{Chapter: 243: They left}
At noon, the same day...
After finishing their hearty lunch, Dex, Valeera, and Alison lingered in the private dining room for only a few minutes before preparing to part ways. The mood was calm, yet there was a trace of anticipation in the air.
Alison and Valeera had decided to set off for the Elven Kingdom of Elsera, their next destination. In response, Dex didn't waste time with courtesies. He simply waved down one of the inn attendants and instructed him to arrange a luxury carriage to escort the two women to Augustus's teleportation array.
The inn Dex was staying at—easily the most extravagant and expensive establishment in the entire city—offered services far surpassing those of high-end hotels on Earth. Where Earth's elites rode in chauffeured Rolls-Royces or sleek limousines, the aristocracy of this realm traveled in enchanted carriages pulled by majestic, high-level magical beasts. These creatures were more than just mounts—they were symbols of power and prestige, bred from rare lineages and trained to obey only the finest commands.
It was the same game of status and spectacle, only in different flavors. In every world, the powerful knew how to make an entrance.
As their carriage rolled through the bustling streets of Augustus, onlookers stopped and stared. The gleaming frame of the carriage, adorned with enchanted silver trim and glowing arcane runes, was pulled by a pair of horned Nightmanes—muscular feline creatures with gleaming fur and shadowy auras that rippled around their paws.
Valeera reclined lazily on a plush red velvet cushion, one slender leg crossed over the other, her booted foot dangling playfully. Her crimson leather armor clung to her form in all the right places, showing off her toned thighs, narrow waist, and ample curves. She stretched with feline grace, letting out a soft, exaggerated yawn that exposed her sharp canine teeth.
"Mmm~ This city smells of stone, sweat, and cheap perfume," she purred with a smirk, glancing at Alison with a flick of her crimson ponytail. "Reminds me of a whorehouse I once burned down in Brightveil. Oh, the memories..."
Alison rolled her eyes but said nothing, already used to her companion's wild flair and constant teasing. The two had traveled together long enough to skip the formalities.
Dex, for his part, sat near a small cabinet built into the carriage wall, sampling the selection of wines and spirits stocked by the inn. He took two slow sips and clicked his tongue thoughtfully.
Suddenly, his expression changed.
"Ah, right... I've got that cocktail mixing skill," he muttered to himself.
As any true craftsman should, Dex believed mastery came from practice. And now seemed like as good a time as any.
He pulled open the cabinet further, revealing a hidden compartment with dozens of small potion flasks, dried fruit slices, elixirs, herbal powders, and even shards of flavored ice. With deft fingers, he began his work—pouring out minuscule amounts from each bottle, letting the taste speak to him with every drop. A tingle on his tongue. A burning aftertaste. A sour, biting zest. One by one, he identified the properties.
Valeera watched with mild curiosity at first, then with growing amusement. Her emerald eyes narrowed slightly, a smirk forming on her lips as she leaned forward, placing both hands under her chin and giving Dex a slow, catlike tilt of her head.
"My, my," she cooed, her voice silky smooth. "I thought you were just a swordsman with a mean temper and a decent appetite. But now you're... shaking bottles like a brothel alchemist."
Dex didn't look up. "You're not entirely wrong."
Valeera licked her lips slowly, dramatically, then leaned toward Alison and whispered in a teasing tone just loud enough for him to hear: "Is he trying to impress us? Or poison us?"
Alison stifled a laugh. "I think he's doing both."
What puzzled both elves, however, was not the fact that Dex was making a cocktail—but how he was doing it.
The potion flasks and ingredients in his hands moved so fast they seemed to blur. With each flick of his fingers, new elements entered the glass—an iridescent powder, a drop of golden nectar, a sliver of rainbow-colored fruit, and something that might have been a phoenix's tear.
In less than a minute, Dex had added 375 separate ingredients into the glass.
Valeera leaned closer, eyebrows raised. "By the Moonwell… is he summoning a drink or preparing a curse?"
She sniffed the air, then recoiled slightly. The mixture smelled... odd. Not foul, but not appealing either. A heavy, sticky scent clung to the air.
