Rise of the Cheat Potion Maker #1: A Cultivation LitRPG Saga
Rise of the Cheat Potion Maker #1: Chapter 30

[Enemy analysis.]

[Rowbear. S-ranked aggressive demonic beast.]

[Mini-boss fight begin.]

The description kind of surprised me, but it made sense. If it existed outside of the dungeon, it’d be more likely a demonic beast instead of a monster. How common were these things? Rather than ponder on that, I focused on dodging.

We were still in the city of books, but this time everything appeared to be merged with a forest, trees, boulders, and even a body of water from time to time, popping up randomly.

Since I did not want to consume any more of my limited shadow potions, I had to continue to be a team player. The hero’s party probably appreciated it, but as I dodged another giant fireball, I was reminded that, in fact, adventuring was not for me. Fuck this.

“I don’t know how you adventurer-types put up with this,” I mused aloud as I dodged four fireballs aimed specifically at me. They exploded upon impact, digging nasty craters into the ground. I did not want to think what would happen if this caught anyone’s limb, but every time I took aim, the Rowbear seemed to concentrate all of his firepower on me.

Naturally, that gave me an idea. I eyed the others, hoping it was obvious. Milia was the first to get it, followed by Iris and the others.

And so I charged to the giant fire bear monster’s far left, a good bit away from the others. Iris continued to pepper it with magic arrows, Ronica with pink bursts of magic, the hero with his lightning blasts, Maxus with glowing daggers and his own green magic bursts, Kelvin with wicked giant ice shards, Nuwa with light blasts. Milia commanded the earth, nailing it with boulders and while magical bursts weren’t her strong suit, she launched a few golden balls to pull its attention. She also utilized vines the best she could, slowing down the creature. A few times, the dryad commanded a tree to pull all the way back and bash the living fuck out of the giant bear. But as a bear monster, it didn’t stay down for long.

The moment I charged my magic, the Rowbear turned to me, firing as many balls of flaming death as it could. The others took that golden opportunity to unleash their strongest attacks. Everything seemed like it was going well until I miscalculated a dodge. There were twenty-three fireballs, not twenty. The pain struck and it felt like someone took a giant molten bat and scored a homerun. In fact, the monster should be given said credit because I went flying. I felt like a package thrown by a UPS guy as I landed on a tree, cracking it in two on my way to the ground.

Everything fucking hurt. But before my brain could register the command to chuck down a potion, the feeling of warmness surrounded every part of my body. It was slower than my healing potion, but within moments, I was fully healed.

I stood up and judging by the relief on Nuwa’s face, then a thumbs up, my pain reliver was confirmed.

“Thanks,” I said, turning to focus on the monster.

My rage finally leaked, halting everything around, including the bear. Fuck, I was so pissed, I ignored the visible red light that outlined me. I wasn’t sure what was causing the current earthquake, but one thing I didn’t enjoy so much was getting heavily targeted like that.

The next moment, with what felt like a leap-step, I was in front of the bear, thirty feet or so in the air. I pulled back my brass-knuckled fist, expression cold, and punched.

S-ranked monsters or beasts were something to never fuck around with, but that didn’t stop the Rowbear from being rocketed at what looked to be the speed of sound into a city wall a hundred meters away. It didn’t get up.

The previous chest from the sky serpent queen didn’t yield what I was looking for and really nothing useful to me. So I asked Milia to select what she wanted, then gave the rest to the hero’s party. They tried to decline, repeating how much they didn’t earn it, but the A-ranked chest had jack shit for me as a potion maker, so I insisted on not letting anything go to waste.

I didn’t give a damn about any armor, swords, daggers, nor the boots that weren’t my size. Yes, I was still salty about that. At least Milia got herself a power-boosting ring. That made me reflect on the wedding rings I’d ordered in secret. It wasn’t a custom here, but I still wanted to go for it.

The chest that appeared this time was another A-ranker, according to my analyzation skill and the container’s bright silver color, which confirmed my theory of S-ranked chests not only being quite rare, but only manifested after defeating dungeon bosses.

