Translator: CinderTL
The Devilfish is a peculiar deep-sea creature, with adults only reaching the size of a palm.
Unlike other aquatic fish, they possess a terrifyingly grotesque appearance. Their skin is covered in bizarre, twisting patterns, and a row of razor-sharp spines runs along their dorsal ridge.
Most chillingly, their eyes aren't located on the sides of their heads like other fish. Instead, they're connected to their foreheads by a soft, fleshy stalk, standing upright like lighthouses in the center of their foreheads.
When the eyeballs rotate, they resemble the demonic eyes from adventure novels, making them all the more terrifying.
This is how they earned their name: Devilfish.
The flesh of these fish is foul-tasting and coarse, and they're easily caught in the deep sea, making them incredibly cheap in the market. Fishermen even use them as add-ons to force upon customers who buy higher-quality catches.
Roland had meticulously verified these details with over a dozen guards and servants who had coastal living experience before setting out for Far Ocean Port.
That's why he frowned slightly after hearing the price of one silver coin and twelve copper coins.
While Darco's financial support had temporarily freed him from money worries, it didn't mean he was willing to be ripped off by merchants.
"Take it or leave it! I told you it's one silver and twelve copper coins! What are you..."
The fishmonger, hearing Roland's skeptical tone, impatiently looked up.
But when she saw his face, her tone immediately softened, and her impatience melted into a warm smile.
"Are you here to buy Devilfish, young man?"
"Yes."
Roland nodded, his gaze fixed on the strange, wriggling fish on the wooden board.
Just as he'd been informed, they were indeed Devilfish.
"But the price..."
"You don't understand, young man."
The fishmonger wiped the fish blood from her hands on her apron, her eyes gleaming as she looked at Roland.
"Devilfish used to be much cheaper, but a few months ago, a group of people in white robes suddenly started buying them up in bulk."
"And lately, for some reason, these ugly things seem to have gotten smarter. Fishermen say they're coming back empty-handed nine out of ten times they go out."
"With supply so low, the price naturally went up. And..." she leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. "My price is actually quite reasonable. Look at the stall next door—they're charging eight copper coins more than I am!"
White robes?
The Church of Truth?
Recalling the mysterious figures he'd encountered in the Dawn Territory, Roland fell deep into thought.
Were they also using Devilfish to brew potions?
Besides that, Roland couldn't think of any other possibility.
It couldn't be to improve their meals, could it?
Seeing Roland remain silent, the fishmonger Jenny shrugged helplessly.
"If you think it's too expensive, you can always try fishing yourself. But..."
She pointed towards the port.
Small boats bearing the Black Shell Trading Company's shell flag were patrolling the sea, completely sealing off the surrounding waters.
"This area is under contract to the Black Shell Trading Company. If you want to fish, you'll have to try your luck beyond Far Ocean Port."
Try his luck?
He didn't have time to waste here.
Moreover, deep-sea fishing required extensive experience and reliable assistants. Encountering extreme weather without them would be like walking straight into death's embrace.
Seeing Roland still hesitate, Jenny didn't press further. Instead, she gently tapped his sturdy chest with a rough finger. Her already soft voice suddenly turned sickeningly sweet.
"If you don't trust me, young man, you can check the other stalls nearby. But..."
She paused meaningfully.
"I can hold this Devilfish for you for a while."
"Thank you, madam."
"Just call me Jenny."
Her wrinkles crinkled into a flower from excessive smiling.
Roland nodded his thanks and turned to the other fish stalls.
Jenny hadn't lied.
The nearby vendors all gave the same explanation, and their prices were considerably higher.
After wandering around, Roland finally returned to Jenny's stall.
Watching the Devilfish still flopping on the wooden board, he gritted his teeth.
"Madam Jenny, how many Devilfish do you have left?"
"Eleven left, young man," Jenny replied, her eyes brightening.
"I'll take them all. How much?"
"All of them?" Jenny's movements became swift and efficient. She quickly packed the fish into a sack while smiling. "I'll give you a discount—eleven silver coins."
That's how you give a discount? Roland's expression became subtly complex, but he said nothing. He silently counted out eleven silver coins from his pouch and placed them in Jenny's palm.
Though their contact lasted only a moment, Jenny's face flushed visibly.
After confirming the number of Devilfish in the sack, Roland smiled faintly and turned to leave.
As his figure disappeared at the end of the alley, the plump woman selling oysters nearby suddenly shouted, her voice booming.
"Oh, Jenny! That discount was sharper than the tide receding!"
Her greasy apron cinched her waist into three layers of folds.
"Last time I asked you for two fish, you wouldn't even budge a copper!"
The one-eyed old man from the stall across the way immediately chimed in, tapping his fishhook against the wooden board to egg them on.
"That young man's silver coins must be coated in honey, softening even our iron rooster's tongue!"
The fishmongers burst into laughter, their grimy leather boots splashing loudly on the wet floor.
Jenny snatched up a long fish and slammed it onto the counter with a wet thud. Blood splattered from the fish's tail, landing squarely on Old Niren's alcohol-soaked nose.
