Chapter 30 - Alchemy (2)

After killing enough Elite creatures, I made my way to the city. Same guard, same experience.My first stop was the local real estate business. Unlike in reality, housing here doesn’t boom—constant battles against monsters have forced many people to abandon their homes and seek new ones.

With no truly safe place in the Realm, not everyone lives here. Only 1 in 1,000 people make the Realm their home.Because of this, housing prices are extremely low. I bought a house for just 3 gold. It was near the walls, had a small garden, and was big enough for me to concoct potions.

After checking out my new house, I visited several shops and gathered the materials I needed to craft my first potion a Strengthening Potion.

According to the recipe, I needed to crumble the herbs together first. The juice extracted during this process had to be filtered and poured into the cauldron, while the leftover plant material was discarded. The herb juice was the key ingredient.The fire under the cauldron slowly heated it. I couldn’t let the fire go out, so I had to prepare plenty of wood. If the fire died, I’d have to start the entire process over from scratch.

My cauldron wasn’t very big, holding only 5 liters of liquid, but I couldn’t fill it even halfway. If the potion was too concentrated, it would become useless. On the other hand, if I added too much water, it would lose its potency. I needed to find the perfect balance.

When bubbles began rising from the cauldron, I added Bull’s hairs and a toad's tongue.

What kind of toad? As long as it wasn’t poisonous, it would do.But what if it was poisonous? In that case, I’d probably end up spending the rest of the day in the restroom, suffering and regretting my life choices.

Soon, the liquid changed from light green to dark green. I stirred the pot to ensure the ingredients mixed properly and didn’t stick to the walls, which could reduce the potion's potency.

The dark green liquid eventually turned light red. That was the sign the Bull’s hairs were working. Their only purpose was to turn the liquid red. Why? Well, would you willingly drink something that looked like swamp water?

At least the potion should have a decent texture, even if the taste was terrible.

Seeing the bubbles subside, I knew the potion was progressing successfully.Soon, the brewing process finished, and the liquid turned dark red.

To be cautious, I used another glass for a taste test before pouring it into flasks and sealing them. As I sipped, I felt a slight sting on my tongue, but I ignored it. When I gulped the whole thing down, however, my stomach churned violently. I knew immediately—the toad had been poisonous.

Thus ended my first potion creation, and I spent the rest of my second day in the capital locked in a battle so intense no living being could endure it, seated on the toilet, pale-faced and broken.

***

With a white face and unsteady legs, I stumbled back to the cauldron and poured all the potion onto the grass, letting the ground absorb the useless liquid.

"I shouldn’t have trusted that damn merchant!" I muttered bitterly. He had sold me the toad at half the price the system offered it for, and now I knew why. Faulty ingredients.

Frustrated, I threw the rest of the toad’s tongue into the bin—it was clear as day that the merchant had cheated me.

Preparing for a second attempt, I started over. This time, the liquid didn’t turn red it turned blue. I froze. That was a bad sign.Before I could react, the liquid started rising. Some stray herb remains must have gotten into the cauldron, and soon the potion overflowed onto the floor, extinguishing the fire.

The second try was a disaster. I sighed and prepared to restart.

Once again, I cleaned the cauldron, crumbled the herbs, and carefully poured the extracted herb juice into the cauldron. I added water, ensuring the level was just halfway—no more, no less. I waited patiently as the liquid turned dark green, then added the remaining ingredients.

This time, the liquid slowly turned dark red. I knew I was almost done.

I tasted it cautiously. No sting—just a bitter taste. This time, it worked. As I finished drinking, I felt strength coursing through me, a clear sign of success. My strength had increased by about 30%.

"Not bad," I thought, wiping sweat from my brow. After failing twice, I finally got it right.

I poured the finished potion into glass flasks and sealed them with corkscrews.

With these potions ready, I was good to sell them. Would people suspect where I got them? No, not likely. Alchemists were common in the industry, and these potions weren’t anything groundbreaking. After all, humanity had been in the Realm for 500 years, and basic alchemical recipes like this were already well-researched.

Potion creation in the First and Second Realms includes thousands of recipes, each yielding different results.

Why doesn’t everyone use them? Simple—they’re absurdly expensive. The rich have monopolized the potion market, buying up everything of value. Freelancers occasionally sell potions, but they’re snapped up almost immediately.

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From what I’ve heard, there’s an auction house where I can sell my potions. But before that, I need to stockpile a decent amount. Each brewing session only produces four potions.

Each potion sells for a minimum of 60 silver, while my brewing costs amount to 15 silver per session—or, considering my earlier failures, 45 silver. If I manage to brew successfully, that’s a net profit of 2 gold and 5 silver per session.

On my third day, I focused entirely on brewing potions. By the end of the day, I’d brewed 28 potions.

But I also failed 13 times, wasting around 1 gold and 95 silver—nearly 2 gold. However, with each potion selling for 60 silver, my total profit amounted to 16 gold and 80 silver!

Satisfied, I set aside one potion for myself and made my way to the auction house.

Selling potions isn’t as straightforward as it sounds. Shops demand a consistent supply, but potion brewing is unpredictable—success isn’t guaranteed, and each batch requires time. Machines can’t replicate the process, and for some reason, brewing potions outside the Realms doesn’t work. On top of that, machines don’t function inside the Realms either, creating a vicious cycle with no solution.

These thoughts occupied my mind as I walked, the journey to the auction house passing by in a blur.

