"Pure water, 100 milliliters..."
In the dim room, door tightly shut and curtains drawn, a furtive shadow squatted beside the table, methodically arranging alchemy tools.
After carefully checking the measurement scale, Angel cautiously poured the liquid into the small cauldron. A few drops of pure water clung stubbornly to the cup's wall. She used a dropper to add five more drops, making up for the difference.
Though minor variations in auxiliary materials wouldn't affect the potion's final properties, she strived for perfection.
Various plant juices and essential oils diluted by pure water created a turbid gray mixture in the cauldron. Anyone seeing it would mistake it for dishwater. Only the final ingredient would transform this mundane liquid into something magical.
Angel withdrew the bullet box from her bosom and extracted the "Instigator" Beyonder characteristic shaped like a bird's beak—a treasure that had cost her 400 pounds. She took a deep breath, raised her head, and surveyed the room one last time.
This temporary residence on the third floor of the "Silver Bullet Detective Agency" also served as the night watcher squad base at Enmat Port. Earlier that afternoon, Angel had borrowed various containers and auxiliary materials from the alchemy room under the pretext of "practicing talisman-making." To avoid suspicion, she'd even taken tools she wouldn't use—alcohol lamps and mortars.
After locking the door, she'd hidden inside like a thief to configure her potion. Every sound outside made her freeze and listen, fearing someone might break in and arrest the "assassin" secretly refining potions.
Fortunately, her fellow "Sleepless" colleagues were either away on missions or gathered in the first-floor hall. Throughout dusk, no one had ventured to the third floor to disturb her.
Picking up the precious Beyonder characteristic with her bare hands, Angel noticed the absence of those indescribable auditory and olfactory hallucinations she'd experienced when touching the "Witch" characteristic expelled from Cole's corpse.
It seemed pollution in a characteristic could be identified by this difference.
With one final glance at the "Instigator" characteristic, Angel gently dropped it into the cauldron's turbid mixture.
Like dissolvable ink in water, the liquid quickly darkened, spreading outward from the Beyonder characteristic. The surface developed an oily shimmer, reflecting a psychedelic "iridescent black" under the gas lamp.
Subtle, seemingly human voices materialized around her—whispers and instigations, sometimes near, sometimes distant, floating unpredictably, as if cotton gently scratched her eardrums.
Simultaneously, a stench rose from the cauldron, assaulting Angel's nose. Despite her mental preparation, she couldn't help stepping back. Had she not made this potion herself, she might have thought it was scooped from a fetid ditch or fermented sewage.
Yet this ink-black liquid represented the true form of the "Instigator" potion.
Recalling Cole Granger's configuration and consumption process, she confirmed her success.
The "Beyonder Characteristic Indestructibility Law" revealed by Carvey proved accurate. Unpolluted Beyonder characteristics could indeed be transformed into potions of the same Sequence with the right auxiliary materials.
Barely containing her excitement, she poured the potion into the measuring cup that had previously held pure water. The black liquid possessed an inexplicable adhesion, transferring completely without leaving a drop behind.
Raising the cup to the light, Angel held her breath against the stench, tilted her head back, and drank it all in one swallow.
The cold potion became scorching the moment it entered her mouth—like swallowing burning charcoal. It seared every tissue as it traveled down her throat into her stomach, forcing a moan from her lips.
That sound, unlike her usual cool tone, carried an irresistible temptation and power.
Fighting through the discomfort and ignoring the whispers in her ears, Angel gritted her teeth and endured. From her prior experience with the Instigator potion, she knew this was normal. If she could withstand it for about a minute, all negative effects would subside.
But then a strange sensation enveloped her.
It felt like memory, or perhaps glimpses of the future.
Her "self" rushing at a black-haired man with a dagger, only to fall into a trap amid his cruel mockery—bones breaking, tendons snapping, dying tragically...
A blond middle-aged man sitting at a table, talking with her eloquently. People walking around, sitting at other tables, yet ignoring the empty seat beside him...
A bird's-eye view from high above—the sky black as ink, mountains undulating below, but devoid of life, utterly desolate...
The whispers near her ears grew louder, as if someone had turned a megaphone to maximum volume, the sound becoming deafening.
The small, cozy guest room before her eyes receded, devoured by surrounding darkness. The gas lamp flickered and died.
Am I... losing control?
Where did I go wrong?