"Old Niren, if you keep gossiping, I'll tell the sheriff about how you've been swapping dead fish for live ones!"
Turning to the plump Martha, she brandished her fish-scale-covered scissors.
"And you, Martha, who owed you for three baskets of clams last month without paying? Should I remind you right now?"
"Oh, come on, Jenny, don't get so angry," the seafood shop's curly-haired proprietress interjected sarcastically, twirling a finger around a lock of hair. "We're just envious, after all..."
Suddenly, she mimicked Jenny's cloying tone.
"Just call me Jenny."
Jenny's face flushed redder than a boiled crab. She grabbed an octopus and hurled it at her.
Roland, of course, knew nothing of the commotion at the fish market.
He hurried back to the inn with his heavy pouch, hastily bought some food to fill his stomach, and specifically instructed the waiter not to let anyone disturb him before retreating into his room.
After locking the door, he unfastened the bag he'd brought from the manor, took out the equipment and ingredients needed to brew the Spirit Summoning Potion for the Awakened Consciousness Shoal, sat down at the wooden table, and slowly closed his eyes.
"Spirit Summoning Potion..."
As he murmured the words, his focus trait quietly activated.
In his mind, the Spirit Summoning Potion recipe he had memorized flowed like living water, every step and detail vividly clear.
Opening his eyes, his hands moved with steady precision as he methodically processed the ingredients.
Soon, the wooden table was covered with various herbs and materials, each prepared in a different way.
The water in the crucible began to boil, sending up wisps of white steam.
Crafting the Spirit Summoning Potion, a potion of considerable complexity, is fraught with challenges from start to finish. The recipe's descriptions are often frustratingly abstract.
For instance, the brewing process requires precise timing: processed ingredients must be added to boiling water one after another, with no room for error.
However, this crucial timing depends heavily on the fineness of the ingredients' grinding.
If ground too finely, the brewing time must be shortened; if the particles are slightly coarser, the time must be extended.
These adjustments require the alchemist to carefully observe the potion's state and make informed judgments.
Furthermore, after adding the Devilfish Eye Fluid, the crucible must maintain a relatively constant temperature.
The slightest deviation can ruin the entire brewing process.
Yet the recipe offers no specific temperature, leaving the alchemist to rely on their own intuition.
Roland shook his head, carefully reviewing the brewing steps in his mind once more before beginning.
He added each ingredient to the crucible one by one, stirring slowly.
When it came time for the final ingredient, Roland reached into a pouch at his feet and pulled out a live, wriggling Devilfish.
With a gentle flick of his finger to the Devilfish's head, the creature instantly went limp.
Next, he drew the dagger from his belt and precisely sliced open the protruding eyeball on the fleshy stalk of the Devilfish's forehead.
As the iris contracted, a drop of amber-colored viscous fluid slowly seeped out.
This was the core ingredient for crafting the Spirit Summoning Potion: Devilfish Eye Fluid.
Just as fine bubbles began to surface on the water, Roland carefully dripped the precious fluid into the crucible.
In the next moment, the mixture violently churned, instantly solidifying into a lump, and a foul stench like rotting seaweed filled the air.
"Too hot," Roland frowned, pouring the failed potion into the waste bin.
On his second attempt, he adjusted the temperature.
However, this time, not only was the temperature too low, but one of the herbal powders had been ground too finely, causing the potion to fuse too quickly. This threw off the timing for adding the subsequent ingredients.
The resulting potion was murky and covered with a strange oily film, clearly unusable.
For the next few days, Roland didn't step outside his room except to eat, sleep, and buy more Devilfish.
He remained immersed in alchemy, constantly adjusting his methods based on the lessons learned from each failure.
Unnoticed, five days slipped by.
As sunlight streamed back into the room, Roland rubbed his bloodshot eyes and carefully examined the thick stack of parchment in his hands.
The parchment was densely covered in text, meticulously detailing every crucial step of the potion-making process over the past few days.
"Grind the herbs to a slightly granular state—this will help me control the timing... then the Devilfish Eye Fluid..."
After a moment of reflection, Roland began the experiment again.
Drawing on his previous experience, the early stages of brewing the Spirit Summoning Potion proceeded flawlessly, without a single hitch.
As the color of the potion in the crucible began to shift, Roland took a deep breath and immediately activated the Furnace Heart's ability, precisely adjusting the flames to the temperature he had recorded earlier.
Then, he swiftly snatched a struggling Devilfish from his pouch and unhesitatingly sliced open its bulging eyeball.
Thump!
With a soft thud, a drop of amber-colored, viscous fluid fell into the potion.
The mixture in the crucible immediately began to boil violently.
Roland narrowed his eyes, held his breath, and focused intently on every subtle change within.
After a moment, the boiling gradually subsided, and the potion finally transformed from murky to a deep, mesmerizing blue-green, its surface shimmering with tiny, mysterious phosphorescent particles.
[A finished potion has been brewed. Basic Alchemy gains 1 experience point.]
Seeing the golden text appear before him, Roland extinguished the flames and let out a long sigh of relief.
"It worked."
(End of the Chapter)
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