“Until you brought these notes… you must be wondering why I was so desperate for Master Lobranch’s manuscript, right?”
Darens returned from his memories to the present. “Master Lobranch specialized in blueprint restoration techniques. Whether for her sake or to regain my confidence, I have to try.”
If I hadn’t casually asked, this somewhat tragic story might have remained buried forever—like countless other tales and epics in Epoch, waiting for players to unearth them bit by bit.
I smiled faintly. “Mr. Darens’s devotion would move even the Goddess of Light, I’m sure. I wish you success.”
It wasn’t mere politeness—I was genuinely touched by the sincerity in his words.
Even if the stories in the game were ultimately just lines of data, weren’t real-life events merely random atomic collisions? Obsessing over the essence was sometimes foolish.
“Thank you for your blessing, adventurer.”
Darens gave a small smile, speaking earnestly.
System: Darens’s affinity toward you increased from Neutral to Friendly.
Seeing the notification, I was a little surprised. I hadn’t expected to trigger a favorability boost.
Epoch’s natives had real emotions and reacted based on dialogue. Raising affinity with a single sentence was rare, though not unheard of.
But I only noted it in passing. With a high-level alchemist at home, I didn’t lack the benefits of favorability. And that wasn’t why I’d come.
“Mr. Darens, can you also replicate potion recipes?”
“Yes.” With affinity now Friendly, his tone softened considerably. He nodded. “Though I’m not very skilled in that area. The cost might be high.”
After completing the hidden quest in my past life, that player learned of Darens’s blueprint replication ability. The cost and conditions were indeed steep, as he said.
Replicating a potion recipe required three copies of similar-principle recipes—not counting potential failures.
Most potions could substitute for one another, making Darens’s skill largely redundant.
Yet even so, comments under the guide sighed—
“If only I’d found this quest before Barenna Underground Fortress opened.”
Yes. Inside Barenna, special flames weakened player defenses, turning tanks as fragile as mages. Only specific fire-resistance potions countered it.
Fire-resistance potion recipes were extremely rare, so when the instance opened, both potions and recipes skyrocketed several times in price.
The profit dwarfed even Redstone Potions. That’s why I’d planned from the moment Triss offered skill training—hoarding nearly every similar-principle recipe on the market.
A poor Demon King had to plan ahead.
“I don’t mind the cost. Please replicate the fire-resistance potion recipe for me. Here’s the sample and the materials I’ve prepared.”
I pulled the fire-resistance recipe and all the similar ones I’d collected, handing them to Darens.
“Alright, but I’ll need some time.” Darens smiled wryly at the stack.
Barenna’s opening was still days away. I could keep buying while he worked. After handing everything over, I left the shop.
With the key matter settled, my mood lightened.
I’d planned to check on Syl and Kashalia’s progress at the Demon King’s Castle next, but reconsidered and headed to Triss’s alchemy workshop in Faerns first.
After buying the place, it had become the Demon King’s foothold in the city. Triss spent the most time here—of course.
Perhaps the empty Herentis didn’t match her vision, or owning her own workshop thrilled any alchemist.
Either way, it benefited her: pocket money aside, handling Faerns affairs was key.
But seeing more apprentices than before in the ground-floor shop, I couldn’t help sighing.
That spendthrift Triss.
Up on the second floor, I visited Sister Yue Chang’an and handed over the fire-resistance recipe and materials.
“Thanks for the hard work, Sister Chang’an. If possible these next few days, brew as many as you can. I’ll pay overtime.”
“I didn’t expect little Tong to be such a law-abiding good kid.” Yue Chang’an chuckled. Brewing more successes had boosted her confidence—she even played along with my joke.
“Of course. I’m the successor to socialism, after all.”
Seeing her radiant expression, I grew certain: the alchemist once called “Divine Descent” would soon rise in the Alwyn Empire.
I couldn’t wait to see Blue Shadow’s faces when they learned the hottest alchemist was the one they’d let slip away.
Suddenly remembering something, I asked, “Sister Chang’an, you’ve met other player alchemists, right?”
“Mhm. Why?”
“If you find promising talents, recruit them. Don’t worry about contracts—I’ll offer splits higher than guild rates, and I’ll convince Miss Triss about skill training.”
My goal: build a dedicated alchemist team like guilds did. But no ordinary guild offered such high shares—plus Triss’s personal training. Few alchemists could resist.
“Um… aren’t you worried about bad apples slipping in?”
“That’s why I need you to vet them.”
Faced with my full trust, Yue Chang’an hesitated, then nodded firmly. “I’ll do my best.”
After settling things with her, I went up to Triss’s private third-floor alchemy room.
“Like this… and then this… finally done!”
Excitement flashed in Triss’s bright eyes. She reached to test it—but a voice from behind startled her into chugging the potion in one gulp.
What done?
“N-Nothing!” Triss frantically hid the empty bottle behind her back. “D-Demon King, why’d you come here?”
I eyed her suspiciously, but her forced innocent loli face gave nothing away. Shrugging, I pulled the Mysterious Mechanical Alchemy Handbook and depleted Mysterious Energy Core from my inventory and tossed them to her.
After a thought, I threw in the Radiant Chapter too.
“Any idea what these do?”
Besides alchemist, Triss was an engineer—familiar with mechanical alchemy items. That’s why I’d come, and she didn’t disappoint.
“Huh? This is actually a high-grade Flormon crystal. Shame the energy’s gone… The text in this handbook is odd—seems to record special mechanical structures.” Triss frowned. “Demon King, I might need time to study. Can I keep these two?”
“Just let me know when you figure something out.” I nodded.
After stowing them, Triss picked up the Radiant Chapter and examined it, but soon shook her head.
No surprise—I hadn’t expected answers from her anyway. Hoping for that was like waiting for a back-row boy to raise his hand.
“Huh… Demon King, not heading back yet?”
Triss, eager to dive into the handbook, caught me deep in thought from the corner of her eye and blinked curiously.
“I’m wondering why your potion hasn’t kicked in yet.”
“Hm?” Triss looked blank.
“Didn’t you brew a bust-enhancing potion?” I held up an empty bottle, feigning contemplation. “Or is it that even this potion can’t save you?”
Triss’s eyes widened. Glancing behind her, she saw her hands truly empty. Before shame could explode, my doubt provoked her. “O-Of course it doesn’t work that fast! The instructions say it needs consistent use over time…”
But when she grabbed the recipe to prove it, she spotted the issue.
“Huh? I brewed the wrong one… this is Growth Illusion Potion…”
Growth Illusion Potion? I’d heard of it—changes the user’s appearance to a more mature age. Often used for pranks.
Hm?
Suddenly, we both realized the crux. Our gazes unanimously landed on certain unchanging areas of one person.
I patted Triss’s shoulder sympathetically and sighed.