“Come on, ice crystal,” I said, though I didn’t know what they actually looked like. In my head, I pictured something like a fat diamond. When I opened the chest, there was no such thing.

“Only the boss’s chest,” Kelvin reminded me. “If that Rowbear’s an indicator of anything, it’s that we’ll definitely have an S-ranked chest.”

“The problem with dungeons this powerful are the horrible abominations they produce,” Ramon said.

“But did you see what Sir Nate did?” Ronica asked, bringing up the topic I hoped no one would. Goddammit.

Ignoring the conversation that sparked, I searched until discovering a scroll. A new recipe, woo! I frowned at it. It even added a new category for it.

[New listing added, Potion of Flavors.]

[Depending on the ingredient, you may add various flavors, pleasant or not, to potions you create.]

[Potions available:]

[Current self-use potions: Health, Energy, General Medicine, Speed Booster, Sleeping.]

[Special potions: Night Vision, Mana Core, Water Breathing, Masking, Eagle Sight, Shadow.]

[Utility potions: Lighting.]

[Misc potions: Flavors, level 1 of 5.]

As if to add insult to injury, the damn thing even had progression, whereas none of my actual useful potions had such a thing. Flavors was perfect for people who probably wanted to poison their guests. Fucking serial killer shit, probably. Just as I was about to give up on life, I accidentally focused on the Flavors a little too hard, causing a second prompt to reveal itself.

[Flavors: you may gain additional effects depending on the flavor.]

Yep, definitely something meant for an assassin. Then again, maybe the effects would be useful, enabling me to create multifunctional potions. Like a potion that gave you both speed and sturdiness. Imagine creating an army of tanks that could just barrel into monsters with ease.

Happy with the possibilities, I gestured to everyone else to take their picks, after Milia selected what she wanted. Damn right, I was giving her special treatment. Sue me. If not for Milia, I sure as shit wouldn’t go to the second floor or even beyond with the hero’s party.

“Wow, this is the most friendly and organized chest plundering ever,” Ronica said.

“Is that sarcasm?” I asked, amusement in my voice.

“It’s not,” Kelvin confirmed. “While it doesn’t happen among us, we’ve all partied with various adventurer parties throughout the years to gain experience and hopefully better gear. Adventurers are an arrow of many different and often conflicting personalities, if you ask me.”

“Greed being the most dominant,” Nuwa said. “I remember entering a party where the leader took everything for himself, and no one could stand up to him. He later went on to gain some fame, while the others did all of that work for essentially nothing.”

“I heard of something similar, but the party plotted together and not only stabbed him in the back, but let the boss devour him,” Ronica said cheerily.

Maxus sighed. “Let’s not forget the one where the party leaders personally hand out all of the items, giving his friends the good things and those he recruited the junk.”

“What a bunch of assholes,” I said. “I’m not planning to do any adventuring myself, but I’ll keep this in mind in case Harmony or Lucas decide to venture out, leaving the nest.”

Milia giggled. “You know they’d want to test their powers.”

“They sure would,” I replied to Milia. “Just have to make sure they won’t explode their wands in their faces.”

“Or set their belongings on fire,” Milia said.

“I’ve been meaning to ask about those two,” Ramon said.

“Sorry, buddy, I don’t answer personal questions about my students,” I said, voice no longer playful, which cause Ramon to flinch.

“Nothing serious,” he quickly added. “Just how they went undiscovered for so long. Even the Wingston family should’ve caught them at some point, right? They do collect taxes around these parts.”

“It’s a long story, but the short version is, they came to me,” I said. “Now let’s get moving. I don’t know about you, but if I hear another Rowbear roar, I may just pass out from exhaustion.”

They didn’t look convinced that I could pass out for some reason, but nodded and followed. Eventually we found ourselves entering the third and final floor.

“Do all dungeons only have three floors?” I asked, not to anyone in particular.

“I’ve seen a five-floor dungeon,” Iris answered. “But most have three vast planes per floor.”

