Back in his cramped laboratory, Fendrel arranged his new equipment with methodical precision. The glass tubes gleamed in the afternoon light filtering through grimy windows. He sorted the ingredients into labeled containers, measuring exact portions for multiple batches.
The Xytherium came first - familiar motions of grinding bone ash and measuring Dralk weed. His hands moved steadily despite the constant tremor in his chest. Two batches, then three. The Silkslither followed, delicate work with the cocoon fibers that left his fingers sticky with crystallized sap.
As evening approached, Fendrel spread out the Nightwraith ingredients. The recipe sheet trembled in his hands. He'd never attempted a distillate before, but the parasite's demands grew stronger each day.
"Concentrated duskshadow essence..." He measured carefully, double-checking each amount. The mixture bubbled an unsettling gray. Wrong. He started over.
The second attempt congealed into useless sludge. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he cleaned the equipment. The third try produced only bitter smoke that made his eyes water.
"Damn it all!" Fendrel slammed his palm against the workbench. His supplies dwindled with each failure. In desperate frustration, he grabbed the remaining ingredients.
More essence. Extra dreamthorn berries. He doubled the spider venom, hands shaking as he added each component. The mixture swirled, darkening to blood-red. Heat rolled off the glass in waves.
His breath caught as the liquid settled into a deep crimson, far more vibrant than any standard distillate. The air crackled with potent energy.
Words flickered across his vision:
[CRAFTING SUCCESS] Potent Nightwraith Distillate brewed successfully. Residual amount: 20%.
[NEW ACTIVE SKILL]: Potency control
Fendrel stared at the glowing liquid, equal parts elated and terrified. He'd succeeded? The distillate's power radiated through the glass, far stronger than he'd intended.
Fendrel watched the dose of yellow liquid into a small vial. His hands trembled as he lifted it to his lips. The distillate burned like liquid fire down his throat, spreading through his chest in waves of searing heat.
The world shifted. Colors intensified, the dim laboratory blazing with newfound vibrancy. Every shadow gained depth, every surface crystalline clarity. His skin prickled with electric sensation, nerve endings singing with awareness.
[EFFECT]: You have been poisoned.
[EFFECT]: You have been drugged.
[STATUS]: You neutralized the poisoned effect
[STATUS]: Euphoric effects increased.
[EFFECT] Xytril Nematode has been drugged
[PARASITE STATUS] Xytril Nematode is sleeping. Next dose required in 14 hours.
"Oh shit." The words slipped from his mouth as pure bliss crashed through his body. His legs gave out and he slid down against the workbench, mind floating in a sea of pleasure. The usual gnawing ache of the parasite faded to nothing, replaced by waves of tingling warmth.
He giggled, watching dust motes dance in the evening light like tiny stars. The ceiling swirled with phantom patterns, beautiful and mesmerizing. His thoughts drifted like clouds, peaceful and unconcerned.
Time lost meaning. Fendrel sprawled on the floor, running his fingers over the rough wooden boards and marveling at the texture. Every sensation felt magnified - the scratch of his shirt, the cool air on his skin, the steady thrum of his heartbeat. He hummed random melodies, delighting in how the vibrations echoed through his chest.
Pure contentment filled him, washing away months of fear and desperation. Nothing mattered except this perfect moment of peace. His body felt weightless, floating in an ocean of pleasure.
The last thing he saw before consciousness slipped away was the ceiling spinning in lazy circles, still trailing streams of phantom color. Fendrel's eyes drifted shut as he sank into blissful darkness.
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Fendrel pressed his temples, the pounding headache making every movement torture. Sunlight stabbed through the grimy windows of his lab, illuminating the mess of equipment and ingredients strewn across his workbench. His stomach churned at the sight of the remaining Nightwraith distillate.
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He shifted in his chair, wincing as pain shot through his bruised ribs. The guard's boot had left a vivid reminder of his vulnerability. The memory of their confrontation twisted his gut - he'd been stupid to think smooth talk could solve everything.
His gaze drifted to the ledger. The healing potions were loosing almost a silver per sale. On the other hand the poisons were raking in silver with almost three times the price of the ingredients. The timer in his vision blinked an urgent reminder:
[PARASITE STATUS]: Next dose required in 4 hours
"Damn it." Fendrel ran his fingers through his greasy hair. The black market had seemed like such an elegant solution at first. Quick coin, interested buyers, no questions asked. Now it felt like a noose tightening around his neck.
He picked up an empty vial, turning it in the light. The respectable shops wouldn't touch his goods. But the underground buyers brought their own dangers - rival gangs, corrupt guards, assassins cleaning up loose ends.
His fingers traced the bruises on his face. He needed more coin, and fast. Higher volume meant more risk of discovery. Better prices meant dealing with more dangerous clients. Both options made his head throb harder.
