章節 134: Chapter 132: Potion of Dreams
Chapter 132: Potion of Dreams
Tem stood at the edge of the lake, her gaze fixed on the still waters, her breathing calm and steady. Her focus turned inward, where her dantian pulsed—a dense sea of mana, swirling on the cusp of evolution.
The mass of water mana within her began to stir, its rhythmic churning mirroring her breath. With a sudden sway of her arms, she stepped forward, her foot slamming into the ground. "Venomous Tide Surge!" she shouted, thrusting her palms forward.
The water rippled faintly, the disturbance barely noticeable. Frustration boiled over. "Horrible!" she shouted, slapping her thighs before spinning on her heel and stomping again.
After a moment, she took a deep breath, and faced the water again, her stance resetting as she repeated her mantra silently.
'Don't force it. Guide it gently.'
Her movements smoothed as she swayed her hands outward and stepped forward again, this time softer. With a firm push of her palms, the water responded—a small but visible disturbance, like an animal swimming beneath the surface.
It wasn't much, but it was enough. "Okay! Keep going," she cheered, her determination unwavering as she repeated the motion.
From the edge of the trees, Crelos watched her with a faint smile. "Looks like I was worried for nothing," he muttered to himself. "She won't give up that easily."
Satisfied, he turned away, heading toward the pagoda. Breaking through the line of trees into the clearing, he spotted Lint standing before a raging fire, his fists flying in relentless punches, sweat glistening in the firelight.
Lint's small fists, blackened with soot, showed no signs of harm despite the constant abuse. His bear-like features, rounded and youthful, seemed at odds with the intense seriousness etched across his face. Each punch echoed with a quick snap, the sound cutting through the air like a whip.
"They're getting sharper," Crelos muttered, his gaze narrowing. He focused on the boy's hands, noting the fire mana swirling within them. With each strike, the mana grew more refined, the glow deepening into a dark crimson. To Crelos's mana-tuned eyes, it was like watching molten iron being hammered into shape.
Without warning, Lint shifted his stance. His movements were fluid, deliberate, and the next punch carried a distinct difference. As his fist shot forward, the sharp snap was replaced by a resounding boom. A burst of flames erupted from his hand in a controlled explosion, the force knocking Lint back a step.
Instinctively, Crelos moved forward, concern flashing across his face. But his worry faded as he watched Lint shake out his hand and immediately return to gathering mana, his focus unshaken.
"Am I even needed anymore?" Crelos chuckled to himself, a mix of pride and awkwardness settling in his chest. Earlier, he had tried calling out to the other children, but each seemed so engrossed in their training that his words had gone unnoticed.
Scratching the back of his head, he sighed. "I'll leave them to it." Turning away, he made his way into the Pavilion, deciding to lose himself in the array work he had left unfinished. At least there, he wouldn't feel quite so unnecessary.
"Well, it's not like it's a bad thing," he muttered, half to himself as he walked. "I just hope he knows what he's doing. These 'martial techniques' still feel too—ah!" His words cut off as Haku suddenly perched on his shoulder, the mischievous weasel burying his nose into his ear.
"Stop doing that!" He swatted at him, but Neko darted away with practiced ease, appearing on his other shoulder.
'Neko bored! Play with Neko,' the weasel insisted, his tone a playful whine.
Crelos's brow furrowed, his patience wearing thin. He let his aura swell, flames rippling around him in a warning flare. The sudden surge sent Neko jumping back with a startled squeak, sparks of lightning flickering through his fur. 'Not fun!' He huffed, glaring at the mage.
Rolling his eyes, Crelos jabbed a finger in the weasel's direction. "What did I already tell you? This is not the time to play! Look at those kids!" He gestured toward the training area, his voice sharp. "Each one of them is enduring pain and stress just to have the slightest chance at being useful. And look at you—whining about being bored!"
Neko's fur bristled, tiny arcs of lightning dancing along his body. 'Not Neko's fault! Neko can't grow—but, Neko doesn't know! So don't yelling at Neko!'
"I'm not yelling!" Crelos snapped, though the volume of his voice betrayed him. Realizing it, he flushed and drew a deep breath, forcing himself to calm. This time, his tone was softer but firm. "Look, I know it's not your fault. I get it. But you can't expect us to keep you entertained right now. Everyone is doing what they can, even me. I'm in the same boat as you, but that doesn't mean I can just sit around. There are still things I need to do."
His eyes locked with Neko's, the weasel shifting uneasily under the weight of his gaze. "Do you understand?" He asked, his voice steady but not unkind.
Neko's whiskers trembled as his wide, sulking eyes glanced up. 'Neko does.' His head drooped, but he quickly lifted it again, his voice hesitant. 'Can Crelos help Neko know Neko?'
