The Dark Mage Of The Magus World-Chapter 112 - 113 : The Crucible of Dawn and Dusk

At this moment, nothing mattered more than the refinement of the Twilight Elixir.

Hutson had long since committed its formula and alchemical process to memory, with AI chip storing every detail in its archives. For days, he had tirelessly reviewed the instructions, running countless simulations in his mind. Now, everything was ready.

Before stepping into the laboratory, he turned to Ed and Judy, his expression solemn.

"No interruptions," he instructed. "Not from anyone—not even Elusha."

Ed, seeing the gravity in Hutson’s eyes, understood instantly. Without hesitation, he decided to stand guard outside, forsaking sleep until Hutson emerged from within.

As the heavy doors shut behind him, Hutson entered the alchemist’s domain.

"AI chip, initiate Twilight Elixir refinement assistance."

"Task registered. Process execution in progress..."

At once, his vision filled with an intricate overlay of data—precise measurements, step-by-step procedures, the exact timing for each reaction. Every ingredient’s preparation method was mapped out in perfect clarity, each transformation meticulously calculated down to the second.

Unlike ordinary apprentices who relied on memory or written notes, AI chip fed information directly into Hutson’s neural pathways, eliminating even the slightest delay between thought and action.

With this advantage, his every motion was flawless—precise, unwavering, and absolute.

A deep silence filled the laboratory, broken only by the gentle clinking of glassware and the subtle bubbling of the concoction before him.

In the center of the chamber, a large cauldron held a viscous, emerald liquid. Strange solid fragments floated within, dissolving as the mixture simmered, releasing an eerie, phosphorescent glow.

Hutson stood over it, his gaze unwavering.

With a flick of his wrist, he gathered fire-elemental energy particles, weaving them into controlled waves of heat. The temperature fluctuated under his command, precise and stable, ensuring the solution remained in a perfect state of flux.

He glanced at the timer in his vision—the moment had arrived.

Maintaining the flames with one hand, he turned to the frozen heart of a Stone Giant, encased in a layer of frost so deep it seemed untouched by time.

Channeling mana into the organ, he poured power into its core.

The reaction was immediate.

The ice did not melt—it vanished. Not as water, not as vapor, but as if erased from existence itself.

This was the work of Frostworm Grass—a mystical icebound herb whose chill could not be undone by mere fire. Only pure mana could unlock what lay beneath.

As the final remnants of frost dissipated, the heart began to beat once more.

A slow, deliberate rhythm—thump. Thump.

Its flesh and veins became starkly visible, pulsing with dormant life, as though it had never been severed from its monstrous host.

Hutson’s breath remained steady. He had only seconds before the heart’s vitality faded forever.

Without hesitation, he seized the organ and plunged it into the cauldron’s waiting embrace—the final step in the birth of the Twilight Elixir.

Hutson moved swiftly, lowering the Stone Giant’s heart into the cauldron. The flames beneath it never wavered.

As soon as the heart touched the bubbling liquid, it began absorbing the potion at an alarming rate. Within seconds, the level of the mixture visibly dropped. The heart, once a deep crimson, now bore streaks of eerie green.

With each powerful pulse, the heart consumed more of the potion, shrinking rather than swelling. Time passed, and before long, the cauldron lay empty—every last drop absorbed. What remained was no longer a heart, but a small, pulsating orb of flesh, its green hue darkened by streaks of blood.

The process was not yet complete. Hutson retrieved a dagger and sliced his fingertip. Droplets of his own blood fell upon the quivering mass. A sizzling sound filled the air as blood-red mist rose from its surface. The orb darkened, transforming from green to a deep, ominous crimson.

Hutson took a deep breath, grasped the writhing sphere, and swallowed it whole.

Unlike traditional potions, the Dusk-Dawn Elixir had to be consumed in its raw, organic form. The moment it entered his mouth, he bit down, rupturing its core. A torrent of thick, metallic-tasting liquid gushed forth—a mixture of blood, alchemical extracts, and ancient magic. The pungent stench filled his nostrils, and nausea clawed at his throat. A lesser person would have retched.

He endured.

The instant the remnants slid down his throat, a searing pain ignited within him. A burning sensation tore through his stomach and spread outward, as if molten iron coursed through his veins.

"Body integrity reduced by 5%. Immediate treatment recommended."

"Body integrity reduced by 8%. Immediate treatment recommended."

AI chip’s notifications flashed in his vision, but Hutson ignored them. This suffering was inevitable.

The potion’s power surged through his bloodstream, scorching his nerves and unraveling his limits. Every fiber of his being screamed in agony.

"Body integrity reduced by 15%."

"Body integrity reduced by 21%."

A crimson warning flared across his vision.

Then, everything changed.

The ambient energy in the air stirred. Darkness-attributed mana surged toward him, forming a violent vortex around his body. The sheer force of it clawed at his flesh, burrowing into him like a thousand invisible needles. It was unbearable—an unholy fusion of pain and exhilaration.

Then, the world shifted.

Hutson suddenly found himself standing in the middle of a street. Blinding headlights bore down on him as a car screeched to a halt, the driver hurling curses from the window.

What... is this?

Towering skyscrapers loomed over him. He recognized one immediately.

"That’s my old office building..."

Realization struck like a thunderbolt.

No. This isn’t real.

With sheer force of will, Hutson shattered the illusion. The modern cityscape dissolved in an instant, and he was back in the cold, dimly lit laboratory.

A chuckle escaped his lips. "Shame. Could’ve asked for a cigarette."

Then, his gaze sharpened. The transformation was complete.

"AI chip, display my current stats."

Hutson Merlin: Strength 7.2, Agility 6.5, Constitution 8.1, Mental Power 17.5, Mana 8%.

His mana reserves were nearly depleted, but he still had the stored energy within his Starfield Grid.

And there was something else.

He raised a hand, flexing his fingers. A faint, unseen force pulsed around him—a tangible aura of magic.

"So, this is a Force Field..."

Every Third-Tier Wizard Apprentice developed one upon ascension. Unlike traditional magic barriers, this field required no mana expenditure; it was an inherent layer of protection, woven into the fabric of his being. Comparable to a low-level magical shield, it granted an overwhelming advantage over lower-tier apprentices.

Yet, there was a cost.

The Force Field emitted a subtle radiation—one that normal humans could not endure for prolonged periods. It was a power beyond their comprehension, one that set wizards apart from the mundane world.

This was why true wizards rarely lived among ordinary people.

Hutson clenched his fists, feeling the raw power coursing through his veins. The path forward was clear.

He had stepped into the realm of true sorcery.

And this was only the beginning.