Potion of Elevation, Potion of Gentleness, Potion of Kindness… none of them result in love… so maybe, just maybe, we witches will forever be unable to love….”
– “But is love really that crucial? I mean, these potions are things I, the Alchemical Transcendent with a fancy title, can’t even create! Ha ha!”
– “If we could love… there’s one person I would really want to love.”
– “Who is it?”
– “…A truly amazing person. Always cheerful, never hesitates to help, and the first to extend a hand when we’re struggling.”
– “Ha ha! He sounds like a fantastic person!”
– “…….”
And so, a thousand years went by.
Mary Jane the witch still.
Struggling to brew a love potion.
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