It was raining.

Micah sat as much as he lay like a tired dog at the kitchen table and watched the drops hit the window. People had been wanting for rain, had they not? Micah thought he’d overheard adults talking about that. May had just begun, after all, and the April showers had been curiously absent for the last few weeks. Meanwhile, the heat was rising. Heat and no rain meant no flowers, the plants would suffer, the sunshine would go to waste.

Not that anyone outside of Westhill probably cared. Everyone else in Hadica had their stupid Garden, after all.

His parent’s own garden was just outside the window. The house sheltered both of them a little from the rain. Only a few drops made it all the way to its glass, blown there by the wind. The larger ones immediately began races to see who could reach the bottom first. Micah watched them lazily. The rest of them fell into the thirsty, grasping hands of the lawn below. Their essence filled the cracked skin with the color of the overcast sky. The actual water just flowed down to be soaked up by the ground, its essence thinner than most. And yet, it was so hard to differentiate between the two some days.

Micah wondered why that was. He gave up a moment later. He didn’t know. Then he wondered why their essence was so thin. He wouldn’t know where to start. Finally, he wondered why the grass had hands. Because they … they reached, and hands reached towards the sky! They grew, so they had hands.

Ha, he thought sardonically. One out of three. What a prodigy he was.

His eyes wandered down a bit to the glass jar that stood on the table before him. It was filled with fire potion. Micah had made it about half an hour ago, following the bare-bones of Mr. Faraday’s translated recipe, or rather, his comments that he’d made during the conversation before.

One third olive oil, two-thirds water. He’d snatched some twigs out of the rain and dropped them inside. There is no such thing as dry, after all. Then he forced the lid on and shook it until he could use [Kinetic Infusion].

He’d had to bend down one of the twigs because it was too large. When he screwed the lid back off, it shot out, spraying a few droplets on the table. Micah stuck an oil wick in like a straw and placed it atop of the drops. It now looked some kind cool drink you’d sip leisurely on a garden swing in the shade in the summer. He could imagine the ice clinking. All it needed now was a miniature parasol.

It was probably the sloppiest fire potion in the world, unworthy even of the name. Its lighter lay on the table next to it, unopened.

Micah missed [Candle].

“Are you still moping around?” his mother asked when she stepped into the kitchen.

“It’s the weather,” Micah mumbled.

“Nonsense. A little rain is just what we need,” she commented, walking around to the cupboards. “I bet you’re just pouting because you don’t get time to spend with your sister today.”

That was also true but to a much lesser degree. Everyone at the bathhouse was kinda-sorta-maybe nursing a hangover after celebrating Ed’s level up yesterday had gotten out of hand. Was it really that big a deal to get level 20? Micah thought he’d heard something like level twenty by age twenty before, and Ed was probably something around thirty now. Then again, he did have two other Classes …

Either way, all the people at the bathhouse were in much too good a mood for Micah. They wanted peace and quiet today and had told him he didn’t have to work because of it, and it was raining.

Micah went back home after class. He regretted it just a little.

“What’s this?” his mother suddenly asked, spotting the jar.

“A fire potion,” Micah mumbled. At least, it was for now. A little while and the oil and water would separate and then it would basically just be olive oil over water with some bark patterns to it. It would burn probably, but not for much longer than regular olive oil.

“Did you use my good oil for this?” she asked.

Micah sighed and considered getting up. Sure, he was moping around in the kitchen, but he was still moping around. That meant no talky-talky. Especially not about fire potions and with his parents.

“No, I used the cheap stuff,” he said.

In his opinion, both of them were rather expensive. They had three other cooking oils in the cupboard, too. Those were from other plants. Micah didn’t know which ones of them were good and which cheap. He wasn’t even entirely sure where his mother had bought them.

She opened it anyway, checking for herself, and mumbled, “Hm, fair enough.”

