Herbal concoction

Chapter - 41

“I’m sorry… how long have you been here?” Zavi asked, wearing an awkward expression.

The question lingered in the air like thin smoke, as if the two of them were hiding something—something that could not yet be explained.

They exchanged glances with one another. It left Zavi confused, yet at the same time relieved, because he had obtained the important material.

“Let me carry it,” the man said. His voice was calm, like the night breeze.

Moreira, who had been holding the materials all this time, immediately handed them over to the stall owner. Ulriech—that was his name. He turned slightly, then invited Zavi to the back, into the house, to prepare the herbal potion.

“Hm…”

For a moment, Zavi looked at them before stepping forward with the help of his two wooden canes. The tips of the canes tapped against the stone road, forming a slow, steady rhythm.

Moreira had not yet realized that Zavi’s leg was gone. Esvalen, however—a third-tier evil spirit—caught that detail instantly. She immediately thought of revealing the truth to Moreira.

“That man’s leg is gone!” she said, pointing at Zavi who had just entered the house. “Could it be that the monster took it?” she asked, her expression remaining cold, as if it were nothing extraordinary.

Moreira’s lips pressed tightly together. His eyes widened as the image of Minehold surged back into his mind.

Should I tell him? What about the three of them? Are they all right? he thought, anxiety flooding his chest.

Inside the house, precisely in the kitchen, Ulriech stood in thought, recalling the composition of his herbal potion. A few minutes passed. Once everything aligned clearly in his mind, he moved without hesitation, ready to brew it and receive payment for his work.

Business was business. That principle kept him moving, regardless of whether Receivers or other Hollows might target him, or how rival potion sellers might react.

What mattered was that he was ready—and that he convinced Zavi, as well as himself, that the potion would not damage Zavi’s body. On the contrary, it would change everything.

…

First, Ulriech burned one spoon containing four finely ground terami flowers, until a pungent fragrance spread—an unsettling blend of corpse and ritual incense.

Step one completed.

He poured the ashes into a glass bottle that tapered upward.

Five grams of finely ground blue mint leaves were added into the bottle.

Step two completed.

With four terami flowers and five grams of mint, Ulriech added all of the Xie powder as a stabilizer.

After step three was completed and the three ingredients mixed, a strange sound suddenly filled the room. Screams, cries, and burning rage overlapped chaotically.

Unable to endure the piercing noise that stabbed at their heads and raised goosebumps, both of them instinctively dropped to their knees.

“Damn it… what kind of pressure is this?” Ulriech muttered in panic. This was the first time he had ever felt such a reaction.

With great effort, he forced himself to stand, even as the sounds continued to echo in his head.

On the table beside him, he grabbed the second crucial ingredient: crystal particles.

The moment the particles entered the bottle, the strange sounds and pressure vanished instantly, as if a ship had sunk without a trace into the ocean.

Step four completed.

Two cinnamon sticks were cut into smaller pieces to fit, then added along with two stalks of lemongrass, also finely chopped.

Step five completed.

One rare white grape, previously purchased by the two of them, was added together with fifty milliliters of fresh cow’s milk—no less, no more. Any miscalculation would lead to unpredictable consequences.

Step six completed.

Finally, the third and most important ingredient.

This material triggered an extreme surge of adrenaline upon consumption. If the drinker’s mental state was unstable, they could lose control, suffer severe dissociation, or even die seconds later.

However, if their will and consciousness were strong enough, this ingredient would instead “lock” their psyche—not dead, not insane, but forced to endure all pain and transformation in full awareness.

The blue lotus flower.

The flower was first ground down, mixed with twenty milliliters of water, then poured into the bottle.

Step seven, and the final step, completed.

Whoosh—

A violent wind suddenly swept through the room from nowhere. Doors and windows shut on their own, even though the kitchen had no ventilation at all.

Ulriech knew. This was the moment just before the potion fused on its own.

Auras of purple, black, and gray poured out from the bottle’s mouth, filling the kitchen and distorting both sight and smell.

They coughed violently. Their chests pounded like balloons being overinflated, forcing them to stumble out of the kitchen. Seconds later—

The door slammed shut.

That event became Zavi’s first such experience—and a valuable lesson. He did not know what lay hidden out there—beyond the continent, in the seas, in rivers, in lakes, or even all around him.

“A-are you all right, sir…?” Zavi asked, his voice barely audible as he covered his mouth.

“Ulriech,” he replied. “This is nothing. I’m used to it,” he said, his face filled with confidence.

About a minute later, Ulriech reached for the doorknob with a hand that felt cold—the lingering effect of the blue lotus.

The knob turned slowly. The hinge creaked as the door opened.

On the table, the potion glowed like a disco lamp—blue, dark purple, and gray pulsing together. A sight they had never seen before, leaving their eyes wide open.

