Health potion. An expensive commonly used everyday item, yet so little understood. Graded from the lowest-ranked F used by the lower class to treat bruises and small cuts to the legendary S which was rumored to be able to bring one back from the brink of death and recreate missing limbs or even organs. A miracle panacea if there ever was one. However, those higher graded potions above D class not only costed a fortune but were incredibly rare and difficult to create. Even famed Master Alchemists who have spent years honing their craft couldn't claim to have a high chance of succeeding. For every highly coveted C rank potion, dozens of failed dredges were tossed in the trash. To say the least of the sheer difficulty and luck involved in even attempting B rank ones.
It has even been said that above B was beyond the abilities of man, but trespassed within the domain of the Divine to create. Even geniuses that hail once every century have dedicated their entire lives to unraveling its mystery in vain.
The reason being was quite simple. They were fundamentally different in applications. From C and below all it truly did was sped up one's natural regenerations, granted to an astonishing degree, but in the end, all it did was reduce the time needed to heal from a wound. The raw energy and materials were still taken directly from the body and the backlash in most cases was harsh. Some people could even rapidly age from the drain and overdraft on their vitality.
However, after rank C-B, the situation reversed. The potion was, in essence, a crystallization of life force that dramatically boosted one's vitality and could surpass the body's limit in cellular division without taking any toll.
Not much was known about A, of which only a few existed hidden within the treasury of the most ancient and prestigious of kingdoms or the most powerful of individuals, however, it was hypothesized that not only would it cure you of any wounds, but also ailments. It would be akin to rebirth as the potent increase vitality would greatly booster your lifespan.
S Rank was a thing of myth. The Philosopher's stone, the Fountain of Youth, the Peaches of Immortality. There was no set form of it, and even its existence was in question. However, throughout history, the quest for it has been as old as man itself.
And one such C rank potion was precisely used to water a seed, planted and fertilized within the flesh of a high ranking Armored Bear, and baptized in its blood. Within the Sea of Trees. Where mana gathered and intertwined with the life force of all that resided within its depths, promoting the growth of giant trees and numerous Mana Beasts.
To say that the seed was in the perfect situation to thrive would've been an understatement, for the ridiculously low chance of such a thing happening, it would've been more likely to win the lottery twice in a row.
Truly, a young master with a golden spoon if there ever was one to be born within this ancient forest.
However, life in the forest wasn't so easy, even if you were a plant. Especially if you were a plant.
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A small seed lodged within the torn chest cavity of a skinned bear shook. It was warm and cozy at first within its resting spot, but something changed. It had no eyes in which to see, nor any ears to hear the end of the fierce battle which had taken place, but something had clearly changed.
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The bear had only been freshly slain when Adam had tossed the remains of the apple, and there itself, onto it. A sudden impact had startled it, but it could not move. The broken potion bottle shattered nearby, and the little seed inadvertently touched the remnants. It was barely better than morning dew in amount, but for such a small lifeform the vital energy was as vast as an ocean. It greedily soaked in all it could and within moments the pleasant warmth it had felt the entire time from the cooling corpse it was in started to get replaced by an overwhelming heat.
The difference was as stark as going from being wrapped within a cozy blanket to the blistering heat of a desert. It couldn't move, and though it desperately wanted to scream out, it also had no mouth. This wasn't the same as before, for the heat didn't come from outside but deep within. Like a lit candle, it was burning brightly, however, the stronger the flames the faster it would burn out.
The young seed had made a mistake in its instinctive desire to grain nutrients and energy to grow. The power of the Armored Bear and the richness of the potion was far too much for such a weakling to handle. All the culmination was too much stress for its body to handle.
If it could, it would've probably panicked or fallen into despair. Oh, such a sorrowful and brief life this was. Barely stepped outside into the world on its own for more than a minute and it was already well on its way to the grave. Such a pitiful existence.
Yet, it did none of these things. Why? Because it didn't know better. Its soul could barely be called a speck, its life only powered by its innate instinct rather than any true thoughts or desires. Which was why it came to the simplest solution. Normally seeds took days to grow even the smallest of sprouts, especially so for fruit-bearing ones such as the apple tree. However with its apparent abundance of resources, why wait?
And so, within minutes it was first planted, the seemingly normal seed starting sprouting at visible speeds as if a video on fast forward. Such a sight would baffle anyone who sees it. Was this a trick of the fairies? Was there a group of Druids performing some rituals nearby?
After all, such a scene would probably be one of the first within this world, for where else would one find somebody who would waste a fortune on watering a mundane plant with potions or feeding it high-class Mana Beast's corpses? The plant didn't care about its preposterous existence though. It was only occupied with a single 'thought'.
If its small body couldn't hold any more food, it would simply have to get bigger to get more space!
And so from a seed smaller than a centimeter, it grew until it was taller than the average man. Its roots quickly burrowed itself within the large body of the fallen bear, entrenching itself within now hollow veins, wrapping itself around every bone. A gruesome sight to be sure as the small amounts of potion jump-started its growth by months. It wouldn't last forever though, so it had to make sure its roots were firmly attached. It knew not what it was attached to, but it knew that the ground beneath it was extremely fertile. Next, it tentatively expanded its branches, small sprouts of leaves every few inches.
There was a startling problem though. There was barely any light. Strange. How could this be?
Perhaps it merely had reached far enough. Higher and higher it went, as tall as any flagpole, and yet, no matter how high it tried, it never felt any warmth nor light. Neither from the sun nor the moon. Perplexed, yet tired from its rapid expansion, the fledging fell into what would pass for sleep. Its spirit falling into a temporary dormant state, never realizing the harsh reality that would greet it once it awakened, for all-around it was towering trees which blocked out all light as if a green canopy that covered the heavens and cast all underneath within a shadowy abyss. It was a harsh world out there for newcomers, for naught a single other plants could be seen, not even the smallest of shrubbery.