Fendrel's hands shook as he darted to his bed. The loose floorboard squealed as he pried it up, shoving the coin purses into the hollow space.
The footsteps grew closer. He grabbed handfuls of fresh Dralk weed, tossing them into his cauldron along with whatever ingredients lay scattered across his workbench. The mixture hissed as he lit the fire beneath.
Acrid smoke filled the air. Fendrel's eyes watered as he dumped water into the mixture, creating a noxious cloud that burned his nostrils.
Five vials of poison remained. He uncorked three in rapid succession, forcing the liquid down his throat. The familiar burn spread through his chest as the messages flickered across his vision.
[EFFECT]: You have been poisoned.
[STATUS]: You neutralized the poisoned effect
[EFFECT]: You have been poisoned.
[STATUS]: You neutralized the poisoned effect
[PASSIVE SKILL LEVEL UP]: Poison resistance 2
[EFFECT]: You have been poisoned.
[EFFECT]: You have been vision impaired. You have been speech impaired.
[STATUS]: You neutralized the poisoned effect.
[PARASITE STATUS]: Xytril Nematode is sleeping. Next dose required in 12 hours.
The room spun. Fendrel staggered to the window, hurling the last two vials into the alley below. Glass shattered against stone as someone pounded on his door.
"City Guard! Open up!"
The door burst inward. Fendrel stumbled, catching himself against his workbench.
"What's all this then?" A guard captain stepped through the smoke, nose wrinkling.
"Jus' trying new formula." Fendrel's tongue felt thick. He gestured at the smoking cauldron. "Didn't work out so good."
"You're drunk." The captain's eyes narrowed. "In the middle of the day?"
"Failed experiment." Fendrel hiccupped. "Had to test it myself, didn't I?"
Guards rifled through his shelves and cupboards, overturning jars and boxes. One picked through the remains in his cauldron with a stick.
"Nothing here but burnt weeds, sir."
The captain grabbed Fendrel's chin, studying his dilated pupils. "What exactly were you brewing?"
"Health tonic." Fendrel's vision swam. "For hangovers. Ironic, innit?"
"Search everything," the captain ordered. "Someone lost their mind and started poison brewing in the fucking city. I want this place turned inside out."
Fendrel slumped against the wall, fighting to keep his feet as the guards tore apart his lab. His stomach churned from the poison overdose, but a hysterical laugh bubbled in his throat. I wasn't this drunk in a long while.
The captain's boots crunched over broken glass as he made another circuit of the cramped lab. His lip curled at the scattered herbs and stained workbench. "This place is a disgusting."
"Nothing here but junk, sir." A guard kicked an empty bottle. "No proper equipment for poison making."
"Look at him." Another guard jerked his thumb at Fendrel. "Can't even stand straight. Probably burns his coins on drink anyway."
The captain grabbed Fendrel's collar, yanking him close. "Listen well, alchemist. Someone's been brewing death in this city. If I catch even a whiff of poison coming from this hovel, you'll swing." He shoved Fendrel back. "We've been too soft on you herb-mixers lately. Now some upstart thinks they can pull this shit."
Fendrel's knees wobbled as he caught himself against the wall. "Just make hangover cures. Honest work."
"Honest." The captain spat. "Clear out. This waste of time is done."
The guards filed out, boots thundering down the stairs. Fendrel waited until their footsteps faded before sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. His heart hammered against his ribs.
The room spun as his body fought the poison overdose. He'd survived, but only by making himself look like a worthless drunk. The guard's sneers echoed in his mind.
The notification pulsed at the edge of his vision.
[PARASITE STATUS]: Xytril Nematode is sleeping. Next dose required in 11 hours, 42 minutes.
Fendrel's nails bit into his palms. He'd thought selling a few poisons would solve his money troubles. Instead he got more unwanted visitors in half a day then the last three years.
He sat in the darkened lab, surrounded by the wreckage of his old life. The guard's search had scattered his remaining ingredients across the floor. He'd have to source more, and soon.
----------------------------------------
Fendrel's hands shook as he measured the Dralk weed. The brittle stalks crumbled between his fingers, dropping into the copper bowl. His lab had transformed into a maze of ingredients over the past couple of days - dried herbs hung from the ceiling, jars crowded every surface, the air thick with fresh herbs, he didn't remember last time he had this much stuff.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
The notification from twelve hours ago still burned in his vision:
[CLASS STATUS]: Alchemy skill leveled up. New recipes unlocked.
[PARASITE STATUS]: Xytril Nematode leveled up. Required substance: Xytherium Poison, Silkslither Toxin. Next dose required in 48 hours.
"Fat lot of good that does me." He crushed the Dralk into paste, movements sharp with anger. "Couldn't level up before the damned thing got in me?"
The bone ash came next, carefully spooned into the mixture. He'd spent hours grinding fresh bones last night, preparing for this batch. The nightshade essence gleamed as he counted the drops - one, two, three. The liquid mixed with the weed broth before he put the powder in.
His workspace had become an obstacle course of ingredients and equipment. Glass clinked as his elbow knocked against empty vials. The familiar steps of brewing Xytherium brought little comfort now.
"Greedy bastard." The mortar scraped against the bowl as he mixed faster. "One poison not enough anymore?"
His eyes darted to the new recipe that had appeared yesterday morning, along with a heavy pouch of silver coins on his workbench. The money from whatever organization the guy was from was the only think stopping him from panicking.
