LIGHTNOVELWORLD Chapter 124.2
Deliver The Ultra-Rare Medicine To Those Who Need It
The scream was like a shriek.
But even so, Ali wasn’t at fault. The medicine offered to him was so extraordinary that it shouldn’t have existed in the first place. It was almost mythical, a substance that could be called legendary. After all, when Yuuri appraised it with [God’s Eye], the ever-so-free [God’s Eye] warned, “Please exercise extreme caution when handling this.” Rare didn’t even begin to describe it—it was ultra-rare.
Yuuri slid behind Jake, peeking cautiously at Ali’s face. Though Yuuri had made the medicine, it was Jake who gathered the materials and decided to make it. Yuuri had simply acted as an assistant, helping out with the purest of intentions, only to end up creating a rather extraordinary concoction without realizing it. It was the result of the high-spec alchemy cauldron and the legendary seeker profession coming together to pull off something outrageous.
“Why? Because I was testing whether the recipe in the literature was accurate.”
“Jaaaake?”
“Don’t be mad, Ali. I only made it; I never intended to take it outside, right from the start. It’s me, after all.”
“…”
At Jake’s final remark, Ali’s face twisted as though he had bitten into something bitter, falling silent. Because, indeed, that was Jake to a T. A bundle of intellectual curiosity, he was content as long as his thirst for knowledge was satisfied. Even if he managed to create an ultra-rare medicine that could fetch a fortune, he wouldn’t think of selling it to someone or using it to curry favor. Such thoughts simply didn’t occur to him.
However, that didn’t mean Ali’s headache would go away. Even ordinary limb-regeneration medicine was considered rare, but the existence of a complete limb-regeneration potion? The potential commotion that knowledge could cause felt like a monumental hassle. People tend to assume that if one exists, there must be more. Ali’s expression suggested his reluctance to deal with those kinds of people.
“Don’t worry; we won’t be able to make it again during our lifetimes.”
“…Huh?”
“The materials can’t be gathered. I got lucky this time, but some of the ingredients only appear once every hundred or thousand years.”
“…What?”
Yuuri let out a small gasp. The shock hit him: “Were those materials you casually tossed in back then really that ridiculously rare?!” Ali, realizing Yuuri had been clueless, patted his head gently with a large hand. After all, Yuuri had only been caught up in Jake’s schemes.
“Uh, Ali-san, um…”
“It’s fine. This idiot made you create it without explaining anything, right?”
“That’s harsh, Ali. I did ask for him help with an experiment.”
“But you didn’t say the object was this absurdly out of the ordinary.”
“…?”
At Ali’s retort, Jake tilted his head as if to say, “Did I really need to mention that?” Despite his intelligence, the scholar had a knack for being an idiot where it mattered most—a prime example of a hopelessly flawed adult.
“If I intended Ali to use it, I would’ve explained and had it made.”
“No need.”
“Yep, I know. That’s why I only made it and stopped there.”
Jake smiled nonchalantly, earning a tired sigh from Ali. Noticing Yuuri looking at him curiously, Ali sighed again, this time with even more exasperation. Yuuri had started wondering: Did Ali really not want to fix his monocular vision?
When Yuuri thought about it, Ali could likely handle the problem himself. Using an alchemy cauldron to create medicine was within Ali’s capabilities. While a complete limb-regeneration potion was a legendary rarity due to its ingredients, simpler limb-regeneration medicine could be made. Additionally, Leopold, a former party member of Ali’s who now worked as a perfumer, was also an exceptional apothecary. Taking all of that into account, Ali was clearly choosing to remain one-eyed.
Was monocular vision not inconvenient? Yuuri found himself wondering about this. Seeing with only one eye makes judging distances much harder. Though he could escape that difficulty, he had intentionally chosen to stay as he was. Yuuri grew curious about his reasons.
“Ali-san, do you prefer to stay one-eyed?”
“I prefer being one-eyed. And I prefer it as I am, one-eyed.”
“Huh?”
“…His [Magic Eye] skill is at MAX level. Even with its ability halved due to monocular vision, it still lets me see far more than those with both eyes and non-MAX [Magic Eye] skills.”
“…What?”
Yuuri blinked repeatedly at the unexpected answer. It was Jake, the scholar, who provided a detailed explanation. Despite his many flaws as an adult, Jake was highly knowledgeable and skilled at explaining things clearly. This was one of his few redeeming qualities.
To summarize, reaching MAX level in a skill grants bonus adjustments. Once a skill is maxed out, it’s greatly enhanced as a reward for mastery. As a result, even at half capacity, Ali’s abilities with [Magic Eye] surpassed those of others who hadn’t maxed their [Magic Eye] skills.
“I get the MAX-level bonus, but how does that relate to staying one-eyed?”
“I told you—it lets me see too much.”
“…Like wearing glasses with a prescription so strong they give you headaches?”
“More like constantly having unnecessary information pouring into your brain, leaving you unable to keep up. When I had both eyes, every time I used the skill, I’d get splitting headaches.”
“…Wow.”
Yuuri muttered distantly, realizing that his own skill, [God’s Eye], was truly overpowered.
[God’s Eye] was the highest-level appraisal skill, essentially a superior version of [Magic Eye]. It could discern more than Ali’s skill and offered many convenient functions. Yet, it imposed no burdens on its user. None whatsoever. It was truly a legendary skill.
“That’s why I’m fine staying one-eyed with halved abilities. It’s the perfect balance. Humans are best when they stay within their limits.”
“…I see.”
“If I didn’t know that reason, I’d ask if you wanted to use it.”
“If there were no downsides, I would’ve fixed it myself after the injury.”
“Right. You’ve got Leopold, too.”
Jake’s matter-of-fact reply made Yuuri agree. Though they often exchanged banter and quarreled, Ali and Leopold were former party members who trusted and cared about each other. That Leopold hadn’t stepped in was proof that Ali was content with his current state. With the mystery resolved, Yuuri was satisfied.
“For now, take that medicine and pacify the noisy nobles.”
“They’ll trace it back to you.”
“They can trace the materials to me if they like. Deciding on the creator is up to you, Ali.”
“…Guess that means it’ll have to be me.”
Only Yuuri seemed oblivious to the reality of the situation. For Ali, letting the world know that a carefree, scatterbrained person like Yuuri had created an ultra-rare potion sounded like a recipe for trouble. Sure, Ali could make it himself with the right ingredients, but that small lie was necessary for a peaceful, quiet life.
Scratching his head irritably, Ali left with the complete limb-regeneration potion in hand. Once his broad back had disappeared from view, Jake and Yuuri exchanged glances.
Exchanged glances, and then—
“We thought it’d be useless, but it’s nice that it could help someone, right, Yuuri?”
“Yeah, really.”
…They felt no guilt whatsoever. True, it had helped someone, but his attitudes screamed, “Read the room already!” They’d known they’d get scolded when they hid it in the first place, yet here they were. Was it a case of forgetting once the danger passed, or were they simply that carefree? Definitely the latter.
Still, thanks to the complete limb-regeneration potion they’d recklessly made in the past, the guild master’s troublesome issue would likely be resolved peacefully. This time, at least, their actions were helping people, so perhaps they deserved some leniency. …Maybe.
Incidentally, when Ali got home, he demanded, “If you’re hiding anything else, hand it over now,” and the two, having made far too many absurd concoctions, found themselves sitting side-by-side for a lecture.