After Imina left, Minori sat alone on a cold stone bench.
From within his robe, he pulled out a deep blue alchemical potion—unlike the light blue diluted versions currently being sold under Imina's name.
Those versions were intentionally weakened.Their light color and faint metallic scent were a result of their dilution and partial refining.
Still, they served their purpose.
To low-level adventurers and commoners, even a small improvement in healing effectiveness was valuable.Compared to the herbal concoctions typically sold in pharmacy workshops—which tasted like bitter sludge—Minori's diluted potions were both palatable and affordable.
That alone made them popular.
But what Minori held now was different.
[Item: Alchemical Solution – Regeneration Potion]
Rank: Lower
Effect: Restores 20 HP.Significantly accelerates wound recovery.Can negate the "Limb Loss" condition for up to 30 days post-ingestion.
The diluted version, based on field data, restored only 3 to 4 HP.Still—That was enough to bring an average person back from the brink of death.
In this world, the average adult's HP pool hovered around 10 points.A recovery of 4 points could make the difference between survival and death.
Even so, the true potion in his hands surpassed what most local workshops could produce, and came surprisingly close to the lower-tier red potions used by high-level adventurers.
Those could heal up to 50 HP.
Of course, nothing matched the legendary Blood of the Gods or Elixir of Immortality.But that wasn't the point.
What truly mattered—
Was the limb regeneration.
In YGGDRASIL, "Limb Loss" was a negative state—a debuff that persisted even after healing.In this world, the equivalent was far more visceral: torn limbs, shattered bones, severed arteries.
Take Dosari, the leader of the adventurer group Rock—his calf had been crushed by an ogre.Without timely treatment, he would've lost it entirely—and his career.
And Dosari was hardly alone.
Injuries like amputation, disfigurement, or devoured limbs were tragically common among mid-tier adventurers.
No regular healing potion could mend such wounds.
But Minori's potion—crafted from ogre blood and refined with YGGDRASIL-tier alchemy—could.
The diluted version was intentionally distributed among commoners and mid-level adventurers to build reputation and test market reactions.
But next—
Minori intended to release the true version.
Its target market:The aristocracy.The military elite.The Emperor himself.
And—perhaps more importantly—
Fluder Paradyne.
Minori played with the potion bottle in his hand, deep blue liquid sloshing gently.
"A diluted potion is good for fame," he murmured."But will the real one catch the eyes of the Blood Emperor… or Fluder?"
He stared at the vial.
In value, it vastly surpassed the diluted product.
And unlike resurrection magic, this potion came without drawbacks.
In YGGDRASIL, casting Raise Dead or Resurrection removed all abnormal conditions—but came at a steep cost: a loss of four levels, or worse.In this world, it caused severe vitality drain—often fatal to regular people.
An ordinary soldier or merchant wouldn't even qualify to be resurrected.
But this potion could preserve limbs and extend function, even after battle.
It was the kind of item that could change the fate of a war.
Minori stood and began walking toward the makeshift laboratory where his ogre captive was kept.
The results of the ogre blood extraction had sparked new ideas in his mind.
"Ughhh—mmmf!"
The ogre, bound with thick chains and gagged with a rag, looked up in terror.
It had lost all resistance.Even an ogre—a species known for brute strength and violent temperament—could learn fear after enough time under Minori's care.
"Let's continue."
Minori gently removed the rag.
"Hu... Hu... Human—! I'll..."
Before the creature could finish its curse, Minori stuffed a goblin corpse into its mouth.
Ravenous from starvation, the ogre devoured it without hesitation.
One. Two. Five. Ten.
After the tenth corpse, it slowed.
Then—a strike.
Minori's palm became a glowing hand-knife.With a soft thud, he knocked the ogre unconscious.
He followed up by pouring an entire vial of paralysis poison, distilled from a Hanged Spider's sac, down its throat.
The body convulsed briefly, then stilled.
"Now begins… the magic infusion experiment."
Minori's palm glowed with light-blue magical energy.With a touch to the ogre's rough skin, he began forcing his own magic into its body.
—
This experiment was new.
Over the past two weeks in the capital, while refining potions and occasionally crafting third-tier scrolls, Minori had found himself with spare time.
He used it to consolidate knowledge, experiment with unexplored theories, and—now—test whether raw magic could be infused into subhuman creatures.
The ogre's body—thinned from prolonged blood extraction—began to swell.
At first gradually.
Then—alarmingly.
Like a balloon being overinflated, the ogre's gut bulged, followed by its limbs.
Flesh bubbled outward unnaturally, distorting the creature's form into something monstrous and unrecognizable.
Minori narrowed his eyes.
He stopped the infusion.
"…The internal containment limit has increased slightly. Better than before," he murmured."But still no coexistence. The body rejects magic like incompatible matter."
Was it due to the ogre's lack of magical aptitude?
Or perhaps its body—though durable—was simply too crude to serve as a vessel?
The bloated ogre slowly began to return to its original shape—its regenerative capacity working overtime.
That much resilience was rare.
And necessary.
A human would have died instantly from this experiment.
Minori likened it to enchanting:
"An ordinary iron sword cannot hold enchantments. Only rare metals can."
He pondered aloud:
"I wonder if Imina can procure more ogres…"
Years ago, the Martial King, a troll-ogre hybrid named Go Jin, had stunned the empire by defeating the reigning champion of the Imperial Arena.
Since then, nobles and merchants had sought powerful trolls to breed or weaponize.
But Go Jin was a rare case—a combat-class subspecies, not a common ogre.
The one Minori had acquired was likely one of the discarded weaklings, sold off as trash.
Still—
He'd served his purpose.
Minori re-stuffed the rag into the creature's mouth.
"You've worked hard."
He gazed at the unconscious ogre, then added softly:
"You'll feel better once you have a companion."
That evening, as Minori was training a vicious little demonic hound in the courtyard, a knock came at the door.
He paused, surprised.
Not Imina.
That woman never knocked.
Amused, Minori stood and walked toward the courtyard gate, muttering:
"How rare. Someone with manners."