Rivyn sat at his bench, turning a small glass vial of green liquid in his hands. It was one of many potions he had brewed over the past few days—herbal remedy after healing draught—but no matter how perfect he tried to make them, they still turned out wrong. Yet against all expectations, Iarra found that she didn't mind the little town. They would treat nothing more than mere cuts and scraps. They were not even competent enough for the adventurers.
Frustration boiled in the pit of his stomach. Sure, he was growing good at alchemy, but never did his potions actually feel potent enough to really cause some big change across the adventuring world. He had to figure out why.
He set the vial down and picked up the last of his purchases from the market a while ago, an old, dog-eared book: The Principles of Mana Infusion in Crafting. Rivyn remembered that he had thumbed through it. That was before he found himself stumped. He'd best give it another read.
He flipped through it, reading on past the parts detailing the flow of mana, its magical uses and ways of being crafted. Most of that was basic theory- nothing he did not already know. And then he reached the part about mana reserves.
The potions that are made depend upon the mana of the craftsman who makes such things, not just the magical item. The item would be less potent without having a substantial amount of mana reserve for a craftsman to make thus. That means, because of the potion-making fact, this is greatly reduced in potency in the brew. More knowledgeable alchemists often supplement the flow into their brew by drawing from sources of mana other than themselves, giving it full potential.
Rivyn's eyes ran over the passage wide with revelation. Reserves of mana. Mana reserves. That was it. He hadn't thought it could be his own low reserves of mana holding him back, though he had thought he'd had enough to do what he wanted. But perhaps he didn't have enough? Perhaps that were the very thing holding his potions back from their true potency?
He reflected on the last few mixtures of potions and found that he always walked away with a feeling of partial drainage. He hadn't paid much attention to that then. In retrospect, it seemed like the process was pulling mana from himself; his reserves in the magical account were low enough that he didn't give full power to the potions.
His mind started circling in on itself. The same book also indicated that, in the art of manufacturing something, many a good alchemist used mana from outside of his own body to supplement in-body reserves. Of course—that was it. If only he could figure some way of restocking his mana as he worked, then perhaps at last his potions would be strong enough.
He remembered those mana stones he'd seen in the market a few days ago. They were not cheap, but they could radiate continuous amounts of mana. He felt that was the solution to his problem, if he could get his hands on one.
Rivyn meandered his way through the swamped marketplace of Velira the following morning. Down the streets, all the usual chaos filled the air: people hawking in front of vendors, adventurers arguing for the best gear deals, and merchants closing their deals. Pressing his way through the crowded marketplace, Rivyn finally worked toward one in particular that he had remembered carried magical items.
"Mana stones, huh?" The vendor scrubbed at his beard. "Got a few in stock. Not cheap, mind you.
Rivyn followed him to the display of shining stones; each of them pulsed with an insistent, faint hum of magical energy. They were dear. The cheapest among the lot—a small mana stone that did no more than glow dimly—was marked at 80 silver coins.
Rivyn's stomach twisted. Truly, 80 silver coins were a goodly sum of money to spend for one who was not plumbing in gold. But what choice did he have? His potions would remain weak without it. He counted out the coins, and the weight of this transaction felt heavy in his mind as he handed them across.
He pocketed the silver, still smiling. 'Good luck with it.
Now back in the workshop, Rivyn laid the mana stone out on the workbench, and its dull light was cast across his tools and materials. It was warm to the touch, yet he felt its simmering potential, aware of the mana coursing inside, somewhat conscious.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself to try his hand at brewing again. This time he was attempting something simple: just making the healing potion work better, perhaps to actually stop bleeding from critical wounds and stabilize an injured person. He laid out herbs, powders, and other ingredients he would need, ensuring that the mana stone was always close by.
He worked as before, letting the flow of mana through his body become realized and felt within him. It poured like he knew it would, sapping with each step of the process. But now, when the reserves started to wane, he gripped the mana stone in his palm and flowed the energy into him.
A wave of mana burst through him, replenishing his stores and allowing him to continue feeding energy into the potion. He could feel the difference right away: The mana inside the brew was now far steadier, much stronger. The stone-maned mana wove with his own, each pace giving added strength to the potion.
The liquid inside of the vial began to glow softly; a rich green color churning rapidly as the last ingredients combined. When all was complete, Rivyn held up the finished vial, his eyes wide with wonder. This was different. Far more powerful than anything he had ever done before.
He was cautiously excited and decided to try out the effects of the potion on a small cut on his hand. The liquid reached his skin, touching it, and his wound closed almost immediately. Not only did it halt the bleeding, but it had also begun to knit the skin back together.
That was the full extent of it. It was enough to cure major wounds—just what an adventurer could wish for when his life were at stake. Nothing of the power the specialists could brew, but that was a great step for him.
The familiar ring of the System chimed inside his head.
[System Notification: Basic Knowledge for a Crafter]
[ Competencies: 15.2% (+2%) --> 17.2% ]
Rivyn's eyes blinked in surprise. That was one huge leap of 2 percent more in proficiency—much and far bigger than the normal small bump-ups. Seemed like finally all that work he had been doing to stabilize the mana flow and increase his potions' potency was finally starting to pay off. He was really making progress now in his work.
He finally turned his gaze further down, to the System Points section, to see if his success gave him more points.
[Current System Points: 17]
Obviously there would be no new points—it wasn't like he had finished off any major quest tasks or anything—but a good result was a victory, in any case. He wasn't planning to use his System Points just yet and preferred to save them for the moment when he would really need them. For the time being, his skills needed to be honed by practice.
Rivyn continued to tinker at the bench as evening deepened, playing with new ingredients and tweaking with new methods for making potions. He had closed the shop hours ago, but the thrill of newfound success kept him going.
Except for the soft clinking of glass vials and the occasional pop from the forge, the workshop was silent. Rivyn's attention had no space for his craft alone—until, out in the night, he caught the faint scratching noise. His head jerked up-the sound coming softly, underlaid by a faint scratching of metal on wood. But it wasn't enough to mistake the sound-it was unmistakable. Velira was one of those cities with rougher edges to them and Rivyn had learned young in his life to take precautions-his shop was reinforced: heavy metal bars across the window panes and a thick chain on the door.
But there was a knot in his stomach as he made his way to the front of the store.
By the time he reached the window, his heart had already sunk. He will view how all the iron bars fitted over the windows against intruders were bent and broken. The glass lies on the ground, while the chain on the door was ripped off as if it were made from straw paper. The whole front of the shop has now been made vulnerable, though he hadn't heard a thing until now.
Rivyn's mind buzzed with questions: How had this been done? Who could breach so tight a defense so easily? Why hadn't he hear the noise until it was too late? A searing pain exploded in the back of his head, and before he knew what was going on, it felt as if his vision spun and grew hazy. The last thing he registered was the faint glow of the mana stone on his workbench before everything went black. Rivyn slumped to the floor unconscious, his workshop in shambles around him.