“I’ve heard some of them are as big as our entire world,” Ronica stated.

“You know, I’m starting to think we should bring our mounts into the dungeon,” I said.

“Except that’s not the greatest idea when you don’t know if the dungeon will dump you out into a giant river with properties that could prevent your mount from being able to swim to safety, assuming it can at all,” Ramon said. “The magic of the dungeon isn’t kind.”

“Who made them again? Wanda? You mean to tell me she went out of her way to make this as excruciating as possible?” I asked.

Nuwa looked around as if someone was listening in on our conversation, then said, “To be honest, no one truly knows. It could’ve been ancient magicians.”

Like in every goddamn fantasy epic I’ve read. For some reason, these god tier mages or spellcasters built rather pointless vast spaces or pocket worlds of fuckfulness and then somehow die off, despite having this insane level of power. Centuries later, humanity has adventurers braving these dungeons in hopes of treasure, many of them dying in the process. The cycle repeated. And no, fuckfulness wasn’t a word, but it really should have been to describe shit that doesn’t make sense, am I right or am I right?

“I think bringing a mount may be fine for some dungeons,” Milia said, “but only if they’re spirit beasts. Wingy’s a magical beast, like a dragon, but not a spirit beast, so I’m not sure if the dungeon will allow him inside.”

“The lightning horses are also magical beasts,” Iris said.

The third floor or rather, the third layer of the city of books sported much of the same as the first floor. An endless city of books.

“Wanda’s curvy ass, I just realized we’ll have to walk all the way back,” Ronica said.

“See. The creator of these dungeons really is a dick,” I said. “He or she uses magic to prevent people from bringing in mounts. Dick move.”

Getting this far into the dungeon was hours of walking. Whoever made this would be laughing if they were still alive.

I wondered how Wolverine and Cheetara were doing back at home. I couldn’t help but feel bad that I left them behind, but I trusted my wolf to guard our home as well as the apprentices while we were away. Of course, if someone dared attacked either of my pets, I’d send them on a trip to the moon. Literally.

Suddenly, the area began to look hazy, as if I stuck my face into water or a steamy Florida afternoon, while on the road. Ramon raised a hand, gesturing us to stop.

“You know, I’m not actually supposed to be involved in any action scenes,” I muttered offhandedly.

Milia snickered silently, squeezing my arm. “For the ice crystal.”

Ronica sighed. “Imagine if you had a heroic attitude. You’d probably train nonstop and crush the Peace Spawner.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so. Only the hero’s party can beat the Peace Spawner,” I said, chuckling. “I don’t do the adventuring shit.” I narrowed my eyes. “For a group so famous, there are a lot of doubtful expressions.”

Ronica looked at the others. Iris once again looked like someone who wanted to cry out her troubles in someone’s lap while eating ice cream. Was this a group of powerful heroes or high school and college students?

Iris opened her mouth to speak, as if deciding to explain one for the team, when Ramon yelled.

“Sonic harpy horde! Retreat!”

[Enemy analysis.]

[Sonic Harpy. S-ranked (non-aggressive) territorial magical beast.]

Harpies looked like women with winged arms and dangerous-looking talons for feet. These particular harpies rocked white or light blue hair with angry glowing green eyes. Their heights seemed to range from short as fuck to six foot tall Amazons.

They were beautiful in a Tarzan meets Jane sort of way with their tan skirty outfit. However, the pressure the bird women gave off was like that of the Rowbear’s.

If this was it, I would’ve questioned the hero’s ability to lead his party. But there looked to be hundreds of them, maybe thousands.

“Fuck, where do we go?” I asked.

“We… I don’t know, take cover behind a book tower,” Ramon replied, though to his credit, he tried to keep his cool. Wild eyes aside.

Rather than doing that, I took a risk based on the harpy’s description and raised my aura as high as possible, to the point where it almost felt wasteful.

The harpies immediately started flying away, some screaming.

