Stepping out of the shower, Percy borrowed some gaseous mana from Micky through the cord to dry himself up. His human body could also produce smaller quantities of ice mana with his boosting art active, but he didn’t see a need to put that kind of effort just to wash up.

The elemental body had already returned to the hive to resume directing the mushroom production. They’d need a lot of life mana in the coming weeks, so it was best to start early. Besides, that was the perfect place to consume a lot of nectar, accelerating the beast core’s promotion. Now that he had multiple ways to deal with his hunger effectively, there was no reason not to race toward Blue at full speed.

Once he helped the Starry Queen and Nephthys with their stamina issues, he was going to ask them to spare some royal jelly for his other cores, but he wasn’t in a hurry to do that. His new familiar was still at a rather critical stage in her development, so he figured that it was best to wait until she reached Yellow, fully stabilized her soul and received her second core.

Percy didn’t need any bodyguards either, as he was more than capable of wielding near-Violet strength by himself. It should be plenty if somebody foolishly attacked him, though he didn’t see that happening anytime soon.

Standing in front of his bed, his gaze lingered on the folded piles of enchanted robes that Eleazar had gifted him. Percy had gotten rid of his orange clothes years ago, but that wasn’t a suitable colour for him anyway. Not anymore. Orin’s mentor had generously gifted him a set of every colour from yellow to violet, letting him choose how he wanted to present himself.

‘Really thoughtful of him. The elders aren’t that bad once you get to know them…’

Percy decided to put the previous unpleasantness behind him from now on, and to approach the old alchemists with an open mind. While he’d probably be able to get what he wanted by strongarming them into cooperating, things would likely be smoother if he tried to forge a positive relationship with them.

His fingers traced the runes embroidered on the robes, causing him to realize how primitive the enchantments were. Back in the day, he used to greatly appreciate the handy self-cleaning runes, though his recent progress with magiscript truly put their relative simplicity into perspective.

He could probably learn to design better robes in a day if he studied the right enchantments and put his mind to it – especially with the Weaving trait added to the mix. That said, there were far more urgent projects for him to devote his time towards, both at a personal level and for Remior as a whole.

Returning his attention to the robes, he recalled how often he used to daydream about reaching the next grade and qualifying for a new colour. At the time, he’d been impatient to wear something that wouldn’t get him odd looks from his peers.

Remembering how insecure he used to be about his birth grade made him chuckle.

Nowadays, there wasn’t anyone on Remior who would look down on him for being a Red-born. Love or hate him, everyone had been forced to acknowledge how far Percy had come. Whether he would become a god one day remained to be seen, but even the Green-borns didn’t necessarily have much of an edge over him in that regard.

‘Should I wear it?’ he wondered, picking the yellow robe up.

Nobody would complain if he didn’t don the Guild’s uniform – he’d only be doing it for nostalgia’s sake. Technically, he wasn’t sure what colour he should wear either. Going purely by his actual grade, yellow made the most sense, but that would look silly considering that he was bossing the elders around.

In the end, he shook his head, opting to don his trusty Cloak instead. Leaving aside how weird he’d look in the robes given his current strength and status, there was no reason to leave himself vulnerable. His domain would make it exceedingly difficult for anyone to sneak up on him, but he’d still rather not forsake the protection his construct provided.

After all, it had already saved his life from one assassination attempt recently. Stripped of his Ultimate Art and domain, Percy was ultimately a Yellow. Even with two cores and the Greater Thess’kalan Physique, his body wasn’t any tougher than a Green’s.

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Leaving his oversized bedroom, he decided to explore his new residence carefully, having not had a chance earlier. Overall, it greatly resembled his old place, though this one was twice as large. The living room was cleanly delineated from the kitchen, both rooms spacious enough to comfortably house a few guests if necessary.

Another notable addition was the door opposite the kitchen, leading to his own private lab – a convenience that was usually only afforded to senior alchemists like Orin.

‘Useful… if a little superfluous,’ he thought, awkwardly scratching his head.

