As the first light of dawn crept into his room, Mr. F woke up with a sense of calm. He draped his robe over his body and set out toward the reagent storage, anticipating another day of careful alchemical work. But as he arrived at the material storage, he quickly realized that this day would not be as peaceful as he had initially thought.
At the storage, he was handed 50 sets of reagents along with an envelope containing his work assignments for the rest of the week. His heart sank slightly as he read through the instructions: the difficulty had been raised a level. Mr. F was now tasked with producing a Tier 4 elixir known as Mana Burn. The requirements were clear—he needed to achieve a potency of at least 55%, and out of the 50 sets of reagents, he had to produce a minimum of 15 elixirs meeting that standard.
Once back in his lab, Mr. F began to contemplate the nature of this new work assignment.
Was this task a punishment or a reward? Or perhaps a mix of both?
It was clear that he was being groomed to be a part of the alchemical team, with weekly assignments contingent upon passing Matilda's test. However, being asked to jump straight from crafting a Tier 3 elixir to a Tier 4, and then to produce 15 successful batches out of 50 sets with a potency of 55%—it seemed almost impossible. At least, it would be for a regular alchemist.
The real question was how much of his talent Mr. F. was willing to reveal. He knew that even if he only managed to produce 10 successful sets, Matilda would likely be satisfied. She might even view it as an impressive feat, given the difficulty. But Mr. F. wasn't interested in just meeting expectations—he wanted to surpass them.
For now, though, he decided to put the decision on hold and focus on the task at hand. The Mana Burn elixir was no small challenge, and he would need to approach it with precision and care.
As he began the process of creating the first elixir, Mr. F. allowed his thoughts to drift back to the system that had guided him so well the previous day. It had been an invaluable tool, correcting his mistakes and helping him achieve results that most alchemists would find extraordinary. If he relied on it again, he could likely produce a potion with the desired potency, perhaps even exceed it.
But doing so would expose just how capable he truly was—and he wasn't sure yet if that was a good idea.
With a steady hand, Mr. F. measured out the first set of ingredients and prepared his cauldron. The familiar steps of the alchemical process grounded him, bringing his focus back to the present.
As Mr. F. began the meticulous process of creating the first batch of the Mana Burn elixir, he carefully measured out the primary ingredients—Mana Lotus petals and Goblin Shaman blood. These components were potent on their own, but combining them required a delicate balance, one that could vary significantly from batch to batch.
The challenge with the Goblin Shaman's blood lay in its unpredictable potency. Depending on the individual shaman, the concentration of mana within their blood could fluctuate wildly. This meant that in one attempt, a single Mana Lotus petal might be sufficient to stabilize the blood's energy, while in the next, three petals might be necessary to achieve the same effect. Adding too few would result in an unstable elixir, while adding too many could dilute its potency.
Then there was the distilled water, an often-overlooked but critical component. It served as the medium in which the ingredients blended, but too much would weaken the elixir, rendering it nearly useless. Too little, on the other hand, could cause the potion to become too volatile, leading to unpredictable and potentially dangerous results.
As he worked, Mr. F.'s mind wandered to the elixir's effects. Mana Burn was known for its simplicity and power. Upon consumption, the elixir would flood the user's body with a massive influx of mana, allowing them to cast spells far beyond their normal capacity. This surge of power could be a game-changer in battle or other critical situations, providing the user with near-unlimited energy for a short time.
However, the drawbacks were severe. The effects lasted only a few minutes, depending on the elixir's potency, and once the mana surge faded, the user would be left completely drained. For the next half hour or more, their body would be unable to regenerate mana naturally, leaving them vulnerable and exhausted.
Mr. F. knew that achieving the minimum required potency of 55% would give the user three minutes of heightened power, followed by thirty minutes of near-complete mana depletion. This balance was crucial—if the elixir's potency fell short, the user might find themselves without enough power to even sustain their initial burst of energy. If it exceeded expectations, the effects could be extended, but the recovery period might become even more debilitating.
With these thoughts in mind, Mr. F. carefully combined the ingredients, adding the distilled water in measured amounts. He watched as the mixture began to react, the liquid swirling and changing colors as the Mana Lotus petals dissolved and the Goblin Shaman's blood infused the potion with its potent energy.
This first batch was critical. It would set the tone for the rest of the day's work. Just as Mr. F. thought everything was going according to plan, he noticed something alarming—the cauldron began to foam and overflow.
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The elixir was ruined. The frothing foam spilling over the edge of the cauldron was a clear sign that too much Goblin Shaman blood had been used. The excess blood, unable to bond properly with the Mana Lotus petals, had become unstable, forcing its way out of the cauldron in a messy display of wasted effort.
Mr. F. sighed, a mix of frustration and resignation washing over him. He knew this was going to be a long day. The precise balance required for the Mana Burn elixir meant that mistakes like this could easily happen, especially in the first few attempts. The system had helped him before, but he had to rely on his own instincts and experience to find the perfect formula for this higher-tier elixir.
Without wasting time, Mr. F. headed toward the supply closet to retrieve a mop.
The day had only just begun, and it was already proving to be a challenge.
