Witcher: Alchemist

Lucian Faust sat hunched over his makeshift alchemy table, the dim light of a single candle casting long, flickering shadows across the room. The air was thick with the acrid scent of boiling herbs and the faint metallic tang of crushed minerals. His hands moved with practiced precision, grinding mandrake root into a fine powder before adding it to a bubbling cauldron. The liquid inside shimmered a deep crimson, the telltale sign of a nearly complete Lesser Healing Potion.

It had been a month since he'd struck his deal with Vimme Vivaldi. A month of grueling work, brewing potion after potion in the cramped, dusty confines of his small house. His body ached from the constant strain—his Lame Leg throbbed with every step, his Brittle Bones protested the slightest exertion, and the Eternal Fatigue weighed on him like a lead blanket. But Lucian didn't care. Pain was temporary. Weakness was temporary. The potions, though—they were eternal.

He poured the finished potion into a glass vial, sealing it with a cork. One hundred vials lined the shelves of his workshop, each one glowing faintly with the same crimson light. The last of the batch. Finally, it was done.

Lucian leaned back in his chair, letting out a slow breath. His hands trembled slightly, not from nerves but from exhaustion. He glanced at the small mirror hanging on the wall. The face staring back at him was gaunt, pale, and hollow-eyed—a far cry from the confident gamer who had clicked "SUBMIT" on that CYOA form. But there was a cold determination in those eyes. Apathy. Indifference. The world could burn for all he cared. All that mattered was the work.

The candle flickered, its light dimming as the wax pooled at its base. Lucian reached for a fresh candle, lighting it with a match and placing it in the holder. The room brightened slightly, the shadows retreating to the corners.

He stood, his Lame Leg protesting the movement, and limped over to the shelves. His fingers brushed against the vials, their smooth glass cool to the touch. Each one was a testament to his skill, a perfect blend of alchemical knowledge and meticulous craftsmanship.

The workshop was silent except for the occasional crackle of the dying fire in the hearth. Lucian's gaze drifted to the small window, where the faint light of dawn was beginning to creep through the cracks in the shutters. The city outside was waking up, its streets filling with the sounds of merchants and beggars, guards and nobles.

But Lucian didn't care about the city. His focus was on the work.

Vimme Vivaldi's POV – Vivaldi Bank

Vimme Vivaldi leaned back in his plush chair, his fingers drumming against the polished wood of his desk. The bank was quiet this morning, the usual hustle and bustle of merchants and nobles replaced by the soft scratching of quills and the occasional clink of coins.

He glanced at the satchel on his desk, the one the strange alchemist had delivered earlier. The boy—Lucian, if he remembered correctly—was an enigma. Ragged clothes, a limp, and a face that looked like it hadn't seen sunlight in weeks. And yet, he'd produced one hundred flawless Lesser Healing Potions in a month.

Vivaldi uncorked one of the vials, holding it up to the light. The crimson liquid shimmered faintly, casting a warm glow on his face. He dipped a finger into the potion, watching as a small cut on his hand healed instantly.

"Impressive," he muttered to himself. "Very impressive."

But impressive wasn't enough. Vivaldi had been in the banking business long enough to know that talent alone didn't guarantee success. The boy needed connections. Protection. And Vivaldi was more than willing to provide both—for a price, of course.

He leaned forward, scribbling a note on a piece of parchment. If Lucian was as good as he seemed, he'd be a valuable asset. And if not… well, Novigrad had a way of chewing up and spitting out those who couldn't keep up.

Lucian Faust's POV – Vivaldi Bank

The next morning, Lucian limped through the streets of Novigrad, a heavy satchel slung over his shoulder. Inside were the one hundred Lesser Healing Potions, each one carefully wrapped in cloth to prevent breakage. The city was alive with its usual chaos—merchants hawking their wares, beggars pleading for coin, and guards patrolling the cobblestone roads. The air was thick with the mingling scents of roasting meat, fresh bread, and the ever-present undercurrent of sewage.

Lucian ignored it all. His destination was the Vivaldi Bank, where Vimme Vivaldi was waiting.

The dwarf banker greeted him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. "Well, well. Look who's finally decided to show up. I was startin' to think you'd skipped town with my coin."

Lucian set the satchel on the counter with a dull thud. "One hundred potions. As agreed."

