-0-
Mirajane led Calvin to a corner table where an elderly woman sat reviewing what appeared to be a supply manifest. Pink hair, sharp eyes, an expression that suggested she'd rather be anywhere else. Her magical signature was substantial but carefully controlled—a healer's precision rather than a combat mage's aggression.
"Porlyusica, this is Calvin. He'll be escorting you on the herb gathering mission."
Porlyusica looked up and studied Calvin with an intensity that would have made most people uncomfortable. "You're the one with the sensory magic."
"Life sense," Calvin confirmed. "I can detect living organisms within two hundred meters and analyze their biological patterns."
"Hmm. Can you differentiate between similar species? Identify specific plant varieties?"
"If I've encountered them before or have reference data, yes."
Porlyusica pulled out a detailed list. "I need five primary ingredients. Miasma Toad venom sacs, moongrass, heartroot, wolfsbane, and silverscale lichen. The toads are the priority—their venom sacs are time-sensitive and degrade rapidly after death."
Calvin examined the list. His memories of the East Forest included several locations with the right environmental conditions. "Miasma Toads prefer stagnant water with high mineral content. There are three likely locations within a day's travel of Magnolia. I can narrow the search significantly."
Porlyusica's expression shifted slightly. Not quite approval, but close. "Competent. That's rare." She stood and gathered her supplies. "We leave in one hour. Don't be late."
Mirajane waited until Porlyusica had left before whispering, "That went better than expected. Most people get intimidated immediately."
"She's direct and task-focused," Calvin said. "That's preferable to excessive social requirements."
"You two might actually get along."
They departed Magnolia in a wagon pulled by a sturdy draft horse. Porlyusica sat in the front with the driver, reviewing her notes. Calvin rode in the back with supply crates and equipment.
The journey was quiet for the first two hours. Calvin used the time to study the herb identification guide Porlyusica had provided—detailed illustrations with notes on growing conditions, seasonal variations, and medicinal properties.
Moongrass grew on tall trees, absorbing lunar energy through specialized photoreceptive cells. The highest quality specimens glowed faintly at night.
Heartroot penetrated deep into soil, sometimes reaching fifteen feet down. The root's core contained concentrated vitality—useful for restoration potions.
Wolfsbane was poisonous to most organisms but essential for certain antidotes. It grew in shaded areas with specific soil pH requirements.
Calvin was memorizing the fourth herb's characteristics when the wagon lurched violently.
The horse screamed—a sound of pure animal panic. The wagon tilted, wheels leaving the ground on one side.
Calvin's vines erupted automatically, wrapping around the wagon frame and anchoring it to nearby trees. The vehicle settled back onto all four wheels with a heavy thump instead of overturning completely.
"What happened?!" the driver shouted.
Calvin dropped from the wagon and approached the horse. A snake—small, dull brown, unremarkable—slithered away from the horse's front left ankle where puncture wounds were already swelling.
"Venomous bite," Calvin reported. "The horse is going into shock."
Porlyusica was beside the horse in seconds, a vial already in hand. She poured pale blue liquid directly onto the wound, then forced more down the horse's throat despite its struggling.
Calvin watched with his life sense active.
The potion's effect was remarkable. Foreign proteins from the venom began breaking down immediately—complex molecules simplified into harmless compounds. Damaged tissue at the bite site started regenerating at accelerated rates. The horse's elevated heart rate decreased toward normal. Inflammation receded.
Within ninety seconds, the horse was calm and the wound had closed to a pink scar.
"Fascinating," Calvin said. "The potion targeted the venom specifically while simultaneously enhancing natural healing. How does it differentiate between harmful and beneficial biological processes?"
Porlyusica glanced at him sharply. "You could see that?"
"My life sense tracks biological changes. The pattern was clear."
She studied him for a long moment. "The potion contains catalysts keyed to common toxin structures. When it encounters matching patterns, it activates neutralization protocols. The healing component is non-specific—it simply accelerates normal regeneration."
"Can you teach me potion-making?"
"No."
The refusal was immediate and absolute.
"Why not?"
"You've had magic for what, a few months? Potion-making requires years of study. Understanding biological chemistry, magical resonance, ingredient interactions. Teaching a brat who just discovered his power would waste my time."
Calvin processed this. Her reasoning was logical but based on assumptions about normal learning curves. His pattern recognition and fifty thousand years of analyzing systems gave him advantages she wouldn't expect.
"I learn quickly."
"Everyone thinks they learn quickly. Few actually do."
"Test me. Give me a task. If I fail, I'll drop the subject."
Porlyusica's eyes narrowed. "Why do you want to learn?"
"Because understanding how potions manipulate life processes will advance my primary research into life magic and resurrection mechanics."
She stared at him. "Resurrection? You're researching resurrection?"
"Yes."
"That's forbidden magic for good reason."
"I'm not attempting necromancy. I'm studying how to create sustainable life from dead materials. Resurrection is the ultimate expression of that principle."
