Dragon Blood Potion

The spotless white walls gleamed brightly beneath the magical lights set into the ceiling. In the compact, well-organized room, all sorts of complex, delicate instruments were neatly arranged.

On the immaculate workbench, polished until it shone, various prepared herbs and ingredients lay in orderly rows. On a nearby table, an unknown brew simmered over low heat in an iron skillet.

In the otherwise empty room, a slender figure busied himself with a beautiful, blooming silver-white flower. Its flawless white petals looked as though they had been fashioned from pure snow, yet Ryan carefully removed the flower's center and plucked off its petals, sorting and stacking them on a sheet of silk.

"...After adding a pinch of Void Salt, simmer over low heat for about half an hour. Then add three Frost Flower petals and stir them in. Once the medicinal properties have balanced out, add some Red Dragon Heart Blood and continue simmering until the potion turns deep red. Then separate it with magic, remove the useless impurities, and let the remaining liquid cool for three standard hours. The potion will then be ready."

Ryan stared at the words in the light screen before him, his brow furrowed and his expression vexed. Still, he cautiously continued his work. He was utterly exasperated.

Damn it, how much is a pinch? And how many milliliters is "some"? Could these ancient alchemy masters stop being so vague in their notes? Are they seriously assuming all this is common knowledge? Would it kill them to specify the exact steps and quantities?

Ryan was currently brewing a potion that was extremely important to him in the alchemy workshop he had rented from the Mages Guild in Waterdeep.

Three days had passed since Ryan and Jelona parted ways. After arranging a time to meet with the Half-elf Ranger, Ryan hadn't stayed home to relax and waste time. Instead, he had raced against the clock to prepare for the expedition to the ruins.

As a hoarder, Ryan had spent the past two days buying a huge stock of daily necessities, food, and medicine, which he had stowed in his boundless, empty Nascent Planeswalker Space. He had also taken a pile of blankets, clothes, and other spare supplies from the family storeroom.

During this time, Ryan had also made time to study the knowledge he'd acquired from the Nether Scrolls at home. After days and nights of diligent study, his knowledge and skill in potions and spellcasting had improved by leaps and bounds. The Nether Scrolls had helped him make great strides in alchemy, and he had finally entered the field in earnest. He could now call himself an "alchemist."

It was this opportunity that had finally persuaded Ryan to do something he'd been longing to try for a long time.

Ryan was now brewing a powerful, wondrous potion: the Dragon Blood Potion. He had found the recipe in Yefalin's collection of books. It was recorded on an ancient piece of parchment tucked inside an old book. Based on his alchemical knowledge, Ryan guessed that its effects were similar to those of a dragon blood ritual. But because the blood was processed into a potion, it didn't carry the ritual's severe side effects or high risk of death. The powerful effects and proven safety had won Ryan over, and he had been unable to stop thinking about the finished product.

What had always left Ryan speechless, though, was that the alchemy masters of Faerûn seemed to rely entirely on hands-on experience. Their inherited recipes were full of vague phrases like "some," "a little," "a spoonful," and "for a while." Apprentices often had to practice and make mistakes again and again before they could master a potion's brewing process. Even then, the smallest slip could ruin a batch that was almost ready.

As for the famous alchemy masters, they could brew high-quality potions thanks to a lifetime spent in their laboratories and the muscle memory they had developed over years of practice. Every so often, they would even get lucky and produce a perfect potion, earning the adoration of countless people.

But Ryan, who had seen the large-scale industrial systems of his previous life, couldn't accept this cottage-industry approach to potion-making. He knew most alchemists kept their techniques and methods closely guarded for reasons of profit and tradition, but he still couldn't help mocking Faerûn's "patent Scrooges." Their experience-based alchemy was every bit as absurd as the green-skinned folk in the neighboring universe who spent all day saying, "I reckon."

Note: In the Warhammer universe, Orc engineers can weld together whatever junk they find on the battlefield, all in different sizes and shapes, and somehow end up with a weapon of war. Their mysterious power can be summed up as, "I reckon this'll work, so it'll work."