The parasite's constant hunger left no room for moral debates. Without the poison sales, he'd be dead or worse within days. But he couldn't keep stumbling blindly through the underworld either. He needed a better plan, a way to reduce his dependence on these shadowy dealings before they got him killed.
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The Maiden's Kiss tavern stood nearly empty in the mid-afternoon light. Fendrel slipped through the door, his boots leaving muddy tracks on the wooden floor. A few regulars hunched over their drinks, lost in personal miseries.
His contact sat in the usual corner, scarred face partially hidden by a hood. The man's eyes narrowed as Fendrel approached.
"You lost your mind?" The contact's voice stayed low. "Middle of the bloody day?"
Fendrel slid into the chair across from him. "Need to discuss business."
"Guards are more active now. You trying to get us both caught?" The man took a long drink from his tankard. "If you're here to unload more poison—"
"Sort of." Fendrel leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Got a question first. Your buyers - any interest in diluted toxins?"
The contact's brow furrowed. "What? Last batch sold quick enough. Good coin too." He studied Fendrel's face. "You mean more of that?"
"Yes, I have those too. But..." Fendrel's fingers drummed against the table. "I've discovered some...alternative recipes. Diluted versions that act more like euphoric drugs. Thought it might interest certain customers."
"Drugs?" The contact's expression shifted from confusion to intrigue. He set down his tankard. "What kind of effects we talking about?"
Fendrel's fingers tapped an uneven rhythm on the wooden table. "The effects are...intense. Pure bliss for about thirty minutes, followed by unconsciousness. Colors become vivid, every sensation heightened." He kept his voice low, watching the contact's reaction. "It needs more testing, but the potential is there."
The contact leaned back, a gleam in his eyes. "Interesting. Very interesting. Got some friends in the pleasure houses who'd pay good coin for something like that." He stroked his scarred chin. "But here's the thing - you certain it won't kill anyone? Can't have a bunch of dead customers in the Brothel District while in the process of getting high. Bad for business, if you catch my meaning."
The question stopped Fendrel's drumming. He hadn't considered that angle - his own resistance to toxins made him immune to pretty much any lethal effects. His mouth went dry as he searched for an answer that wouldn't raise suspicions.
"We'd need to run some trials first," Fendrel said carefully. "Start with small doses, work up from there. Make sure it's stable."
"Don't worry about that part." The contact's lips curved into a thin smile. "I know just how to test it. Get me a batch ready, and I'll handle the rest."
Fendrel nodded, keeping his expression neutral despite the cold knot forming in his stomach. He didn't want to know what "testing" meant in their world. Better to stick to his role - make the product, take the coin, ask no questions.
Back in his cramped laboratory, Fendrel laid out his ingredients. The familiar scents of dried herbs and chemical reagents filled the musty air. His hands moved automatically, setting up the distillation apparatus while he watched the Nightwraith Distillate recipe floated in his vision:
Nightwraith Distillate
* Concentrated duskshadow essence, 8 grams (6 - 12 grams)
* Venom of a blacktooth spider, 5 drops (2 - 10 dropss)
* Dried dreamthorn berries, 15 grams (5 - 25 grams)
* Charred boneshade root, 4 gram (3 - 5 grams)
"The new skill is actually pretty good."
He measured out the duskshadow essence first, reducing the normal amount by half. The dark liquid swirled in the bottom of his flask.
"Let's see how this goes." His fingers traced the measurements as he worked. Two drops of blacktooth venom instead of five. Five grams of dreamthorn berries, not fifteen. The charred boneshade root he kept at four grams - it acted more as a stabilizer than an active ingredient.
The mixture bubbled over his burner, transforming from deep crimson to lighter shades as he stirred. His new Potency Control skill hummed in the back of his mind, offering subtle adjustments to his technique. Add more heat here, reduce stirring there. The knowledge felt natural, like remembering an old recipe rather than learning a new one.
After an hour of careful work, the final product glowed a soft yellow in its flask. Fendrel held it up to the light, studying the color. No trace of the original poison's murky darkness remained.
His hands shook slightly as he poured a dose into a vial. The parasite writhed inside him, hungry for its usual dose of toxins. But he needed to know if this would work.
[CRAFTING SUCCESS] Diluted Nightwraith Distillate brewed successfully. Residual amount: 60%.
Fendrel knocked back the diluted mixture in one swift motion. The liquid burned going down, but not with the usual caustic intensity of full-strength poison. A pleasant warmth spread through his chest, followed by a tingling sensation that danced along his nerves.
The system interface flickered in his vision:
[EFFECT]: You have been drugged.
[STATUS]: Euphoric effects increased.
He waited tensely for the familiar poison notification, but it never came. His shoulders relaxed as the euphoric sensation intensified. The experiment had worked - he'd created something that could intoxicate without killing.