Chapter Three: The Recipe for Delicious Tea Eggs

Victor quickly killed the heat, stopping the water from boiling. The radiance inside the cauldron gradually dimmed, revealing the wondrous sight within to Vesemir. The outer ring held crystal-clear water, but at the swirling center, a pool of blue liquid shimmered, separated from the water by some unknown force.

Victor picked up three test tubes and, using a ladle, scooped the blue liquid into them one by one. As the last tube was filled, the central whirlpool vanished, leaving only clear water in the cauldron. The yellowish, foul-smelling residue seemed to have never existed.

He handed over one of the potions, a faint, ambiguous smile flickering across his otherwise unremarkable face.

Vesemir received the blue vial with gravity, shook it gently—the liquid was flawless, without a trace of impurity, exuding a faint fruit aroma. The taste was sweet and smooth, warming the stomach, and brought a revitalizing clarity to the mind.

By every measure, this was perfection—once relegated to imagination, never before achieved in reality. Not only was the potion’s efficacy dramatically enhanced, but its purity promised a much longer shelf life. Though its longevity was yet untested, it was clear there would be no need to brew it anew each night.

At this thought, Vesemir regarded the boy with a complicated expression. As Victor had claimed beforehand, this truly was an alchemy beyond belief.

And then, this remarkable boy fainted.

...

The next day, at Victor’s insistence after he woke, life resumed as usual; training continued as before. But at noon, brimming with confidence, he once again demonstrated his incredible alchemy from a different angle.

This time, before the great hall’s fireplace, he laid kindling and set a small pot atop the flames. Into the boiling water he added flour, spices, milk, sugar, and eggs, then stirred the mixture. Within minutes, a rainbow of lights shimmered once more. Vesemir watched as that unknown force lifted a dish called “caramel cream pancakes” from the water, which became their lunch.

Victor took up a pancake and sighed in satisfaction. “You see, the more unfamiliar the blend, the longer it takes and the more energy it consumes. Yesterday I fainted because I wasn’t used to the recipe. Once I’ve practiced it a few times, even if I can’t match the speed of these pancakes, the time will shorten considerably.”

“In your world, can anyone perform such... miraculous alchemy?” Vesemir asked, sampling a bite. The pancake tasted as if freshly cooked in a pan.

“Uh... no... this type of alchemy requires talent. Even in my original world, it’s an extremely rare gift.

“I learned from my grandmother.

“She always said: ‘Either you have it or you don’t—you’ll know as soon as you try. Here, toss these tea leaves and eggs into the pot, give it a good stir, just like this—swish, swish, clack, clack... and then, with a flash of light—voilà! You have tea eggs...’

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. I swear I’m not missing a single word.”

In any case, from the day I first made tea eggs, by her reckoning, I became an alchemist's apprentice. A few days later, she unilaterally announced her retirement from the kitchen, naming me head chef…”

...

After swallowing the last bite of pancake, the sweet caramel flavor lingering, Vesemir spoke: “I want to try... to see if I can do it...” He took out the last vial of superior stamina potion from his pocket, gazing at the perfectly clear, sediment-free liquid. “This subjective alchemy has great potential. In centuries, I’ve never seen a stamina potion of such quality.

Deny the impurities, and they vanish; conceive the product, and it is born. I must admit, child, you have overturned everything I thought I knew about alchemy.”

Victor shrugged nonchalantly. “No problem, let’s try it together tonight. I’m curious whether people of this world can learn this miraculous alchemy.”

“Child, I can experiment in private. As for you, you must begin learning traditional alchemy, even if you find it inefficient and inferior.”

“To hide this miraculous alchemy?”

“Exactly. Kings would start wars to claim you. Promise me—until you can protect yourself, never reveal this skill to anyone.”

“I understand, Uncle Vesemir. I will study traditional alchemy. But I’m not as amazing as you think—just an apprentice. Anything more difficult, I can’t do.”

“I don’t believe you’ll remain an apprentice forever.”

...

As everyone knows, “Miraculous Alchemy” consists of three realms. The first is “The Wish of Alchemical Faith”—by adding the correct ingredients and envisioning the finished product with intent while stirring, when the will is strong enough, the gates of miracles open. Nearly all modern alchemists remain at this level.

The second realm is a gift granted only to the world’s chosen. It is known as “Listening to the Voices of All Things”—the ability to hear the secrets of every ingredient, to uncover their hidden properties and void aspects.

From this level on, alchemists possess power to confront gods and demons. In five centuries, only three alchemists—including the Flamebearer Sage—are known to have reached the second realm.

As for the third realm, it exists only in the Flamebearer Sage’s recollections. Only his grandmother, who taught him alchemy, had achieved it. He called it, “I Think It’ll Work”—in ancient elven, “Anxinsi,” meaning: if his grandmother thought it would work, then it really would.

The most famous creation of this realm is the Flamebearer Sage’s legendary “Endless Herb Pouch.” It’s said that, finding a single cloth pouch too small, his grandmother tossed in several more pieces of cloth into the great cauldron, thinking it should hold more.

Thus, the “Endless Herb Pouch,” whose capacity outstrips the void itself, was born.

Excerpted from—Origins of Modern Alchemy, Volume II

...

Another month passed, and June’s early summer sun shone bright.

Having mastered the Ox-guard stance, Victor continued with the High-guard. He finished reading history and began studying geography.

Progress in traditional alchemy was evident—his hands were steady, his mind cautious, and his soul, steeped in scientific method, found even the strictest alchemical practice lacking compared to chemistry labs.

The night Vesemir, with regret, admitted he could not use miraculous alchemy, he began, upon seeing Victor’s growing talent, to teach him all the Witcher’s secret recipes.

“I hope that one day you can break the curse of the Trial of Grasses. That is the last wish of an old man at the end of his days,” Vesemir said with great feeling. But in Victor’s estimation as an apprentice alchemist, the old man would likely live another hundred years.

...

Time marched on, and Victor endured the solitude.

He mastered the four basic sword stances, then moved on to the three attack forms—slash, thrust, and draw-cut—his main training partner a practice dummy armored in wood.

Thanks to his solid foundation, he picked up the attacks quickly. Then Vesemir began sparring with him, for defense, counterattacks, and close-quarters techniques could only be learned blade-to-blade, drilled into muscle memory through real combat.

It must be said—the Witcher master was worthy of his title. As Victor progressed from enduring “fancy beatings” to merely “getting beaten,” several months slipped by.

At his age, growth comes quickly; with intense exercise and superior stamina potions, Victor shot up to five foot seven, shedding his childish look for that of a lean, wiry youth.

Alas, his looks did not improve accordingly—still plain and unremarkable.