Florent was broke!
Originally, he had possessed two Mystical items... the 'Gate of Angels' and the 'Meteoric Iron Dagger'. But after that brutal beating, the dagger was stolen, while the 'Gate of Angels' had disintegrated into dust...
Florent grabbed his hair, nearly weeping at the thought, "Ugh, I had two treasures... and now both are gone. I'm completely broke."
With a theatrical wave of his hand, he dismissed the loss of both items. After all...
...After all, once he reached Sequence 8, he wouldn't need to rely on those mediocre Mystical items anymore. He would finally possess combat-oriented supernatural abilities.
Taking out the 'Trickmaster' Potion formula he had long since obtained, Florent glanced at it...
«Trickmaster»
...Main Ingredients...
- Stomach pouch of a Spirit Eater...
- 20 milliliters of a Deep Sea Marlin's Blood...
- Or a Trickmaster Beyonder Characteristic...
...Supplementary Ingredients...
- 5 milliliters of essential oils made from Hornbeam...
- 10 grams of String Grass Powder...
- A blossoming Red Chestnut Flower...
- 80 milliliters of Purified Water...
"Hah." Florent exhaled and closed his eyes. He had always believed this helped sharpen his focus.
When he reopened them, his expression was one of barely contained excitement as he stood up. This would be his first time brewing a potion (his first time consuming one too) since arriving in this world.
Step by step, he descended the stairs. Through the crack of a not-quite-closed door, he caught a glimpse of golden sunlight, reassuring himself that he wouldn't meet the same humiliating fate as that foolish descendant who kept a diary about reviving the Abraham Family...
Soon, Florent stood in the basement.
The dimly lit space was illuminated by only three or four candles. Though they fought valiantly against the darkness, their light was woefully insufficient. The flickering glow cast eerie shadows across Florent's expressionless face, making him look almost sinister.
But then, he abruptly laughed. Not just a chuckle, but a full-bellied laugh that shattered the ominous atmosphere. He clutched his stomach, wincing at the soreness from his own amusement.
"This... this is exactly like those cartoon scenes where witches brew poison to kill people. Except those witches were all warty old hags, and I'm just a young guy."
"Damn it." He scratched his head, suddenly aware of his emotional outburst. In his past life, he'd had similar tendencies, but never this exaggerated, "I need to be careful... And maybe check if my soul is still intact. Should I find a trustworthy psychologist? Ugh, I envy Klein."
Without further delay, he measured out 80 ml of purified water into a crucible. Glancing at the residual liquid in the measuring cylinder, he nodded approvingly, "Perfect. My twelve years of compulsory education weren't wasted."
The remaining liquid was normal. If he had poured everything in, the volume would have exceeded the required amount. In other words, the cylinder's measurement already accounted for margin of error.
Moreover, when brewing potions, less was always better than more...
Florent reasoned that excessive Mystical ingredients would make the potion's properties and residual Spiritual imprints too potent, pushing the drinker to the brink of losing control, resulting in either spontaneous combustion or outright disintegration.
A slight shortage, however, wouldn't cause major issues.
Examining the blooming red chestnut flower, Florent briefly wondered if it had a one-month shelf life. But the die was cast, he was too impatient to wait...
'You think I'm going to delay my advancement now? Not a chance.'
Gritting his teeth, he tossed the flower into the crucible.
*Whoosh!*
The clear liquid instantly turned a vivid red.
String grass was a green, ordinary-looking plant, but when ground into powder, it became a white, powdery substance.
After measuring out 10 g on a scale, Florent added it to the mix.
Silently, the red potion transformed into a red-and-white concoction. Strangely, the two colors didn't blend but remained starkly separate.
Hornbeam was a type of tree that existed on Earth, but Florent had never heard of it being made into essential oil. Then again, this wasn't his original world. String grass also existed on Earth, but its powdered form certainly wasn't white there.
The hornbeam oil smelled simply of wood, nothing particularly fragrant.
Just as Florent was about to pour this transparent, water-like yet oily substance in, a thought struck him...
'With so many materials in this world convertible into essential oils, the industry must be thriving...' Shaking his head, he dismissed the idea.
He hadn't known much about Earth's essential oil trade either... he'd only wondered because he had never seen hornbeam oil before. His fleeting curiosity about comparing the two worlds' industries quickly faded.
After measuring out the hornbeam oil with a fresh cylinder, he poured it in. Nothing dramatic happened... the red and white simply began merging slightly.
Carefully, Florent retrieved a test tube labeled «20 ml of Deep sea Marlin's blood»...
Without hesitation, he emptied its contents. After all, this had been measured by an 'Astrologer', so it was trustworthy.
The marlin's blood was blue... Though Florent knew Earth had creatures with green or blue blood, seeing it for the first time was still startling.
Now, with only one ingredient left, the potion began exhibiting supernatural traits.
White, blue, and red swirled together, faintly translucent. Florent's Spirituality instinctively yearned for it, urging him to gulp down the unfinished potion. But he resisted the impulse.
Instead, he opened a wooden box, revealing a thin, membranous object... the stomach pouch of a Spirit Eater. Despite his revulsion at handling an organ, he grimaced and dropped it in.
Oddly, though the pouch didn't seem easily dissolvable and the potion lacked strong corrosive properties, the moment it entered the mixture, the stomach pouch vanished without a trace.
The completed potion was a swirling blend of red, white, and blue, its colors intermingling yet remaining distinct, it appeared faintly luminous in the dim basement light...