Vivaldi opened the satchel, pulling out a vial and holding it up to the light. The crimson liquid shimmered faintly, casting a warm glow on his face. He uncorked it, sniffed cautiously, then dipped a finger into the potion. A small cut on his hand—likely from a paper edge—healed instantly.

"Not bad, lad," Vivaldi said, his tone begrudgingly impressed. "Not bad at all. You've got talent, I'll give ya that."

Lucian didn't respond. He didn't care about praise. All he cared about was the next step.

Vivaldi leaned back in his chair, studying Lucian with a calculating gaze. "Y'know, I've been hearin' rumors. Folks say there's a new alchemist in town, makin' potions that'd make even the best apothecaries green with envy. That wouldn't happen to be you, would it?"

Lucian shrugged. "Maybe."

Vivaldi chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "Modest, ain't ya? Well, if you've got more of these… unique brews, I might know a place where you can sell 'em. For the right price, of course."

Lucian's eyes narrowed slightly. "What kind of place?"

"Borsodi's Auction House," Vivaldi said, leaning forward. "It's where the rich and powerful go to buy things they can't get anywhere else. If you've got somethin' special, that's where you'll find buyers."

Lucian considered this for a moment. An auction house would be the perfect place to sell his more… experimental potions. "I'll think about it."

Vivaldi grinned. "Smart lad. Just remember—if you need an introduction, I'm your man. For a small fee, of course."

Lucian didn't respond. He simply picked up his payment—a heavy pouch of crowns—and turned to leave.

"One more thing," Vivaldi called after him. "Be careful, lad. Novigrad's a dangerous place for someone with your… talents. There's folks out there who'd kill for what you can do."

Lucian paused at the door, glancing back over his shoulder. "Let them try."

Lucian Faust's POV – The Workshop

Back in his cramped workshop, Lucian set to work. The Red Potion was a complex brew, requiring precise measurements and careful timing. He crushed the griffin bone into a fine powder, the rhythmic grinding of the mortar and pestle filling the room. The powder was mixed with the etherial extract, its shimmering liquid blending seamlessly with the silvery dust. A handful of rare herbs—nightshade root, bitterthorn, and ember moss—were added next, their pungent aroma filling the air.

The mixture bubbled and hissed, releasing a foul-smelling smoke that made his eyes water. Lucian stirred the potion slowly, his hands steady despite the fatigue gnawing at his bones. The liquid turned a deep, ominous red, its surface shimmering like molten lava. When it was done, he poured it into a glass vial and held it up to the light.

The potion was perfect. A single sip would inflict a cascade of debilitating effects: Darkness, Poisoned, Cursed, On Fire!, Weak, Confused, Slow, Silenced, Broken Armor, Bleeding, and Suffocation. It was a weapon in a bottle, designed to incapacitate even the strongest of foes.

Next, he turned his attention to the Gender Swap Potion. This one was more experimental, requiring ingredients like mermaid scales and a rare flower that only bloomed under a full moon. The process was delicate, but Lucian's hands moved with mechanical precision.

He crushed the mermaid scales into a fine paste, their iridescent sheen catching the candlelight. The rare flower, its petals a pale pink, was carefully plucked and added to the mixture. The potion simmered gently, its surface rippling like liquid silk.

When the potion was finished, it was a pale pink, its surface shimmering with an ethereal glow. Lucian didn't fully understand how it worked, but he didn't need to. All that mattered was that it did.

He poured the potion into a vial, sealing it with a cork. The vial joined the Red Potion on the shelf, its delicate hue a stark contrast to the sinister crimson of its counterpart.

Lucian Faust's POV – Borsodi's Auction House

The next evening, Lucian made his way to Borsodi's Auction House, his satchel heavy with the two potions. The building was a monument to wealth and excess, its grand facade adorned with intricate carvings and gilded accents that gleamed in the fading sunlight. The double doors, polished to a mirror shine, were flanked by two burly guards who eyed him with a mix of curiosity and suspicion as he approached.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and the murmur of wealthy patrons. Chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, their crystals casting a warm, golden light over the room. Nobles in silk and velvet mingled with merchants in fine wool, their laughter and chatter filling the air.

Lucian ignored it all. His destination was the front desk, where a sharply dressed clerk stood, his posture stiff and his expression carefully neutral. The clerk's eyes flicked over Lucian's ragged clothes and limp, his lips curling slightly in disdain.