The auction house itself was under the control of the Alliance, an organization powerful enough that no one dared to mess with them. Inside their walls, I didn’t need to worry about trouble.

Another advantage they keep their clients’ identities completely anonymous. After all, if they leaked sellers’ information, who would trust them in the future? They’re like a legal black market—efficient and discreet.

Inside, I headed straight to the reception desk, where a woman sat behind the counter.

She looked like a perfectly ordinary person. Her black hair was neatly tied back, and she wore glasses that gave her a sharp, professional appearance. No remarkable features, nothing out of the ordinary.

“What may I help you with, sir?” the woman asked, looking at me warily.

I wore my mask, as always. Wherever I went, it drew strange looks—after all, no one trusted a man who walked around with his face covered.

“I want to sell my potions,” I said bluntly, skipping any pleasantries. I’d already gathered enough information from the local shops, asking about their prices and costs. That’s how I knew my potions would fetch 60 silver apiece.

Hearing this, the woman stood up and stepped out from behind the reception desk, walking to stand in front of me.

“Please, sir, I’ll need a sample to ensure the quality of the product you wish to sell.” She bowed slightly, extending her hand.

I could tell she was being careful—professional, but polite. Alchemists were rare, and anyone who could create potions held a certain status, even in a place like this. Still, they couldn’t accept just anyone or the auction house would be flooded with swindlers.

I removed my backpack, pulled out a flask of the potion, and handed it over.

She accepted it and disappeared into one of the rooms behind her. The wait felt longer than it was—about five minutes—before she returned.

“We’ve tested the product, and it meets our standards,” she said with a professional smile. “Sir, I’ll give you a form to fill out. You’ll need to state how many potions you plan to deliver for auction, as well as details about the product, including its effects and any side effects for disclosure to buyers.”

She stepped back to the desk, retrieved a form from beneath it, and handed it to me.

“Additionally, you’ll need to attend your first auction,” she added. “We’ll reserve a seat for you in advance. Don’t worry, though—this is only required for your first submission. Future sales won’t require your presence.”

I nodded in understanding. It made sense—they wanted to ensure someone was accountable in case of failure or other unforeseen issues.

I took a seat and looked over the form. It asked for my address, the number of items I wished to auction, a description of each item, and clear details about their effects and potential side effects to warn buyers.

After filling it out, I handed the form back to her. She thanked me politely as I left the auction house.

Not long after I returned home, a wagon arrived in front of my house. A group of workers disembarked, carefully loading all the potions onto the wagon. The vehicle was pulled by a creature resembling a horse but with six legs instead of four.

I couldn’t help but stare at the beast. I didn’t know how much effort had gone into taming it, but I was certain the process had cost lives—many people were likely injured or killed in the attempt.

They carefully packed the potions into special cases, using cloth to cushion the flasks and prevent any damage. Their stay was brief—they left as quickly as they arrived. Before leaving, they informed me that the auction would begin in two days, at midday when the sun was at its peak.

Once they were gone, I returned to my room to rest briefly. However, money waits for no one, and soon enough, I began preparing for my second batch of potions.

This time, I focused on Digestion Potions. Why would anyone buy them? Simple. The extremely rich would snap them up. Normally, a person can only eat a limited amount of food at one time, capping how much genetic evolution they can achieve. With Digestion Potions, this limit could be bypassed, allowing someone to max out their genes faster and progress to the Second Realm sooner. For those with wealth and ambition, time is everything.

The process for this potion was different. First, I needed to carefully dry a selection of herbs—slowly, to preserve their essence. Once dried, I boiled a fresh pot of water and added the herbs to the cauldron.

Next came the most critical step the stomach of a Pygmy Shrew. These little creatures were infamous for their insatiable hunger. Their stomachs were the key to enhancing the potion’s effects, giving it an additional boost.

I had to be careful, though. The stomach had to be empty. If it contained even the smallest trace of food, it would ruin the entire batch. I boiled it alongside the herbs, watching closely as the liquid began to change color. Success meant achieving a yellowish-green hue.

How would I know the potion was ready? A taste test—what else? Pygmy Shrew's stomachs weren’t poisonous, so the worst outcome would be yet another epic clash with the restroom.

Unfortunately, creating the Digestion Potion proved far more troublesome than I’d expected. The system didn’t sell Pygmy Shrew stomachs—or the creatures themselves. I had to buy them from a butcher, which wasn’t cheap. And so, I failed five times before I finally got it right.

As frustrating as it was, I couldn’t deny it time had flown by.

***

Far away, in a dark underground chamber, shadowy figures had gathered. Each wore black robes with hoods and masks, their faces hidden even from the faint light that flickered in the room.

“How long until the preparations are complete?” asked one figure, his voice low and commanding. He turned toward another cloaked figure—this one unmistakable, holding a staff topped with a skull.

“I’ll need around two months to finish everything,” the staff holder replied, his tone indifferent, eyes fixed forward.

The others fell silent, pondering his words.

“Then two months from now, we shall begin our ascension!” another figure declared, his voice full of fervor. “Let the world see! We, who possess the truth of this world, will reveal it to all. We will show them our lord and deliver them from the darkness that has engulfed humanity!”

“Let the truth be known to everyone!” the group chanted in unison, their voices echoing through the chamber.

Their plans remained shrouded in secrecy, but one thing was certain trouble was coming. This wasn’t a scheme that would affect just a handful of people—it was a storm that would shake the entire world.