Sighing, Crelos rubbed his temples. He knew Neko's struggle wasn't his fault. The little beast's origins were a complete mystery. No text, tome, or scroll had even hinted at the existence of a creature like him. Neko was undoubtedly unique—his possession of a mana core rather than a crystal already placed him in a rare category. Yet for all his uniqueness, he was unusually weak for a beast born with a core. Historically, mana-beasts born with cores were legendary, their strength apparent from birth. Neko's disparity was as baffling as it was concerning.
"You're the only one who can figure that out," he finally said, his voice resigned. "At least out of everyone here." Pausing, he studied the weasel's downcast expression. "You really can't remember anything? Your parents? The place you were born?"
Shaking his head slowly, Neko's fur flattened as a deep frown crossed his face. 'Neko sorry. First memory is Neko running.' His body shuddered as his fur bristled, and his voice grew faint. 'Scared… alone Neko.'
"Running?" Crelos muttered, his brow furrowing. "Babies don't run…" His thoughts churned, an itch forming at the edge of his mind. His jaw tightened as he considered the implications. "Come with me," he said suddenly, a note of determination in his voice.
Neko tilted his head, his ears perking up. 'Neko?'
Crelos stopped in his tracks and turned, raising an eyebrow. "Are you asking if I want you to follow, or are you asking where we're going? You know, it's hard to understand you sometimes. You should work on that." Without waiting for a reply, he turned back and continued walking, his steps purposeful. "We're going to the All-Room."
Neko tilted his head again, shrugging before darting onto Crelos's shoulder. Dodging a half-hearted swat, he leapt to the other side, his tail flicking playfully. 'Training?'
Squinting at the persistent weasel perched on him, Crelos sighed. "No training. I want to try something—"
'Try what?' Neko interrupted, his nose twitching.
"If you'd let me finish." Crelos shot him a tired look. "I think you might have memories of your origins, but for some reason, you can't access them. Like a mental block of some kind."
'Mental block? Rocks in Neko head?' Neko bristled slightly, sparks rippling through his fur.
Smirking, Crelos shrugged. "Probably, but not in the way you're thinking. It's probably more like something you don't want to remember. You said your first memory was running and being afraid, right?"
Neko frowned, his voice quieter now. 'Alone. Dark. Ground of stone… cold.'
"And that's exactly why I think it's a block." Crelos's tone softened as he glanced at the beast. "Babies don't run, Neko. So unless you were born sprinting, there's something in that little head of yours you just need unlocking."
As they reached the edge of the lake, Crelos paused, his gaze drifting across the water. On the far shore, Tem was pushing a waist-high wave along the surface, her arms moving with precise control. He smiled briefly before continuing his explanation. "My former master was a potions expert. I remember reading one of his recipes once—a potion that might be able to help you access whatever memories are buried. You're lucky I even remember it; I didn't care much for his work at the time."
Shaking off the lingering memories with a shudder, Crelos and Neko swiftly reached the door to the All-Room. It stood alone in the green field, a plain wooden door seamingly leading to nowhere.
"Darius never said to stay out of them, so we're just… borrowing. If the ingredients are here, we'll just call it fate. He can't blame us for trying to help, right?" Crelos looked down at Neko, searching for validation.
'Neko wants to know!' The weasel nodded enthusiastically, his eyes glowing with curiosity.
Stepping into the All-Room, they approached the resource room door and Crelos placed a hand on the handle. He hesitated, a bead of sweat forming on his brow. 'Why am I nervous? It's not like I'm stealing.' Shaking his head to dispel the thought, he pushed it open.
Immediately, the overwhelming surge of mana and smells hit him like a wall. The air was thick, saturated with a myriad of scents and energies from countless magical resources. The urge to slam the door shut and retreat nearly consumed him, but he forced his way in, his senses narrowing to block out the overload.
A thud beside him broke his focus. Blinking, he glanced down to find Neko curled over, twitching and pawing at his nose. The poor creature was overwhelmed, his small body wracked by the sheer intensity of the environment.
"He can't take it. Even I barely can." Without a second thought, he shoved Neko out of the room with his foot, sending the weasel sliding across the All-Room floor before the door clicked shut behind him. "Lucky bastard," he muttered.
Breathing lightly, he steadied himself and stepped further into the resource room. The overwhelming cocktail of mana and potent aromas assaulted his senses, making his eyes water. By the time he reached the central table, his head pounded, and his throat burned.
Resting his hand on the memory tome, he coughed harshly, wiping at his streaming eyes. "Why's it so spicy?!" Clearing his throat, he flipped the tome open, his voice hoarse as he read, "Faerie wing spores…"
Lifting his hand, the book opened, and the pages began to flip on their own. When they finally stopped, the blank page before him shimmered before filling with gilded text. His eyes locked onto the words as he read aloud, "H-34, Faerie Wing Spores, Nature Faerie, 3 vials. H-35, Faerie Wing Spores, Starlight Faerie, 2 vials." A grin spread across his face as his heart began to race. "This is kinda fun. Is this what gambling feels like?"
