The Pill Cloud swirled above thepetition hall, bathing everything in an ethereal glow that seemed to rewrite thews of reality itself. I stood quietly, watching as the audience''s faces transformed from shock to awe. Even the most seasoned alchemists among them—men and women who had dedicated their entire lives to this craft—looked like children witnessing magic for the first time.


    Desmond Davenport''splexion had gone from pale to ashen. His hands gripped the edges of his seat as if he might copse without support.


    "This... this is impossible," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.


    Beside him, Elias Ainsworth stared at me with wide eyes, his earlier arrogancepletely evaporated. The red handprint on his cheek seemed to have faded—or perhaps it was simply overshadowed by the crimson flush of humiliation spreading across his face.


    "I''ve spent my entire life studying ancient texts," one elderly judge whispered, tears streaming down his wrinkled face. "I never thought I''d live to see a Pill Cloud. Not in this age."


    The swirling colors above started to condense, forming a tighter spiral that seemed to pour energy directly onto my purple pill. The small object pulsed in response, each throb sending ripples of light across the judging table.


    "Gentlemen," I said, addressing the panel of stunned judges. "I present to you the Curing Pill."


    "The Curing Pill?" repeated the head judge, finally finding his voice. "What... what exactly does it cure?"


    I smiled. "Everything."


    This simple deration sent another wave of murmurs through the crowd. I could have imed more—could have revealed its true power to heal even the most devastating injuries and illnesses that had gued mankind for millennia. But that would have attracted too much attention from powers I wasn''t yet ready to face. For now, this disy was sufficient.


    "A pill that cures everything?" Desmond finally recovered enough to scoff, though his voicecked conviction. "Preposterous. Even with your... unusual disy," he gestured vaguely toward the sky, "such a im requires proof."


    "I agree," I nodded. "Perhaps one of our esteemed judges would like to volunteer? Anyone suffering from a chronic condition they''ve been unable to treat?"


    The elderly judge with spectacles raised his hand tentatively. "I''ve had tremors in my right hand for twenty years. Three of the best healers in Veridia City deemed it incurable."


    I gestured toward the pill. "Would you be willing to try my creation?"


    He hesitated only briefly before nodding.


    "Wait!" Desmond interjected. "This could be dangerous! We have no idea what side effects—"


    "I''ve been an alchemist for sixty years," the old judge cut him off sharply. "I can sense malicious intent in a pill. This one..." he gazed at my creation with reverence, "this one carries only healing energy."


    Before Desmond could protest further, the judge picked up the pill and swallowed it.


    The entire hall held its breath. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Then, a soft purple glow emanated from the judge''s chest, spreading outward through his limbs. He gasped, lifting his right hand, which had been subtly trembling since he''d entered the hall.


    The trembling stopped.


    He flexed his fingers, then made a fist, then spread his hand wide. Tears welled in his eyes.


    "Twenty years," he whispered. "Twenty years of not being able to write my own name without embarrassment."


    He turned to face the audience, holding up his now-steady hand. "It''s cured. Completely cured!"


    Apuse erupted, quickly building to a thunderous ovation that shook thepetition hall. People were standing on their chairs, craning to get a better view of the miracle they''d just witnessed.


    Elias stepped forward, his expression aplex mixture of emotions. Pride and arrogance warred with grudging respect as he approached me.


    "I..." he began, then swallowed hard. "I admit defeat."


    The hall fell silent again. For Elias Ainsworth, Desmond Davenport''s prized disciple, to publicly concede was unprecedented.


    "You''re not just better than me," he continued, his voice carrying to every corner of the hushed room. "You''re better than anyone I''ve ever seen. Including my master."


    Gasps rippled through the crowd. Behind Elias, Desmond''s face contorted with rage.


    "Elias!" he bellowed. "What are you saying?"


    "The truth, Master," Elias replied without turning around. "I''ve studied under you for seven years. I know what you can and cannot do. This..." he gestured toward the still-visible Pill Cloud, "this is beyond both of us."


    Desmond''s nostrils red as he surged to his feet. "Thepetition is not decided by thepetitors themselves! As president of the Traditional Medicine Association and head judge of thispetition, I dere—"


    "That Elias Ainsworth is the winner?" I interrupted, eyebrows raised. "Despite the Pill Cloud? Despite your own disciple''s concession? Despite the miraculous cure everyone just witnessed?"


    "I make the rules here!" Desmond shouted, abandoning all pretense of impartiality. "Do you think a pretty light show changes anything? Do you know who I am? The power I hold? I can destroy your career with a single word!"


    The hall had gone deathly quiet. Desmond seemed to realize he''d overyed his hand, revealing too much of his corrupt nature, but it was toote to retract his words. <dfn ss="in-imprint-b">Content presented by *.</dfn>


    "Is this the Traditional Medicine Association''s idea of fair judgment?" I asked softly.


    Before Desmond could reply, therge double doors at the back of the hall swung open with a bang. A group of official-looking men and women in formal attire marched down the central aisle. Their uniforms bore the insignia of the Central Governance Authority—a power even Desmond couldn''t ignore.


    The lead official, a stern-faced woman with silver-streaked hair, approached the judges'' panel. She carried a sealed document bearing the gold seal of the highest authority in Veridia City.


    "Desmond Davenport," she announced, her voice cutting through the silence. "By order of the Governing Council, you are hereby removed from your position as president of the Traditional Medicine Association, effective immediately."


    Desmond''s face drained of color. "On what grounds?" he spluttered.


    "Corruption. Abuse of power. Misappropriation of funds." She read from the document dispassionately. "The investigation has been ongoing for months."


    She turned to face me, her expression softening slightly. "Liam Knight, the Council recognizes your contributions to the field of alchemy and your exemry conduct. You are hereby appointed acting president of the Traditional Medicine Association until proper elections can be held."


    The crowd erupted again, this time with even greater enthusiasm. People I''d never met were calling my name, apuding wildly.


    "This is absurd!" Desmond shouted, his face now purple with rage. "You can''t do this! Do you know who I am? Who my connections are?"


    "We know exactly who you are... Dorian Dawson," replied the official.


    Desmond—or rather, Dorian—wentpletely still, his eyes widening in terror at the mention of what was clearly his true name.


    Before he could speak again, another group pushed through the doors. These were different—they wore the ck uniforms of Veridia City''s Enforcement Division.


    Their leader, a grim-faced man with a jagged scar across his chin, marched directly to Dorian and produced a pair of specialized restraints designed to suppress a cultivator''s energy.


    "Dorian Dawson," the man announced formally, "you are suspected of multiple crimes. I hereby announce, you are under arrest!"