To confirm his theory further, Minori asked Friane to cast the spell Object Positioning on him.
The result was as expected—nothing happened.
Friane looked puzzled and even questioned whether he had botched the spell due to his inexperience. But Minori had already received a prompt on his interface: the spell had been successfully cast… yet failed to take effect.
"Do you want me to try again?" Friane asked, clearly embarrassed.
"No need. You've helped me enough already," Minori replied with a faint smile, waving it off.
With that, the conclusion was clear—magic such as Clairvoyance or Object Positioning was ineffective on him. From now on, only sensory detection spells remained a possible threat.
"I've ordered some food. If you two don't mind, enjoy yourselves."
"I still have some errands to take care of, so I'll be going now." Minori offered a polite smile and stood to leave.
"This place isn't cheap, you know," Friane said teasingly, nudging the now clearly flustered Alshe beside him. "But if he's paying, I suppose we can indulge."
"I'll see you out," Alshe suddenly offered, her cheeks tinged with red.
Friane watched the two of them depart, sipping from his warm drink with a strange grin. "Didn't expect Alshe to know someone like that… black hair too, and it doesn't look dyed."
Outside, Alshe stood still, holding the ten gold coins Minori had left behind. Her eyes blinked in confusion.
Only now did she realize—he had never told them his name.
The street bustled around her. Carriages rattled down the center road, armored patrols kept the peace. This district, near the Imperial Academy of Magic, was far more secure than most.
Minori's loose black robes rippled slightly in the breeze as he walked, his faithful little demonic hound padding silently behind.
"We need to move faster," Minori thought grimly.
Ever since learning about Alshe's tragic future, that sense of urgency had only intensified.
Was he trying to save her?
No. Minori didn't think of himself that way.
After all, even he couldn't be certain of his own survival in this world.
If Alshe needed saving, what of the one hundred thousand Re-Estize soldiers who would be massacred? Or the Holy Kingdom's conscripts who would be butchered and flayed like livestock by Demiurge?
Were they less deserving?
He was no savior—and had no intention of becoming one.
If someone could be saved in passing, so be it. But he wouldn't change course for that purpose alone.
As a player, his path to strength came through death—of enemies, mostly. He had already held back more than most would.
That alone was his version of mercy.
"Kindness?"
Minori halted, turning his head sharply to scan the far side of the street—but saw no one unusual.
…Just his imagination?
Unbeknownst to him, a figure cloaked in a tattered gray robe watched silently from the shadow of a crumbling alley arch. Judging from the outline beneath the robe, the observer was a woman.
She said nothing. She only watched.
Over the next two days, Imina quietly spread word across the adventurer and worker circles:
A mysterious alchemist living in the noble district had created an experimental potion that could regenerate limbs—but with a potentially fatal side effect. The treatment was free.
The paradox intrigued everyone.
On one hand, nothing free was trustworthy. On the other… no scam would openly admit it might kill you.
Yet no one dared be the first.
Until the third day.
Two figures approached the iron gate of Minori's manor: a dark-skinned, prematurely gray-haired man in peasant garb, carrying a wooden basket on his back. Inside was his son—a boy with both legs amputated years ago by a noble's whip.
Minori's decision to treat them was a spark.
Adventuring teams, workers' guilds, alchemists, apothecaries, and even the Adventurer's Guild immediately took notice.
The peasant father and son had once been nobodies. But now their identity was quickly uncovered and their story spread: rural farmers, maimed and discarded.
When the two exited Minori's residence just before nightfall, people gasped.
The boy walked out—on two new legs.
The uproar was instant.
The adventurers and workers now saw it not as charity, but as hope. Real, terrifying hope.
Even the Herb Guild and its rival workshops were stunned. For them, alchemy had always been secondary to pharmacology. This changed everything.
Minori's potion wasn't diluted or enhanced by magic herbs—it was pure alchemical regeneration.
In the blink of an eye, alchemy had risen from supporting role to sovereign craft.
A carriage quickly swept the father and son away—clearly a faction with resources had moved to verify the effects.
By dawn the next day, a crowd had already gathered.
Minori opened the front door and froze for a moment. Dozens of people stood waiting—some noble, some rough-looking, most visibly injured or crippled.
Behind them, noble district guards had appeared. But unlike normal protocol, they weren't moving to disperse the crowd. Just watching.
Minori narrowed his eyes. He had expected interest, but this—this was the beginning of something bigger.
"One person," he said coldly.
Everyone tensed.
Just as the mood began to sour—
Clatter! Clop clop clop—!
A luxurious carriage drawn by twin horses approached at full speed, halting precisely in front of Minori's manor.
Its lacquered door opened.
A butler stepped down, placing a bench by the curb.
Then came the passenger.
A young blond noble with refined features, holding a ruby-topped scepter.