Before she could talk to him about anything else, Micah got up from the table to go get something from his room. Something meaning anything. Maybe his journal. Maybe even a schoolbook. As long as it was something that signaled I’m busy. Don’t talk to me. When he saw the books on his desk though, he left them where they were. He wasn’t in the mood to read something, nor to fake it so his mother would leave him alone.

He just … he just wanted to be someplace else. He kind of wished he could go back to the Tower today, to force his way into the Sewers as far as he could go, past the rat packs, to collect large patches of Sewer Moss and only leave when he had to crawl back out because of his injuries. He imagined himself ragged and bleeding, but with a smile on his face and a pack full of ingredients to experiment with.

Micah wanted to do that one day. To prove himself. Do something. Anything.

He snatched some of his savings and a jacket and grabbed an umbrella from the hallway. When he went to tell his mother goodbye though, his fire potion was burning.

“Huh,” his mother said, lighter in hand. “It works. Is there any reason the sticks need to be inside?”

“Uhm,” Micah said, frozen in the doorway. It was burning. Something of his was burning. “I think it makes the potion last longer.”

“How long will it burn?”

“I don’t- … I don’t know?”

Why was she even asking? Why hadn’t she snuffed it out yet?

“Are you going somewhere?” she asked instead, frowning at his jacket and the umbrella in his hand.

“Just to the bridge,” Micah said. “To see if anyone’s there.”

“Alright, then. Just be back before dinner,” she told him and considered the burning jar in her hand. Micah took a slow step back. “Hm, I wanted to do some reading anyway. Might as well let it burn. I’ll let you know how long it lasts.”

“Thanks, mom.”

Micah was out the door as soon as he fit his second shoe on.

For a moment, he didn’t open his umbrella, instead choosing to enjoy the cold rain and take deep breaths. But then the moment was over and he hid under his umbrella as he made his way through Westhill. He didn’t quite know where he was going. At first, Micah did check by the bridge where Lang and the others usually hung out. They weren’t there, of course, but he hadn’t really expected them. Nor had he intended on joining them if they had. He just walked by there because he had no other options.

He could go to Prisha’s and maybe help out there without making too much noise. Maybe he could walk by Ryan’s school, like had when he was younger. It was close to the Chores Office, after all. He might catch him during a break and they could chat. He could go back home to make some fertilizer potions with the fresh rain. He could also head to the covered streets of the Climber’s Bazaar to browse the shops there.

He had so many choices, it was true. But he had no options.

You might run the risk of leveling up.

Maybe you’re just not a Fighter?

You’re going to go to a school of our choosing. Millford’s.

You could simply skip the last year of the classroom to get an apprenticeship early.

Promise me you won’t fight again.

Micah didn’t want to do any of that. He just … he wanted to whatever it was he wanted to do. Right now that was something … useful. To himself first, and only then to others. That meant only one thing — alchemy.

He still hadn’t figured out what he would do with all those crystals in the Salamander Chest in his room. Flesh essence, he remembered. He could probably use it in a healing potion, but he didn’t really need to figure that out now. He already knew how to make two different types of healing potion.

And then there was mist essence. Cold … airy …

All the sudden, Micah knew what he wanted to do. His feet must have known it long before him because suddenly, he found himself in front of the door to Mr. Faraday’s shop. He remembered the man’s words again and dismissed them. So what if he leveled up? Micah had his whole life to get [Dissettle] and [Dissolve]. And more importantly, more than most things in this world, Micah wanted to level up.

He opened the door, sounding chimes above, and awkwardly shook off his umbrella while he stood halfway inside the shop. There was a basket next to the door with drops of water pooling around it. Micah’s umbrella joined two others there.

When Micah looked up at the counter, he almost startled. There was a young woman behind the counter. Her skin was glowing.

“Good morning,” she greeted Micah. “How may I help you?”

