Translator: CinderTL
"Roland..."
Inside the tent, Avril struggled to chew the black bread in her mouth.
Her small, palm-sized face was etched with bitterness.
"When you went to see Lord Graham earlier, did he say when we can leave here?"
"Dean Graham said... we still have to wait."
Roland felt the gritty, sand-like texture of the bread in his mouth. He set it down, grabbed the water flask beside him, and took several long gulps.
"Still waiting?"
Avril, who had been listlessly sprawled on the table, suddenly sat bolt upright, her voice filled with complaint.
"It's been a whole ten days! I can't stand eating this stuff anymore..."
As if in defiance, she stuffed the remaining large chunk of black bread into her mouth.
Her cheeks puffed out like an angry hamster, her eyes glaring ahead in frustration.
"Just bear with it a little longer, Avril..."
Roland looked at the dark bread in his hand and sighed helplessly.
Vanessa's supply of concentrated nutritional potions was already dwindling.
To prepare for any unforeseen circumstances, Roland had gathered the remaining potions upon arriving at the military camp and, like the other soldiers, began eating the rations provided.
Ever since the chasm had cut off their supply lines, the camp's food had...
It even reminded Roland of his days at the Blackwater Territory Manor, when he had failed the Blacksmith Apprentice Assessment.
But even then, things had been better than now.
At least he could occasionally enjoy a thin vegetable soup to break the monotony.
Roland shook his head and struggled to swallow the last piece of bread with water.
He leaned back against his chair and scanned the crowded tent.
Though newer than the tents he had shared with Avril's group, the space was still miserably cramped.
And yet, five people were crammed into this tiny space.
It wasn't that Lord Graham was mistreating them; it was just that...
Mason, by nature shy and introverted, felt uncomfortable alone in the unfamiliar military camp. Except for sleeping, he spent most of his time in Roland's tent.
Orc Freddy's fearsome and grotesque appearance had led to numerous misunderstandings these past few days, so he had simply taken refuge in Roland's tent.
As for Avril...
She had been a frequent visitor to Roland's home even when they were in the capital, so Roland was already accustomed to her presence.
Finally, there was Vanessa...
Roland's gaze fell on the Purple-Haired Witch, who occupied nearly half the tent. He sighed softly and asked, "Vanessa, have you made any progress with your research? Have you found any clues?"
"What's this, Mr. Roland..."
Vanessa didn't look up, but chuckled lightly, her tone laced with her usual teasing. "Does having me in the same tent make you uncomfortable?"
Though she spoke, her hands never stopped moving.
The wooden table before her was piled high with alchemical tools she had brought. Finely ground powders of various colors lay scattered nearby, and a crucible bubbled with strange, ethereal steam.
At the center of the table, perfectly centered, lay a shriveled, withered, octopus-like skull—the mind flayer's head.
This skull had been Roland's primary reason for seeking out Graham earlier.
After reporting the situation to the Dean, Roland gathered his companions to explain the next phase of their plan.
Unlike the others, who reacted with relief, Vanessa showed intense interest in the mind flayer's head Roland had mentioned.
Considering her success in brewing a potion to unlock psychic potential, Roland paused briefly before visiting Graham again to request the head.
Graham didn't refuse.
For him, the mind flayer's head was just sitting there, and at most he'd take it back to make a trophy specimen.
So Roland obtained it without difficulty and handed it over to the Purple-Haired Witch, who was absorbed in her research.
As Roland drifted in thought, Vanessa's research quietly neared its conclusion.
Her slender fingers moved deftly between glass vessels, and the liquid in the crucible, licked by demon flames, gradually clarified from a murky haze to a deep, almost ominous indigo.
Ancient, rhythmic syllables flowed softly from her lips, and the faint light flickering at her fingertips seemed alive, carefully guiding the flow of psionic energy essence.
"It's done."
After a moment, the Purple-Haired Witch finally stopped her movements. Her voice was tinged with fatigue, yet excitement shone through.
She raised a slender crystal vial filled with a viscous liquid.
The color was far deeper and richer than the potion used to awaken psychic potential earlier, its texture resembling slow-flowing syrup.
Superficially, it looked remarkably similar to unrefined mind flayer blood.
But...
Roland held his breath. His naturally dissipating mental power instantly coalesced, probing the crystal vial like invisible tendrils.
Though he sensed a heavy, viscous flow of energy within, astonishingly, he detected not a trace of the mind flayer's malicious, twisted mental whispers.
This discovery ignited a deeper curiosity in Roland regarding the Purple-Haired Witch's mastery of alchemy.
"What method did she use..."
Roland replayed Vanessa's seemingly ordinary alchemy steps in his mind, ultimately shaking his head slowly.
Meanwhile, Vanessa gently swirled the vial. As the deep purple liquid slowly slid down the glass, she gazed at the flowing, dark purple light within, a subtle, enigmatic smile curving her lips.
"Fascinating... Beneath this 'calm,' the strength seems even more restrained... and more concentrated."
Just as before, the witch divided the potion into two equal portions.
First, she drank one portion, licking her lips with lingering satisfaction before offering the other to Roland.
Just as Roland reached out to take it, Avril instinctively blocked Vanessa's arm.
The elf girl's undisguised wariness prompted Roland to gently pat her shoulder before accepting the crystal bottle.
This seemingly innocuous gesture of reassurance, however, drew a provocative eyebrow raise from Vanessa, causing Avril to narrow her eyes slightly. The lively smile that had graced her face vanished instantly.
But Roland paid no heed to the silent clash between the two women.
His attention was entirely focused on the potion in his hand.
After confirming that the potion appeared normal, he tilted his head back and drained the bottle in one gulp.
The thick, icy liquid slid down his throat, leaving a strange, almost metallic, astringent sensation—far more intense than the mild potion he'd taken before.
It wasn't like water; it was more like a mass of frozen, slowly melting ice, carrying an indescribable weight as it plunged into his stomach.
Instantly, a frigid, piercing torrent exploded within his abdomen.
But this wasn't mere cold; it was an icy chill infused with untamed energy, as if a polar storm had been compressed into liquid form.
Unlike the previous potion, this force didn't spread gently. Instead, it fractured into countless sharp, icy psionic energy currents that violently surged through every nerve ending in his limbs and core.
(End of the Chapter)
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