Soulbound: Dual Cultivation

The Grand Elder's gaze shifted slowly from Lady Isabelle to Lucas, then down to the vial that sat patiently on the table, untouched and quietly demanding justice. For a moment, the old man remained silent, his lips pressed into a tight line, clearly weighing the dignity of the hall against the grace he had just been shown. Lady Isabelle's charm was not something easily denied, and her manner had not only been polite but layered with an unmistakable nobility that even he, a man who had presided over centuries of assessments, could not ignore.

With a heavy sigh, he finally relented.

"For the sake of Lady Isabelle," the Grand Elder said, his tone still carrying the rigid formality of someone clinging to authority, "I will inspect the vial. But let it be known to all present that if what I find fails to meet the standards of this hall, then the boy's expulsion shall remain final, and this discussion will end here."

Lucas made no reply, He did not move, did not flinch, nor did he show the smallest sign of fear. He simply remained as he was, standing tall, his gaze resting coolly upon the Grand Elder. There was no arrogance in his bearing, only the quiet certainty of someone who already knew the truth and no longer needed to shout it.

The Grand Elder reached for the vial with a slow and almost ceremonial movement, as if still reluctant to entertain the boy's defiance. His fingers curled around the glass, and he lifted it to eye level, bringing it into the light. The thick swirl of essence inside gleamed softly, like molten crystal suspended in time.

The Grand Elder's brows twitched, his eyes narrowed.

A beat later, his mouth parted slightly, and his shoulders stiffened as the full clarity of what he saw registered all at once. A long, breathless pause fell over him. His eyes darted closer, then pulled back again. He tilted the vial once, then twice, inspecting it from multiple angles, as if certain that what he was seeing must be a trick of the light.

But the result remained the same.

His fingers trembled slightly.

"What…?" he breathed, but the word barely escaped his throat.

The hall noticed. One by one, the Alchemists who had been smirking and whispering just moments ago began to quiet down. The change in the Grand Elder's expression was too startling to ignore. The mocking laughter died in their throats, and heads turned with sudden curiosity. A few leaned forward from their seats, trying to glimpse what had stolen the composure of the man who had just moments earlier declared himself judge and executioner of the boy's fate.

The Grand Elder finally spoke, though his voice no longer carried the iron confidence of before.

"This… this flame binding essence…" he began, but even he could not immediately finish the sentence. He looked once more into the swirling contents of the vial, as if attempting to confirm the impossible truth for a final time.

He turned his head toward the hall, lifting the vial higher, and then, his voice louder, steadier this time...he announced the results.

"The flame binding essence produced by this boy… is not merely pure. It is extraordinarily pure. Four times purer than that of Lady Isabelle's sample."

The hall froze.

Not a sound was heard.

A silence more complete than any spell could summon spread like wildfire through the room. Eyes widened, jaws dropped, and even the haughty Alchemists who had laughed the loudest were now sitting stiffly in their chairs, mouths slightly open in disbelief. Several looked toward Lucas, as if seeing him for the first time.

"No… that can't be right," one of them whispered, his voice trembling.

"Did he say four times?" another asked aloud, as if the number had been a hallucination.

Lady Isabelle, too, blinked slowly, her lips parting in astonishment. She had known Lucas was confident, but not even she had expected this.

The disbelief had not yet given way to admiration. The minds in the room were still grappling with the impossible declaration. But the truth had been spoken, and there was no taking it back.

The boy they had nearly expelled had just turned the entire hall on its head.

This was no ordinary boy. That much had become abundantly clear in the moment the Grand Elder made his announcement. A single vial had shattered all their assumptions, broken through their pride, and reduced their skepticism to little more than stunned silence. The young man standing calmly at the front of the hall, not more than twenty years of age by appearance, had just accomplished something even veteran alchemists would struggle to achieve under ideal conditions. What he had done in ten minutes was not just difficult, it was something only those bearing the title of Grandmaster had ever been known to achieve.

And he had done it effortlessly.

The room was still holding its breath.

The silence had stretched long, and the air was now heavy with something unspoken. Every pair of eyes was fixed on Lucas, and in that moment, he looked like a figure carved from still stone, collected, unmoved, and dignified in a way that mocked the chaos he had left in his wake.

The Alchemists, those same men who had just moments before mocked his youth and sneered at his supposed incompetence, were now caught between awe and disbelief. Their aged faces, lined with decades of experience, were stricken with disbelief. Lips pursed in silence, eyes darted from the vial in the Grand Elder's hand to Lucas's calm face, trying to reconcile what they saw with what they had assumed.

Not one of them had ever imagined such purity could come from someone so young.

Even Lady Isabelle was speechless. She had only spoken on his behalf to prevent what she thought was an unfair dismissal. A gesture of fairness, not one of expectation. In her mind, perhaps the boy had made a mistake, or maybe the Grand Elder had acted in haste. She had expected a minor correction, a flicker of skill. Not this, not a declaration that placed him on a level none of them had anticipated. Her brows knit tightly in thought as she looked at him now, a quiet breath escaping her lips.

The Grand Elder was no longer holding the vial as though it were a mere tool of judgment. He was cradling it now, delicately, as if afraid the contents might vanish if handled improperly. His eyes, though still locked on the sample, had begun to flicker with something else entirely, something close to reverence.

Then, he slowly turned to Lucas, and when he spoke again, his voice had shed the edge it once carried. Gone was the condescension, the dismissive authority. It had been replaced by a quiet respect, tempered with humility.

"My boy," the Grand Elder said, his tone remarkably softer now, "this... this is no ordinary result."

He paused again, as if still unsure whether his eyes had played tricks on him. He looked once more at the vial, then at Lucas.

"This result cannot be dismissed. It demands to be seen again. Not only by me, but by everyone present."

The old man then stepped back from the table, gesturing toward the tools and ingredients once more. The flicker of suspicion that once lingered in his eyes was gone, replaced now by something else, curiosity, and perhaps a measure of shame.

"If you would," he continued, this time with careful politeness, "repeat the process again, here, before us all."

His voice echoed slightly in the vast stone hall, landing like a bell toll that marked a change in tide.

The request was no longer an order.

It was an invitation.

An invitation to watch something extraordinary unfold again under the full scrutiny of the Alchemy Hall.