“Good morning,” Micah said slowly while he walked up to the counter, “Uhm, I was wondering if I could speak to … ”

He trailed off, blushing a bit as he stared at her skin. She was only glowing dimly, sure. Micah doubted he would have even noticed during a sunny day in the market. But in the today’s overcast and the additional shade of the shop, it was clearly visible. It was essence. Something close to light essence and maybe … was that water essence? Light and water?

He wasn’t sure if nobody else could see that.

“Uhm, I’m sorry, but your skin is glowing?” he asked.

The woman blushed a little.

“Aww, thank you for the compliment, young man,” she said.

Micah hadn’t meant it as a compliment. He was a little concerned for her well-being. But she seemed to take it like a compliment, so that meant whatever the glowing was, it was probably supposed to be on purpose. How did it look like to others? ‘Glowing’ skin, as they said? How did she do it, though? Skill, magic, or alchemy? Was she a climber? A lot of those had glowing things with them, shields, rings, sometimes eyes or hair, gaseous patterns spilling out of the rim of a sheathed sword.

Micah had rarely seen glowing skin, though. Or maybe he just hadn’t noticed in the sunlight?

“What is it that you need?” she asked.

“I, uhm. I was wondering if I could speak to Ben?” he asked, and she frowned a little. It was probably because Micah had used Mr. Faraday’s first name. The man had told him he was allowed to, though, and Micah wanted to show he was something closer to an acquaintance than a customer.

“I’m sorry to say that Mr. Faraday is very busy,” she told him with real sympathy. “But maybe I could make an appointment for you? Is it a potion you want to talk about? Something a little more private? I’m not sure if you saw the sign, but we don’t sell love potions.”

“What?” Micah asked, taken a little aback. Love potions were real? “No, I just. I wanted to chat with him about alchemy. A concept I’m working on ...”

“‘Chat?’” the woman asked, and Micah found himself a little annoyed that he didn’t know her name.

“My name is Micah,” he introduced himself. “Stranya? Or maybe Flowers?”

“Oh,” she suddenly said when he mentioned the last name. “Flowers! You’re the young alchemist. I’m sure Mr. Faraday would want to make time for you. Just let me go tell him you’re here.”

She left without telling Micah her name. At least, he would get to talk to Mr. Faraday. That was half a win.

The man came down the stairs a few moments later in a huffle and quickly greeted Micah with that firm handshake of his and a comment about the dreadful weather. When Micah mentioned the first of the two, Mr. Faraday looked a little embarrassed and admitted, “It’s actually a Skill of mine. Or rather, my first Skill. I got it when I was thirteen, [Friendly Greeting].”

Somehow, Micah thought that was one of the most impressive Skills he’d encountered by far. How many daily interactions were shaped by first impressions and friendly greetings? It must have been invaluable to a shop owner, too, and it told Micah lot about Mr. Faraday as a kid.

No Skill without skill, after all.

Micah was still curious about his … assistant? Clerk? Seller? He didn’t know what to call her. He was still curious, though, and she wasn’t around, so he mentioned, “Uhm, the woman behind the counter. Her skin is glowing.”

“Oh, Janet? She does look unusually perky today, doesn't she?” Mr. Faraday said while he led Micah up the stairs. They were old, creaky and narrow. He climbed them somewhat wearily. Mr. Faraday was much more relaxed. He made the wood seem homely.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“No, I meant, uhm, actually glowing,” Micah corrected himself.

“Huh. Really? I hadn’t noticed. Maybe she got her latest mixture wrong …” Mr. Faraday mumbled. So others couldn’t see that after all.

Still, that didn’t answer Micah’s underlying question.

“Mixture?” he asked.

“Oh, Janet’s an alchemist, too,” Mr. Faraday said when they reached the top step. He led them down a short hallway.

“I thought you said you didn’t have an apprentice?”