The result looked like a murky, grayish sludge, its texture resembling gelatinous soup more than any beverage.
Valeera wrinkled her nose in disgust and crossed her arms under her breasts, which only served to accentuate her curves further. She scowled. "You cannot be serious. That looks like an orc spit filtered through a troll's armpit."
Dex only shrugged in reply, unimpressed by her dramatics. Without a word, he raised the glass, tossed the contents high into the air with a careless flourish—and before even a drop could fall, he twisted his wrist and caught the drink again in a seamless reverse pour, not spilling a single drop.
He repeated this again. And again. And again.
The two elves blinked. In under thirty seconds, Dex had performed the aerial cocktail maneuver thousands of times, each more fluid and impossibly precise than the last. The drink began to steam slightly, the temperature changing from the violent shaking.
And then, suddenly, the carriage was filled with the most intoxicating aroma either of them had ever encountered.
Alison gasped softly, her eyes fluttering. "That smell…"
It was a fragrance unlike any they had ever known—like a thousand ripe fruits compressed into a single intoxicating breath. It was as if a lush orchard had burst to life within the carriage, bursting through their senses and dragging their minds into sensual reverie.
Even Valeera, hardened rogue that she was, couldn't resist inhaling deeply. She let out a low hum of pleasure, eyes half-lidded, her thighs shifting slightly on the seat.
"Mmm~ That… I could drink that off your lips," she murmured huskily toward Dex, her voice practically purring.
Dex raised an eyebrow. "Noted."
"Noted, he says," she teased, brushing a hand through her long hair and licking her lower lip. "You'll be the death of me, darling. Or the best mistake I ever made."
He ignored the flirtation, turning his attention back to the drink.
"Duang~!"
With a loud and satisfying clink, Dex slammed the glass down onto the polished carriage table. It didn't spill a single drop.
The sharp clink of the glass against the table made both Alison and Valeera raise their eyebrows. For a brief second, they both flinched, as if expecting the crystal to shatter under Dex's careless strength. But the cup held firm.
Their momentary concern quickly faded as something far more captivating stole their attention.
Swirling inside the glass was a luminous liquid that shimmered like a miniature galaxy, glowing and rotating with a mesmerizing pulse. It looked as if someone had distilled a nebula and trapped it in a cup.
Even Alison—usually composed and indifferent—leaned forward slightly, her eyes reflecting the kaleidoscope of colors. A flicker of fascination danced across her face.
"It's... beautiful," she breathed, almost in a whisper. "I can't believe that turbid mess from earlier became this…"
Dex smirked, stretching back leisurely in his seat. His voice was lazy, but edged with irony. "What a realistic woman. Just a moment ago you were looking at it like it was a puddle of sewage."
Before Alison could protest, Valeera was already on the move.
Her presence was like a flame slipping through shadows—deliberate, graceful, and entirely predatory.
She leaned forward with a sultry smile, her emerald eyes gleaming under the dim interior light. One gloved finger traced the rim of the glass slowly, teasingly, drawing a soft, circular pattern as if invoking a spell.
Then she tilted her head and locked eyes with Dex, her voice dripping with seductive mockery.
"Well, bartender," she purred, lips curving upward, "are you going to pour it, or shall I help myself to a taste?"
Her voice lingered in the air like perfume—sweet, dangerous, and hard to ignore.
Dex raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn't react to the provocation. He simply picked up the bottle and poured the drink into three even portions, the glowing liquid cascading like molten starlight into each glass. Then he casually took his own and sipped.
His eyes half-lidded in satisfaction as the taste bloomed across his tongue.
"Perfect," he murmured with smug pride. "Worthy of being my creation."
Alison and Valeera simultaneously rolled their eyes at his shamelessness—but neither of them argued. Even they couldn't deny the truth of his words.
To the elves—beings with lifespans stretching centuries and senses far sharper than mortals—this drink was a masterpiece. A rare blend of aesthetic elegance and intoxicating strength. Just the appearance alone would've earned it a score of nine out of ten.
A sip, and their suspicions were confirmed.