“Now that’s useful,” I said. “Good thing they weren’t as dangerous as the Rowbear.”

Released from my pressure, the party took a breather.

I was actually starting to get a hang of being a magician. Sure, there would still be plenty of practice, a fuck ton at that.

“Damn, I should’ve snatched a feather first,” I said. “See if it’s possible to do something with it, like a potion of flying or lightness.”

The hero’s party stared at me. I shrugged.

After collecting a few plant samples, we started off. It wasn’t long before Milia gave us the head’s up about the dungeon boss.

“Should we take a quick break, first?” I asked.

“I’m up for it!” Ronica said cheerily. “Thanks, you’re the best, Sir Nate.” She fell backward on the grass.

Milia and I sat on the log of a long-dead tree. My stomach rumbled, reminding me that we hadn’t eaten for a few hours now.

“I guess a snack or two wouldn’t hurt,” I said as I summoned fruit from my ring. Milia grabbed the pear.

“I’m with you there,” Kelvin said, pulling a sack of dried meat from his bag. The others did the same while drinking from their canteens. They really did look like an adventuring party, equipped with rings that could store almost anything. I… tested it on a live bug, but it didn’t work.

The ring also kept things infinitely fresh, as if freezing those items in time.

“I wonder if adventurous potion makers carry field kits with them,” I mused.

“Field kits?” Maxus asked, clearly interested as a rogue.

“You know, portable setups to make potions out in the field,” I said, as if that was a completely normal thing.

“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Ramon said.

“Me neither,” Iris said. “That sounds really useful. I’d imagine such a kit to either be for less dangerous potions or have a way to contain everything. Like a storage ring.”

“I guess it’s something to work on later,” I muttered. “I was hoping they sold these somewhere. They’d be a boon for when I want to do some field testing in these dungeons.”

“You really are dedicated to your craft,” Nuwa said. “If only you’d consider pushing that dedication into something greater, like the safety of the world. Wanda would love to have you in her service.”

“Oh, she probably tried,” I said. “Listen, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a fighter, not an adventurer, not a trained professional. Hell, I’m still technically a rookie potion maker. Lots of trial and error. I’m sure that’s how you can relate with your training and fighting. Getting up and trying again after failing. The power of friendship, that jazz.”

“Seriously,” Nuwa said, her voice filled with determination. “Please think about it. If you have no forms, we’ll teach them to you.”

“No thanks,” I said, waving off her comment. “My story isn’t on the grand scale of the hero’s party.”

“But—”

“Nuwa,” Kelvin interrupted. “We may not like it, but he is right. Sir Nate is a civilian. We were trained heavily by the Lord Ruler’s best for many years now.”

“What he said,” I told her. “I’ll always be happy to take you as customers and, when I get good enough, whip you up something that can help you beat even this Peace Spawner guy.”

They all looked at me, believing. This was concerning. “Not that you need something like that, right?”

They turned to Ramon, as if asking for permission to speak. He sighed.

“We don’t stand a chance against the Peace Spawner as we are now,” Ramon admitted, though that wasn’t at all surprising to me. I beat the hero up without so much as breaking a sweat.

“But we don’t want to involve a civilian either,” Kelvin quickly said. “Nuwa asked under the assumption that maybe you were a retired adventurer or something. You’re… a strange master magician, untied to a sect nor founding one. Most will never talk to people beneath them without an audience. And that’s if they’re in the mood.”

Before I could tell them it sucked to suck, an ominous woman’s giggle flooded through the air. It was both enticing and creepy at the same time. Creepy because I looked around but saw nothing.

“The dungeon’s guardian is approaching,” Milia snapped. “Above!”

High in the sky, a black-haired pale woman with black wings and glowing red eyes waved at us cheerfully. “Hi-hi!”

“Today is not our day,” Kelvin said, his spirit seemingly broken, despite us winning our fights.

“I don’t think it’s possible to beat her,” Iris said.

“What is she?” I asked, triggering my analyze.

“Fallen…” Ramon said softly. “Fallen angel.”