Two: You’d be surprised if someone unexpected turned out to have talent, right?

"Twilight Alchemist?!"

"Whoa, scared the hell out of me!"

The Guildmaster bellowed, voice shaking the building, at the Seal Officer’s mysterious title.

Kinda freaky!

"Ugh. Can’t believe it… never thought a real Seal would exist…"

"Uh, so it’s different from a regular alchemist?"

"Kinda. Alchemists are rare enough, but the Twilight Alchemist was only ever predicted to exist—never actually found before."

"Huh? What’s that mean?"

"If I’m answering your question… yeah. You know how knights have higher-level Seals, right?"

"Yeah. Holy Knights, Dragon Knights—those kinds of Seals exist."

They’re not seen much among adventurers. And usually only show up if your parents had them.

Hmm. A high-tier crest—rarely, even one born with natural affinity, or one refined through knightly discipline—can be rewritten. The Alchemist of Dusk is positioned that way.

Wait, so you were the strongest all along?

Just, the higher alchemist insignia hadn’t been confirmed yet. That’s all it was—just a temporary name assigned.

"Fair enough. Still, 'Twilight' is a weird name, though."

There’s a reason for that. They say you can make gold if you master alchemy. No one’s succeeded, though.

"Hah."

I’ve heard of that, yeah.

"Meaning, 'twilight' was named that way—like a golden metaphor—for someone capable of crafting gold itself, a gold alchemist."

Ah, I see.

Honestly, whether it can actually be made is still up for debate...

So, Seal Officer, let's end this.

That’s probably what it means—everything that needed to be said has been said.

So, Seal Officer, you gonna rewrite the mark of the Twilight Alchemist?

No need to ask, really.

I just held out my left hand.

My partner of four years… the mage’s insignia flickered weakly.

You… really were just a useless kid after all.

Funny how that left me feeling light. I asked the Seal Officer to rewrite it.

“Hmm… me, nervous? Well then… Mark Transformation! Name: Twilight Alchemist!”

The Seal Officer’s magic poured into the mark on my left hand.

Like a dam had burst, a torrent of power surged through me—my dormant magic, long dimmed, suddenly danced inside my body.

The Production Guild Hall was swallowed in golden light.

“What the—? What’s going on!?”

“I saw it! That adventurer over there’s rewriting his insignia!”

"Rewriting a crest like this actually glows like hell!?"

"Like hell it does!!"

Somehow, I’d drawn a crowd. The noise around me was unbearable.

Apparently, my suppressed magic had gone haywire.

I felt it the moment the crest changed—the sudden surge of magic flooding through my body.

It’s hard to explain, but now I can tell just how stagnant my magic had been before.

So this is what my real magical power actually feels like!?

The sheer volume and quality of it—hell, I’m stunned by my own power.

Once I stabilized the magic using the new crest’s power, the glow finally settled down.

"...A golden crest?"

"What the hell is this?"

"A colored crest. Just as I thought. But gold?"

The crest on my left hand had transformed into a complex, unfamiliar pattern—and now it glowed with a golden light.

I’ve heard that higher-tier seals usually have colors other than black.

I saw a holy knight’s seal once, but this is nothing like that.

Hm. Good show. I should inform the other Seal Officers about this pattern.

That’s the duty of a Seal Officer. I can’t deny that.

Thanks for everything. Feels like I’ve been reborn.

No. I’ve had the privilege of doing good work. I pray for your happiness.

You too.

We exchanged a firm handshake, then the Seal Officer returned to his duties.

And so, I was reborn as the Alchemist of the Dusk.

◆

Congratulations, Craft.

Thanks.

That’s amazing, Craft! Alchemy alone is impressive enough, but a higher-tier class like that?

Eh?

The sudden voice came from a girl with orange hair—pretty, and not bad to look at at all.

Uh, who the hell are you?

"Oops, perfect timing. Let me introduce you. This is Leifan Haman. Another guild member headed to the frontier village."

"Nice to meet you, Craft!"

"Ah, uh. Nice to meet you too."

A girl with a flat build, her large eyes bright and lively, slightly upturned at the corners.

Orange hair, sun-kissed and glowing, pulled into long twin tails, tied up in little buns. Was it called a chignon?

Still, a kid like this going to the frontier village?

And you’re calling her “you”?

"Having an alchemist along is a real relief!"