He was certainly qualified for this treatment given his brewing yield, but he didn’t really need it. While he fully expected to be splitting his time between the settlement and the hive over the next few years, he was used to brewing in the wilderness or even on Micky’s back. He’d long learned to rely solely on his cauldron, mutated eyes and pure mana. The rest of the fancy equipment that other alchemists routinely made use of was a luxury he could do without.

Either way, he hadn’t seen a reason to turn the place down. The elders had extended the same generous treatment to Orin and Archibald. The former hadn’t been a surprise, since Percy’s mentor was a senior alchemist himself who used to live in a similar residence before his imprisonment, though giving one to Percy’s grandfather was a clear attempt to compensate him for the past couple of years.

Of course, Archibald didn’t need the lab either, nor was he planning to stay in the Guild for long. Eager as he was to return to the Camelot province and resume his responsibilities as House Avalon’s patriarch, Percy had convinced him to wait here for a while longer. Not only did he need his grandfather’s help with a few things, he genuinely missed him after not seeing him for so long – he’d rather not part ways with the man so soon.

Besides, Percy had yet to have a proper conversation with his mentor and grandfather. As impatient as all parties involved were to sit down and catch up, Percy had insisted that they took some time to recover first – wash up, eat some proper food, and maybe get a good night’s sleep. There was no longer any reason to rush things. Based on what the elders had told him, news of his return had yet to spread, but it wouldn’t be long. Soon, nobody would even consider laying a finger on his loved ones.

Other than his relief and joy at seeing Orin and Archibald alive and well, Percy couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. He could blame Deimos and the Root all he wanted, but there was no denying that nothing bad would have happened to them if not for their association with him.

‘I swear I’ll make it up to them,’ he decided. Luckily, he had several ways to do that.

Filtering all the negative thoughts out for now, he left the house, eager to visit a certain place. Archibald and Orin weren’t the only ones that needed a rest. Percy might not have to sleep, but there were still a few things on Remior capable of soothing his tired soul – and Phoebe knew, he needed that after all the hardships he’d endured in the past few years.

Casually strolling through the settlement, he took deep breaths to appreciate the rich ambient mana. The Fungal Spire was no Thess’kala, but the mana density was still higher than most other places he’d been to.

Stone buildings lined either side of the street, their ancient walls covered in runes that glowed softly whenever one of the dancing motes seeped into them. Now that he didn’t have an impending meeting with the elders to worry about, Percy was free to reminisce about his youth. His new residence was located at a different part of the settlement, but that did little to stifle the rush of memories from flashing through his mind as he traversed the familiar landscape.

‘That’s where I first bought the potions from…’

‘Isn’t that the shortcut I used to take to reach Orin’s old place?’

‘Ah, that’s where Nesha’s gambling den used to be!’

Percy wasn’t alone in the street; the others having found the courage to emerge from their hiding spots in the past few hours. They still stared at the infamous Spectral Reaper in apprehension, steering clear of him on sight, though they appeared to at least realize that they were in no immediate danger.

Even so, his lips couldn’t help but part into a sheepish grin. He almost regretted the excessive show of force from earlier, realizing how terrifying the army of Blue wasps must’ve looked to the average Guild member. Then again, putting his cards on the table had ultimately been the fastest way to get the elders to listen to him.

Undoing years of propaganda would take more than a day or two, though he was confident that everyone on Remior – not just his fellow alchemists – would come around sooner rather than later.

‘Nobody will give a shit about a dead Holy Child or two when they’ve all got Aurora Dew spilling out of their ears…’ he reasoned.

Reaching his destination, he found a familiar-looking stand right where he’d last seen it all those years ago. It was operated by a plump man lighting a stove with fire magic – the first guy Percy had seen today wearing an orange robe. He looked a bit older than the average Guild member too, seemingly in his mid-thirties. His short hair sported a vibrant ginger colour, his features soft. Most notably, a bright smile was plastered all over his face, making him look quite approachable.

At the same time, Percy caught a whiff of a rather sweet scent emanating from the stove, turning his own grin more genuine. Archibald and Orin weren’t the only people in the Guild he’d wanted to visit.

Now, he just had to figure out how to get himself a Honey Roll without giving his old pal a heart attack…

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