In the converted basement of his apartment near Heaven's Arena, Kevin was deep into his daily research.
"Is the dosage off?" he muttered, staring at the text glowing on the base of his pharmaceutical table.
[Corrosive Effect: Poison.]
It was another failure, resulting in a toxin. On the scales lay three items of starkly different value.
The Silver Scale held a thumb-sized piece of special protein mineral, an extremely expensive medicinal stone. This tiny piece had cost him a cool million jenny.
If the silver scale's item was pricey, the one on the Gold Scale was astronomical. It was the shed horn the Two-Headed Wolf had given him on the day of his transmigration. A rare item with a market value pushing fifty million, its price was climbing yearly due to scarcity. More importantly, Kevin only had this single horn.
He now fully understood the faint "longing" he'd felt upon first touching it. It seemed powerful, exceedingly precious pharmaceutical materials triggered a subconscious craving within him. The more potent and rare the material, the stronger the pull. It wasn't purely about cost, though; the million-jenny protein stone also elicited a faint trace of desire.
Conversely, he had another precious material, bought at an online auction for over six million and delivered by private jet, that elicited no reaction at all. Currently, only the horn and the protein stone triggered this instinct.
The Copper Scale held a fusion agent. Drawing on his inherited knowledge and recent studies, Kevin had tried numerous agents to marry the properties of the two primary materials. The problem was, none yielded the desired effect.
The best result the table had displayed so far was: [Slight Perception of Malice.]
At first glance, it sounded miraculous. But in his current state, even without a potion, Kevin could sense hostile intent. The precision of that sense, however, was untested.
The legend behind the Two-Headed Wolf's horns explained their value. The scarce species was said to have evolved the ability to distinguish emotions and discern intent over millennia, with the source of this ability rumored to be in their horns. Powdered horn was believed to alleviate mental ailments, a belief with enough basis in fact to keep demand—and prices—sky-high, pushing the species toward extinction.
The special protein stone, which also sparked that faint longing, was known to sharpen the mind and enhance mental agility. The two materials were theoretically compatible in nature. They simply lacked the perfect catalyst.
Another failure. With a sigh, Kevin crossed out the latest fusion agent's entry in his thick research notebook.
"The list of plausible fusion agents is getting thin…" he mumbled, scanning his records. He shook his head. "Enough for today. Time to process the new shipment."
He turned his attention to the batch of materials that had arrived via air freight earlier. After processing them—cleaning, grinding, portioning—he began the more routine work of potion-making.
Over the months, Kevin had developed a rough classification system for his concoctions, based on memory, old lab notes, and his own experimentation:
D-Grade Potions: Made from common, inexpensive materials. Their effects mirror over-the-counter pharmaceuticals but with superior efficacy and speed, completing treatment within the potion's fifteen-minute duration. They can treat common fevers, colds, influenza, and various allergies. He possessed numerous formulas for these, most inherited from the original owner's logs.
C-Grade Potions: Crafted from more expensive, harder-to-acquire materials. Their effects rival high-end prescription drugs or even surgical intervention, and their applications extend beyond simple therapy. This was the tier of potion Kevin now routinely kept in his personal inventory.
The work was methodical, a grounding counterpoint to the elusive high-level research. As he began the familiar process, the glow of the table and the hum of aura filled the quiet basement, a testament to both an inherited obsession and a new, determined ownership.
He had a small but growing arsenal. Among his C-Grade potions, two were inherited works of the original body, two were theoretical formulas the original lacked the power to complete—brought to life by Kevin—and one was his own, hard-won creation from months of trial and error.
Truth Serum: Exactly as named. Those with weak wills would answer any question posed to them under its influence. A staple of the original's illicit dealings.
Bone-Knit Solution: Again, literal. Applied to a set fracture, it would mend standard bone breaks within the fifteen-minute duration.
These two had been the original Kevin's primary money-makers.
Strength Potion: Increased muscular power and amplified the visibility of one's aura, at the cost of accelerated stamina and aura consumption.
Healing Salve: Accelerated the healing of internal and external wounds, similarly draining stamina and aura in the process.
These two were collaborative efforts, born from formulas in the old lab notes and refined by Kevin's current understanding and adjustments. They represented a bridge between his past and present selves.
Digestion Catalyst: His original creation. It continuously consumed the user's aura to massively accelerate the breakdown and assimilation of food, converting it into usable energy and nutrients at a phenomenal rate.
This was his secret weapon for physical training. The protocol was brutal: first, gorge oneself to the point of sickness on high-calorie, nutrient-dense "carb bomb" foods. Then, ingest the potion. Within its fifteen-minute window, the feast would be forcibly metabolized. This had to be immediately followed by intense physical exertion to direct that explosive influx of energy into muscle and stamina growth.
The strain on the body was significant, limiting its use. Kevin had determined a cycle of once every 8-10 days was sustainable, though it varied by individual. Initially, he'd needed a 15-day recovery; now, he was down to 10.
This potion was the engine behind his rapid physical gains over the last three months. It was also a major drain on his finances, requiring a constant influx of expensive ingredients.
Soon, a new batch was complete: a pale green, slightly opaque liquid, brewed from materials worth another million jenny.
"Forty minutes this time, consuming about 40% of my latent aura. An improvement." He was pleased. The pharmaceutical table served as a precise progress tracker; by replicating the same potion, he could measure his growth through reduced time and aura cost.
He turned to a crate beside him, filled with vacuum-sealed energy bars. "Don't try to savor it. Just bite and swallow," he warned himself grimly. To maximize the Catalyst's effect, he needed extreme caloric density. Short of prohibitively expensive magical beast meat, these specially formulated bars were the only option. Their taste was… a unique form of torture.
"Eat! Eat! I eat! Gag… Keep eating!"
He demolished the box of bars in a frantic, mechanical rhythm, his face flushing with the effort. "This… is the price of a shortcut. Endure it!"
The moment the last bar was down, he chased it with the prepared Digestion Catalyst.
Instantly, his aura erupted, not outward, but inward, turning his body into a furnace. The aura burned autonomously, supercharging his digestive system. His skin flushed a deep red, heat radiating from him in waves.
In essence, isn't this also an Enhancement-type Nen ability? he mused through the discomfort. The potion's effect was akin to using Enhancement Nen to fortify his stomach, intestines, and metabolic processes. Following that logic, if someone from a different Nen category used it, would the effect be diminished? He couldn't be sure; he hadn't risked giving his potions to anyone else.
The fifteen minutes passed in a haze of internal combustion. Finally, he exhaled a long, steamy breath as the heat began to recede and his color normalized.
Then, his stomach gave a deep, ominous gurgle.
"It's time."
He was already positioned next to the small bathroom. Without ceremony, he dashed inside.
What followed was a symphony of sound and release that lasted a solid half-hour.
"This, too, is a necessary sacrifice!" he declared to the empty room afterward, wiping his brow.
The price was paid. Now came the reward: a full day of punishing, high-intensity training to channel that torrent of raw energy into lasting strength. The cycle of sacrifice and gain continued.