Noting the positions of the spores, he placed his hands on the tome again, his excitement bubbling over. "Dreamworld Mushrooms," he called out, lifting his hand as the pages began flipping back toward the front of the book. They stopped abruptly, and the gilded text appeared once more. "F-67, Dreamworld Mushrooms, 5 pounds." He pumped his fist in the air. "Whoo! Let's keep it going!"
Eyes burning from the mana-heavy atmosphere, he eagerly took note of the location and placed his hand back on the tome. "Alright, papa needs a new robe! Shade Seed Oil, come on!..." His excitement fell flat as the pages stayed mockingly still. He threw his head back in frustration. "Ah, come on! This is scale-horse shit!"
Realizing how ridiculous he sounded, he froze. Clearing his throat, he straightened his robes and cast a furtive glance around, grateful Neko wasn't there to witness his outburst. "Yeah, definitely need to stay away from gambling," he muttered to himself before returning his focus to the tome.
Placing his hand on it once more, he thoughts began to focus on the task. 'Shade Seed Oil is the key binding agent for the potion. Without it, the other ingredients will cancel each other out. I need a substitute that won't alter the active properties while allowing the components to bind and fuse...'
Closing his eyes, he sifted through the wealth of knowledge Solomon had drilled into him about potion-making. One principle rang clear: If you don't have it, wait until you do. In potion crafting, replacements were rarely advisable; experimenting blindly often led to catastrophic results. And with alchemical reactions, "catastrophic" tended to take on an especially unfortunate meaning.
Thankfully, the ingredients he was working with were relatively benign—mild sedatives and hallucinogens. Their combination required precision, but the doses were too small to pose any real danger. Still, mishandling them could lead to unpredictable outcomes. The potential for an interesting experience wasn't lost on him, but he couldn't afford to get careless.
"The necessary compound from shade oil is common in its family, but its density is the key factor. Replacing it with quantity over quality won't work," Crelos muttered, pacing as he thought.
Then an idea struck. "If I condense the oil of a lesser seed and refine it, I might be able to bridge the gap. It's worth a try." Nodding to himself, he placed his hand on the tome. "Cannatiss Seed Oil."
As the pages flipped, his heart began to pace but he quickly suppressed it, shaking his head. "I've got a problem."
When the flipping stopped, he read aloud, "C-45, Cannatiss Seed Oil, 13 barrels." Satisfied, he memorized the location and placed his hand back on the tome for the final ingredient.
"Yakshas Moss," he said, his tone suddenly tense. The pages turned again, and he exhaled in relief when they stopped. This moss was crucial, a unique plant that only grew on the floating islands at the continent's center. It had the peculiar property of always growing toward the densest and closest populations of intelligent life, feeding on their dreams.
"A plant that feeds on dreams being used to unlock memories... poetic," he mused, reading the text aloud. "Y-23, Yakshas Moss, 2 pounds."
"Now, how do I..." Spotting the rolling ladder, he took off his heavy outer robe, pulling it over his head and revealing a mess of brown hair, even more unkempt than unsual. His freckled nose crinkled in determination as he climbed the ladder, methodically gathering the ingredients.
Everything went smoothly until he reached the moss. Pulling the large drawer open, it tilted out like a chute, unleashing the scent of the moss. The potent aroma hit him like a spell, the drowsy effects nearly causing him to collapse. Panicked, he flared his aura, dispelling the wave of sleep just in time as he tightened his grip on the ladder.
Outside, Neko sat with his nose twitching. His tail froze as he caught a whiff of the moss. Jumping back, he covered his nose with his paws, watching warily. When Crelos emerged from the resource room, yawning and rubbing his eyes.
Neko tilted his head. 'Seek and find?'
Scratching his chest, Crelos tapped the pouch at his side. "I've got everything I need. I had to substitute an ingredient, but it should work." He walked to the center of the All-Room, where the array beneath him began to glow.
"Alchemy Chamber."
The moment he spoke, the All-Room trembled. The six wooden doors vanished into the walls, replaced by smooth, unbroken stone. The chamber's center glowed as the array beneath him expanded outward, intricate runes carving themselves into the floor as it grew.
Stone platforms rose from the ground, forming workbenches lined with alcoves and shelves. Each shelf filled itself with flasks, burners, and tools as if summoned by unseen hands. A massive cauldron emerged from the floor's center, its surface engraved with fiery runes that burned faintly. Overhead, glowing orbs floated into position, casting an even, sterile light across the chamber.
Neko's ears flattened as the air thickened, his tail bristling. He darted to Crelos's shoulder as his wide eyes darted around the transforming chamber. The glowing runes on the cauldron caught his attention, and he tilted his head, the flickering arrays reflected in his curious eyes. 'Neko not like this... too much magic,' he murmured to himself, wrapping his tail around the mage's neck.
Ignoring the beast, Crelos smirked, his fingers brushing against the pouch at his side. "Perfect." Stepping toward the cauldron as the chamber stilled, he readied for his work.
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