Sovereign of the Ashes

Old Peyton was a difficult man to get along with.

Sein had joined the heavy industry laboratory with the intent to learn.

However, neither the laboratory nor Peyton had any intention of teaching him for free. Instead, they saw an opportunity to leverage his alchemy expertise for their own benefit.

After all, Sein was just a “temporary worker”, never having signed a long-term contract with the laboratory.

Under such conditions, there was no chance they would allow him too much time to study.

Every year, a vast number of Magus World mages visited Sky City.

Yet, the scarcity of Arcane points, coupled with the strict rule requiring the mandatory consumption of one point per day, made prolonged stays difficult for lower-ranking mages.

If every mage could afford to remain in Sky City indefinitely, even this massive floating city would have been overcrowded long ago.

After all, the number of spellcasters in Magus World was staggeringly high!

Each year, countless alchemists, apothecaries, array masters, and other specialists were recruited by the city’s major laboratories.

Most, like Sein, were nothing more than “temporary workers”.

Only the true geniuses, those with both exceptional talent and the patience to devote themselves fully to research, were offered permanent contracts by the laboratories as they were deemed worthy of long-term investment.

Peyton, who was leading Sein through the heavy industry laboratory, was one such genius.

Sein had to admit that, although this bald old man lacked skill in magic and combat, his accomplishments in alchemy far surpassed his own.

Yet, Peyton himself was only an assistant in this laboratory.

Above him, there were chief and deputy alchemists, as well as designers, maintainers, inspectors, and even aesthetic stylists.

The heavy industry laboratory Sein joined specialized in designing and constructing the next generation of space fortresses.

A war platform as massive as a space fortress was not something a single mage could build alone.

It required collective wisdom—the combined expertise of countless individuals!

Despite being constantly bossed around by Peyton, Sein had learned a great deal during his time under the old man’s guidance.

In the end, this arrangement was a mutual exchange, a fairer employment model—one where both sides sought to extract value from the other.

Sein had gained valuable knowledge during his short-term study at the heavy industry laboratory, while the laboratory and Peyton enjoyed the benefit of a free Rank Three alchemist assistant.

According to Peyton, who occasionally boasted about his past achievements, he had even commanded demigod-level alchemy warlocks.

“So, have you ever commanded a Rank Four alchemist?” Sein asked casually, a hint of mockery in his tone.

Old Man Peyton’s bulbous nose turned red as he waved his alchemy wrench, scowling.

“Have you finished checking the energy circuit I told you to inspect? If you’re done, go measure the magic conductivity of barrel number two!”

Though Peyton had a foul temper, he was, in his own way, sincere.

When it came to certain alchemical mysteries, the old man did not gatekeep.

He would usually answer most of Sein’s questions, provided that Sein had completed his assigned tasks.

Sein was not someone who particularly cared about ranks or enjoyed exerting power over others.

Yet, his experience as a black magic initiate had taught him one crucial lesson—to fear and respect the strong.

In the field of alchemy, Old Peyton was an expert in Sein’s eyes.

Although Peyton specialized in the research and development of large-scale elemental energy weapons, his specific area of responsibility was not the main or secondary cannons of a space fortress but the main cannon barrels of war airships.

A standard war airship of the Magus Civilization was said to rival Rank Three creatures.

The specialized models were even more destructive and equipped with advanced features.

Of course, just like space fortresses, war airships were merely tools created with magitech.

They could not truly be compared to Rank Three or Rank Four creatures.

However, from an objective standpoint, backed by recorded data from past interplanar wars, the combat effectiveness of a war airship was indeed on par with that of a Rank Three grand mage.

Sein might be an alchemist, but he had no intention of ever attempting to build a space fortress himself.

That was just insane!

Constructing a space fortress was not something one person could accomplish.

Even if Sein led its development and design, would he even have the time or energy to pursue other mysteries of truth?

Despite his brilliance in alchemy, Old Peyton had remained stuck at Rank Two, with little hope of advancing to Rank Three.

He had devoted too much of his life to research in alchemy.

Sein’s former mentor, Morsidor, had suffered the same fate.

For Sein’s future space fortress, he would handle only certain aspects of its design—the rest would be outsourced to the heavy industry laboratories in Sky City or Steel City.

Or, like Lorianne, he could simply purchase a standard space fortress of the latest model.

Under Peyton’s guidance, Sein had not only mastered advanced energy weaponry but also upgraded Yuri’s mecha with the help of the old man’s expertise.

“Ten thousand magicoins? You only just got promoted to Rank Three, right? You’re really generous with that slave of yours!”

Inside the warehouse, filled with the acrid stench of oil and burnt metal, Peyton, clad in a protective suit covered in black stains, squinted at Sein.

Everyone had a price. If they refused, it simply meant the offer was not high enough yet.

Ten thousand magicoins—that was what Sein had offered to persuade Peyton to upgrade Yuri’s mecha.

Under normal circumstances, a Rank Two mage who had survived an interplanar war would, at best, earn one or two thousand magicoins.

Given that Sein had just advanced to Rank Three, Peyton assumed this ten thousand magicoins was his entire fortune.

With that amount, one could even buy a slightly weaker Rank Three enslaved creature from the Magus Alliance.

“Yuri has been my comrade for years. She’s from the Neisse Civilization. Beyond her own cultivation in mental focus, her mecha is one of her greatest strengths,” Sein explained.

“I’ve modified her mecha many times myself, but I’m no expert in this field. So, this time, I’d like to have you take a shot at it, old man.”

With a smile, Sein lit the Redbud Cigar from the Thunderfire World, perched between Peyton’s lips.

The heat from the tiny flame flickering at Sein’s fingertips, combined with the spicy aroma of the cigar, made Peyton close his eyes in pleasure, savoring the moment.

Being served like this by a Rank Three grand mage certainly stroked the old man’s ego.

He flicked his cigar, sending loose ashes onto the floor.

With more pride than contempt, he remarked, “Not to be rude, your alchemy skills may be decent for crafting rods, robes, and magic items but when it comes to mechas and large-scale war constructs? You’re just an amateur. Painfully so.”

“Forget everything else—the weapon system of your little slave girl’s mecha alone is already seriously flawed!”

Taking a slow drag, he exhaled a smoke ring as round as his bald head.

“Just give me the money. I’ll take the job.”