Punk's arrangements for Bilan were rather tedious. Her responsibilities included cleaning the White Tower, performing basic alchemical tasks, and feeding the slaves in the basement.
Of course, Punk was not stingy with compensation. He provided Bilan with a room inscribed with an elemental affinity magic circle and gifted her five apprentice-level spell models as a "welcome gift." Compared to those mages who hoarded knowledge and refused to share it, Punk could be considered remarkably generous.
However, Bilan seemed far from satisfied with what she called "treating people like monsters." Despite the generous rewards, she clearly preferred less gruesome tasks over handling piles of corpses.
Punk, however, had no patience for a girl who "didn't know her own good fortune." His mind was already preoccupied with his experiments.
After instructing Bilan to familiarize herself with the White Tower and warning her not to disturb him, he returned to his workbench.
At the moment, his focus was on an official-level alchemical potion extracted from Menesi's notes.
Menesi, as a sculptor-specialized mage, had only superficial knowledge of alchemy and potions. The collection of alchemical formulas in his notes was pitifully small, completely unworthy of an "old-school" official mage.
After scouring the seven or eight notebooks left behind in Menesi's ring, Punk found only three official-level alchemy formulas—one of which was clearly incomplete.
However, these weren't ordinary potions. Each was a carefully crafted masterpiece, potent enough to serve as a trump card in battle. Punk suspected that Menesi had acquired them through less-than-legitimate means. Given how valuable these formulas were, it was hard to imagine an official mage willingly trading them away.
Among them, one potion in particular caught Punk's attention—a concoction referred to as "Soul Potential Activation."
Punk held a crumpled, burnt-yellow parchment, his slender fingers carefully avoiding the green runes inscribed on its surface.
Those runes formed a complex corrosive magic circle. If touched by any living being or disrupted by external energy, they would instantly trigger a formal-level "Greater Corrosion" spell, reducing the parchment to nothingness. The extreme precautions taken by the parchment's previous owner were a testament to the formula's importance.
The full name of the formula read:
"Lofska Official-Level Soul Potential Temporary Activation Potion, 7.30 Modified Edition."
Punk simply referred to it as the "Activation Potion."
After running the parchment's scribbled text through his system's analysis, Punk's eyes gleamed. The results confirmed just how powerful this potion was:
Activation Potion — Analysis
Potion Name:
Lofska Official-Level Soul Potential Temporary Activation Potion (7.30 Modified Edition)
Formula:
Stable soul fragments of intelligent creatures (below official level)
The obsession of the dead
Liquefied happiness
Solidified pain
Ghost sparks
Minnar green vine powder
Screaming Lorling grass
…(various other components)
Potion Grade:
Official Level
Effects:
For creatures below official level:Soul rupture and death within three minutes of ingestion.
For official-level beings: Increases energy recovery rate (excluding god-given energy) by 4.6× to 7.5× for 15 minutes.
For master-level beings: Increases energy recovery rate by 1.2× to 2.3× for three minutes.
For legendary and higher beings:Ineffective.
Side Effects:
After the potion's effects end, the user's energy recovery rate drops drastically for 100 magic hours, with a reduction factor of 2.4× the original boost.
Repeated use can damage the soul, potentially leading to fragmentation.
Combining this potion with other potential-boosting elixirs has a 90% chance of causing unknown, likely negative effects.
Overuse may result in permanent degradation of the soul.
Despite its dangerous side effects, the sheer power of the Activation Potion was undeniable. In battle, a temporary sixfold or sevenfold increase in energy recovery would allow a mage to unleash devastating spells without worrying about depletion. And after combat, the potion would allow for rapid mana replenishment, ensuring that one was always prepared for the next fight.
For a newly advanced official mage like Punk—who lacked the deep reserves of a seasoned sorcerer—this potion was an invaluable trump card.
He was determined to refine it.
But crafting such a powerful potion was no simple task.
More than a month had passed, and Punk had already failed a dozen times. He had come to understand just how difficult this endeavor truly was.
Now, in his palm, hovered dozens of faintly glowing, irregular blue fragments. A careful ear would detect eerie, agonized wails emanating from them. As the shards drifted about, they occasionally burst with faint flickers of light.
These were the soul fragments of an intelligent creature—painfully extracted just moments ago.
Punk frowned, using delicate mana threads to manipulate the unstable soul pieces. But the results were disappointing. Instead of calming, the fragments grew even more erratic, twisting wildly in a chaotic frenzy.
These soul fragments had been cut from a young male slave. His lifeless body lay curled in the corner, muscles stiffened and grotesquely contorted from the agony of his soul being forcibly torn away. The pain of such a process was so excruciating that his muscles had literally split apart from the sheer tension.
Irritated, Punk kicked the useless corpse aside and discarded the fragmented soul, allowing it to be devoured by the great river of fate. For the suffering remnants of the soul, oblivion was perhaps a mercy.
Pressing his fingers to his temples, Punk felt frustration creeping in.
According to the formula, the core ingredient of the Activation Potion was "stable soul fragments of intelligent creatures below official level."
But no soul would willingly allow itself to be harvested, and the process of being cut apart inevitably drove the soul into a chaotic state. The fragments Punk extracted were always wild and unstable—far from the "stable" quality required.
He had invested an enormous amount of time and effort, yet the results remained fruitless. Even for someone as cold and calculating as Punk, the urge to smash something was growing.
But rage solved nothing.
Taking several deep breaths, Punk forced himself to regain composure. There had to be a solution. Losing his temper would only make things worse.
Once he had calmed down, he sent a short magic message to Bilan:
"Go to the basement. Bring up more slaves."
Then, without wasting another moment, he picked up the tattered parchment once more, scouring the formula for any overlooked details.
If there was a way to stabilize these soul fragments, he would find it.