My Alchemy Is Omnipotent

It was summer—one year ago in the library at Kaer Morhen—

"Nekkers are creatures born from the Conjunction of the Spheres. They are short, standing between three to four feet tall, though rare variants can reach five feet. They have pale skin, long and wide jaws, sharp teeth, and claws. They possess basic intelligence and tend to attack in packs."

Vesemir clapped his hands twice. "A near-perfect description, child."

Smiling, the boy did not stop there and continued, "Their meat is coarse and unfit for consumption. Their blood, claws, and eyes can all be used as alchemical ingredients, and the heart of an albino Nekker is a catalyst for special potions.

"Silver swords, along with Ogre oil—made by boiling dried and crushed Moon Rose petals mixed with bear fat—are effective at increasing lethality."

"Impressive!" the Witcher master nodded with satisfaction.

In actual combat, the individual combat power of a Nekker is truly not worth mentioning. Their lunges and bites, while quick and powerful, are limited by their size; at their strongest, they do not exceed the category of large beasts. Danger usually only arises when one is flanked and attacked in vulnerable spots due to their numerical advantage.

Fortunately for the brigade, the iron-plated leather armor purchased in Vergen was not just for show. There are always differences in quality; even leather comes in various grades, and the simple, unadorned Victor had naturally chosen the best-tanned hard leather.

With fine gear, sharp weapons, well-applied sword oils, and potions fully consumed, the engagement began when the first Nekker lunged from afar, only to be cleaved in two by a silver blade from head to spine.

Suddenly, the guttural shrieks of Nekkers filled the air from all directions. The pair was surrounded by the small monsters, and the irreconcilable conflict between hunter and hunted erupted violently.

Under the influence of the potions, Victor's enhanced reflexes and strength had no trouble dealing with the encirclement. Even the one or two Nekkers that tried to burrow and sneak an attack were detected by him beforehand and pinned to the ground. It could be said that before his silver sword, there was no rival.

Angoulême's combat prowess was already high, and after the potion enhancement, although her Mahakam steel sword lacked the silver sword's special lethality against monsters, the effect of the Ogre oil was enough to support her in a display of fighting her way in and out of the fray.

Under the moonlight, the girl's high-performance display was a series of footwork transitions. In rapid displacement, she executed continuous downward slashes, upward strikes, and another downward slash, swinging her blade three times to literally hack three Nekkers into six pieces.

Truly, that scene of blood raining from the sky was poetic, picturesque, and pleasing to the eye.

After Victor used a feint to bait a Nekker into lunging, dodged with a side-step, and then stepped forward to slice through its chest from bottom to top, the remaining five or six Nekkers let out shrieks and fled in all directions, leaving behind the corpses of about double their number.

They came in a rush and departed in a hurry. In the blink of an eye, the wind calmed, leaving only a mess on the ground as proof of the struggle for survival that had occurred moments ago.

In the cool night breeze, Victor and Angoulême exchanged a glance and let out long sighs, then both burst into laughter simultaneously. It was a release of tension after facing a threat of unknown numbers.

As the laughter faded, Angoulême walked back to the campfire and sat down, staring blankly into the flames, lost in thought.

Victor walked over to her. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head.

Victor took out a box of ointment, applied some to his philtrum, and handed it to the girl. "Rub it under your nose; you won't smell the stench for a while."

Then, he went off on his own to pull out his short blade, walking unsteadily toward the pile of treasure—the very smelly treasure.

"Honestly, I'm curious, how bad do you smell right now, Captain?" the girl asked while walking under the faint light of dawn.

The boy finished collecting the loot, feeling some regret that there was no albino Nekker heart. Seeing the sky beginning to brighten, the brigade simply packed up and continued their journey. However, Catherine refused to stay on the girl's shoulder any longer because Victor was walking right beside Angoulême.

"If you really want to know, I can give you the antidote for the nasal ointment. I, for one, don't want to know," Victor said expressionlessly.

After thinking about it, Angoulême spat on the side of the road. "Forget it... Catherine says it's terrifying."

A sliver of golden sunlight appeared on the distant horizon.

Without Catherine there to talk to her, Angoulême returned to her habit of chattering at Victor. "Captain, what were those three potions we drank? After drinking them, I felt full of strength, as if I could do anything!"

"They were Witcher enhancement potions. Normally, a common person would be poisoned, but we drank an improved, non-toxic version with a much lower enhancement effect."

Hearing Victor say this, Angoulême protested, "That's still a low effect!? I feel invincible every time I can pop a set of those during a fight!"

"Oh... are you confident you could beat Iophis?" the boy retorted calmly.

The boast was cut short... the girl's voice turned small. "...Probably... still no."

"With your level, you want to pop a set every time? Dream on. Do you know how many crowns the raw materials for that set of potions cost? And how many crowns it costs to refine them into potions?

"Do you even know that the sword oil has to be boiled with bear fat? Do you know how much bear fat I managed to scrape off that bear I spent all morning jumping around to catch?

"Yesterday was an unavoidable luxury because the situation was unclear. Sigh... the more I talk, the more my heart bleeds... and I haven't even counted the wear and tear on the steel and silver swords. Let me tell you..." Victor ruthlessly launched into a miserly lecture, targeting Angoulême's naivety about the cost of living.

Reality is not a game; there are no herbs to be picked everywhere, and some herbs cannot be bought even with money. Furthermore, the carrying and storage of potions are major problems. With the preservation technology of this era, they spoil easily if kept too long. It was only thanks to the freshness-preserving function of his herb bag that Victor could diligently store various potions.

For any other Witcher, most of last night's sudden encounters would have to be handled by pure swordsmanship, and if injured, they would have to rely on unstable, potent drugs for self-rescue.

The miser's teachings lectured Angoulême until she was speechless, leaving her to trudge along with a gloomy face until well past noon, when the city of Ellander finally came into view.

When entering the city to pay the fee, Victor noticed the gatekeeper's undisguised disgust at the stench. He smiled and held up a long string of Nekker ears to greet him, scaring the man into stumbling backward and nearly slipping.

Angoulême, wearing her hood, followed him into the city, keeping a distance of neither too near nor too far. Shortly after entering, she stopped in front of the "Lame Anton" inn, tapped her sword hilt three times, and entered.

Hearing the tapping, Victor glanced back at the sign and the girl, then continued onward.

This was his first time trying to walk around in the identity of a Witcher. In theory, this string of Nekker ears could be turned in at the town hall for a bounty. Out of caution and to avoid unnecessary accidents, he had Angoulême keep her distance while entering the city to find lodging on her own.

He also had to visit the Temple of Melitele, where he would stay if all went well. Angoulême, however, loathed all temples, even those dedicated to Melitele, the ancient goddess of love and peace.