028 Femme Fatale

Roland woke up to find himself lying on a floor mat inside the "Small Cabin." He realized he must be inside the cottage contained within his mentor’s coin purse.

Outside the cabin’s window, a thick fog obscured the distant landscape. The voices of his mentor, the Baron, and the others echoed from the sky above. Listening for a moment, Roland gathered that the party had ventured deep into the ruins.

"It feels as though I’ve only slept for two hours... Instead of setting up camp at the entrance, the Mentor and the others jumped into the gateway (the dry well) and entered the ruins."

He listened further and discovered that the madmen, including Instructor Renard, had been stored away by his mentor in a magical artifact that functioned as a separate space. They had consumed some potions earlier and would likely wake up one by one in a few hours.

A strange expression crossed Roland’s face: "So, the Mentor didn't make everyone drink that 'Liquid of Misery' out of malice... If she needed them to take medicine, why couldn't she just explain it to me instead of putting on that terrifying face?"

Suddenly, Mentor Catherine’s voice cut through the air, cold and sharp: "If you're awake, stop feigning sleep. Process the herbs outside the cabin. I want to see one hundred vials of 'Femme Fatale' in twenty hours."

"Femme Fatale" was a potion specifically designed for wizard apprentices; it not only aided in meditation but also allowed for the rapid recovery of mana during combat. Additionally, it served to calm the mind, enhance mental power, and purge spiritual contamination. Since the ruins were likely teeming with abyss monsters, Catherine had tasked Roland with brewing this potion to provide logistical support for the party.

On the alchemy bench, Roland found the recipe for "Femme Fatale." He thought to himself, "I’ve heard of this famous potion. It has many benefits, but it is notoriously difficult to brew."

These potions were extremely challenging to concoct, and the materials were precious, making the final product very expensive and inefficient. However, the version in Roland’s hands was an improved recipe. It replaced the three most expensive and rare primary ingredients from the original with three very cheap alternatives. While the new version was slightly less effective, the cost and difficulty of brewing were drastically reduced. One could simply boil it in a witch's stew pot!

It was no wonder Catherine had demanded one hundred vials; this version was meant to be brewed in large batches.

"My knowledge of alchemy is decent, but I’ve never actually brewed a potion before," Roland thought, eyeing his mentor’s alchemy bench. "It would be safer to practice on the Mentor’s cauldron first."

Catherine seemed to be monitoring the interior of the coin purse with her mind. Upon noticing Roland fiddling with her alchemy tools, she snapped, "Don't touch my alchemy bench with those disgusting things! Use that broken iron pot inside the cabin!"

The new version of "Femme Fatale" was indeed a bit revolting. The secondary ingredients were normal, but the three primary ones were: the testicles of a Tail-Scorpion Sheep, the venom of a Blade-Monster Snake, and the bodily fluids of a young pure-blooded witch (apprentice). The first two were manageable, but the last one... well, urine counted as a bodily fluid.

Catherine had purchased plenty of these items at the wizard’s market, and several large barrels of golden, witch-derived fluids sat near the alchemy bench. Pure-blooded witches were aristocrats, people of high status. Normally, they would never sell such things, but Catherine had likely forced the sale upon some female apprentices.

Roland found all the materials, the large pot, and one hundred small 5ml crystal vials in the cabin. The vials were only slightly larger than a thumb. Based on the quantity of materials, even after extraction and purification, filling hundreds of such small vials would be no problem.

Roland calculated the costs and found that the material costs for the modified "Femme Fatale" were virtually negligible. The Tail-Scorpion Sheep and the Blade-Monster Snake were common monsters found in the mundane world, which could be bought from adventurers for a few silver coins. The witch’s fluids were even cheaper—bathwater and urine held no real value.

Yet, the finished potion could be sold for magic stones!

"It’s practically a business with zero overhead," Roland mused. "If I could sell this at the Academy’s wizard market, I’d make a fortune... If I manage to survive and return, 'Femme Fatale' will undoubtedly be a cash cow."

He sighed, "But let's not get ahead of myself... better focus on staying alive first. Once I finish brewing the potions, I’ll have to stash a few away to deal with the dangers ahead."

Roland sorted the various materials and prepared for the brewing process. "Better not use the big pot. If I fail, the whole batch of materials will be wasted... It’s best to try a few times with smaller containers."

He went to the kitchen and found a small iron pot. "This one is much smaller than the big cauldron, but I can still extract seven or eight vials of potion from a single batch. If I use this, I can finish the task in a dozen or so tries."

While the modified "Femme Fatale" was now as easy to brew as a basic potion, it remained a daunting task for a novice like Roland, who possessed only theoretical knowledge but no practical experience.

He failed sixteen times in a row. Seeing that half the materials were already gone, Roland’s expression grew grave. Magical artifacts and potions were a wizard's lifeline. He had intended to brew extra to keep for himself, but now, having wasted half the materials without a single successful batch, the pressure was immense.

"I underestimated the complexity of alchemy," he thought.

Alchemy was indeed a profound discipline. Many alchemists spent their entire lives specializing in only one or two recipes, and only after a lifetime of study could they achieve a sufficiently high success rate. The cost of becoming a qualified alchemist was staggering. Hence, magical artifacts like the "Slumbering Cauldron," which boosted the success rate of potion brewing, were exceptionally precious.

As the small pot continued to simmer, Roland flipped through the *Aleyre Notes*. He saw that his [Apprentice-Level Alchemy: Introductory (41/100)] had progressed to [Apprentice-Level Alchemy: Elementary (0/1000)].

These dozen-plus failures had indeed given Roland some new insights into brewing "Femme Fatale," though only a sliver. According to the notes, without specialized alchemical equipment, even if he mastered the recipe, his success rate would not exceed 10% until his alchemy reached the Wizard level.

"No wonder the raw materials are so cheap while the finished potions are exorbitantly expensive," Roland thought, recalling the "Slumbering Cauldron" that Wallace and the others had talked about.

Rubbing his weary eyes, Roland started the 17th batch. This time, he succeeded.

Elated, he extracted and purified the potion from the small pot, filling eight vials. He then threw himself back into the work. However, for the remainder of the materials, he didn't produce another successful batch.

Counting it up, he had brewed thirty small pots and succeeded only once. A success rate of about 3% left Roland scratching his head.

He listened to the silence outside and determined that the Mentor’s breathing was deep and steady; she was resting. He looked at the eight vials in front of him, then back at the steady breathing echoing from the sky. After a long moment of internal struggle, he embezzled two vials.

He diluted the remaining six vials with water and re-bottled them into eight, then tucked them into his potion box.

He had only managed to brew eight vials, and he had embezzled two... If the Mentor found out, Roland would definitely be in for a world of pain. But if he didn't have life-saving potions on hand... that would be far worse than just a beating.

Exhausted to the point of collapse, Roland fell onto the bed and drifted off to sleep.

He didn't know how much time had passed before he was bitten awake by a mosquito. The coin purse had picked up many mosquitoes back when they were catching Blood Moths in the Fern Forest. Roland had been too focused on alchemy to notice them before, but upon waking, he found his body covered in large welts.

As he scratched, he suddenly realized there was a massive "body pillow" behind him.

He carefully looked back and saw that the person curled up against him was the ancient elven beauty, Miss Anna. After observing her for a moment, he let out a sigh of relief: "The Mentor must have cast a sleep spell on Anna."

Just then, Anna gnashed her teeth and muttered in her sleep, pulling Roland into the crevice of her chest. The sheer size of her bosom nearly suffocated him. It took a great deal of effort for him to break free from her embrace before he passed out.