As the meeting adjourned, the members dispersed, leaving Thorian alone in the lingering silence. He inhaled deeply, steeling himself for the challenges ahead. Descending the stairs, Thorian methodically accepted his daily quests, a routine that anchored his mornings. His steps then led him to the magus guild, where he added another quest to his list before emerging into the daylight.

The guild master's voice halted his departure. “My lord, aren't you training in mana infusion today?”

Thorian paused, his thoughts momentarily adrift. “Indeed, I will,” he replied, shaking his head as if to clear it. “But first, there are pressing matters I must attend to, lest I exhaust myself prematurely.”

Fizzlegrin, the guild master, chuckled knowingly. “Very well, my lord. I shall not keep you from your duties.”

With a nod of acknowledgment, Thorian stepped outside, setting his sights on the Alchemy Lab. The village, now fully awake, buzzed with activity around him, a stark contrast to the quietude of his morning.

The Alchemy Lab stood unassumingly amidst the village bustle, its plain wooden structure and singular room betraying no hint of the wonders within. Its only telltale sign of life was the constant plume of smoke from its chimney.

Approaching the lab, Thorian was greeted by a goblin alchemist, who bowed respectfully. “My lord, your presence honors us,” the goblin said.

“I'm here for a brief visit and to discuss today's focus,” Thorian announced.

“Of course, my lord. Allow me to show you around,” the goblin offered, gesturing for Thorian to lead the way.

Inside the lab, Thorian observed rows of tables where goblins and kobolds, deeply engrossed in their craft, pulverized ingredients, blended pastes, and tended to mixtures simmering over the fire. The air was thick with the scent of arcane alchemy, and the hum of diligent work filled the room.

As expected, they are all working on pills.

"My lord, as you can observe, everyone here is devoted to crafting mana and healing pills for our fighters," the goblin guide gestured expansively. A sly grin then crept onto his face. "Though, admittedly, some are more proficient than others."

Another goblin, flashing a mischievous grin, piped up. "Indeed, my lord. My success rate stands at a remarkable 15%—a level my colleagues fondly refer to as ‘eminently inconsistent.'"

Laughter rippled through the group at this shared jest. Thorian, amused, joined in. "Well, I must commend your unique proficiency. Achieving such a level of ‘eminent expertise' is no small feat."

Surveying the room again, Thorian noted the diligent work of the goblins and kobolds. His eyes then drifted to the far end, where a solitary figure busied himself with potion flasks.

Curiosity piqued, Thorian inquired about the lone alchemist. "And who is that?"

The self-proclaimed expert chuckled. "Oh, that's just the stink mixer."

"The kobold there has an odd fascination with those green potions," the guide added, lightly dismissive. "We've told him they're unpleasant and unwanted, but he persists."

Thorian arched an eyebrow, his interest further kindled by their words. An outlier among his peers, then.

"I'd like to speak with him," Thorian declared, striding towards the kobold. The surrounding alchemists watched, perplexed but silent.

Approaching the potion mixer, Thorian prepared his inquiry. "Potion mixer, may I have a moment of your time?"

The kobold turned, initially indifferent, but his demeanor transformed upon recognizing Thorian. "My Lord! What brings you to my humble corner?"

Intrigued by the unorthodox approach of the potion maker, Thorian smiled warmly. "I'm curious about your choice to pursue potions over pills, considering your colleagues' preferences."

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The kobold responded with a blend of humility and confidence. "My lord, I simply find a deeper connection with liquids."

Thorian's eyes twinkled with amusement. "A preference for liquids, eh? That's as good a reason as any."

Regaining his composure, Thorian delved deeper. "So, tell me about your potion-making journey. What discoveries have you made?"

"My knowledge may be modest," the kobold began, "but I've made some advances I find quite significant."

"Do go on," Thorian encouraged, his interest piqued.

"The art of potion making, my lord, is a delicate balance of knowledge and intuition," the kobold started, gesturing towards the simple setup around him. "For this detoxification potion, the process is straightforward but requires patience and temperature control."

