Though it hadn’t been long since my summoning, Jude and I had grown quite close. With him, I felt as though I could say anything that popped into my head. Even so, as he was a longtime researcher at the institute, I tried to treat him like I would any senior at a company I worked for. Still, Jude insisted I not act all stuffy with him, since we were practically the same age.
Armed with his teaching, I focused on brewing low-grade HP potions. I wanted to raise my Production skill level so that I might one day be able to make the high-grade variety. Plus, I found I enjoyed the process of leveling up via single-minded focus on the same specific task. Even at a young age, I loved games with grinding challenges, and I would become completely absorbed in completionist pursuits.
Fortunately, the low-grade HP potions weren’t wasted—we used them for research.
That was how it came to be that the first person to notice something amiss wasn’t Jude but another researcher.
“Sei,” he called for my attention from a few desks away.
“Yes, what is it?” I turned, and he beckoned me over. I didn’t know what to expect as I joined him.
Once I was at his desk, he pointed at the low-grade HP potion sitting on it. “Did you make this?”
“Um…yes, that looks like one of mine.”
We marked the vials so we could tell who brewed what, just in case someone needed to trace an effect back to the person who had created it. The vial he pointed at did indeed have my mark on it.
“Did you do anything different when you made it?” he asked.
“No, not in particular. Is something wrong?”
“Hmm. I don’t know exactly why, but the effects of your batches have been unusual.”
This researcher was developing a brand-new recipe for a potion that would enhance the effectiveness of other potions. While using one of the institute-made potions for his experiments, he noticed the outcome was distinctly different from when he used a store-bought version. On further examination, he found that while some institute-made potions had the same effects as the store-bought ones, others did not. At length, he discovered it was actually only my potions that were so different—and in fact, more effective.
When I told the researcher I hadn’t done anything other than follow the exact recipe Jude taught me, he was dubious to say the least. But I was positive I hadn’t added any other ingredients or done anything different.
“And this is really a low-grade HP potion?” the researcher pressed.
“I believe so. Or it’s whatever Jude taught me it is.”
“I see. Then perhaps I should ask him about this.” The researcher called Jude over as well and explained the apparent anomaly. I listened attentively, hoping I would have a sudden epiphany, but I didn’t have any new insights.
“You’re sure you only taught her the standard recipe for a low-grade HP potion?” the researcher asked Jude.
“Definitely. I don’t even know another way to make it.”
“Hm. I suppose the next step would be to get her potion appraised.”
“That should sort this out right away, yes.”
Because they couldn’t figure out where things had gone awry, they submitted the potion I made for an official analysis. A short while later, the researcher came back to us with the results.
To my shock, whoever appraised my potion confirmed that for some reason, it was quite a bit different from the low-grade potions available in stores. Specifically, it was about fifty percent more effective.
“Your potions really do have unusual properties,” Jude murmured while examining one of my vials in his hands.
We had submitted several more of my samples for appraisal, and it seemed every single one of them was rated more effective than anything on the market.
“But all I did was brew them the way you taught me,” I insisted.
“Well, that pink color means it’s definitely a low-grade HP potion. I wonder why it’s different.”
“Maybe I’m just super good at brewing?”
“Hmm, I’m not sure that’s our answer. What’s your Pharmaceuticals skill level right now?”
“Let me check. Stats.”
Saying “Stats” made a semi-transparent window pop up that only the spellcaster could see. It was a Practical Magic spell, one Jude had taught me to check my current skill levels. This ability to constantly monitor my level was one of the reasons I became engrossed in increasing my Production skill. The dopamine rush of seeing all my numbers increase inadvertently spurred me on toward maxing out my skills.
Sei Takanashi – Level 55/Saint
HP: 4,867/4,867
MP: 6,057/6,067
Battle Skills
Holy Magic: Level ∞
Production Skills
Pharmaceuticals: Level 8
“I’m at Level 8 now,” I confirmed after checking my Stats.
Jude tilted his head to the side, humming thoughtfully as he did. “You can’t make mid-grade potions at Level 8.”
“Well, does it really matter? It’s not like the things I’m brewing are less effective.”
“Of course it matters. This is a huge difference; we can’t just chalk it up to a calculation error. It’s our job to figure out this sort of thing!”
Jude was getting worked up, so it was no use trying to brush it off. I had no choice but to put a pause on my other work and go along with his investigation.
“I use the same type and amount of ingredients as everyone else,” I said. “And I follow the same steps. I suppose the only difference is the person making it.”
“Yeah…” Jude looked contemplative.
“Do you think there might be something strange about my magic…?”
“Or is it that you imbue your potions with more magic than usual?”
“Hm. I can’t say for certain, but I don’t think I do.”
“Honestly, from what I can tell while watching you work, I don’t think you do, either.”
For a potion to become more potent, it was generally necessary to add more herbs, up the amount of magic used, or alter the ratio of ingredients. However, within the bounds of the standard recipe, even these adjustments wouldn’t lead to an efficacy increase of more than a few percent. They certainly wouldn’t explain a whole fifty percent.
The process itself was also too simple to introduce any real variation. At most, you might be able to imbue boiling water with magic before adding the herbs. The usual procedure, where magic was added during the boiling process, had been deemed the most efficient, but it didn’t have any effect on potency.
Jude and I made sure to test all these hypotheses nevertheless, making several additional potions with as many variations as we could think of.
“Magical power has an elemental component, right? Could that have made an impact?” I asked.
“I don’t really think so.”
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“If there were an effect, we would see a difference in potency when a potion is made by someone without Magic skills.”
Among Battle skills were Magic skills, which included a variety of elemental types. Practical Magic wasn’t counted among those skills, and in order to differentiate, people with Battle skills in Magic were called mages. I thought the magic of someone with such skills might naturally have certain elemental attributes, but Jude made it sound like that wasn’t the case.
“Maybe you’re adding something other than your magic?” Jude offered.
“Something like what?”
“Hmm, I’m not really sure myself.” He took a long hard look at my hands and then chuckled. Between that and his expression, I knew he was just joking. Lately, he had started cracking wise like this more often, even while we were in the middle of other discussions. He sighed. “But why in the world is this happening to your potions?”
We were back to square one.
“Well, I guess all we can do is keep testing it,” I said. “Like you said, it’s our job to find out the reason, right?”
“Ha ha! Yeah, I suppose I did.”
Even with those discouraging initial roadblocks, Jude and I continued to brew potions under increasingly imaginative conditions. That was how I spent my peaceful days in the research institute.