“No, no,” Mr. Faraday chuckled. “She doesn’t want to be my apprentice. She started working here while she was still in school, as a [Worker] and a [Student], but [Worker] quickly became [Saleswoman] and she got the [Alchemist] and [Cosmetician] Classes, too. Four Classes, I thought. But all four of those together can easily become something like [Alchemy Shop Owner], one day, you know? I wanted her to become my apprentice, but when she left school, all of her [Student] levels got dumped in [Cosmetician] … Now she wants to make alchemical makeup. She had the Path, too, and she’s working on getting her license.”

“Wow,” Micah said, equally parts surprised by the impromptu life story, the story itself, and the fact that some people made makeup with alchemy. No wonder her skin glowed under his [Essence Sight]. Was that some kind of powder or creme that she put on?

Then Micah had another thought.

“Is that even safe?” he asked, and Mr. Faraday stopped in front of a door at the end of the hallway.

“Alchemical makeup?” he asked back.

Micah nodded.

“Sure. Alchemists have been dabbling in the field for as long as Towers. And this new movement of alchemists focussing on it has been around for about a decade or so. They’ve had time to work out most of the uhm … major kinks.” He frowned a little, and Micah wondered if he was remembering something unpleasant. “They call themselves Cosmeticists. They’re hoping for unified Class, one day. Maybe they’ll get it when they’re high enough level.”

He turned to Micah.

“Don’t worry, though. They still need a license to sell, and they’ve got the Alchemist Guild breathing down their necks, too.”

“Uhm, sure,” Micah said. Why should he be worried? It wasn’t like he was ever going to buy makeup.

Then Mr. Faraday wore a grin as he looked down at Micah, and Micah realized why. He had his hand on the doorknob. They were right outside of his workshop.

“Now, I’m sure you came here for a reason, but first, I want to show you a real alchemist’s workshop,” he said and opened the door. Beyond, Micah saw a maze of glass and wood. “Knock yourself out.”

He stood aside, so Micah went on in. The room was large but crammed so full of things that it wasn’t necessarily spacious. There were two long working tables that cut through the center, atop of which were a bunch of different distillation setups. Looking through the glass he either saw glowing fluids dripping down pipes or ingredients on metal grates. The ones that were empty warped the room beyond, like glasses.

There were two large canisters on the right side of the room, too, with something like a spoon or a sieve rotating inside of it to stir them on their own. A machine? Micah thought of motors and steam, fire potions. And there was fire. Underneath most bottles and equipment and on a dozen different stoves. Some of them were tiny and looked like metal boxes. There was an actual stove in the far right corner. It even had a pot on it.

Micah walked inside and kept his hands to himself. He tried not to get too close to any of the tables. His already low enthusiasm for equipment he could not use was drowned out by the fear of getting too close to any of those hazy flames.

Deciding he needed to show at least a little curiosity instead of fear, he walked to the canisters on the right to see what was inside. One of them held a liquid that looked a lot like apple juice, but glowing bright orange with a blue silhouette. A healing potion? Made in large batches and simmering for a while, of course.

The other canister was only half-full with something that looked like melted taffy.

Micah didn’t know what potion that was. Even though it was sticky and melted, it looked like there was a see-through screen stretched across the surface of it. It seemed to him to mean something like safety and … boundaries? What would this be when it was dry? Some kind of glass potion? No that wasn’t right …

Strangely enough, there was a low and silent hum in the air, too. He could hear it beneath the bubbling of liquids, the stirring of the sieves, and the pitter-patter sound of the rain on a skylight. Micah wondered what made it.

“You went right to the healing potion, I see,” Mr. Faraday commented.

“Actually, it’s the stirring thingies,” Micah said. “How are they moving on their own?”

“I have something called an engine hooked up to them,” he explained. “It works by burning Fire Potion to heat up contained steam. The steam’s pressure moves parts, which then move other parts, which move a wheel that moves the stirring rods.”

“Huh,” Micah said. He understood some of those words. Mainly ‘move’.

“I also have a something called a generator from overseas. It burns fire potion to create lightning.”

