The Magic Potion Recipe

"Order Aspect? A magic potion recipe?"

Tom's eyes lit up, and he hurriedly pressed, "Captain! Is it like the legends say? Do you need dragon scales or a unicorn's horn?"

"There's no such thing in this world." Abel's expression was a little strange, but his tone didn't waver. He seemed to have grown used to questions like that.

"The core ingredient of a magic potion is God Blood. It's the chunks of blood in the glass bottles in the cabinet behind the interrogation room."

Tom nodded. He'd already guessed that those things were unusual.

No wonder the captain never let anyone touch that cabinet. So it was used to make magic potions...

"But why keep the core ingredient for a magic potion somewhere so conspicuous, where it seems anyone could get it? Why not hide it somewhere safe?"

He couldn't figure it out. He simply blinked and decided not to dwell on it, focusing instead on what the captain said next.

"Remember, God Blood must never be consumed directly. It has to be carefully prepared according to the recipe."

"Otherwise, I can assure you in the name of our great Lord that you'll think death itself is a mercy."

A smile appeared on Abel's face, but it made the hair on Tom's arms stand straight on end.

"To prepare the potion, you'll also need the following ingredients. I'll only say this once, so you'd better pray your brain is up to the task."

Tom hurriedly pulled out the small notebook he always carried, his charcoal pencil poised over the page.

Seeing how thoroughly prepared he was, Abel couldn't help giving an amused nod before continuing:

"120 milliliters of Holy Water: water formed from morning dew drawn from the well in St. Peter's Cathedral. You'll need to collect it before sunrise.

15 drops of Thorn Flower sap: these flowers grow on the edges of graveyards. Their petals are black and white, and covered in tiny thorns. Carefully collect the sap that seeps from the petals in a glass container. The church has some in stock, though, so you can redeem it with merit.

9 grams of Sword-Shaped Grass powder: this grass has symmetrical, sword-shaped leaves and usually grows in cracks in rocks. Dry the leaves, then grind them into powder.

4 drops of Iron Pact Liquid: this is extracted from the iron sealing wax used by ancient nobles when signing contracts. Put the wax in a silver container, melt it over a gentle flame, and collect the liquid after it cools."

Tom quickly wrote down all the information. After scanning his notes, he looked excited.

"These ingredients don't seem too hard to get. Captain, does that mean I can become a Beyonder like you soon?"

Abel looked at the notes in Tom's hand and gently tapped the page.

"Tom, think it through. Once you set foot on this path, there's no turning back."

His voice held a hint of teasing, but more than that, it was concerned.

"And even if you have all the ingredients, you have to be careful when preparing the potion. Make sure every amount is exact, especially the God Blood."

"One extra drop could make you lose control on the spot and turn into some unknown monster."

Tom imagined the scene the captain had described and shuddered.

Looking at the densely packed writing in his notebook, he suddenly felt that being a Beyonder wasn't quite so glamorous.

"Of course, it's unlikely to happen. And once you become a Beyonder, God Blood won't be so frightening. You can even consume its extract to temporarily boost your Spirituality."

Hearing the captain's reassurance, Tom quickly tried to encourage himself. He gritted his teeth and finally said, "I-I've made up my mind. I want to become a Beyonder like you, Captain!"

Abel shook his head. "Don't forget, you still have to submit an application to the bishop first. Otherwise, even if you manage to get the other ingredients, you won't be allowed to use God Blood."

"Oh, right..." Tom's excitement gradually faded.

"All right. Since you've got so much energy, come with me and patrol some other districts."

After speaking, he found a trash can and tossed in his cigarette butt, then turned and strode off in another direction.

Tom hurried after him, still working out how to write a report to the bishop.

At the thought of the bishop's face, he couldn't help shuddering again.

"Is it really that cold? Young people need to exercise. Otherwise, even if you become a Hand of Arbitration, it won't do you any good."

Tom seemed to remember something, and his curiosity surfaced again.

"Captain, what are the Beyonder abilities of the Hand of Arbitration? Are they the ones you use, like Arbitration and Judgment? Setting rules?"

Abel didn't break stride as he patiently answered the questions of this inquisitive young man.

"You'll gain excellent fighting skills and a certain air of authority. When you make a judgment, others will instinctively accept it, and you'll be better able to use rules to your advantage."