Porlyusica was quiet for a long moment. Then she pulled out her herb guide and handed it to Calvin. "Memorize this. If you can identify useful specimens during our search and demonstrate you understand their properties, I'll consider teaching you basics. Maybe."
"Acceptable."
They continued into the forest. Calvin spent the journey memorizing every herb, every growing condition, every chemical property listed in the guide.
They made camp as the sun set. Porlyusica was setting up her portable laboratory—a folding table with organized compartments for tools and ingredients—when Calvin stood and announced, "I'm going to search for moongrass."
"At night?"
Cal blinked, was she testing to see if he'd understood the herb list? Likely.
"It glows under moonlight. Optimal visibility."
She nodded but still added,
"The forest is dangerous after dark."
"I can defend myself."
Calvin's coat sprouted wings before Porlyusica could argue further. He launched skyward, leaving her staring after him.
Flying was still novel enough to be exhilarating. The coat's wings beat with silent efficiency, lifting him above the canopy. Moonlight filtered through clouds, illuminating the forest in silver and shadow.
Calvin activated his life sense fully and searched for the specific pattern moongrass exhibited—high concentrations of lunar-reactive chlorophyll in tall tree branches.
He found the first cluster within ten minutes. A ancient oak with moongrass growing along its upper limbs, glowing faintly blue-white. Calvin landed on a thick branch and harvested carefully, taking only mature stalks while leaving younger growth to continue the population.
The required amount was three bundles. Calvin collected seven.
He opened his coat's portal and stored four bundles directly in his workshop. Porlyusica didn't need to know about his dimensional capabilities. That information could prove valuable later—a trump card for emergencies.
Calvin returned to camp forty minutes after departing and presented three perfect bundles of glowing moongrass.
Porlyusica examined them with obvious surprise. "These are excellent quality. How did you find so much so quickly?"
"Life sense detected the right chlorophyll pattern. Flying provided access to tall trees."
"You can fly."
"My coat evolved wings after consuming raven biomass."
Porlyusica shook her head slowly. "Makarov told me you were unusual. He undersold it." She carefully stored the moongrass in preservation containers. "Get some rest. Tomorrow we search for heartroot."
The week developed a comfortable pattern.
Porlyusica would identify the day's target. Calvin would use his life sense to locate promising areas. They'd travel together, and Calvin would either harvest directly or provide security while she worked.
They didn't talk much. Both preferred silence to small talk. But the quiet was comfortable rather than awkward—two people focused on their work without needing constant social interaction.
Calvin took every opportunity to observe Porlyusica's potion preparation. She'd set up her portable lab each evening and process the day's harvest while Calvin maintained their camp.
Through his life sense, he could see how she infused her own life energy into the mixtures. Not much—just precise amounts at specific moments, guiding chemical reactions and stabilizing volatile compounds. Her pattern was expert-level, refined through decades of practice.
Calvin memorized it. The exact timing. The energy distribution. The way she adjusted for ingredient variations.
Porlyusica began sharing information unprompted after the third day.
"Heartroot is tricky," she said while grinding the harvested specimens. "Too much heat and you destroy the vitality compounds. Too little and they don't extract properly. The window is narrow."
"What temperature range?"
"Between forty and forty-five degrees. I use a water bath with temperature-regulating crystals."
Calvin filed this away. Temperature control through lacrima. Another technique to replicate.
He also used the mission's encounters with dangerous creatures productively. When a massive spider attacked their camp, Calvin defeated it and harvested its venom glands. He fed them to his coat, which integrated the pattern and developed poison-tipped thorns on its vines.
When blood-sucking bat creatures descended during a night search, Calvin captured several alive. After studying their echolocation organs, he allowed his coat to consume them. It gained rudimentary sonar capabilities—useful for navigating without visual input.
Each addition made his coat more versatile. More intelligent. It was learning from absorbed patterns, developing new capabilities by combining different biological functions.
On the sixth day, while Calvin was skinning a boar for dinner, he asked, "What's the meaning of life?"
Porlyusica looked up from her work. "That's an odd question."
"I spent fifty thousand years thinking about it. I'd like another perspective."
"Fifty thousand—never mind." She set down her mortar. "I've never really given it much thought. I'm too busy living to philosophize about it."
"But you must have some concept. Some organizing principle that guides your actions."
"Helping people heal, I suppose. Leaving things better than I found them. Not profound, but sufficient."
Calvin nodded slowly. "And resurrection? True resurrection, not reanimation. Is it possible to overturn death completely?"
Porlyusica's expression grew serious. "Death is as fundamental as life. They're two sides of the same coin. What dies cannot live again—not truly. You can create mimicry of life, but the spark that makes something genuinely alive? That's destroyed when death occurs."
"I intend to overturn that rule."
She stared at him, then laughed—a sharp sound like cracking wood. "Makarov's found an odd one this time. Just... be careful, boy. Only one mage in history achieved what you're attempting. Zeref. And look what happened to him—cursed for his hubris."
"I'll be careful."
"Sure you will." But she smiled faintly. "Though if anyone could manage it, maybe it'd be someone too stubborn to accept limitations."