Chapter 39: A Gift from Mephisto?
For Tony Stark, a mystic potion that could instantly yank him out of a full-blown anxiety attack was nothing short of miraculous.
But for Lynn, this potion was just the basics. Kid stuff, really.
The recipe was pathetically simple—it just forced a chaotic mind back to baseline.
Any run-of-the-mill alchemist could have brewed it.
***
When they reached the end of the tunnel, the first thing they saw was a massive pit, so deep it looked bottomless.
Steve's and Natasha's teams hadn't emerged from their tunnels yet.
Lynn cracked a glowstick, walked to the edge, and let it drop.
He watched the chemical light tumble into the chasm, swallowed by the darkness, silently counting the seconds in his head.
"313 meters."
Tony Stark blurted out the number the exact second the glowstick hit bottom. "See? Science wins."
Just then, the other two teams emerged.
But compared to Lynn and Tony, they looked like they'd been through hell.
Even the Hulk was carrying a shredded bat wing in one massive fist.
"That pit is deep."
Staring down into the three-hundred-meter drop, Natasha turned to Tony. "Tony, can you light that up?"
"No problem at all."
Tony shot Lynn a smug wink, and the arc reactor in his chest flared, blasting a blinding white beam into the darkness.
But when the light hit the bottom, the playful mood vanished. Every Avenger present went rigid.
The bottom of the pit was a mass grave, filled with countless skeletons, discarded like garbage.
And mixed in with the bones were the fresh bodies of boys and girls, so recent they hadn't even begun to rot.
Elsa Bloodstone tightened her grip on her blade. "This is what they do. In their eyes, humans are just livestock. They don't care how many they kill."
"It's why my family, and the other three Hunter families, have made it our life's work to hunt them to extinction."
Tony's eyes went red-hot. His voice was low and serious. "The vampires have to die. All of them. Here, in Europe, everywhere."
"My god... I can't even imagine how many innocent people they've murdered."
Clint didn't say a word. He just methodically swapped his standard arrowheads for high-explosive tips.
Hulk just clenched his fists, his breathing heavy and ragged.
Steve stood up, his grip tightening on his shield. He looked toward the castle ahead, his voice grave. "Alright, team. It's time to end this."
"Avengers, assemble."
At his command, the entire team, including Elsa, readied themselves for the fight.
As for Lynn...
...he scanned the area. 'Damn. No spirits.'
'He'd been hoping for another jackpot like with Korthess, with thirty-plus purple-level obsessions all in one place.'
'But there wasn't even a single green one here. What a waste.'
The team charged. Tony took the lead, blasting the entrance with UV rays.
Lynn ran in with them, half-heartedly sliced a few vampire grunts, and tossed a slowing potion into the mix. After that, he started slacking off.
There was no helping it. Once the vampires were slowed, they might still be a threat to civilians or even agents...
...but against the Avengers and a Bloodstone? They were hopelessly outmatched.
Lynn lopped the head off another vampire, and then his gaze was inexplicably drawn to a painting on the second-floor landing.
He glanced back at the chaotic brawl—vampires screaming as they were cut down—and then just walked up the stairs to get a closer look.
The painting depicted a man in a black tuxedo leaning on a cane, apparently in conversation with another man, also in a high-collared suit.
The difference was, the man in the high-collared suit was clearly a vampire.
The man with the cane, though... Lynn felt like he knew him from somewhere.
Just as he was trying to place the face, the man with the cane in the painting turned his head.
He lightly tipped the black top hat on his head and then, with perfect elegance, gave Lynn a small, knowing nod.
The utterly bizarre sight made Lynn take an involuntary step back. At the same time, it clicked. He knew exactly who this bastard was.
Mephisto. The Lord of Hell. The bastard who just loved signing "fair" contracts with mortals, right before ripping out their souls.
'But why the hell was he in a painting? And why the fuck was he alive?'
Seeing Lynn's reaction, the painted Mephisto raised a single finger to his lips in a 'shh' gesture.
He then lifted his hand slightly. A hexagram blazed to life on the floor beneath Lynn, and dozens of pages covered in black runes materialized, swirling in the air before him.
[A Gift from Mephisto!]
[The contents of the grimoire, stolen by the dark sorcerer, now made complete by Mephisto himself.]
The next second, Lynn's mind ignited.
A tidal wave of knowledge—countless fantastical recipes, alchemical formulas, even forbidden black magic—surged into his consciousness.
On his system panel, his [Mystic Potion Crafting] level hadn't changed.
And yet... he suddenly understood. He knew how to brew all of it.
He had no idea how long he stood there, just staring blankly at the canvas.
Not until Tony Stark walked up and clapped him on the shoulder.
Lynn finally snapped out of the daze.
"What the hell's with you?"
Seeing Lynn's state, Tony glanced at the painting.
It was just a painting of a vampire in a high-collared suit, sitting in a chair. A self-portrait, maybe.
"You like the style?"
Tony looked back at him. "I've got a bunch of portraits like this in my collection. I can send a couple over if you want."
"Hell, if you really like this one, just take it."
Lynn, of course, saw that the painting had changed.
It was as if the whole encounter had been a dream.
But the knowledge of alchemy and black magic now burned into his brain was definitely real.
Hell, he even knew how to create a homunculus from a simple chicken egg.
"Burn it."
He shook his head, pulling out a lighter and setting the canvas on fire.
He watched it burn. Nothing else happened.
Only then did Lynn let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
'So, was that real? Did Mephisto just show up to give him the rest of the grimoire's knowledge?'
Just as he was trying to figure it out, a sharp cry from Natasha snapped everyone to attention.
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