"Can I help you?" the clerk asked, his tone polite but dismissive.

"I have items to auction," Lucian said, his voice calm and steady. He placed the two vials on the counter. "Potions. Unique. Powerful."

The clerk's eyes flicked to the vials, and for a moment, his professional mask slipped. He reached for one, holding it up to the light. The Red Potion glowed with a sinister crimson hue, its surface shimmering like molten lava. The Gender Swap Potion, in contrast, was a pale pink, its liquid rippling like liquid silk.

"Wait here," the clerk said, his tone now tinged with respect. He disappeared into a back room, leaving Lucian standing at the counter.

A few minutes later, a tall, thin man with a booming voice emerged. He introduced himself as the auctioneer and examined the potions with a practiced eye. "These are… unusual," he said, holding the Red Potion up to the light. "What do they do?"

Lucian explained the effects of each potion in precise, clinical terms. The Red Potion, he said, would inflict a cascade of debilitating effects with a single sip: Darkness, Poisoned, Cursed, On Fire!, Weak, Confused, Slow, Silenced, Broken Armor, Bleeding, and Suffocation. The Gender Swap Potion, on the other hand, could alter the drinker's physical form entirely.

The auctioneer's eyes widened as he listened, and by the time Lucian finished, he was grinning from ear to ear. "These will fetch a high price," he said. "Very high. Leave them with me, and I'll ensure they're presented properly."

Lucian nodded. "I'll be watching."

The Auctioneer's POV – The Auction

The auction hall was packed with Novigrad's elite—nobles, merchants, and adventurers, all eager to outbid each other for the rarest treasures. The air buzzed with anticipation, the crowd's excitement palpable as they waited for the next item to be unveiled.

The auctioneer stepped onto the stage, holding up the first vial. The Red Potion glowed with a sinister crimson hue, its surface shimmering like molten lava. The room fell silent as he began his pitch.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we present to you the Red Potion!" he declared, his voice booming through the hall. "A single sip will render even the strongest warrior helpless, afflicted by a dozen debilitating curses: Darkness, Poisoned, Cursed, On Fire!, Weak, Confused, Slow, Silenced, Broken Armor, Bleeding, and Suffocation. Do I hear 500 crowns?"

The bidding started slowly but quickly escalated. A noble from Cintra, dressed in rich silks and flanked by bodyguards, outbid everyone with a final offer of 2,000 crowns. The auctioneer noted the man's face—pale, with sharp features and a calculating gaze. Someone to keep an eye on.

Next came the Gender Swap Potion. The auctioneer held up the vial, its pale pink liquid rippling like liquid silk. His description was met with laughter and skepticism, but when he demonstrated its effects on a volunteer—a burly man who transformed into a petite woman—the room erupted into chaos.

The potion was sold to a noble from Temeria, a woman with fiery red hair and a commanding presence. She seemed far too eager to get her hands on it, her eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and ambition.

As the auction concluded, the auctioneer couldn't help but smile. These potions had fetched a higher price than he'd anticipated. Whoever had brewed them was clearly a master of their craft.

Lucian Faust's POV – The Auction

Lucian stood in the shadows at the back of the auction hall, his hood pulled low over his face. He watched as the Red Potion was sold to the noble from Cintra and the Gender Swap Potion to the woman from Temeria. The prices they fetched were higher than he'd expected, but he didn't care about the coin. What mattered was the reputation he was building.

As the crowd began to disperse, Lucian slipped out of the hall and into the cool night air. The streets of Novigrad were quieter now, the chaos of the day giving way to the stillness of the evening.

He made his way back to his workshop, his mind already turning to the next project. The auction had been a success, but it was only the beginning. There were more potions to brew, more secrets to uncover, and more power to claim.

The world outside could wait. For now, there was only the work.

Lucian Faust's POV – The Workshop

Five months had passed since Lucian first auctioned his potions at Borsodi's Auction House. In that time, Novigrad had become a city of whispers. Rumors of a master alchemist capable of brewing potions with miraculous effects spread like wildfire. Nobles, merchants, and adventurers alike spoke of the mysterious figure who appeared only in disguise, delivering his creations under different faces and names.

Lucian sat in his workshop, the air thick with the scent of boiling herbs and the faint metallic tang of crushed minerals. The room had grown more cluttered over the months, shelves now lined with vials of every color and size, each one a testament to his skill.

