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One has to say that Nicolas Flamel's exclamation was indeed very loud, startling the Bowtruckle that had fallen to the ground. The little guy immediately panicked and found a drawer to hide in.
"What do you mean? I didn't kill anyone... not many." Ian was slightly stunned for a few seconds, and after regaining his senses, he roughly realized why Nicolas Flamel had exclaimed.
"Are you saying that making the Philosopher's Stone requires killing? Is it the same as Voldemort making Horcruxes?" To be honest, Ian had never come into contact with the process of creating the Philosopher's Stone.
It wasn't in the Hogwarts library, nor was it in the alchemy books he had found on his own. This kind of creation, which was at the cutting edge of alchemy, was almost impossible to be recorded in books.
The reason why such knowledge is extremely precious and mostly monopolized by private individuals is that even if this knowledge were recorded, it would be meaningless for almost all alchemy learners.
Of course.
Alchemy practitioners like Ian were not worried about not being able to learn; as long as he was given enough time, once his alchemy level increased, all difficulties would no longer be difficulties.
If Voldemort hadn't consumed Nicolas Flamel's Philosopher's Stone, he originally wanted to use that stone for reverse analysis and research.
Now, unexpectedly, he had harvested quite a few Philosopher's Stones in the Twilight Zone. Ian had initially planned to study them himself, and he only took them out earlier because he had seen Nicolas Flamel.
It wasn't entirely to start a conversation, after all.
Nicolas Flamel was the only one who had truly created the Philosopher's Stone. With Nicolas Flamel's guidance, Ian would save a lot of time and trouble needed for reverse research.
"Where did you get so many Philosopher's Stones... Although they don't have much Magic power left, I don't think such things should be found so easily, right?" Nicolas Flamel did not answer Ian's question immediately but was deeply puzzled about the origin of the Philosopher's Stones.
He hadn't heard of any country being destroyed in recent years.
"A good friend gave them to me?" Ian blinked as he spoke, trying to bluff his way through.
However, Nicolas Flamel certainly couldn't believe such nonsense. He helplessly slapped his forehead, "How come I haven't encountered such a good friend?"
The little wizard's words were full of loopholes. Nicolas Flamel didn't even know where to start to deceive himself. He simply couldn't understand how the little wizard could have such good fortune to obtain so many Philosopher's Stones.
"Maybe your emotional intelligence isn't as high as mine, and you don't have as many good friends as I do." Ian responded seriously, explaining that the origin of these Philosopher's Stones was too complicated.
"..."
Nicolas Flamel was silent for a while before he spoke with a strange expression, revealing his guess, "It seems that the rumors about your fondness for digging up other people's graves are indeed not wrong."
"Previously, Albus privately reminded me not to hide good things in my own grave, and I didn't believe it, but now it seems that Albus's reminder was still too conservative."
As he spoke, Nicolas Flamel grabbed the Philosopher's Stones that Ian had dumped on the table, his tone filled with emotion, "I think you must have dug up a very remarkable ancient wizard."
Clearly, in Nicolas Flamel's view, he couldn't think of any time during his hundreds of years of life that could have produced so many Philosopher's Stones.
Because of this, he, under the inertia of his logical thinking, found an excuse for Ian that Ian hadn't even thought of. The little wizard immediately nodded like a chick pecking at rice.
"Yes, yes, that's right, I discovered an ancient wizard's tomb." To be honest, Ian felt that this statement was not only reasonable but also could not be considered a lie. That tower was buried in the Twilight Zone, so how could it not be considered an ancient tomb? He didn't mind being seen as a grave-digging fanatic by Nicolas Flamel.
After all.
He quite liked such a title. Compared to titles like Skywalker, Dark Lord, or White Monster, the title of grave-digging fanatic was definitely more intimidating than the others.
No matter how bold and brave a person was, they would probably weigh the significance of their own ancestors' graves before daring to provoke someone bearing the title of grave-digging fanatic.
"Is that really the case?"
Seeing Ian's earnest expression, Nicolas Flamel was first taken aback, and then his expression became even stranger, with a sense of wanting to say something but holding back.
The little wizard immediately realized what this alchemy Master wanted to ask.
He preemptively answered, "It's not Merlin's grave; I don't know whose it is, but there are many of these magic texts inside." As he spoke, Ian immediately pulled out the magic texts he had imprinted from memory.
To be honest, when he took out this large batch of magic texts, Nicolas Flamel, who had initially been somewhat skeptical, immediately had no doubts left about the origin of Ian's Philosopher's Stones.
"I've come across fragments of magical scripts from the ancient eras before," Ian said thoughtfully, "but the pieces were too scant. I've never managed to fully unravel the meaning or the magical potency they might hold."
Nicolas Flamel barely glanced before adjusting his spectacles, his eyes narrowing in astonishment as though he'd just stumbled upon a priceless Gringotts vault key.
He had acquired a handful of scrolls inscribed with similarly archaic magical texts in his time, and that made him certain, absolutely certain, that what Ian had brought forth couldn't possibly have been copied from any known volume in existence today.
"Does creating the Philosopher's Stone involve killing?" Ian seized the chance to repeat the question Nicolas Flamel had dodged earlier, while the famed alchemist remained transfixed by the tower's ancient runes.
This time, Nicolas Flamel didn't sidestep the issue.
"Yes. Yes, it does. The creation of a Philosopher's Stone requires the sacrifice of life. Many lives. Do you recall the foundation of alchemical theory?"
Perhaps it was from standing too long, or maybe from sheer excitement, but Nicolas Flamel wobbled slightly as he lowered himself back into his chair, his eyes still glued to the intricate symbols Ian had brought. For a master alchemist, the chance to study new material was nothing short of exhilarating.
"Of course. Equivalent exchange," Ian replied, reciting the tenet repeated in nearly every alchemical tome he'd studied.
"Precisely. Equivalent exchange," Nicolas echoed, drawing out a faded collection of rune fragments from his own stores and comparing them meticulously to Ian's reproductions.
"The Philosopher's Stone doesn't just hold immense magical energy. Its power to grant immortality lies in the boundless vitality embedded within it."
"And the price of life... is life itself. That's why these Stones, though still faintly magical, can no longer brew the Elixir of Life. Their life force was consumed long before their magic began to fade."
With those quiet, weighty words, Nicolas Flamel finally revealed the true secret behind the Philosopher's Stone.
"Are there no exceptions? Every single one of them is depleted like this?"
Ian's curiosity remained piqued, his thoughts racing.
"Yes, there is not a single exception. The Stone's remaining magic primarily serves to preserve what little life energy remains. But in time, every Philosopher's Stone ends the same way."
As he spoke, Nicolas Flamel's gaze drifted back to the pile of glimmering red stones upon the table. A flicker of melancholy crossed his features, not fear of death, but a wistful regret.
A sorrow for what had been left undone.
Or rather, a yearning for a lifetime's work that still hadn't been completed.
"These scripts you've brought me, there's enough here for me to build upon. I'll do my utmost to help you decipher them in the time I've got left. Sadly, I doubt I'll manage to solve the last riddles I've carried with me all these years."
"You have a rare gift, and a vast road ahead of you. Before I go, I'll leave you with the foundations of my research. Perhaps, just perhaps, you can finish what I never could."
Nicolas Flamel had always dreamt of crafting a universal elixir, something to heal all ailments, preserve life, even purify magic itself. It was his last great ambition. And now, as his time waned, he found comfort in knowing there was someone worthy to inherit the burden.
(To Be Continued…)