Unspeakable Secrets The Alchemist Series (A Dark Medieval Progression Fantasy)

Chapter 13 Potion Of Minor Strength

Connor slept till late the next day.

Staying up all night making potions and then sparring with Adelia for so long had left him feeling like a dishrag that had been wrung out and then stomped on for good measure.

Only a few hours of daylight remained, and he decided to make good use of them.

His lean muscle rippled, and sweat ran down his body as he did pull-ups with weighted clothing.

Though he used heavy weights, his muscle remained lean. He was tall and thin, with a strength that belied his size.

He didn't mind that his body remained lean, rather than bulky and muscular. He had simply adjusted his fighting style to focus more on speed.

Even if Adelia made him look slow and clumsy... he consoled himself with the thought that none of the highly trained palace guards were his match.

Night fell, and he wiped off his sweat with a towel.

He smiled. It was time to make a strength potion.

Maybe he was getting ahead of himself, but he'd been making such excellent progress so far... it was worth a shot, right?

He hummed softly as he opened his codex, and read it in the magical light of the workshop.

The Potion of Minor Strength was his goal for tonight. His first attempt at a Beginner level potion... it was a lesser strength potion, far less powerful than the potion Victor had given him, but it was a start.

Besides... the Potion of Heightened Senses was only a Novice level potion... and look what that did!

He searched out and gathered the ingredients he needed from among the many shelves.

Troll's root, ginger, ogre blood...

Alchemy called for some weird stuff.

He laid everything out and drew the focusing circle. It went much smoother now after so many hours of practice, but it was still irritating work that made his back ache.

Hopefully, he wouldn't need one for much longer.

He stood up and his back cracked. Ah, that felt better. He pulled on his alchemy and the circle at his feet lit up bright red.

He ground up the troll's root and ginger using a pestle and mortar, red lightning played over his fingers and into the herbs, further refining it.

He gritted his teeth, and a bead of sweat ran down the side of his head. Damn it was hard to refine without heat while also keeping half his attention on grinding up the herbs into the finest powder he could.

If he stopped either the grinding or using his alchemy for just a moment, it would negatively affect the potion, and this was just the first stage.

Thank the gods his alchemy was so much stronger now... but would it be enough?

He finished grinding up the herbs he needed and poured the fine dust into the crucible. The powder glowed slightly red from the energy he'd put into it, and he didn't want it to dissipate, so he moved as quickly as he could.

He pulled the cork from the vial of ogre blood and tipped it over the crucible. It splattered over the dust and formed a reddish-brown sludge.

Yuck.

Next, he poured water into the mixture and stirred it with a glass rod. None of it dissolved properly, and bits of powder and blood swirled around the solution.

He activated the magical flame at the base of the crucible, and the concoction started to bubble. He held his hands to either side of the solution, avoiding the rising steam, and pulled hard on his alchemy.