“What?” Micah spun on him. “Really? Can I see?”

“It’s not much to look at. See that box over there in the corner?” Mr. Faraday pointed, and Micah saw a small box-shaped contraption under one of the work tables in the far left corner. It was rumbling a little and had tubes attached to it. Micah realized that it was making that humming noise. He walked a little towards it, giving the burning stoves on the tables a wide berth and trying to figure out what all the different parts were.

“What do you use it for?” he asked.

“It keeps that running,” Mr. Faraday explained, pointed at something that looked like a large safe next to the box. Well, it was a safe. A safe that used lightning to work? He spotted small holes cut into its side for the generator’s tubes to feed in. “Or rather, what’s inside of it. It’s something called a refrigerator. It keeps things inside of it cold, so I put my most valuable potions inside to last longer. Other alchemists in the city have similar constructs that use an enchantment instead.”

“Why not just use an icebox?” Micah asked. His parents had one in the basement that they used from time to time. Mainly in the summer, even though their basement was pretty cold. Getting out the drawer with the melted water was always a mess, though.

Mr. Faraday just shrugged. “I own it. Might as well use it.”

“Uhm, on the topic of ice,” Micah said, seeing his opportunity. “That’s actually why I’m here. It’s about a potion concept.”

“Oh? I thought as much. You do remember the risks, right?” Mr. Faraday asked and walked towards a bookshelf that stood next to the door. Micah had barely noticed it coming in. Were those his recipes? Micah followed him closely, but not too close. If Mr. Faraday wanted to show him his recipes, he would offer first.

And anyway, those all needed to be translated first. Micah was here for something else.

“Yes, I remember,” he said dutifully. “But I have a friend with a Skill called [Hot Skin]. It basically does what its name implies and makes his skin warmer.”

“That’s interesting,” Mr. Faraday said, his finger trailing the spines on one row of the shelf. “How did he get that?”

Micah thought about Ryan’s [Mimic Beast] Skill and how he got whole Paths from monsters. That probably wasn’t exactly something the other boy wanted all of Westhill to know. Micah didn’t know if he could trust Mr. Faraday with gossip. He barely knew the man.

“Uhm, he’s a [Fighter],” he just said instead.

“I see. Must come in handy, sleeping outside, fighting in the cold, and so on.”

“Yeah, well, uhm,” Micah fiddled with a pestle on the table in front of him while he spoke. “In the summer it’s sort of less handy, apparently. And I was thinking I could maybe make a potion? A cooling potion of sorts?”

“Ahh,” Mr. Faraday said in understanding. He pulled out one of the books from the shelf and glanced at Micah before leafing through it. “I have some recipes on coolants that might interest you. They’re basically just the opposite of heat potions, though. You had a basic heat potion concept among your recipes, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Micah said while he stepped closer to that book. “Just warm water and hot coal. Then you basically have water infused with heat essence, so it doesn’t want to get cold.”

“You can do the same thing with ice,” he explained, flipping the book and showing Micah the recipe. It even was a recipe for use of [Infusion]. Although, the next page already detailed a more complex version that used other Skills, too.

Micah skimmed the page. It seemed simple enough.

“So if he drank this, it’d be like a cold drink but better?”

“What? Oh, no, no, no. You can’t drink this. It’d give you a stomach ache. Our bodies want to heat things up, after all. If you drank something that can’t be heated up fast enough … I was thinking he could just fill a bottle with the stuff and dump it over his head to cool off.”

Micah squinted at Mr. Faraday. In what world did that seem like a sensible idea?

“Uhm, he could just as well use normal water, then,” Micah said. “I was looking for something a little more … magical.”

“Hm. Well, it probably can’t be something you can drink, then, unless you somehow make a [Cool Skin] potion. [Hot Skin] only works on the outside, right?” Mr. Faraday asked while leafing through his book.

Micah knew it was a rhetorical question, but he considered it anyway.