Was it an error in the potion configuration? Hidden pollution in the Beyonder characteristic? Or had I merely thought I'd digested the "Assassin" potion, leaving some hidden danger deep within?
Angel could no longer feel her limbs or body—only her thoughts remained. This sensation of her soul being extracted, her five senses fading, strangely calmed her initial panic.
Light returned, but her perspective had changed. She now looked down upon the tables, the single bed, and the woman collapsed on the floor.
She was watching herself from above, kneeling on the ground.
Her "self" had eyes wide open, eyeballs protruding, veins bulging around the eye sockets and across the face. The exposed skin of her hands had turned bluish-purple as she weakly rested on folded legs, neck arched upward as if strangled by invisible hands.
So this is death...
In a flash, an invisible wind swept through, and the scene vanished.
Her eyes closed then opened again. The floor, tables, and chairs rotated 90 degrees clockwise, appearing at a strange angle.
She had returned to her body, not knowing when she had collapsed. The gas lamp still emitted its warm light, and the empty measuring cup lay upside down beside her.
Whispers still haunted her ears, a burning sensation lingered in her throat, but these familiar sensations nearly brought tears to her eyes.
She was alive—had not become a brainless monster from losing control, nor turned into the lifeless husk the body's original owner had become.
Calming her mind, she closed her eyes and entered meditation with practiced ease, gradually dispelling the potion's residual effects.
As the whispers faded, Angel swallowed. After a brief sting, the burning sensation in her throat quickly disappeared.
It seems the "Instigator" advancement succeeded?
Slightly relieved, she forced herself up from the floor, stumbling to the washroom while supporting herself against the wall. She lit the gas lamp and stood before the half-body mirror.
The familiar face reflected back showed no bulging veins like in her hallucination. Only the purple of her eyes had deepened, nearly turning black, with even the surrounding sclera tinged with a strange color.
This was the manifestation of the potion's power.
She had become an "Instigator."
...Had once again become an "Instigator."
Hurriedly washing her face and wiping away the cold sweat, Angel returned to the guest room. She organized the borrowed cauldron, measuring cup, and other tools, then collapsed exhausted at the bedside, sensing the power she had gained.
When a potion carried Beyonder abilities or spells, the corresponding knowledge automatically appeared in the Beyonder's mind after advancement.
Through this, she confirmed she had indeed become an "Instigator."
The core ability of the "Instigator" potion was "persuasion" and "misguidance." With skilled application, it could even achieve a form of "charm."
By combining these linguistic abilities, an Instigator could easily stir malice and greed in people's hearts, incite others to commit crimes, create conflict in crowds, and trigger bloodshed.
Even in casual conversation, a few words could make others trust the "Instigator" implicitly, treating them as confidants.
Angel recalled the Instigator she had encountered in Tingen City—Triss.
Even though Angel herself was a Beyonder, she had fallen under Triss's "persuasion" and "charm," nearly becoming her prey. Ordinary, unguarded people stood no chance.
The victims of the "Clover Incident" were testament to this power.
Beyond the newly gained linguistic abilities, advancing to Sequence 8 had greatly strengthened all core abilities of her original "Assassin" path.
Agile movement, enhanced vision and dark sight, charged strike—all had improved. Her spirituality had also increased, allowing for extended use of Spirit Vision.
Of course, having just consumed the potion and advanced, Angel wasn't ready to test the limits of her spirituality yet, wary of another "loss of control" episode.
Unlike the life-or-death experience during intense battle when adrenaline spikes, this ghost-like floating above, watching one's body slowly approach death was too terrifying. She had no desire to experience it again.
And those strange hallucinations...
She tried to recall the few scenes glimpsed at the edge of time and space, but it was like trying to remember a week-old breakfast—she knew it had happened but couldn't grasp the details.
Examining her hands, now restored to their natural white from the earlier bluish-purple, Angel made a firm decision: even if she found herself without money for potion materials in the future, she would never again use Beyonder characteristics directly to advance.
There wouldn't be such good luck next time...
Knock knock—
The knocking pulled Angel from her thoughts. She scanned the room, confirming nothing would betray her recent advancement, then approached the door and asked in a low voice:
"Who is it?"
"Rupert Norman. Clement has summoned everyone to the first-floor hall. The 'operation' might be moved forward."
From outside came the unusually serious voice of the "Midnight Poet" who had arrived from Stone City to assist—his normally smooth-talking manner now solemn.