Let this grieving soul r.., p.18
Let This Grieving Soul Retire! Volume 8, page 18
With such a long history, it was natural there were some results that had been erased. For instance, the thrall potion, Strawberry Blaze. Named for its strawberry scent, this potion was one “result” that had been scratched out.
The potion acted on the brains of living beings, a single drop being enough to rewrite any creature’s mind. Due to its powers that defied the known rules of potions and the many nations that had been driven to conflict by Strawberry Blaze, the potion’s recipe, inventor, and the inventor’s family had all been wiped from existence.
All that was remembered was its name and its distinguishing traits. Rumors of its re-creation regularly popped up, but they were never accompanied by genuine proof. If Strawberry Blaze remained unreplicated even after hundreds of years, it was fair to assume it had been made with fairly rare ingredients, or its inventor had been a real genius.
Imperial law prohibited even attempting to re-create it, but within the empire’s chief alchemical institution, the Primus Institute, there probably wasn’t a single Alchemist who hadn’t considered giving it a try. Though not all of them necessarily intended to use said potion, for most Alchemists, the process was more important than the results. Their true desire was to pioneer greater understanding and obtain the truth.
Chief Nickolaf Smoky of the Primus Institute looked at the potion brought in by a panicking former apprentice. If this were the real thing, it would shake the world. Just like in the tales, the liquid in this metal water bottle was an opaque pink and smelled of strawberries.
“Impossible.” Peering into the bottle, he gulped. “I didn’t think any of it was left. I don’t believe it.”
“A Magus at the Zebrudia Academy of Magic was keeping it in secret.”
“A Magus, huh? I don’t know about creating it, but I suppose storing it would be feasible for one of them...”
With how unique Strawberry Blaze’s effects were, the potion was believed to have been brought about through a combination of magic and alchemy. Looking at the metal bottle, he could tell that it, too, was specially made, with an interior enchanted to preserve quality. If nothing else, this wasn’t some cheap thing you’d use for a joke.
Then, above all else, there was his panicking former apprentice, Sitri Smart. A former member of the Primus Institute and prodigy who had been involved in a number of projects, she was also a known treasure hunter who had established her own laboratory in just a few years.
A certain incident had earned her the loathsome title “Ignoble” and caused her expulsion from the Primus Institute. However, she visited the institute from time to time, staying in touch with the various laboratories.
Her hair and clothes were disheveled, suggesting she had run as fast as she could. Her face was pale, like she might pass out any moment. Nickolaf knew she was a dedicated Alchemist who could carry out morally objectionable experiments without batting an eye. He had never seen her like this. That, however, only increased the potion’s credibility.
“I need an antidote! Krai accidentally drank it undiluted!”
I see. Her affections still cause her to lose her cool.
Nickolaf kept these thoughts from showing on his face as he let out a deep breath. Even if this was her old stomping grounds, he had found it strange that she wouldn’t keep such a legendary potion to herself. But if love was involved, then that would explain it.
It was the singular, and fatal, flaw of the otherwise perfect Sitri Smart. If not for that fault, her place as the Prodigy would have been unshakable. While it may not have happened too often, one could hardly be a good Alchemist if calls from their lover repeatedly caused them to shove important experiments onto others and dash off somewhere.
The normal Sitri’s top priority would be replication, not an antidote. No, that went for any Alchemist. Even for a mythic item that had gone hundreds of years without being replicated, an analysis of a sample was bound to reveal a hint or two about how it might be replicated.
If Sitri had brought the potion without hesitation, producing an antidote would have likely been more difficult than replicating it. It would require time, facilities, and manpower, thus leaving her nowhere else to turn. She did this regardless of the fact that reproducing the potion would make her name a legend. She was willing to throw away a chance at glory.
“You’re an Alchemist, you can’t let your composure slip!” Nickolaf shouted at her. She was trying to stay calm, but she couldn’t conceal her unease. “Get a hold of yourself, Sitri!”
“But...”
In her state of panic, Sitri was forgetting something important. If she had her usual presence of mind, she definitely would have noticed it. Seeing her acting so disgracefully, Nickolaf felt compelled to chide her.
Strawberry Blaze had a unique trait found in no other potion. According to the legends, you could fully control anyone you gave a thrall potion to. This, however, raised one problem: how did the potion tell someone whom they were to obey? It didn’t just choose whoever happened to be standing nearby. Something so unreliable wouldn’t have been able to bring about so much tragedy.
All sorts of researchers had struggled with this conundrum. All information regarding the potion had been erased, but consulting history books allowed them to form and exchange theories. They reached an inevitable conclusion—the potion must have been made with techniques beyond just those of alchemy.
To be precise about its powers: the potion made one subservient to whoever gave it to them. This was how it had caused so much grief. This was the defining trait of thrall potions, the reason Strawberry Blaze hadn’t been re-created in hundreds of years, and the cause for so many Alchemists attempting to understand these potions in the hope of producing their own. Determining how to imbue such a trait would alter the history of Alchemy. With its irrational nature, it was less akin to the logical art of magic and closer to the not-so-logical art of curses.
