Laboratory, workbench.
Richard was meticulously refining the werewolf bloodline. The technique of bloodline purification originated with the earliest Warlock schools, later refined and greatly expanded upon by the Witch King lineage.
In the inheritance of the Witch Kings, practitioners utilized imitation, evolutionary processes, and unique meditation methods to shape their abilities. Each Witch King was not only a master of numerous spells but also possessed a physical strength exceeding even legendary warriors. The school bore some resemblance to Draconic Bloodline Sorcerers, though its spellcasting prowess was far superior.
Of course, the Witch King system wasn't without its weaknesses. Chief among them was the immense difficulty in advancement—compared to other caster paths, progressing as a Witch King was far more grueling.
It also demanded vast amounts of resources. Moreover, the spiritual domains (or "source seas") built by Witch King casters were less stable than those of other mages, often resulting in a higher risk of mental instability. However, by the time one achieved Witch King status, that risk was typically negligible.
Still, this meant that Witch King spellcasters generally had weaker casting abilities compared to Arcanists.
Back in his previous life, Richard had integrated a portion of Witch King techniques into his own path.
Bloodline studies were also a major field among Arcanists. Many were obsessed with dragon bloodlines and their enhancement potential.
As time passed, Richard continued to purify the werewolf bloodline, optimizing the strain with precision. The entire process was smooth—no need for targeted arcane ritual arrays, induced mutation circuits, or supplementary bloodline infusions.
Soon, the Werewolf Bloodline Elixir was complete.
On the lab bench sat three crystal vials, each holding a droplet of deep red liquid. The fluid glimmered faintly with starlight as it swirled, emanating a profound and mysterious aura.
[Type III Werewolf Bloodline Elixir]
Strength +1, Constitution +1, Resistance +1, Vitality +50
(Note: Ineffective for individuals with Strength or Constitution over 12. Extends ordinary human lifespan up to 150 years. Every point of vitality adds one year of life. Warning: Using this elixir may cause severe rejection reactions if combined with other bloodline elixirs, potentially leading to bloodline collapse. Proceed with caution.)
With a gentle wave of his hand, Richard levitated the three vials into the air. Invisible forces delicately divided each droplet into equal parts, producing fifteen smaller portions. These were redistributed into prepared, finely cut crystal flasks, then diluted with a stabilizing solution to preserve potency.
[Lesser Type III Werewolf Bloodline Elixir]
Slightly enhances Strength, Constitution, and Resistance.
Vitality +10.
(Usable up to five times. Becomes ineffective afterward.)
Each standard dose was now five diluted vials, with every vial offering ten years of extended lifespan. Had it not been for the risk of diminishing efficacy, Richard would've happily divided them into one-year portions and sold them individually.
"Alright, billionaires—get ready to explode some gold!"
---
New York, Opkins Private Hospital – VIP Ward
This was the finest private hospital in the United States, heavily funded by wealthy benefactors every year. Many of the country's richest elites had undergone multiple heart transplants, kidney replacements, or blood replacement therapies here.
A number of them routinely received transfusions from young, healthy donors to rejuvenate their bodies and delay aging. But despite these efforts, the march of time could not be stopped.
Bryton, one of New York's most prominent real estate tycoons, lay in his private hospital bed—one he'd long reserved for such a time.
This year, he had noticeably declined in health and moved in permanently. Yet medical tests showed no illness. The reason was simple—he was old. Too old. At 93, he had reached the end of his natural lifespan.
"How long do I have left, Dr. Merlin?" Bryton asked weakly.
The attending doctor frowned. "Sir, your body has reached its absolute limit. Even blood replacement therapy is no longer effective. At this rate… six months, at most."
"No other methods?" Bryton asked, refusing to accept the answer. The wealthier a person became, the more unwilling they were to die. Power, influence, money—none of it could be let go.
From ancient aristocrats to modern billionaires to the so-called Celestial Dragons, those in power had always chased immortality.
"I'm sorry, sir. We have no better options." Dr. Merlin shook his head.
Hearing the same verdict again, Bryton's face darkened. Once the doctor left, he turned to his most trusted assistant and asked, "Any progress on tracing the origin of the werewolf specimen?"
One week ago, several werewolf specimens had appeared in New York. Various billionaires had acquired them as collectibles. When it was confirmed that these specimens were authentic and not fakes cobbled together from wolves and humans, interest surged.
On the surface, it was a scientific curiosity. But privately, many of these elites were secretly chasing legends.
If werewolves truly existed, what about the rest?
Could vampires who lived for centuries be real?
Was the Fountain of Youth more than a myth?
Did the Golden Apples that granted godhood exist?
Could witches and sorcerers restore youth?
Richard had anticipated all of this when he sold the specimens.
He had subtly manipulated the senior manager of the auction house with Suggestion Magic, limiting the information available and leaving behind only a single name—Charlie.
It was a deliberate act, both to build mystery and to establish a new identity.
"We've found some leads," the assistant replied, handing over a folder.
"We've managed to get in contact with a man named Charlie. He's agreed to meet you."
"When?"
"…That's the tricky part, sir. He said he'll appear before you today, but didn't give us a time or place." The assistant looked uneasy.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door. The assistant gestured for the bodyguards to check it out—after all, this room was strictly guarded and only authorized personnel were allowed near. Yet someone was outside, unannounced.
"Apologies, I'm in a bit of a hurry, so I let myself in," came a calm voice as the door opened. A man stepped through, and the bodyguards froze in place, their minds seemingly dulled.
"Who are you?" the assistant barked.
"No need to shout and alert the whole floor," the man said casually, waving a hand. "Didn't you want to find me? I'm here."
The assistant wanted to say more, but Bryton suddenly looked up, a realization dawning on him.
"You're… Charlie?"
"Yes." Richard stepped out from the shadow, smiling.