“Stats.”
Sei Takanashi – Level 55/Saint
HP: 4,867/4,867
MP: 5,867/6,067
Battle Skills
Holy Magic: Level ∞
Production Skills
Pharmaceuticals: Level 21
In the three months since my summoning, I had brought my Pharmaceuticals skill up to Level 21 just by making potions. The grade of your work went up every ten levels, so I could now make high-grade HP potions. But I still messed up a lot, and because high-grade potions required the use of a large quantity of rare herbs, I wasn’t authorized to brew them on my own. I’d only made three since I passed Level 20.
However, there were vanishingly few people who could make high-grade potions, so it was an accomplishment in itself that I was able to. Apparently, until I arrived, no one at the research institute had the ability. Before, whenever they needed those potions for research, they had to make an order from somewhere else. Now that I was able to produce them at the institute, everyone was tremendously pleased about all the time and funds we were bound to save.
I was happy to help. After all, in order to level up your Pharmaceuticals skill, you needed to make more potions. Typically, the number of potions you could make in a day was limited, since you had to expend MP (you know, magical power) to do it, and you would eventually run out. Therefore, it inevitably took a considerable amount of time to level up. But me?
“Yet again, you’ve managed to brew a remarkable number of potions today,” Jude said.
“I have?”
“Yeah. It’s pretty unusual to be able to produce more than ten mid-grade potions in a single day.”
We took a moment to look at my long, long line of mid-grade HP potions neatly arranged in the storage cabinet. Just like my low-grade brews, they were uniformly fifty percent more effective than potions of any other origin.
According to our head researcher, Johan, my strange ability might even lead my mid-grade potions to be more effective than the high-grade variety.
Jude and I were still working day and night to try and find the reason for my abnormal creations. Even now, we didn’t have a clue, so we were starting to ask other researchers to inspect my potions, hoping they would find something we overlooked. We asked different people to analyze different specific elements, such as my brewing process, or the outcomes themselves. All the while, I continued to make potions and only potions. All day, every day.
One afternoon, just as I was finishing the last of about 150 low-grade potions I’d made that day, Jude approached me. “Wait, you’re still making those?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
That was when I finally learned there was an average number of potions anyone could make in a given day, which I supposed made sense, what with the finite MP problem. Not to mention, the amount of magic needed to properly imbue a potion increased with its grade. On average, medics, who specialized in brewing, could make one hundred low-grade potions or about ten mid-grade potions a day. Researchers averaged a bit fewer.
It was true that potion production made my MP decrease, but it was by such a negligible amount that I didn’t really think about it.
When I said as much, Jude pondered whether I was actually imbuing my potions or not, but when I checked my Stats, my MP was indeed decreasing. Besides, if I didn’t imbue them with magic, I just wound up with boiled herb soup.
Ultimately, Johan instructed me to prioritize research that would hone my abilities, so I wandered back over to making potions like usual. Buuut…it seemed I got a bit carried away. I ended up brewing more potions than we were able to use in research, so we wound up with a not insubstantial surplus.
We now had such an ample stock that we could make a tidy sum if we sold them at market. Unfortunately, since my potions were all fifty percent more effective than the regular sort, I was told we might create some problems if we tried to sell them all. We were stuck with the overstock.
“Oof. You made a ton again today. Johan’s going to be mad.”
“Once I get into the groove, I keep forgetting to count how many I’ve already made,” I apologized. This was a teensy white lie. My goal was to reach a high enough level that I could start producing high-grade HP potions without any restrictions, and for that, well, I needed to make more potions.
This ambition might have already caused some problems. Just the other day, Johan complained we were running low on herbs since I kept using up what we harvested from the garden.
I didn’t like getting yelled at, so I came up with the brilliant idea to hide today’s extra supply in my room. However, right when I snuck over to take some of the day’s new potions out of the storage cabinet, the door to the institute flung open with a bang.
When I turned, I saw a soldier breathing heavily.
“Where’s the head researcher?” the soldier shouted as he staggered into the research institute.
I wordlessly pointed toward Johan’s office and the man pelted toward it.
What in the world?
A few moments later, Johan and the soldier rushed right back out.
“We have an emergency. Gather all the recovery potions—every last one.” Johan, who always wore an unflappable smile on his face, looked shaken as he gave the order.
“What happened?” asked a researcher standing nearby.
“The Knights of the Third Order just returned from the Ghoshe Forest. They were attacked by a salamander. Many were injured, and they don’t have enough healing supplies.”
The Third Order had been dispatched to the forest west of the capital on a monster-slaying expedition. Apparently, they had sustained terrible damage and were now in need of our help.
With a clash and clatter, everyone emptied their drawers and shelves of potions, depositing their supplies on the desk nearest to the entrance. Jude and I brought armfuls from the storage cabinet as well.
“You have this many?!” The soldier couldn’t help staring at the steadily growing sea of vials on the desk.
Well, we have kind of been stockpiling them recently.
Once we emptied the cabinet, I remembered the high-grade HP potions hidden in my room and dashed off to get those, too. When I returned, it looked like our work area had been scraped clean of its stores, and the next job was to load up the cart waiting outside the door.
“Some of you go with them.” At Johan’s instruction, the researchers closest to the door clambered into the cart.
High-grade potions in hand, I jumped into the cart as well. The horse set off at a brisk pace, and then there was nothing to do but wait. I asked Jude, who was beside me, “So there was a dragon in the Ghoshe Forest?”
“A dragon? No, nothing like that.”
“But isn’t a salamander a fiery sort of dragon?”
“Huh? Not quite. A salamander is just a fire-breathing lizard.”