It made sense that bodies wanted to heat things up. If you got too cold, you got sick, after all. But the same was true for heat, wasn’t it? If you spent too much time in the sun, you could collapse or get a headache and throw up. That meant bodies only wanted to heat things up to a certain amount. Ryan’s [Hot Skin] couldn’t possibly affect his insides, then. His own Skill would hurt him. Did it maybe include some kind of heat resistance aspect or did it only work directionally? Could heat even only work directionally?

“That’d make sense,” Micah mumbled.

“Wow. There are actually a lot of potions that can help with the summer heat, now that I’m looking for them,” Mr. Faraday said. “Here’s a recipe for a refreshment potion. It works like a cool drink, but better. You wanted something like that, right?”

Micah stretched up a little to see the page he was on. He could barely look over the rim of the book, though.

“Yes. Please. How do you make it?”

He checked.

“Oh,” Mr. Faraday said, sounding kind of disappointed. “It’s literally just a mixture of a special kind of Stamina potion and a refreshment …”

“That sounds great.”

“No, you don’t understand. I doubt you can make a Stamina potion yet. It requires [Dissolve], as far as I know, and a lot of expensive ingredients besides.”

“What is it made of?” Micah asked. “Maybe I can make a more watery version of it?”

“It’s a mixture of a breath potion, a middle-grade healing potion and some specific nutrients that help with stamina.”

“Oh,” Micah said. Now he understood. “What belongs in a middle-grade healing potion anyway?”

Mr. Faraday grimaced. “Tower ingredients.”

That surprised Micah.

“You can’t make one without them?” he asked.

Mr. Faraday considered him for a moment before he spoke, “The highest form of healing potion we can make without the Towers is one that is barely considered middle grade, and the process of making it extremely … inhumane, some would say. You make it with insects, lizards, natural salamanders and some other ingredients. Most of the animals have to be killed during the brewing process, not beforehand. And the insects are mostly cockroaches that are killed during distillation. I don’t have the stomach for it. I just use the Perspit Weeds instead.”

He put the book down and got a bag from one of the tables to show to Micah. Inside were a bunch of leaves that looked a lot like bloodred mint.

“You can find them in the Garden,” he explained. “Sometimes, at least. They’re rare. There are other plants, too, that look the same. Perspit flowers and trees and more. You need them for making special types of healing potions.”

“What happens if you just chew them?” Micah asked.

Mr. Faraday frowned. “Nothing that I know of. They’re expensive, though. So I don’t think that would be wise.”

“Huh, so no refreshment potions,” Micah said.

“I’m pretty sure a noble invented that recipe,” Mr. Faraday commented. “Only a noble can make something so frivolous.”

Micah did him the favor of laughing.

“Can’t I just shake some juice and infuse that?” he asked.

“And then?” Mr. Faraday asked while he put the leaves back.

“It’ll have ‘juice’ essence. I’m sure that’ll be more refreshing than regular juice.”

The man chuckled heartily and picked up the book again. Micah made some room on a table behind him and hopped up on it. Now at least, he could see the book better.

“You can do that, but I doubt it would help too much with your friend’s problem.”

“Yeah ... “ Micah said.

“How about a breath potion?” Mr. Faraday asked. “Have you made one of those before?”

“Yes, I have,” he admitted. “I mixed perfume potion, low-grade healing potion and some mint leaves together to make one.”

“And that actually worked?” Mr. Faraday asked, sounding surprised.

“Yeah. Why? How do you usually make them?”

“Uhm, you basically create an extremely high concentration of mint-like properties in a liquid and then [Dissettle] that into fog that you let drip back down. That’s the simplest version of it, anyway. If you added some cold qualities, you could make him a cold breath potion.”

Micah frowned and considered it. He imagined how Ryan would like drinking that while he had training. The thought just made him frown some more.