With the memories and sound scientific training he had inherited from his previous life, Ryan found this workshop-based system of alchemy utterly ridiculous. There were no standard measurements, no consistent production requirements, and no complete assembly lines. Every day, a handful of apprentices made potions by hand, producing very little. This was one reason consumables like potions were so expensive in Faerûn.

Thanks to his system's ability to record information, Ryan had helped his teacher prepare basic potions in Silverymoon and repeatedly adjusted his methods through trial and error. He had successfully worked out standardized procedures for potion-making: which herbs to add and when, how many milliliters to use, and how long to heat them at a given temperature. By examining the brewing process with his mental energy, Ryan had gradually brought these complicated standards into order.

(When brewing a potion, all you need to know is which component in each herb the recipe requires and what it does. Then you can tailor the ingredients to the situation. Add an assembly line to improve efficiency, and of course you'll outperform alchemists who rely entirely on experience.)

Through controlled variables and comparative experiments, Ryan had raised the success rate of basic potions like Lesser Healing Potion and Lesser Defense Potion above ninety percent. He could even guarantee that most of his batches were of high quality or better. In terms of both process and principles, he had left a large number of Faerûn's alchemists—who knew what worked but not why—far behind.

That was also why Yefalin had caught on to Ryan, despite his repeated attempts to keep his abilities under wraps. Still, while working to meet the Mages Guild's monthly quota, Ryan had continued honing his alchemy. As his skills steadily improved, he had become capable of brewing most of the basic potions sold on the market.

Of course, clever Ryan wasn't about to work for nothing. He shamelessly claimed ingredients based on the material-loss rates commonly used by alchemists. Once he had completed his monthly quota, he used whatever ingredients remained for practice and experiments. He also sold potions he didn't need, such as Lesser Vitality Potion and Lesser Defense Potion, on the black market. This was one of his main sources of income while studying.

Yefalin had noticed Ryan's little tricks, but since he always completed his assignments—and often exceeded the quota—she had turned a blind eye and let him off.

From the moment Ryan had obtained the Dragon Blood Potion recipe, he had been unable to resist the thought of its effects. After all, a monk who didn't want to be a berserker wasn't a good battle mage.

Back on Blue Star, in his previous life, Ryan had learned from countless examples of squishy mages being cut down like vegetables by assassins who got close: a mage who didn't wear armor had no future. The capacity of a bucket was always limited by its shortest stave.

That had only been a joke Ryan made to himself as he reminisced about his previous life. But improving his physical fitness really did help with spellcasting and increase the limits of his magic and mental energy. Honestly, Ryan wasn't wrong.

As a mage, Ryan firmly believed he had to train his body while mastering his spells.

Faerûn was full of oddballs. There were rogues who could dual-wield scimitars and charge into whirlwind attacks, Dark Elves devoted to justice and public service, and even liches who held fast to their convictions and pursued the light. Adding a battle mage who could brawl up close with the Dragonfolk brutes wouldn't hurt.

Unfortunately, the main ingredient in the Dragon Blood Potion was the blood of an adult dragon—and it had to be heart blood.

Since Metallic Dragons often banded together and were usually close to the good-aligned gods' churches, Ryan had once focused on the evil, solitary Chromatic Dragons.

But though Chromatic Dragons were infamous evil bosses in legends and nursery rhymes, they weren't as common as Goblins on the roadside, nor were they as silly and dull-witted as stories made them out to be.

Even the White Dragon, the most foolish and shameful of the Chromatic Dragons, was no match for an ordinary adventurer once it reached adulthood. Its natural breath weapon and sharp fangs made it far too dangerous.

So when Ryan had found perfectly preserved Red Dragon Heart Blood in the vault, he'd been tempted beyond measure and promptly chosen it as one of his rewards.

Red Dragons were the fiercest and most powerful of the Chromatic Dragons. The Dragon Blood Potion made from their heart blood offered the greatest benefits. It greatly increased the user's constitution and strength, while also granting a degree of fire immunity and boosting fire magic.