The existence of Strawberry Blaze became known and targeted for extermination after a user passed away, allowing one of their thralls to regain their sanity and escape. This incident also made it clear that the potion could recognize who was meant to be obeyed and couldn’t be fooled. Therefore, if you gave the potion to yourself, there would be no effect.
The Thousand Tricks had probably tested it with this in mind. It was an incredibly risky thing to do, but, and Nickolaf had thought this for a long time, the Thousand Tricks would have made a very good Alchemist.
“An antidote?” he groaned after a moment’s delay. “I can’t turn down a request if it’s from a former apprentice. I’ll get a team ready immediately. And I’ll be discreet about it.”
The Primus Institute was not a monolith. Nickolaf might have been the chief, but he had enemies around every corner. With their varying sets of ethics and objectives, attempting to unify Alchemists was a fool’s errand. While the Primus Institute wasn’t as fiercely competitive as the Zebrudia Academy of Magic, it wasn’t unheard of for someone to be killed over valuable ingredients.
This was an ideal opportunity. They would produce an antidote, but Nickolaf would also attempt to replicate the potion. If he could successfully do that and discover the principles behind the potion, it would open the door to greater knowledge. It might also light the fuse of war, but how knowledge was applied was none of Nickolaf’s concern.
He ordered his trusted assistant to begin preparations. They departed with a tense look on their face.
Once they were done, Sitri steadied her breath and dipped her head. “Thank you for your assistance.”
She was an excellent student. Excellent, but with flaws. As her mentor, he found her competent and easy to deal with.
If the Thousand Tricks were a Level 8 hunter, he should have exceptional mana material absorption. The imperial capital had spots dense in mana material, just below the threshold where phantoms might start appearing, and this man had supposedly taken on a number of high-level treasure vaults. Even if Strawberry Blaze had brought nations to ruin, it was possible it wouldn’t have any effect on a man like him.
The powers of treasure hunters from hundreds of years ago were nothing like those of the current era. With each generation, humans became better suited to taking in mana material. In this aspect, mankind had only improved, never declined.
When that man proved capable of conversation despite having supposedly drunk the potion, Sitri should have been able to surmise that it hadn’t had any effect, even if she didn’t understand why. Was this love-induced blindness? Nickolaf had long ago lost that emotion, but failure was the basis of success. Perhaps this incident would cause Sitri to take a good look at herself.
But then, Nickolaf found himself hit by an intense wave of dizziness. The bell in the corner of his desk started ringing loudly. It took him only a moment to understand what was happening. He placed his hands on his desk and looked around, then up at the vent near the ceiling.
The bell was a device that detected gas, a necessary tool for any Alchemical lab. This was an attack. He didn’t know if it was paralyzing, sleep-inducing, or toxic, but he knew it was meant to bring him down.
As part of his work, he used mana material to bolster his resilience, so this was something extraordinary if it was able to make him dizzy. Only so many people could have unleashed a gas attack this deep within the institute. Sitri, being a hunter, seemed unhurt by the unexpected assault.
The purpose of the attack was all too clear. Nickolaf tightly sealed the bottle before activating every one of the guard golems lined up against the wall. The slim, custom-built golems lined up at his orders.
“Shit, they already caught on to us! I’m the chief, damn it! My golems, kill any would-be thieves who come for the potion! I will not, I repeat, will not hand it over! Sitri’s my former apprentice! This potion is material for my experiments!”
Had his assistant betrayed him? Or had someone from another laboratory seen Sitri looking panicked and decided to follow her? Either way, they were all going to die. Nickolaf would never give up on such a precious asset. He grabbed his self-made omniantidote (still in the test phase) and downed it, relieving him of his dizziness.
“Ummm,” Sitri said hesitantly, noticing Nickolaf’s strained expression, “I’d like to begin working on an antidote with all possible haste—”
“Sitri, get moving! There’ll be no antidote if they steal the potion from us! They’ll do whatever they can to take it from us. This gas is a lethal variety!”
The golems kicked open the door and moved out. At the same moment, a fierce explosion rocked the building. Burning wind and fragments of golems blew into the room. These people were ready to kill. They were intent on taking the potion, even if they had to murder Nickolaf. He couldn’t let the word spread any further. He had to take them all out.
“Let’s go, Sitri. We’re at war!”
The Ignoble watched vacantly as Nickolaf stood determined, a glimmer in his eyes.
Chapter Four: The Strongest Curse
Another day, another yawn let out as I did my daily Relic polishing. The imperial capital had seen a series of incidents over the past few days, but this day, like the previous one, was just fine. Lazily basking in the sun shining through my specially made windows, I became acutely aware of how nice peace was.
As I savored the serenity, there was a knock at my door, followed by Eva entering with a newspaper in one hand. Delivering a newspaper and giving her morning (except it was already noon) report was part of her daily routine. I had told her she didn’t need to bother with it, but someone as diligent as her would never neglect reporting to her boss.
So she concisely informed me on the state of the capital.
“It appears the empire is taking the Divinarium’s prophecy very seriously,” she said. “For starters, they’re taking a rather forceful approach to gathering information.”
“Hmm. That doesn’t sound good. There’s been too much going on around here lately.”
Eva didn’t say anything.