The next two attempts were no better. Once again, the cauldron boiled over on the second try, and on the third attempt, the blood dried out due to too little distilled water being used, resulting in a sticky black mess instead of the desired elixir.
Mr. F was beginning to feel mildly annoyed. It wasn't the wasted materials that bothered him most, but rather the fact that he had to clean up the cauldron and the floor by hand each time. He had been trying to conserve his magical energy for the actual brewing process, which meant he couldn't use it for the tedious task of cleaning up the messes.
As the day wore on and several more attempts failed, it was already evening by the time Mr. F realized he had only managed to conduct seven trials. Had he used his magical energy to speed up the process, he could have easily doubled that number, but the energy required for creating these higher-tier elixirs was considerable. He had to be cautious about depleting his reserves too quickly.
Despite the late hour, Mr. F could have pushed himself to keep working on the elixirs, but he decided it was time for a break. He recalled that Peterson had promised to share a bottle of magical alcohol with him, and now seemed like the perfect time to take him up on that offer.
After asking around for a bit, Mr. F found the lab where Peterson was working. However, a sign on the door indicated that the room was currently in use and that the occupant did not wish to be disturbed. Mr. F decided to wait nearby, figuring it wouldn't be too long.
His patience was rewarded when, after a short while, Peterson emerged from the lab.
As Peterson exited the lab, a young woman with chestnut-brown hair followed closely behind him. They were deeply engrossed in a conversation and didn't notice Mr. F, who was sitting patiently on a nearby chair, waiting for his friend.
"I need you to organize the same amount of materials we used today for tomorrow. Also, see if you can get your hands on unicorn dust or ivory," Peterson instructed the young woman.
She nodded, taking notes as she followed Peterson, then bowed respectfully before heading off in another direction.
It was only then that Peterson noticed Mr. F waiting by the door. With a smile, he greeted him, "Good evening, Mr. F. I wasn't expecting you."
Mr. F returned the smile and said, "Sorry for dropping by unannounced, but I thought we could have a chat and sample that alcohol you mentioned last time. However... you must be quite exhausted after spending the whole day with that young lady." He added a teasing grin to his words.
Peterson, initially oblivious to the implication, started to respond, "Yes, we had a lot to do today, especially since we..." But then, realization dawned on him as he understood what Mr. F was insinuating. His face flushed slightly as he hurriedly clarified, "She's just an alchemy novice who's helping me with my tasks! Nothing else happened!" His voice had a hint of panic, clearly flustered by the misunderstanding.
"Of course, of course. I would expect nothing less from the honorable Peterson," Mr. F replied with a chuckle, easing the tension.
The two made their way to Peterson's quarters, engaging in light conversation about daily life without delving into any particular topic too deeply. The walk was relaxed, and their camaraderie made the stroll through the corridors feel shorter.
When they arrived at Peterson's living quarters, Mr. F immediately noticed the stark contrast to his own modest accommodations. Peterson's space was much larger and divided into multiple rooms. There was a spacious living room furnished with a comfortable couch and two armchairs, a well-stocked library filled with various books, and several devices and contraptions that Mr. F couldn't quite identify. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, a clear reflection of Peterson's status and taste.
"Please, have a seat," Peterson gestured towards the armchairs, before excusing himself briefly. He returned shortly with a bottle of wine and a few bowls filled with an assortment of pastries.
After pouring a glass for each of them, Peterson leaned back in his chair and began to ask Mr. F about his experiences over the past few days. "So, how have you been finding your work lately? Any notable successes or setbacks in your potion brewing?" he inquired with genuine curiosity, clearly interested in hearing about Mr. F's progress.
Mr. F took a sip of the wine, savoring its rich flavor, and pondered how much to share. "It's been a mixed bag, to be honest. I've had my fair share of both victories and defeats in the lab recently. Yesterday, for instance, I managed to produce a Tier 3 elixir with a decent efficiency, but today's tasks have proven a bit more challenging," he admitted, thinking back to the struggles he faced with the Mana Burn potion.
Peterson nodded, understanding the unpredictable nature of alchemy. "Ah, that's the nature of our craft, isn't it? Sometimes everything aligns perfectly, and other times it feels like the elements are conspiring against us. What was the challenge today?"
Mr. F smiled wryly, appreciating Peterson's empathy. "Today's challenge was crafting a Tier 4 elixir, specifically a Mana Burn potion. I had a few... mishaps, shall we say. The potion's ingredients are tricky, and getting the right balance has been more difficult than I anticipated."
Peterson raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Mana Burn, you say? That's quite the leap from Tier 3. They're pushing you hard, aren't they?"
"Indeed," Mr. F replied, "but it's nothing I can't handle with a bit more time and experimentation. I just didn't expect the difficulty to ramp up so quickly."
Peterson took a thoughtful sip of his wine. "Well, if anyone can rise to the occasion, it's you. But don't hesitate to ask if you need anything—whether it's advice or a fresh set of ingredients. We're all in this together, after all."
"There is, in fact, something you could help me with," Mr. F began, his tone casual yet purposeful.
Peterson, who had offered his assistance more out of politeness than expectation, perked up at the remark. He hadn't really thought Mr. F would take him up on the offer, so now his curiosity was piqued.