Chapter 41

His first act was to extend his domain throughout the inn. Most of the team were present and all of them were still asleep. He could train or do his own thing and then meet them at the gate. He chose the second option.

On the way out, he left a note with the cook who was the only one up, then practising his domain sensing skills, he exited the inn unnoticed. It was still dark and to pass the time he went herb hunting. Future alchemists and gatherers of Wangaratta might curse his name, but it was a pleasant path to kill an hour. There was something comforting about flittering through a town unseen just before dawn, and to pick all the valuable plants out of the odd spots they lurked. For a while, Adrian could imagine that he was the deadly night assassin, undiscovered, unmarked and gathering information on his prey. The ridiculousness of that fantasy in an actual magical world felt a tad a bizarre, but he didn’t care, no one apart from Jaracol could see in his head and the interface would probably be amused. He had always run elaborate fantasies in his head. Why should that stop now that he was living with magic?

Adrian kept moving and eyed his latest target.

Earth White Button Mushroom (Concentrated dark)

This common Earth variety mushroom during the Alpha transition developed a deadly dark missile defence mechanism. Given time, this species now can develop simple intelligence to trap and kill its future meals.

Those ominous words referred to a nasty dark missile that currently had a range of about half a metre. It was not powerful enough to kill him, but it would hurt and something weaker would end up as a desiccated corpse. Adrian plucked it with his Mind and a dark missile shot unerringly toward where he stood. It fizzled out before it crossed even half the distance. The now unpowered mushroom went straight into his bag of holding.

Adrian moved on to gather the other natural treasures that he could sense.

Life infused rosemary

Delicious with lamb, this herb has also incorporated a significant amount of life essence. A skilled alchemist or chef will create something amazing with this.

Adrian took half the plant and carefully weeded around it. It was a resource that the town could cultivate and develop. The older sections that he took had the most concentrated magic, but if Wangaratta needed that grade of herb, they could just leave the rosemary to grow without being harvested for a couple of years.

He moved on.

Blood Rose Buds

Contains a mixture of dark, life and earth magic.

They were at the lower end of ingredients that his new master alchemy consumed, but three flavours of magic in the one item was rare, which bumped up the value. There were numerous recipes in his alchemist tool kit where the blood rose buds could be substituted in to replace even rarer Alpha herbs. The true Alpha physics herbs from his given knowledge would, after all, be hard to find so local substitutes had value. Best of all, it was a renewable resource, so he didn’t need to feel guilty. In six months’ time, the town could harvest the roses anew. Adrian also doubted anyone would have the skill to use the herbs before then. Though, with the forty levels everyone got, there might actually be high expert-level alchemists in the town.

Oh well, finders keepers.

He jumped over a fence, then flew over a house and landed in a secluded backyard.

Raqooon Silver Grass

A delicacy in many cultures and prized by alchemists as a binding agent.

Another lack-lustre herb. If he wasn’t bored, he would not have bothered with it. He had time, so he might as well make the most of it and collect it.

Too much time. There was nothing more to gather in the town and there was an hour and a half till they were due to meet at the gate.

With a shrug, he stepped into one of the many empty houses he was passing.

The house still had its pre-event locks intact. That was almost a miracle, and it was a mystery why it had not been looted. Telekinesis flexed, and he opened the door before frowning.

The place was immaculate.

The rubbish and debris that accumulated from the event had been swept out, hell the floorboards had even been polished to let them keep their pre-event lustre. Someone or multiple someones had loved this house, but now it was empty.

Adrian felt like he was invading someone’s home as he walked through the house, and it was a strange feeling. The walls had not been fixed like the floor, but there were paintings on them and no dust anywhere. A bedroom he passed was adorned with a natural lavender-coloured fur. A post-event kill. Curiously, he touched the fabric, and it was the softest fur ever. When he explored further, there was flour, eggs and even a couple of day-old cookies, but no one had entered this house since Wangaratta’s Crucible. It was pretty easy to conclude the reason the place was empty.

He felt fragile once more, but suppressing the feeling he went into the kitchen and then pulled out the apparatus of his craft. Two buckets of water and a host of tools, some for processing plant matter and others for containing liquid.

Then he started crafting, spinning all three of his key skills in a mesh of insane brilliance. Telekinesis, whirling currents of air and shifting temperature all combined to work miracles. The bag of holding was open and regents floated out of it to be processed. He grabbed cups of water without moving a muscle, employing a high school beaker from the bucket before using it in the magical orchestra he was conducting.

The mini air cyclones milled Iurcana seeds , and the spear added its finer control to everything he was doing.

First, he replenished his Dragon’s Breath potions. Once it had been a struggle to produce this safely and he had always felt on the edge of disaster when crafting them. Now that feeling was gone. He processed twenty units at once and secreted the potion away with a flick of his Mind.

Then he restocked basic health and mana potions and was pleased to see that they emerged a full hundred percent more powerful than any he had previously crafted, although the ingredients were the same.

Adrian paused for an instant.

Only twenty minutes had passed, but he downed his tools and sat to let his mana replenish while using one of the new mana potions to help the process along.

With the basics done he stood and then focused on his poison pathway. The moment he did, the itching started and he promised himself that he would progress it in the evenings as they travelled. For now, he just needed to create the concentrated poisons and antidotes to let him get the most out of his efforts. These recipes were more complicated and were supposed to be completed with the use of a fume hood. He did not have one of those available, so his spear kept the noxious chemicals away and gathered in the room’s corner where Adrian incinerated them. Not breathing in the toxic fumes annoyed the pathway but Adrian pacified it by reminding it that if he could concentrate one hundred percent on what he had been doing the resulting poisons would be more intense and better training. It grudgingly receded, and Adrian knew he wasn’t deceiving himself. The logic was sound. Keeping a clear head would allow him to make better poisons, and ultimately progress the pathway faster. Even if there was a delay now.

Finally, having achieved his aims from the crafting session he stopped and packed up his things. There was still half an hour to kill, which surprised him. He had crafted a lot of stuff, but he was experienced enough to understand the quantitative jump that occurred between the semi-expert-level and master level. His new skill level let him do things faster and produce higher quality results.

Expert versus master for low-level recipes boiled down to twice as fast, fifty percent more potent and a third higher volume because of reduced wastage. With unlimited ingredients, a master alchemist could produce six times the amount of a lesser alchemist.

The poison pathway started acting up again with the familiar itch. He had time, and it did not want him to waste it. With a sigh, he walked into the bedroom and lay down on the lavender fur.

He then pulled out the camp stone and dripped a brown liquid into his mouth. The next twenty minutes were successfully spent trying to stop himself from vomiting while being wracked with an elevated temperature and terrible shivering. His body adjusted, build immunity and the effects faded.

With a groan, he sat up. “My god, I need to finish this pathway.” Not for its benefits, just so he could stop subjecting himself to its crap.

Pathway of Poison Resistance - 76% (+2%)

Adrian sighed, looking at that number. Twenty-four percent still to go. That was a lot of pain. At least he had made progress, which should quieten it for a bit. As he got up to leave, he looked back at the fur he had laid on and then at the abandoned home. The fur was amazingly soft and it would be a shame for it to be abandoned and wasted, or if an untouchable stole it in desperation.

Feeling only slightly guilty, he took it.

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