Yes, I had made a number of mistakes, but if the Sword Saint hadn’t given me that strange staff, the incident at ZAM wouldn’t have happened in the first place. Let’s just ignore the fact that Eliza was the starting point of all this. If I pointed this out to her, she might stop bringing me Relics, which would’ve made me sad. Besides, when she brought me so many items, there was nothing odd about a cursed item or two getting mixed in.
After nearly a full day, Sitri still hadn’t come back. I figured she would have immediately noticed that the contents of the water bottle had been swapped out, so she must have been busy with some other matter. Generally speaking, I was the only member of Grieving Souls with excess time on their hands.
While I entered energy conservation mode, one of the busy people, Eva, said to me, “By the sound of it, the church has something major.”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“Is that the truth?”
I didn’t respond.
Eva looked at me suspiciously. I guess she had already found out that I was the cause of the trouble over at the Academy of Magic.
I didn’t do it. I’ve done nothing.
I had almost nothing to do with the church. About the only thing we had in common was that Ansem was a member of the church.
There were several figures that were referred to as gods. Ansem’s church revered the Omnilucent God as the supreme deity. One of the most recognized deities in the world, they were the source of holy magic, which is to say, healing spells.
The term “Cleric” generally referred to people who worshipped this god and borrowed their power. Similarly, many hunters could be counted among the devout, including just about every Paladin out there. In Obsidian Cross, a party where everyone had some form of healing capabilities, only their Magus, Marietta, wasn’t a devotee.
Since the imperial capital was such an immense city, the Church of the Radiant Spirit had a large presence to match. But at the same time, the church tended not to interact too much with outsiders. You could join if you wanted, but they weren’t proactive about recruiting.
According to Ansem, this was because the Omnilucent God’s powers were finite. Something about how if the number of believers increased, then so would the people drawing upon the god’s powers, which would reduce the power an individual could receive. Technically, that was supposed to be one of the church’s most closely guarded secrets. It’s a miserly world.
Despite their passive approach to recruiting, the church had followers all around the world, a testament to the utility of the Omnilucent God’s powers. In fact, when I went to see Ansem once, they seemed to get the wrong idea and made a point of visibly scowling at me. I was Ansem’s best friend! His best friend! And, uh, Lucia’s brother.
I thought for a moment, wrinkles forming on my brow.
“Is it possible I did do something?” I said.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to answer that,” Eva replied. “Does anything come to mind?”
“No, nothing. But you could say the same about the thing with the Sword Saint and the thing with the Black World Tree.”
Eva looked at me silently.
Nope. I tried thinking, but nothing came up. Besides, since Ansem wasn’t like Luke or Liz in that he didn’t go dragging me around, I hadn’t even come close to a church lately. I nodded to myself, satisfied with my own slothfulness.
“Well,” Eva said with a small sigh, “the Church of the Radiant Spirit does specialize in matters pertaining to curses. I believe they’re even involved in the safeguarding of the imperial capital.”
“I understand that Ansem’s busy, but,” I checked the clock, “he should be here soon.”
It was about that time of day when my guard would change, and today Ansem would be on duty. To be fair, he was one of the most popular Paladins within the church. In terms of admirers, he probably even surpassed Lucia. Remember, the church liked him so much that they granted him that Relic armor.
Perhaps he couldn’t get away when so much buzz about that prophecy was causing so many headaches. Lately, I hadn’t had many chances to chat with Ansem and was in the mood to talk with him.
I think once he gets here, I’ll just tell him there’s nowhere I have to go today, so he doesn’t need to bother.
The newspaper talked about the attack on the magic academy, but said almost nothing regarding the cause. I guess Professor Seyge was keeping the truth a secret. Noticing a line that said nobody had died in the incident, I let out a sigh of relief. Then the Sounding Stone on my desk began to vibrate.
I felt like this thing was going off every day. I didn’t want to answer it, but I didn’t have much choice with Eva right there. Leaving it on the desk, I activated it. The stone went still, and a brief silence ensued.
“I’ll kill you,” said a strained voice.
“You’ve got the wrong man,” I replied.
“I’ll kill you! I didn’t tell you to stop the curses, then stir up something else! I told you not to cause any problems! A curse would be better than this!”
He sounded as if he were right in front of me. It hurt my ears. Good thing I had left the stone on the desk. He sounded like his voltage was pretty high, but I couldn’t help him if he didn’t tell me what had happened.
“Despite it all, I am...Lucia’s brother, you know?”
“I assume you’re aware that at this very moment, chaos is breaking out at the Primus Institute over a certain potion.”
“Franz, does your order deal with every bit of trouble that pops up in the capital?”
I groaned internally. And you keep coming to me over every little thing? Did you become one of my fans or something?
“I’ll kill you,” Franz said in a tense, rapid-fire voice. “There was a leak from one of the institute’s Alchemists. We wouldn’t have found out otherwise! It was your Alchemist who brought the potion in! Thirteen knights were lost when the Third Order tried to quell the mayhem! A paralyzing gas instantly took them out! I’m not cleaning another one of your damn messes! Get over here right now! This time, this goddamn time, you’re going to listen to me!”
