Secret Potion

The death of the Blood Scale Kobold seemed to release some kind of signal.

The Kobolds that had been gradually closing in on the village entrance suddenly scattered like startled birds and fleeing beasts.

They hissed and roared in languages humans could not understand, retreating step by step. Before long, they vanished into the dark jungle without a trace.

In an instant, the village, which had been filled with wails and the sounds of slaughter, fell deathly silent.

Only the crackling of the flames and the pained groans of the surviving villagers remained.

"What on earth happened?"

Peyton climbed to his feet with a pale face, his eyes filled with bewilderment.

Although he had evaded the Blood Scale Kobold's dying counterattack, the wounds left from the earlier battle had split open again. Blood had soaked through his bandages, and his arm had completely lost its strength.

Roland did not answer Peyton's question.

After confirming that there was no danger, he slowly stepped forward and stopped beside the Blood Scale Kobold's charred remains. Bending down, he picked up a tiny object embedded in the ashes.

It was a blood-red crystal, only the size of a fingernail. Its surface was smooth as a gemstone, yet amber light churned within it, as if liquid flames had been sealed inside.

"What is this...?"

Roland was frowning as he examined the red crystal in his palm when a staggered series of footsteps suddenly came from behind him.

He quickly tucked the crystal into his clothes and turned around.

A blood-soaked John was limping toward him, leaning on a broken sword.

When he saw the overly youthful face illuminated by the firelight, the veteran clearly froze.

"Y-Your Excellency..."

John spoke in a hoarse voice, the stench of blood still thick in his throat.

He never would have imagined that the powerful warrior who had dealt the Blood Scale Kobold a devastating blow with the force of thunder would be a slightly thin-looking boy.

But when he recalled that fierce sword technique, he endured the agony radiating from his ribs and bowed solemnly.

"I am John, captain of the Third Patrol under Baron Foslin. May I ask who you are?"

"Captain John."

Roland gave a light chuckle and reached out to support the other man's trembling arm.

"Don't you remember me?"

He leaned slightly closer, allowing the dancing firelight to illuminate his face.

"I'm Roland, the boy who studied at the manor. Before the celebration, I also did some work for Mister Hawk. You personally questioned me at the manor gate back then."

"It's you!"

John's eyes widened.

The handsome, somewhat bashful boy in his memory gradually overlapped with the bloodstained young man holding a sword before him.

After recognizing Roland, the tension finally left John's rigid back.

He braced himself against his knees and gasped for breath as blood continuously dripped from his split leather armor.

"I really never would have imagined it."

The corners of his mouth barely lifted into a smile, and his bloodstained beard trembled slightly.

"You actually have skills like this."

"You saved my life. If you ever need me in the future, just say the word."

While the two were talking, Peyton and Gary staggered over, supporting Tom between them.

After everyone hastily bandaged their wounds, John wiped the blood from his face and asked,

"Where are you planning to go next?"

"We're planning to take refuge at the Baron's Manor."

Gary had barely begun speaking when John shook his head and interrupted him.

The veteran raised a hand and pointed at Roland.

"He studied at the manor before, so he might be able to get in. As for you... don't waste your effort."

There was bitterness in the veteran's smile.

"Baron Foslin never allows commoners into the manor. During last year's famine, even our families were stopped outside the drawbridge."

The torches crackled and popped, illuminating the suddenly darkened faces of the group.

As the joy of surviving their brush with death gradually cooled, Gary and Peyton regained their senses.

They exchanged a glance, seeing the same realization in each other's eyes.

That lofty Baron would never make an exception for the likes of them.

"Head north."

Seeing that the two remained silent, John struggled to rise from the ground.

"Beckham is recruiting soldiers there and preparing to fight the monsters from the Black Fir Forest. With such a powerful knight stationed there, it should be safe."

As he spoke, he helped Tom to his feet and handed him to Roland.

"You and Tom return to the manor together. With him as your witness and an explanation of what happened, the guards will definitely let you in."

"What about you?"

Supporting Tom, Roland looked at the resolute veteran before him.

"I have to report what happened here to the front line."

John laboriously returned his iron sword to its sheath, his expression dark.

"We originally set out from the manor and hurried all the way to the border with the Dawn Territory to stand guard there. But after waiting for a long time, we never saw any sign of the monsters. The commander at the front line then sent several of us back to report... I never expected..."

He looked around at the devastation spread throughout the village and let out a heavy sigh, his eyes gradually dimming.

"How did these Kobolds get past the defensive line and infiltrate this place?"

"I've fought Kobolds before too, but they've never been this cunning. It's even more impossible for them to..."