He was working on a new batch of potions—Regeneration Potions and Iron Skin Potions. The former would heal even the most grievous wounds in moments, while the latter would harden the drinker's skin to the strength of steel. He knew these would be in high demand soon. The Nilfgaardian invasion of Cintra was inevitable, and the nobles would pay a fortune for anything that could give them an edge in the coming war.

As he stirred the bubbling cauldron, Lucian's mind wandered to the past five months. The miraculous effects of his potions had made him a legend in Novigrad, but they had also made him a target. Many had tried to find him—nobles seeking his services, thieves hoping to steal his secrets, and even assassins sent by rival alchemists.

Thankfully, he had prepared for this. Using his Polyjuice Potions, he delivered his creations under different faces every time, ensuring no one could trace them back to him. His laboratory remained hidden, its location known only to him.

In addition to his alchemical work, Lucian had begun his magical training. Drawing inspiration from the spellcasting techniques of Re:Zero, he focused on offensive magic—fireballs, ice shards, and lightning bolts. His goal was to become a force to be reckoned with, not just in alchemy but in combat as well.

The candle on the table flickered, its light dimming as the wax pooled at its base. Lucian reached for a fresh candle, lighting it with a match and placing it in the holder. The room brightened slightly, the shadows retreating to the corners.

He stood, his Lame Leg protesting the movement, and limped over to the shelves. His fingers brushed against the vials, their smooth glass cool to the touch. Each one was a testament to his skill, a perfect blend of alchemical knowledge and meticulous craftsmanship.

The workshop was silent except for the occasional crackle of the dying fire in the hearth. Lucian's gaze drifted to the small window, where the faint light of dawn was beginning to creep through the cracks in the shutters. The city outside was waking up, its streets filling with the sounds of merchants and beggars, guards and nobles.

But Lucian didn't care about the city. His focus was on the work.

He turned back to the table, where a small notebook lay open, its pages filled with scribbled notes and diagrams. The next project was already taking shape—a potion that could grant temporary invulnerability. It would require rare ingredients, difficult to obtain, but Lucian was confident he could find them.

He reached for a quill, dipping it into a pot of ink and adding a few more notes to the page. The candlelight flickered across the paper, casting shadows over the intricate diagrams.

The world outside could wait. For now, there was only the work.

The Rumor in Novigrad

In the taverns and marketplaces of Novigrad, the rumor of the master alchemist grew more elaborate with each passing day. Some claimed he was a sorcerer, others a descendant of the ancient elves. A few even whispered that he was a demon in human form, his potions cursed as much as they were miraculous.

"What I heard," said a merchant to his companions in a crowded tavern, "is that he can brew a potion that turns a man into a beast. Saw it with my own eyes, I did. A fellow drank it and grew claws and fangs like a wolf!"

"Nonsense," scoffed a noblewoman, her silk gown rustling as she leaned forward. "The real story is that he can make a potion that grants eternal life. My cousin in Vizima swears he met someone who drank it and hasn't aged a day in twenty years."

In the shadows of the tavern, a hooded figure listened silently, his face hidden beneath the brim of his hat. It was Lucian, disguised once again, delivering a batch of potions to the auction house. He smirked faintly at the rumors but said nothing. Let them talk. The more they speculated, the more they feared him.

Lucian Faust's POV – The Next Step

As the sun rose over Novigrad, Lucian stood at the entrance of his new laboratory, his eyes scanning the horizon. The city was alive with rumors of his potions, and the demand for his creations was higher than ever. He had survived the first six months in this world, and he had no intention of stopping.

With his magical training progressing and his alchemical skills unmatched, Lucian was ready to take the next step. The Nilfgaardian invasion of Cintra was on the horizon, and he intended to be ready. His potions would be in high demand, and he planned to capitalize on that demand.

Lucian Faust's POV – The Abandoned Laboratory

Now that Lucian had honed his magical abilities, he felt ready to tackle the next phase of his plan. The abandoned laboratory beneath Battle Isle had long been a place of interest for him. Hidden behind layers of illusion and protected by ancient magic, it was said to hold secrets of the Cat School Witchers—secrets that could prove invaluable to his work.

Under the cover of night, Lucian made his way to the cave. The entrance was concealed by a powerful illusion, but his training had prepared him for this. With a wave of his hand and a muttered incantation, the illusion shattered, revealing a dark, narrow passageway.