[POISON RECIPE: Silkslither Toxin]
* Silkslither cocoon fibers, 2 strands
* Crystalized widowvine sap, 3 drops
* Essence of venomlily, 5 drops
* Dried nightbloom spores, 1 spore
The exotic ingredients alone would have cost a fortune without the stranger's coin. He'd spent the past day tracking down suppliers, dodging questions about his sudden interest in Silkslither cocoons from Garon.
"Two different potions, poison and toxin." He poured the Xytherium mixture into a vial, separating five doses. "Double the work, double the risk. What's next, three? Four?"
[CRAFTING SUCCESS]: Xytherium Poison brewed successfully. Residual amount: 80%.
[CRAFTING SUCCESS]: Xytherium Poison brewed successfully. Residual amount: 60%.
The completed Xytherium poison glowed a sickly green. One down, one to go.
Fendrel wiped sweat from his brow as he measured the Silkslither cocoon fibers. The delicate strands gleamed like spun moonlight between his fingers. His hands trembled as he lowered them into the mixture.
The venomlily essence swirled in its vial, a deep purple that shifted to black in the shadows. Five precious drops remained - the slum traders had charged him triple of what he expected it to cost. He uncorked it carefully, counting each drop into the brew.
The mixture bubbled, then turned an angry red. Fendrel's heart stopped.
[CRAFTING FAILED]: Incorrect ratio and temperature.
"No, no, no!" He yanked the cauldron from the heat, but the damage was done. Half his venomlily essence, wasted in one botched batch. The mixture congealed into a useless sludge.
"That was ten silver. Fuck."
Fendrel slumped against his workbench. The venomlily had been the hardest to source - even the shadiest traders rarely stocked something, with so few uses outside of the obvious. He spend whole day waiting for Garon to get him in contact with someone willing to sell it.
Taking a deep breath, he straightened. Failure is just part of the process, old man used to say. The remaining ingredients were laid out with methodical precision as he started fresh.
This time, the mixture turned the shade of midnight blue and Fendrel's shoulders relaxed as he poured it into a standard healing vial.
[NEW RECIPE SAVED]: Silkslither Toxin brewed successfully. Residual amount: 60%.
"Two doses?" Fendrel stared at the residual amount. "All those rare ingredients for just two doses?"
With thirty hours left before his next required dose, he set the vials aside. His body ached from standing over the workbench all day. Rest first, then he'd deal with drinking the disgusting stuff, it didn't get easier with time.
He opened his status window. The familiar interface appeared:
[STATUS]
NAME: Fendrel Solinar
CLASS: Alchemist LEVEL: 4 -> 5
RACE: Human
SYMBIOSIS: Xytril Nematode LEVEL: 1 -> 2
His stomach churned at the word "symbiosis." That line hadn't existed days ago. The parasite had somehow integrated itself into his very status.
The attribute list was the only thing that staying normal:
[ATRIBUTES]
Intelligence 6
Dexterity 7
Wisdom 1
Constitution 2
Perception 9
It was the skill list that unsettled him at first. Every basic skill he'd possessed had been specialized by the parasite towards some goal that eluded him. Is it really all for the purpose of poison brewing?
Getting new skills was complicated process and not necessarily worth pushing into high levels as there was cap on the skill points per each level. With how slowly his alchemist class progressed it would take ages to advance any of the core skills.
[ACTIVE SKILLS]
Brewing -> [Nematode advancement] -> Potion Brewing LEVEL: 2
Distillation -> [Nematode advancement] -> Essence Distillation LEVEL: 2
Stabilization -> [Nematode advancement] -> Catalyst Stabilization LEVEL: 0 -> 1
Poison Synthesis [Xytril Nematode] LEVEL: 2
Toxin Synthesis [Xytril Nematode] LEVEL: 1
[PASSIVE SKILLS]
Herb Identification LEVEL 4
Chemical Resistance LEVEL 2
Poison resistance [Xytril Nematode] LEVEL 1 -> 2
Two more skills than his class level should allow. He'd used his recent level-up for leveling Stabilization to be useful - or Catalyst Stabilization now - but the rest was pure parasite influence.
However the real fuckery was his codex. He opened it again and examined the new recipes unlocked by the level-up. Among them were a basic healing potion and a hybrid recipe that combines healing and poison brewing elements—something he’s never seen before. The description didn't mention any effects either.
[CODEX]
Basic Healing Potion
Bitterroot Tonic
Xytherium Poison
Silkslither Toxin
But its tonic, which means it has better potency then even the Basic Potion.
He stared at the healing recipes. The academy had kicked him out before level 5, before he could choose his first potion path. But that is the thing, you are supposed to choose your codex.
Yet, now, the parasite had made those choices for him and introduced far more recipes then he was supposed to get at the halfway mark to the class advancement.
Fendrel pulled out his old academy textbook from one of his cupboards. The pages were worn, corners dogeared from countless late-night study sessions. He flipped to the introduction chapter, scanning the familiar text.
"Any fool can mix herbs," he muttered, reciting the words. "But an alchemist understands the fundamental principles that govern reactions."
The basic recipes - simple healing brews, rudimentary tonics - weren't restricted by the system. They were common knowledge passed down through generations of herbalists, pharmacists and alchemists. His mother had taught him to brew fever reducers before he could write his name.
The codex was different. It represented the crystallization of an alchemist's knowledge and potential, unlocking at level five when they chose their specialization path. The system would then grant them access to advanced recipes aligned with their chosen school - healing, enhancement, or utility.
"But I didn't get to choose, did I?" He glared at his status window. The parasite had forced its own specialized codex on him, filling it with poison recipes he never wanted to learn.