Ryan kept his hands moving, measuring the ingredients and adding them in order with the steady precision of a machine. Waves of magical energy slowly wafted from the pan.

Ryan carefully controlled the timing and heat. Only when the brew had turned completely deep red did he pour it into the crystal bottle he had prepared in advance. After filling it and sealing it tightly, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.

The potion shimmered in his hand beneath the bright light, gleaming with the deep brilliance of a ruby. Ryan cast Identify on it, and the potion's precise effects immediately appeared in his mind:

Dragon Blood Potion (brewed by Ryan)

Category: Potion

Effects: After use, constitution +2, strength +2, grants Lesser Fire Immunity, and increases the power of fire magic.

Requirements: Constitution above 12, intelligence above 14

Description: Red Dragon Dius's pride will not allow the weak to challenge his dignity!

A satisfied smile appeared on Ryan's face. The Dragon Blood Potion's effects had lived up to his expectations. It perfectly made up for his weakness in close combat, allowing him to wield his heavy staff as effortlessly as an extension of his arm, even without magical enhancement. Now Ryan could smash a bunch of brutes' heads in without a buff. Of course, given his personality, he'd still use one if he could.

After carefully checking the Dragon Blood Potion with magic several times, Ryan took the test subject he had prepared—a Goblin—from its cage and strapped it to the white workbench. He dripped a small amount of the potion into the Goblin's mouth as it struggled frantically in terror.

As the potion took effect, the short, scrawny Goblin let out a painful, hoarse shriek. Its muscles visibly swelled, and its hair began falling out. The Goblin thrashed and struggled in agony. The metal shackles restraining it strained under its surging strength. After a while, it gave one last howl and fainted.

Ryan calmly recorded the Goblin's symptoms from the side. Once it had passed out, he stepped over and drew blood with practiced ease, then examined its condition. Only after completing the whole series of procedures did he let out a slow breath and say to himself, "Looks like my skills are still sharp. The potion worked perfectly, with no adverse effects."

After laying out the healing scrolls and protective equipment, Ryan finally lay down on the cushion he had taken out of his space and drank the scarlet potion, as red as fresh blood, straight from the crystal bottle.

As soon as the potion entered his mouth and throat, Ryan felt as if he'd swallowed a mass of blazing, scalding fire. A burning sensation flared in his stomach. As he drank, waves of heat rolled from his body. Wisps of white steam rose visibly from his head, while the Dragon Blood's powerful, searing energy coursed through his blood vessels and flooded his whole body, violently transforming him.

Ryan clenched his teeth and endured wave after wave of pain, keeping his mind clear through the unbearable ordeal.

Suddenly, his field of vision shifted, and he found himself high above a vast, empty sky. The blue ocean and boundless heavens blended together, while a cluster of smoke-belching volcanoes rose behind him. His viewpoint plunged sharply downward. He snatched a Dire Boar from the mountains in one claw, then took off into the sky.

The scene changed again. This time, it was a battlefield filled with flames and arrows flying like locusts. Beautiful, agile Elves skirmished with evil creatures like Gnolls and Trolls. Suddenly, a huge, fearsome Mad Dragon swept across the sky like a storm, spewing deadly, blazing fire that incinerated everything in its path.

As the scenes shifted one after another, Ryan calmly watched the Red Dragon hunt, fight, and mate, experiencing the arrogance and wild abandon of a creature at the top of the food chain. He knew this was a trial left behind by the residual will of the Red Dragon in its blood. If he couldn't endure it, he would fail. If he could, a vast new world would open before him.

Ryan weathered wave after wave of mental assault with his powerful mental energy and iron will. But compared to the Planeswalker inheritance, he thought, this was nothing. Suddenly, his vision returned to normal. Feeling his greatly increased strength and constitution, Ryan realized he had endured the impact of the residual will in the Red Dragon's blood and successfully absorbed the potion.

Getting up from the cushion, soaked with sweat, Ryan immediately reached up to feel his head. After running his fingers through his smooth hair, he let out a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness, thank goodness. The Goblin's hair loss was just an isolated case. I didn't go bald, and I got stronger too. Great, just great."