The air inside was damp and cold, the walls lined with ancient carvings that seemed to pulse faintly with residual magic. Lucian moved cautiously, his senses alert for any traps or wards. At the end of the passage, he found a locked door, its surface etched with runes that glowed faintly in the darkness.

Using his magic, Lucian unlocked the door with a series of precise gestures. The runes flared briefly before fading, and the door creaked open. Inside, the laboratory was a mess—broken equipment, scattered scrolls, and a thick layer of dust covering everything.

But what caught Lucian's attention was the figure lying on the floor. It was a witcher—Kiyan of the Cat School. His body was twisted and broken, his breathing shallow. A demonic presence clung to him, its malevolent energy filling the room.

Lucian approached cautiously, his hand hovering over the hilt of his dagger. He knelt beside Kiyan, examining him with a critical eye. The witcher was alive, but barely. The demon had taken root in his soul, feeding on his strength.

Without hesitation, Lucian pulled a vial of Regeneration Potion from his satchel and poured it into Kiyan's mouth. The witcher's breathing steadied, but the demon remained.

"Time to exorcise you," Lucian muttered, his voice cold and detached.

He began the ritual, chanting in a low voice as he drew a circle of runes around Kiyan's body. The demon stirred, its presence growing stronger as it realized what was happening.

"You dare challenge me, mortal?" the demon hissed, its voice echoing through the room.

Lucian didn't respond. He focused on the ritual, his hands moving with practiced precision. The demon lashed out, its claws slashing through the air, but Lucian was ready. He raised a barrier of ice, the claws shattering against it.

The battle was intense. The demon was fast and powerful, but Lucian's magic was precise and calculated. He summoned shards of ice, sending them flying toward the demon, each one striking with deadly accuracy.

Finally, with a burst of ice magic, Lucian froze the demon in place. Its form flickered, then shattered, dissolving into smoke. The room fell silent, the oppressive energy gone.

Lucian exhaled slowly, his body trembling from the exertion. He turned to Kiyan, who was still unconscious but breathing steadily. Using his earth magic, Lucian created a stone slab and laid Kiyan on it, a makeshift bed to keep him comfortable.

One Week Later

Over the next week, Lucian worked tirelessly to clean and restore the cave. The broken equipment was repaired, the scattered scrolls organized, and the dust cleared away. The laboratory was now fully functional, its hidden location making it the perfect place to continue his work.

Kiyan woke on the seventh day, his eyes snapping open as he lunged at Lucian with a snarl. His movements were fast and precise, but Lucian was ready. He dodged the first strike, then used a spell to immobilize Kiyan, binding him with chains of ice.

"Calm down," Lucian said, his voice calm but firm. "I'm not your enemy."

Kiyan struggled against the chains, his eyes wild with anger. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"I'm the one who saved you," Lucian replied. "You were possessed by a demon. I exorcised it."

Kiyan's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Because I needed a messenger," Lucian said simply. "Someone who can move unnoticed. Someone who owes me a debt."

Kiyan stared at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Fine. I'll do it. But don't think this makes us friends."

Lucian smirked. "I don't have friends."

Kiyan's POV

Kiyan sat on the stone slab, his body still weak from the ordeal. He watched as Lucian moved about the laboratory, his movements precise and efficient. The alchemist was an enigma—cold, calculating, and utterly focused on his work.

"You're not like other alchemists," Kiyan said, breaking the silence.

Lucian didn't look up. "I'm not like anyone."

Kiyan chuckled faintly. "Modest, aren't you?"

Lucian ignored the comment, his attention fixed on the potion he was brewing. Kiyan watched him for a moment longer, then sighed.

"Alright," he said. "I owe you my life. What do you need me to do?"

Lucian finally looked up, his eyes cold and calculating. "I need you to deliver my potions. Discreetly. No questions asked."

Kiyan nodded. "Consider it done."

Lucian Faust's POV – The Next Step

With Kiyan by his side and the laboratory operational, Lucian felt a sense of satisfaction. The world outside was chaotic and dangerous, but here, in the hidden cave beneath Battle Isle, he was in control.

He turned back to his work, his mind already turning to the next project. The Nilfgaardian invasion was on the horizon, and he intended to be ready. His potions would be in high demand, and he planned to capitalize on that demand.

The world outside could wait. For now, there was only the work.