"What else?"

"Isn't that enough?"

Tom grew anxious and gestured animatedly at Abel with his hands and feet. "I mean, abilities like yours, the ones where you use words to mark off an area and add rules that didn't exist before?"

Abel's voice took on a teasing lilt.

"That? Once you're as old as I am, you'll understand it naturally."

"Captain? You're not lying to me, are you? How could it have anything to do with age? Does that mean I have to wait twenty years?" Tom sounded disappointed. He'd always thought that becoming a Beyonder would grant him the same mysterious abilities as the captain.

Hearing Tom's offhand remark, Abel's expression darkened a little, but he still smiled as he explained.

"Heh, I was just joking. The farther you go along the path of the supernatural, the more enhanced and new abilities you'll gain."

"Captain?! So you were lying to me after all! Does that count as upholding order for a believer?" Tom hadn't expected Captain Abel, who usually seemed so stern, to joke with him. His face flushed red.

"Of course. Joking doesn't break any rules."

"When you reach the third step on the path of the supernatural—in other words, when you advance to Tier 3—you'll gain those powers."

"As for how to advance, that's not something you're ready to know yet."

"It requires..."

"Accumulating merit... I know, Captain." Tom wasn't discouraged that Abel wouldn't tell him. If anything, he felt even more fired up.

The two of them disappeared into the night in the southern part of the city, one following the other.

Morning.

The first rays of sunlight came through the blinds of the Small Chapel.

Ivan slowly woke from his dream. Two tear-like streams flowed down from the top of the jellyfish's head.

"Hmm... Can jellyfish dream too? No, I suppose I still have a human soul."

He seemed to have dreamed that he was working hard, constantly rushing around to earn money.

"Being a jellyfish is better. At least I don't have to worry about money..."

"No, I'm still worrying about Gold Pounds!"

At the thought of money, he snapped out of his groggy state. He still had to find a way to earn money for the church's development and offer it some "guidance."

"I wonder how a jellyfish can make money in this world."

"Could I perform at an aquarium, maybe put on a show interacting with a mermaid?"

Ivan shook his head. No matter how hard life got, the dignity of an ancient god who was worshipped wouldn't allow him to perform for money.

"Maybe I should just rob a bank. Grab the Gold Pounds and run..."

Sighing, he flew out of the chapel.

The textile factories in the East District had started another day of hard work. Steam and smoke poured from the factory chimneys.

In a small alley by the docks, Miller Grocery Store hadn't opened for business yet.

Behind the tightly shut door, the lame old man Miller was secretly reading a letter.

"Keep observing them. You can offer them some supplies or financial support, and use them to stir up trouble over that matter."

He furrowed his deeply lined brow and held the letter over the candle flame until it caught fire.

"What is that esteemed gentleman thinking? Why does he want to support this gang? Could it have been set up by one of his relatives or friends?"

Old Miller was more confused than ever. He couldn't imagine that Little George or Tuxedo Man could be related to that esteemed gentleman.

"Mr. Miller, are you home? I'm here on behalf of... the gang, to thank you and discuss our future delivery plans!"

Little George's slightly youthful voice sounded from outside.

Old Miller's eyes lit up. He hesitated for only a second before opening the shop door. Facing the sunlight, he smiled at Little George.

"Well, if it isn't Little George. No, Mr. George."

"Come in, come in. I'd be happy to keep working with you. And, to be honest, there's something else I'd like your gang to help me with..."

He pulled Little George inside and slammed the door shut.

Little George looked at him in surprise, seemingly unsure what he could do to help Miller.

"Here's a Gold Pound. I need you to help hand these out to the textile factory workers."

Old Miller put the Gold Pound on the counter, then took out a stack of letters and set them beside it.

Little George looked at the coin, which seemed just like the one he'd taken out yesterday, and nodded without thinking.

"I only have to deliver the letters?"

If he'd gone to the official post office in Trino City, this probably wouldn't have cost even a shilling. It was unbelievable.

"Praise the great Lord of All Spirits. Your guidance has brought me wealth first thing in the morning!" he excitedly praised Ivan in his heart.

Sensing Little George's prayer, Ivan instinctively looked at what he'd just experienced. His tentacles twitched a few times, and his Spirituality was full of disbelief.

"The Holy Spirit Society's first job is... handing out flyers???"