The Demon Lord and his Hero (BL)

The teen ran up the stairs while tossing aside any unlucky avians that got in his way.

"Move, you idiots!" He shoved aside a few of the bird men that were crowded around the unconscious old man.

Utsui was knelt by Elder Toka's side. The young medical genius was a picture of cool focus as he measured his grandfather's pulse. He glanced up at Syryn and made eye contact for a few seconds while his fingers remained pressed to the old man's wrist.

"What is it telling you, Utsui?"

"Fast and thready pulse," Utsui replied. "Grandfather's skin feels cold and clammy."

Syryn crouched down and observed the paleness of Elder Toka's face. "Seems to me like he's suffered from a vasovagal syncope." And it was Syryn's fault too. All that stress had led to a sudden drop in the old man's heart rate and blood pressure. The teen was very sure that it wasn't a heart attack.

He helped Utsui elevate the old man's leg end so that blood flow to the brain would be established. It wasnt long before elder Toka stirred and opened his eyes.

"Grandfather, how do you feel?" Utsui asked the old avian with obvious relief in his voice.

"Utsui," elder Toka held his head and looked around in a daze. "I'm alive."

The old avian then caught sight of Syryn leaning over him with a smile that grated on the old man's nerves. Elder Toka gritted his teeth and made a 'hmph' sound.

"Let's get you back home, grandpa," Syryn singsonged.

"I'm not your grandpa!"

"But Utsui and I are getting married soon so you're definitely becoming my grandpa. I'm your future in-law, grandpa Toka."

Utsui arched a brow at Syryn and shook his head from side to side very slowly. The message was clear - stop messing with my grandfather before he really suffers a heart attack because of you.

Syryn shrugged. For Utsui's sake, he would stop annoying the old man. When he turned around to leave, elder Toka addressed him with more humility than he had ever displayed.

"I'll let you see the dowager queen if you call off master Altaire."

Syryn twirled back around and scoffed at the old man. "And what makes you think he'll do as I say?"

"He will," elder Toka insisted though Syryn had no idea where the old man got his confidence from. "Please, don't let him declare a sanction against Nua. My old heart does not have the strength to bear the responsibility for bringing such shame upon this nation."

Syryn was silent.

He glanced at Utsui who was pretending deafness. The young avian was kneeling beside the old man, loosening the collar around his grandfather's neck.

"I make no promises," Syryn finally answered. "A nobody like me does not have any leverage in the final decisions made by someone like master Altaire. You should have thought twice before involving him in our petty fight." Syryn said it without malice but it caused the old man's shoulders to tense.

Syryn looked over his shoulder and was surprised to see Altaire already going through his leftover potions on stage. Ignoring the unrest that surrounded his presence, the alchemist was wrapped up in a bubble of indifference.

Not far away from Altaire, the middle-aged alchemist was huddled in a corner and nervously looking around like he had no idea what was even happening anymore. The arrogance that he had displayed when he defended the adulterated ichor, the self-righteousness with which he had spoken; they were all clouds of smoke that had dissipated to reveal the truth - Syryn was the superior alchemist.

His eyes fearfully darted to the teen approaching him. Syryn chuckled at the naked fear and the shame that showed in the man's submissive posture. There was no fun in playing with boring prey so he was left unmolested by the half-demon.

"Master Altaire, what's your verdict?" Syryn's cool eyes observed the glass tube that Altaire held up to the light. It was the last potion that hadn't been shown off to the avians. A sheen of oil gleamed against the surface of the glass vial that looked ordinary against Altaire's long fingers that were beautifully well proportioned. The delicate outlines of veins against his clean looking skin drew Syryn's eyes to them. Just like his own, Altaire's nails were clean and well maintained.

"90, 90, and 91 per cent purity."

Syryn wasn't disappointed with his achievements. Using such a common cauldron, he had crossed the pinnacle of peak purity that was possible. This was a consequence of using mathematics in his brewing process, a feat he could not replicate with more complicated potions.

"I win," Syryn simply declared.

"Yes, you win." Altaire carefully laid the tube back on the table and faced Syryn. "Who is your teacher?"

Syryn was unprepared for his idol to show any interest beyond helping him as a fellow alchemist. For a second, he stupidly stared at the man. "My teacher?"

"Do you not have a mentor or a teacher?" Altaire repeated patiently.

"No," Syryn replied.

"I do not accept apprentices," a pause, "but I will make an exception for you," he calmly informed the teen. "If- you'd like to apprentice under my tutelage."

Syryn's mind came to a screeching halt.

"What," he blurted out. "What."

Syryn stared at the expressionless mask.

"I said," Altaire dully informed him, "would you like to learn under my-"

"Yes!" It tumbled out before Syryn's brain caught up with what his mouth had just done.

"Where is your place of residence?" Altaire asked the still shocked Syryn.

"I have no idea," the teen answered. He had assumed that Altaire was asking about his temporary Nuan home.

When the senior alchemist silently waited for him to start making some sense, the teen snapped out of his shock. "I come from Elysium."

Altaire, who was taller than Syryn inclined his head and grasped the pendant that he wore against his chest. It was a simple black stone wrapped in a silver vine over which three elderberry flowers were carved. The alchemist handed the necklace over to Syryn.

"Find me when you're ready to accept me as your teacher."

How did he know that Syryn had reservations about it? The teen had agreed but his heart was wavering, and Altaire had accurately grasped at the young man's doubts. Syryn was thankful that the alchemist was giving him time to decide.