He picked up a flask filled with a clear liquid, holding it up to the light. "We start with distilled moonwell water. To this, I add crushed leaves of the silverthorn plant." He demonstrated, sprinkling a fine green powder into the flask. "Silverthorn is potent in cleansing toxins from the body, but in its raw form, causes quite a pesky rash."

The kobold then moved to the fireplace, where several flasks were gently simmering over the flames. "Heat is crucial," he explained. "Too little, and the ingredients won't infuse properly; too much, and you risk destroying their delicate properties. This potion must simmer just below boiling for precisely one hour, otherwise you keep the rash instead of the detoxification properties."

The kobold then scratched the back of his neck, revealing a red spot behind his fur. He then carefully stirred the mixture with a long, slender rod. "Constant stirring ensures even distribution of heat and prevents any sediment from settling at the bottom."

The potion maker sighed, his voice tinged with resignation. "The only issue is the potion's odor and flavor are rather unpleasant."

Thorian couldn't suppress a chuckle. "Concerned about the taste and smell, are we? Fear not. We warriors are undeterred by such trifles, as long as the potion serves its purpose."

Grateful, the potion maker dipped his head in acknowledgment. "Thank you, my lord, for your understanding."

As their conversation neared its end, Thorian posed one final question. "What's your success rate with this potion?"

After a brief pause, the potion maker replied, "I believe one in four potions are potent enough to be of use to you, my lord. It has gotten better with time."

Thorian's eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and respect. He laughed heartily, not in mockery but in genuine appreciation. Turning to address the other alchemists, he called out, "Hear that? A 25% success rate. What would you call that? 'Consistently expert'?"

His jest drew laughter from some, particularly the kobolds, while the boastful goblin and the guide managed only a strained chuckle.

Brushing aside the mirth, Thorian continued, "As it stands, I'm in need of these detoxification potions for an imminent expedition, not healing or mana pills. We have plenty of those."

He then placed a reassuring hand on the potion maker's shoulder. "Tell me, youngling, what's your name?"

The potion maker introduced himself with a hint of pride, "I am known as Hamur, a name bestowed upon me by the elven maiden."

"Pleased to meet you, Hamur," Thorian responded with a warm smile. "Today, I'd like you to impart your potion-making skills to your peers. Can you manage that?"

Hamur chuckled confidently. "Absolutely, my lord."

Thorian nodded approvingly and patted Hamur's shoulder. "Good. I'll need twenty detoxification potions by nightfall. I trust you'll meet the expectation."

With those words, Thorian departed the Alchemy Lab, his mind already shifting to the other tasks awaiting him.

First on his agenda were the dungeons. Joined by his team, Thorian efficiently navigated the familiar challenges. His prior experiences, coupled with improved equipment and strength, rendered the dungeons less daunting. The Verdant Labyrinth, even up to its third level, felt almost leisurely, and the only real test in the Thunderous Citadel was its labyrinth—a puzzle he had long since mastered. Thus, in a mere five hours, Thorian completed his dungeon runs and returned to the village, ready for the next part of his day.

Thorian's next endeavor led him to the magus guild to complete his remaining quests. His adept Mana Control made short work of the initial task, allowing him to swiftly transition to mana infusion training. Immersed in a state of deep concentration, the lord efficiently channeled mana into the drained stones, one after another. Time blurred around him, and two hours slipped by unnoticed. By the session's end, he had successfully infused 19% of all stones, edging tantalizingly close to reaching expert proficiency.

Mindful of his physical and mental well-being, Thorian chose to conclude his mana infusion for the day. He collected 150 Mystic Marks for his completed guild quests and exited the guild's grounds.

Outside, dusk had given way to night. The sky, now a tapestry of stars, was gracefully illuminated by the two moons in their celestial dance. The moons, suspended in harmony, cast a serene glow over the village and the encompassing forest. Thorian paused, allowing himself a fleeting moment to be captivated by the night's allure.

Yet, this moment of tranquility was brief. The most significant and demanding task of his day still awaited him.