“Wouldn’t that make you feel sick, though?” he asked. “If your skin feels like the hottest summer day and your breath is all minty and cold? The uhm, contrast, I mean. Plus, you’re doing work, too.”

“Possibly,” Mr. Faraday said. “I’d at least try it out. Alchemy is all about experimentation, after all. Then again, you don’t have [Dissettle] yet. You’d have to recreate the potion you made last time and add cold properties. Might not work at all, then.”

“Right. Anything else?”

“Well, there’s always comfort potions …” Mr. Faraday started, but Micah was shaking his head already.

“I’ve had those. I don’t like the way they muddle your mind. I doubt Ryan would, either.”

“You barely notice when they’re made right,” he said and glanced up at Micah. “Ah, but of course you don’t have the means to do that, do you?”

“No.”

Honestly, Micah didn’t have the means to make most potions because of his lack of Skills and equipment. So he had to find other ways to make what he wanted. The breath potion he’d made by mixing things together that he already had and knew of. Like his healing potion, and the only other potion he made on a regular basis, his —

He took in a sharp breath and lept from the table, saying, “I got it!”

“You do?” Mr. Faraday asked, surprised.

“Yeah. Thanks, Ben.”

Micah was already headed for the door. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized he was being extremely rude just heading off like that. Or maybe it was just overly familiar.

“Aren’t you going to tell me what it is?” Mr. Faraday called after him.

“Perfume potion!” Micah called back. The first potion he’d ever made.

----------------------------------------

It was still raining when he made his way to the bridge, and that made the stone wet when Micah climbed down to the slightly flooded riverbed below. He made it anyway — it wasn’t a long drop — and he picked as many flowers as he could fit in his pockets and hands. Then he ran home. By the time he got there, his boots were muddy and he was drenched from head to toe.

He’d forgotten his umbrella at Ben’s shop.

His mother was in the sitting room, reading. The fire potion next to her was still burning. How long had Micah been gone? An hour or so at most. He didn’t know if that was good time or bad, but he had more important things to do.

He took off his shoes outside and tried to take the steps two at a time so he wouldn’t get them too wet. When he sat down in his usual spot behind his bed, he made a slight puddle from his dripping clothes.

He didn’t mind. He’d clean it up later.

He got out his alchemy supplies from under his bed and started cutting the pollen bits from the flowers. All the while he’d been picking them, he’d considered what other things he could add to the perfume potion. What scent would Ryan like best? He tried to remember what the other boy smelled like, and it was usually just something close to sweat. That one time in the cave, it had been blood instead.

So Micah tried to keep the perfume potion as pure as possible. All he wanted for it to be was basically a breath potion on the outside. Its scent was supposed to be just Ryan instead. The only scent Micah added was from the rainwater he put in the bottle. That was cool and relaxing, too, after all. Hopefully, some of that would rub off on it. Micah didn’t need a lot of liquid. It was perfume.

He didn’t use a lot from the flowers either. He guessed Ryan would probably want something more subtle. Usually, Micah had to crush copious amounts of flowers into a pulp for their scent and add other things he liked, like honey. Now, it was just two ingredients. He crushed the pollen bits a little in the water and shook it until he could use [Infusion]. That gave it the liquid the pattern of something to be smelled and carried on the wind.

Lastly, instead of ice, Micah put one of the mist crystals inside of it. He crushed it, too, and used [Infusion] the moment the crystal broke. Then he shook it a little more, used his Skill one last time just to be sure, and filled it into another, smaller bottle. He filtered out the icky bits.

Done was one ...

What would he name it? Probably something simple, since it was simple itself.

Done was one Breeze Potion for Ryan, he wrote.

Micah couldn’t wait to present it to him tomorrow. When he woke up, though, he was excited for a whole other reason.

[Alchemist level 7!]

[Skill - Basic Alchemy improved!] → [Skill - Personalized Alchemy obtained!]

[Skill - Lesser Vibrancy obtained!]