At that point, John nodded toward the Blood Scale Kobold's remains on the ground and spoke hoarsely.

"For such a powerful monster to appear..."

John gently shook his head and waved a hand.

"Forget it. You'd better get moving. Who knows whether that damned pack of mongrels will come back."

With that, he turned and left.

After exchanging a glance, Roland and the others immediately headed north.

As they walked along the dense forest path, Roland remained alert the entire time.

Fortunately, the journey was peaceful, and they reached the manor without trouble.

After Tom entered first to explain the situation, he stood atop the high wall and waved to Roland.

Seeing this, Roland, Peyton, and Gary exchanged a few words of caution before entering the manor.

With Tom vouching for him, he passed through without obstruction and soon reached the area near the dormitory.

Although it was already deep into the night, the towering flames in the direction of the village made it impossible for the apprentice boys to sleep.

Everyone had gathered in the open space, watching the distant flames and discussing them animatedly, completely failing to notice Roland's arrival.

Some were panicking, some were terrified, and others were quietly sobbing.

Only a few people, including Marco, stood silently in place.

Those people's families did not live in the village to begin with.

As for Marco...

Roland remembered passing by Marco's father's Blacksmith shop while fleeing.

He had originally intended to take a few weapons and sets of armor, but when he entered, he discovered that the place had already been abandoned.

Marco's father had probably evacuated at the first opportunity after receiving the news.

Roland shook his head, ignored the boys in the open space, and forced himself into the dormitory despite his exhaustion.

After putting away his belongings, Roland collapsed heavily onto the bed.

The repeated use of the Focus trait, combined with the intense battle, had already exhausted both his body and mind, leaving his thoughts blank.

Thus, almost the moment his head touched the pillow, he sank into sleep.

As the night gradually faded, the faint light of dawn soon spilled across the manor.

The entire estate was as peaceful and serene as usual, as if last night's bloody battle with the Kobolds had been nothing more than a nightmare.

It was only when Roland's palm touched the warm red crystal in his clothes that his groggy consciousness fully awakened.

He sat on the edge of the bed and held the red crystal up before his eyes, examining it carefully.

But after studying it for a long while without discovering anything, he could only temporarily set aside his doubts and get up to wash.

As cold water splashed against his face, his thoughts gradually cleared, and the scenes from last night's battle began flashing repeatedly through his mind.

"With my current strength and the assistance of the Focus trait, dealing with low-level monsters like Kobolds shouldn't be a problem as long as there aren't too many of them. As for..."

Thinking of the Blood Scale Kobold that had suddenly been engulfed in flames last night, Roland shook his head and sighed.

"As for a mutated Kobold like that, its strength is simply too great. Even with its slow movements, it isn't something I can face alone right now."

"Even with Peyton and John assisting me last night, I used everything I had and only managed to deal it a severe blow. If I had fought it one-on-one, I probably wouldn't have lasted even one round."

At the thought, Roland's desire to increase his strength grew even stronger. He quickly opened his pack and carefully checked its contents.

"Fortunately, these items weren't damaged too badly during the battle."

He let out a long breath of relief, then followed the formula on the parchment and ground the required medicinal ingredients into fine powder one by one.

The mortar and pestle rubbed together, producing a faint rustling sound.

A moment later, Roland frowned deeply as he stared at the gray-black powder in the mortar.

"Can something like this really temper the body?"

Although he harbored doubts, his hands did not pause for even a moment. He precisely added the final ingredient, Silver Dust.

The instant the gray-black powder touched the Silver Dust, the two silently blended together like melting snow.

At first, only tiny silver specks of light flickered.

But soon, the entire mass of powder began to squirm and contract, as if being drawn by some invisible force.

The originally dry powder gradually grew moist. A layer of silvery luster appeared on its surface and slowly flowed like mercury.

In the span of a few breaths, the entire mixture completely transformed into a pool of thick silver liquid. It rippled faintly in the mortar, occasionally forming tiny waves, as if it were alive.

"What is this...?"

Roland's Adam's apple bobbed as he dryly swallowed.

He stared fixedly at the ever-changing silver fluid in the mortar, at a loss for what to do.

Only after a while did he gradually calm down and carefully check the contents recorded on the parchment.

After confirming that the finished product was completely identical to the description, he removed his clothes and quickly smeared the viscous silver liquid over his entire body.

The instant the final smear of silver liquid covered his skin, a cool sensation like an early-spring stream spread throughout his body, relaxing his taut nerves.

But the relief lasted only a moment before the muscles beneath his skin suddenly contracted.

A sharp pain surged over him like a tide, as if tens of millions of silver needles had pierced his pores at once and were coursing madly through his limbs and every part of his body along his bloodstream.