“Is it a success, Archangel?”
Angus watched the suddenly elated girl. Though this unusually joyful expression seemed slightly unbecoming of the Archangel’s holy grace, his attention was entirely elsewhere. He had witnessed the entire process of the Archangel blending the potions. So what purpose did this new, crystal-clear liquid truly hold?
“Lord Angus,” Sylvia began, not answering the elder’s question directly. Still glowing with quiet joy, she prepared a stark comparison to subtly underscore the potion’s staggering power. “Do you know the limits of the world’s most potent healing potion?”
“Well…” Angus hesitated, puzzled by the sudden question. “As far as I know, even the top-grade potions sold in the Holy City—enchanted with a high-tier healing spell—only achieve the effect of a standard mid-tier healing spell. And they’re notoriously unstable: once opened, they must be used immediately or lose potency.”
In this world, healing potions held little status due to the prevalence of healing magic, even Sacred Healing. Yet healers capable of even low-tier spells remained scarce compared to those in need. Mercenaries living by the sword rarely had dedicated healers in every squad—so potions stayed vital in the field.
“Enchanted potions suffer a direct downgrade in potency and can’t be stored long,” Sylvia said with a confident smile. “That has been healing potions’ greatest flaw… until now.”
“What? How is that possible?!” Angus’s first reaction wasn’t joy, but sheer absurdity. Had those words not come from the world’s most revered Archangel, he’d have called her a fraud to her face. Healing potions had existed for millennia—any breakthrough wouldn’t come from alchemy. Magic sigils *could* preserve high-tier healing effects, but their instability kept them from widespread use.
“I know it’s hard to believe,” Sylvia said, watching his bewildered face. “So experience it firsthand. A potion that perfectly preserves High-tier Sacred Healing—if witnessed in the Holy City, this moment would be etched into history.”
*Hum…!*
Sylvia clasped her hands and channeled High-tier Sacred Healing toward the transparent vial. Startled, Angus stumbled back. But then he watched, wide-eyed, as the holy white light shrank steadily—until fully absorbed into the tiny bottle.
The previously clear liquid now glowed with a soft, gentle radiance. Most strikingly, it carried the exact same holy aura as High-tier Sacred Healing.
*Could it be real?!*
Without touching it, Angus felt the unmistakable, awe-inspiring presence of High-tier Sacred Healing. This was the Archangel’s unique power—utterly impossible to fake. Staring at the surreal yet undeniable sight, his heart hammered. He stood frozen like stone.
*Just as expected…*
Sylvia felt a quiet thrill at his shock. At the very least, his hostility toward her would fade. But her joy ran deeper: this alchemical potion was an ultimate tool. With enough materials, she’d wield near-limitless High-tier Sacred Healing. Useless for her? Perhaps. But for allies? A game-breaking advantage. Imagine a brutal battle—enemies certain you can cast the spell only a few times—only to find your comrades resilient as the Body of Holy Spirit. Nearly unkillable unless instantly obliterated. Pure despair.
*(In the original story, the potion’s power came with strict material limits. How hard would sourcing them be here?)*
She turned to ask Angus—then froze.
In moments, the composed lord now emanated wisps of terrifying black mist thick with Abyssal Aura. Faint, yet chilling.
*What happened?!*
Had the Abyssal creature watching her seized control the moment it sensed Angus might turn?
Angus stood motionless, head bowed. Sylvia hastily stepped back—but too late.
The mist had already crept to her feet. As she retreated two steps, tendrils coiled around her ankles. Then wrists. Waist. Legs. Arms.
Feeling the mist relentlessly bind her, Sylvia abandoned countermeasures and tried activating the Blink Rune on her palm to summon the Hero.
But—
*What?! Why won’t my magic reach my hand?!*
The black mist coiled around her arms completely blocked the flow. Panic shot through her.
“Kukukuku…”
“The Archangel of humankind?” A familiar voice slithered from the bowed figure of Angus. “Only days apart, and you’ve recovered this far? Truly… I can’t afford to underestimate you.”
