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Chapter 95: The Regeneration Potion – Let’s Stir Up a Bigger Storm Then
🕑 Added 2025-05-12 17:29:32 +0000 UTCImina strode forward with the confident click of her brown high-heeled boots, her long legs crossing the courtyard with purpose. Without so much as a greeting, she sat down across from Lyle and slapped a bulging coin pouch onto the stone table with a loud thud.
"All here—sixty-one silver coins and seven coppers. Every single one of the hundred healing potions you gave me has been sold. This is all the money," she reported coolly.
Her throat bobbed slightly when she said the number, but her expression remained as icy and composed as ever.
"That fast? It's only been one night," Lyle remarked, glancing at the pouch with a hint of surprise.
Imina blinked, her amber eyes flashing with a strange light. "You've been holed up here the whole time, so you don't know how crazy things are over in the North Market. Your potions are flying off the shelves."
"Sure, they smell a little… fishy," she added, wrinkling her nose.
She tilted her head then, casting a glance toward the Ogre bound to the stone chair nearby. The creature looked weak and listless, its vitality clearly sapped.
Honestly, Imina thought, this might just be the most profitable business she'd ever seen. All it took was draining some blood from the troll and—voilà!—healing potions in bulk.
Okay, fine, maybe that was a little rude to the alchemist sitting across from her, but still… the troll's blood regenerated. Compared to gathering herbs and mixing them carefully, this was practically cost-free!
Lyle noticed her gaze and gave a faint smile. He had a pretty good idea of what she was thinking.
Funny enough, this Ogre was originally her idea. She'd brought it to him as a possible ingredient supplier, thinking he might be able to do something with it. He'd planned on using the last of the herbs in his item box, but after encountering the troll, inspiration struck. If the poison sacs of executioner spiders could be used for alchemical brews, then why not the blood of a creature with extreme regenerative abilities?
To his surprise, it had worked.
"Correction—it's not a healing potion. It's an alchemical potion. The proper name is 'Regeneration Potion,'" Lyle said, reaching out to take the pouch. He upended it over the table.
Clink! Clink! Clink!
Silver coins poured out, interspersed with a few coppers, glinting under the sunlight like a miniature silver waterfall.
Imina couldn't help but stare as the coins scattered and rolled across the tabletop.
"As per our agreement, eleven silver coins are your commission. The seven copper coins? Consider those a tip for your delivery service," Lyle said, calmly pushing her share toward her and sweeping the rest of the money back into the pouch.
From the very beginning, making money hadn't been his goal. What he truly wanted was fame—enough to attract the attention of a particular someone: Leinas.
Her face had been rotting for years under a powerful curse. Someone in her condition would definitely come if there was even the slightest chance of healing.
In the original timeline, Leinas eventually joined the Empire's Four Horsemen, driven solely by her desperate search for a cure. She'd even publicly declared that if someone could lift her curse, she wouldn't hesitate to go to war with the Bloody Emperor himself.
Imina's cold expression cracked into something resembling a smile as she accepted her share of silver. "How many more of those potions do you have? I'll buy them all."
"Need the money that badly?" Lyle asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Of course I do," she replied without hesitation, leaning back with the ease of someone used to hiding vulnerabilities.
As a half-elf born from a union between a forest elf and a human, she wasn't exactly welcomed by either race. At least silver coins never judged her.
"You realize people are probably watching you now," Lyle said with a small chuckle.
"So what?" Imina replied with a shrug, tilting her chin defiantly. "I'm just the middleman. You're the one they really want."
"That fifty gold you spent on this place wasn't wasted. We're in the noble district now—only a central plaza separates us from the imperial palace. No one's going to make a move here unless they've got a death wish."
"Exactly," Lyle nodded. "So we might as well stir up a bigger storm."
Imina blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"What you need to worry about now isn't the potion supply—it's whether our Ogre friend over there has enough blood left to give," Lyle said, gesturing toward the slumped figure in the corner. "You don't actually think Ogre's regeneration is limitless, do you?"
"…I'll figure something out," Imina said through gritted teeth, nodding hard. She wasn't about to let this golden opportunity slip through her fingers.
"Then I'll leave it to you, Miss Imina," Lyle said with a polite smile.
For all his outward calm, he couldn't help but reflect on her fate. This half-elf had it rough.
If the timeline held true, she'd join a group called the Four Strategists in two years—a team of freelance adventurers who operated outside the Adventurers' Guild. They took on any job they pleased, with the simple goal of earning as much money as possible.
And what was their reward?
They became fodder—collateral damage in the silent war between the Baharuth Empire and the Tomb of Nazarick.
Imina and her team leader ended up being used by one of Nazarick's floor guardians, the Gluttonous Bug Queen. The queen filled them with parasitic eggs and turned their bodies into living insect nests.
Another party member, a cleric, had her memories wiped clean during a cruel magical experiment by Ainz.
The worst fate, though, fell to a girl named Archet. Her body was "efficiently repurposed"—vocal cords went to Entoma, one of the Pleiades battle maids; her head was gifted to the Top Hat Demon; her arms divided among the Wailing Dead; and her skin peeled and claimed by Demiurge.
Efficient indeed.
Lyle's gaze darkened.
This wasn't just about tragedy anymore. It was about the clash between the living and the death-born monsters of Nazarick—two forces destined never to coexist.
"…What's with that look in your eyes?"
Imina suddenly shivered. The air around Lyle had dropped a few degrees, and for a brief moment, she felt an unmistakable sense of danger from the man in front of her.
Her amber eyes narrowed with suspicion. Maybe… maybe she'd misjudged him.
"It's nothing," Lyle said lightly, the eerie aura vanishing as quickly as it had come.
"I do have one more favor, though. Can you investigate adventurers or freelance groups? Look for anyone with severe physical trauma or disabilities."
"Just tell them I've developed a new kind of alchemical potion—stronger than the last—and I'm offering free trials."
"...Sure," Imina replied, still eyeing him warily. Nothing about him screamed "threat," but her instincts told her otherwise.
Without another word, she threw her cloak back on, vaulted the courtyard wall, and vanished into the city.
Imperial Arena, Inner Chambers
In a lavish room lined with elegantly crafted weapons, the Empire's top merchant, Osk, sat silently behind his desk, staring at the potion bottle before him.
It took a long moment before he finally spoke.
"Are we certain about the identification of this potion?"
"The alchemists from all major workshops in the capital have verified it," answered the middle-aged butler at his side. "They all came to the same conclusion—it's an alchemical potion made primarily from troll blood. As for the crafting method, no one can figure it out."
"The emergence of this potion has caused significant losses for many apothecaries."
Osk didn't seem particularly concerned about the financial impact. Instead, he paused thoughtfully before asking, "Does the Martial King know?"
"…He does," the butler replied, his voice noticeably more strained.