"I’m still just a beginner, though."

"As guildmaster, I’d love to hear more about your abilities—but the departure for the frontier village is actually tomorrow."

"Wait—?"

Was it really that sudden?

"No, I’ve been discussing manpower with the adventurer’s guild for a while now. Just couldn’t find anyone who fit the requirements."

"Yeah, makes sense."

Staying long-term in the frontier village and quitting the adventurer’s guild to join the production guild? No one’d agree to that under normal circumstances.

"Look, I was just shooting my shot. I’m happy you came at all..."

The guildmaster’s voice cuts off. His face twists into something complicated.

"Sending a top-tier alchemist to the frontier? Feels like a waste, really... We should keep them here..."

"Ah! No way! I’m not letting Craft go!?"

Leifan suddenly lunges and wraps his arms around Craft.

Huh! Wait—?!

He’s surprisingly soft for someone so lanky!

And seriously, that “kun” thing again!?

"Uh, but..."

"NO! NO! NO! Nobody’s going to the frontier! That’s why we went through all this trouble to get you here in the first place!?"

"Ugh..."

"Hey, hold on a second..."

"Yeah, don't sweat it. He's small 'cause he's got gnome blood, but he's actually pretty old—"

"Chief?!"

"Whoa! Put the hammer down! The hammer, I said!"

"Shall I pop that empty head for you?"

"Sweet talkin' like that, you're definitely aimin' to turn me into tomato paste, aren't you!?"

"Sounds awful tasty."

"This little—"

"Say... anything... at all?"

"Sorry."

Guild Chief's a wimp...

"Then, Craft, quick—can you make it for tomorrow's departure?"

"Born light on my feet, so no problem. Checking out of the room and prep work—can manage it all by tomorrow."

There's the room thing, transfer paperwork to the Production Guild, but it's all already lined up. Should be done by nightfall.

"Good. That'll do. Little—"

"What... the hell...?"

"Is this alright, Lord Leifan!?"

"Yes. Well done."

"Leifan. You can let go now."

"Oh, sorry, Craft."

"Sure, whatever. Just... kinda unsettling."

"Feelin' good about being hugged by a grandma? Double meaning."

Dong!

The counter shattered from a hammer blow, splinters raining down like rain.

Didn't even see that giant hammer coming!?

"Repair costs come out of the Guildmaster's pocket."

"Yes, Lord Leifan!"

Honestly, I can't defend the Guildmaster on that one.

Still, small frame... how the hell do you swing a hammer like that?

"Ah, earthfolk—they handle hammers, pickaxes, shovels better than usual."

"Right, that 'race bonus' the Adventurer's Guild used to call it."

"Yeah, yeah. The exact reason’s a mystery."

"Elf bow bonuses, dwarf axe bonuses—seen those plenty."

It’s common knowledge that each race has inherent bonuses, separate from the special magic or skills granted by heraldry.

"Right, well, that’s about par for the course in this guild. You’ll be working under the guildmaster in the frontier village, so if you’re unsure, just ask Leifan."

"Got it."

"Still, the local representative’s the real concern."

"What do you mean?"

"Could be the Marquis’s direct bloodline’s getting appointed."

"Direct bloodline?"

A Marquis’s heir showing up in a frontier village with fewer than a hundred souls? That’s smelling real bad.

"Yeah. We’re negotiating to have them appointed as a steward instead… just makes things easier for us."

"Can a noble really be in charge of a single frontier village?"

"Highly unusual, that’s for sure."

Kinda bad feeling about this.

"Guess we just gotta get the job done here. What’s ten years? By then they’ll definitely let you go."

"No, I’d rather get help from the Production Guild. Maybe open up a little shop, if I can."

"Ah, right. Leifan’s small, but he’s got real skill. Gonna train hard, you hear?"

Closer look—there, on Leifan’s left hand, the mark of the blacksmith’s craft was glowing faintly.

To a goblin or dwarf, that’d be like giving a demon a golden club.

"Such a tiny thing is just extra trouble!"

"Who’s praising you, huh?!"

"Whatever. Let’s do this, Craft!"

"Yep. Guess I’ll put my bones in it."

And so, my new life was decided. But the next day, an event happened that would drastically change everything.

New chapter—please support me!

Updating again tomorrow.

If I can, I’ll try for two updates today!