“Please take it, and of course drink it exactly as I instructed earlier.” Ulriech sealed the bottle with a wooden stopper and handed it to Zavi.

“With pleasure,” Zavi replied, smiling faintly.

A strange question crossed his mind. Doubtful, yet needing certainty.

“Mr. Ulriech… drinking this won’t kill me, right?” he asked, the corner of his lips twitching upward.

Ulriech burst into laughter, dispelling the tension in the room.

“It won’t. Trust me… probably,” he muttered, slowing down the last word.

“As for the payment, my wife said your female companion paid around twenty bills. I didn’t count them, but it was clearly more than three hundred. Far above the original price,” he said with a small laugh.

After that, Ulriech stepped forward. He paused briefly, patted Zavi on the shoulder, then went back to tidying his goods. The day was growing late.

Zavi then walked out of the house with his canes, approaching the others who were still waiting outside.

The potion bottle was hidden between his shirt and trousers—at the back. Meanwhile, he discarded his damaged coat without hesitation.

The silver revolver, now empty of bullets, was tucked between his outerwear and shirt on the left side, making his waist feel slightly uncomfortable whenever he sat or walked.

His steps halted when he saw Moreira standing not far from the doorway, staring at him with an expression where enthusiasm clashed with gloom.

Zavi continued forward, carefully lowering his two wooden canes down the small steps, then asked what had actually happened.

“What’s wrong with you? Is something troubling your mind?” Zavi asked with concern, his blue eyes staring straight ahead.

“Maybe the weather here is really bad… I think I’m exhausted. Can we find an inn to rest for the night?”

Before agreeing, Zavi paused for a moment, recalling how much money he had left on this journey.

“Alright,” he finally answered. “I need some rest too,” he muttered hoarsely.

Wandering around, assisted by Esvalen in searching for a simple inn or apartment to stay the night, turned out to be far more difficult than they had expected.

They nearly collapsed from exhaustion and despair. At a street intersection, Esvalen spotted a flyer advertising cheap apartment rentals. As expected from the price, the place was located in a secluded area—almost no neighbors around.

It made them hesitate. However, Esvalen insisted—and as a third-tier evil spirit, she claimed that no ghosts or other spirits would dare approach, let alone fight her.

Naturally, they did not fully trust the words coming from one of her own kind. Meanwhile, Zavi became even more cautious than before, staying alert in case something attacked them. Especially since his ability had suddenly stopped activating like it used to.

He thought that the Prisoner might be experiencing an issue at the moment—some kind of malfunction, like a bug in a game—and that his body was still in the process of correcting it.

With that thought, and drawing from his gaming experience, Zavi felt it made sense to be more careful. Caution before disaster struck was never wrong.

The flyer looked ordinary when Esvalen showed it. The paper was dull, the corners folded, and the black ink slightly faded, as if it had been hanging for too long in a place rarely passed by.

The address was clear. The rent was absurdly cheap for the area.

Zavi stared at it for a few seconds longer than necessary. Not out of interest, but because something felt off. His chest felt slightly heavy—not painful, just… uncomfortable. Like the feeling of playing a game and never winning even once.

“Strange,” he muttered without realizing he had spoken aloud.

Esvalen tilted her head. “What’s strange?”

“I don’t know,” Zavi replied briefly. “It feels like… this place has been waiting for someone.”

Moreira swallowed, glancing around. The street suddenly felt quiet. Too quiet. Even the wind seemed restrained, as if an invisible boundary was pressing down on the area.

In the end, they moved on, deciding they had lingered too long and had no other choice, having found no other places to rent.

Zavi walked with his two canes, while Moreira was carried by Esvalen—something that should not have been the case.

They arrived and met the apartment owner, a middle-aged woman with a peculiar way of speaking, who also used a wheelchair.

After discussing the rental price and seeing that the house and its interior were not too bad, Zavi finally agreed and rented it for twenty-five Zen for the night, adding extra out of pity. The original price was twenty.

The clock showed 23:30. Half an hour until midnight, when he would do what Ulriech had instructed earlier.

At this hour, Moreira was already asleep on the bed beside him, either from extreme exhaustion or mental strain, allowing him to sleep soundly in the house he had previously feared.

Meanwhile, Esvalen was in the next room, not sleeping, watching the surroundings. She sensed something wrong within this house, and in the houses across, beside, and near this rental.

Exactly at 23:59, Zavi decided to leave his room, gently closing the door so as not to wake Moreira, then quietly walked toward the stairs and exited the house to drink the herbal potion.

Standing while leaning against the wall of the house across the road—uninhabited and poorly lit—Zavi took out his watch, opened its cover, and carefully watched the movement of the hands.

56. 57. 58. 59.

00.00

Click. The watch snapped shut, and he slipped it back into his pocket.

Zavi opened the bottle, stared at the liquid inside, then drank it down to the last drop…