“Huh, not a bad workshop,” Blade commented, slowly walking deeper into the garage.
He moved with predatory grace, his gaze snagging on every detail: from the soldering station to the rows of chemical reagents.
“Considering it’s just a garage.
Clearly a jack-of-all-trades specialist.
And what’s this?” he poked with genuine interest towards one of my first creations.
“A PVC pipe crossbow?
Original.”
I ignored his remark.
Now was not the time for sentimentality.
Approaching one of the unremarkable plastic boxes, I reached into it and materialized another Intellect Potion and three Muscle Stimulant injectors from my inventory.
“Here.
This is payment for your help,” I handed him the potions.
“The Intellect Potion is the most valuable, so I can’t give you more for now.” Yeah, I only have four vials left myself…
I’ll have to set aside time and brew more.
It’s just too useful a thing.
“But if you can get me a Ghost Orchid, part of the finished product will go towards future payment.”
Blade took the vials, examined them carefully, and shook them.
His movements were those of a professional assessing new equipment.
“First, I’ll check what this is and how it’s used.
Fortunately, with the upcoming purges, there will be plenty of opportunities to test your miracle cures.
I’ll give you feedback, naturally.
And then we’ll think about supplying ingredients.”
“Excellent.
The effect won’t disappoint you,” I assured him.
And I immediately decided to strike while the iron was hot.
“By the way, do you happen to know any…
interesting recipes?”
The opportunity to legally obtain a blueprint without spending CP, which the System might value at hundreds of points, was devilishly tempting.
Blade frowned: “My entire arsenal is geared towards one thing—killing vampires.”
“I don’t care!” I leaned forward with almost boyish excitement.
“I just want to create something new.
The process of creation itself is important to me!
And CP, of course.
Lots of CP.”
He studied me for a few seconds, then the corner of his mouth twitched into a grin.
“Although…
there is one little recipe.
A combat stimulant.
A killer thing, it improves reaction time, sharpens instincts and intuition in combat to an extreme level.
The downside is: blood pressure spikes, the heart pounds like crazy, and an unprepared organism might just kick the bucket.”
“Sounds like something that would pair perfectly with my Muscle Stimulant!” my eyes lit up.
“I think so too,” Blade nodded, and commercial interest appeared in his gaze.
“Actually, for another injector of your stimulant, I’ll generously share the recipe.
And for one more—I’ll give you a whole list for crafting killer vampire-specific items.”
“Khaaa…
You’re robbing a poor craftsman in broad daylight!
And we’re not in the ghetto…” I sighed dramatically, but still reached into the box and handed Blade two more injectors.
Blade merely chuckled mockingly at my remark, accepting the “payment.” “So, listen.
Or better yet—take notes.
Let’s start with the combat stimulant, which the ghouls call the ‘Beast Potion’.
I ‘acquired’ the recipe from them, by the way.”
Taking a notebook from another box, filled with my early, mostly analytical notes, I prepared to record the invaluable information.
“In short.
The base is aconite extract ‘Wolfsbane’.
It’s a rare but potent thing.
It temporarily suppresses logic and fear, unleashing pure combat instincts.
Two milliliters per dose is enough.”
“Where and how do I get it?”
“It grows in the mountainous regions of Tibet.
But don’t worry, Uncle Blade will share the supplier’s number.
Tell him Eric sent you.
He might even give you a discount,” Blade grinned.
“Though, more likely, he’ll jack up the price.
Next.
CNS activator.
Syn-ephedrine…
damn it, epinephrine complex.
You’ll need eggheads for this; it’s synthesized in a lab.
One milliliter per dose.”
“There won’t be problems with those,” I thought, already drawing up a technical specification for Peter.
“I hope.”
“Excellent.
Next is purified hunter spider venom, of the Dolomedes tenebrosus species.
I breed them myself, and the ‘milking’ and purification process is quite a hassle.
But, anticipating your question, my darlings are still in Britain.
So figure out how to get the venom yourself.
You need half a milliliter per dose.”
“Hmm, I don’t think that will be a serious problem,” I nodded, already calculating options.
“I think so too.
In America, with sufficient effort, you can find anything.
You won’t have problems with the solvent, namely dimethyl sulfoxide, just make sure to get high purity.
And, finally, the process: heat the aconite extract in the solvent to about 60 degrees Celsius.
Cool it down, add the spider venom, and mix in a centrifuge at low RPM.
Then, into the resulting emulsion, inject the syn-ephedrine-who-the-hell-knows-what, basically, the CNS activator.
Do all this at low temperatures to avoid decomposition.
The preparation is ready, you can transfer it to an injector.
It lasts seven to ten minutes.”
After clarifying a few points and recording everything in the notebook with precision worthy of my new skill, we moved on to the killer vampire items.
The recipes here were noticeably simpler, but no less effective.
The first was the “UV Flash Potion”essentially an alchemical grenade.
When broken, it produces a powerful, blinding flash of concentrated ultraviolet light that burns vampire skin within a 5-7 meter radius and causes temporary blindness.
The recipe was a relatively simple two-component mixture.
Inside—a thin glass ampoule with a catalyst: a mixture of strontium salt and finely ground “Sunlight” Quartz powder.
Another rare item, obtainable from the same supplier.
As I understood it, the strontium salt provides additional energy and temperature during the reaction, which acts as a detonator for the quartz, forcing it to release its stored UV radiation.
Simple, brutal, and deadly.
Just Blade’s style.
“The second potion is, roughly speaking, ‘Garlic Cloud’,” Blade continued, a hint of sadistic pleasure in his voice.
“When broken, it creates a dense, caustic aerosol cloud with a radius of about ten meters.
The concentration of allicin in it is such that ghouls start to choke and writhe as if acid were poured into their lungs.
It causes agonizing burns to the respiratory tract and mucous membranes.
Especially effective in confined spaces.” He grinned savagely.
“Throw one of these into the ventilation of a nightclub where a nest of bloodsuckers is holed up, and just wait outside.
Very fun.”
The recipe was ridiculously simple: lyophilized (freeze-dried) allicin extract in powder form mixed with regular baking soda.
An inner ampoule with a concentrated solution of citric acid causes a vigorous reaction when broken, and the carbon dioxide disperses the garlic hell in all directions.
An interesting and cheap-to-produce item.
“The third and final one, the ‘Silver Potion’.
Unlike the previous ones, it doesn’t explode but sprays a sticky, viscous liquid.
It contains a suspension of silver nanoparticles.
This stuff causes deep, unhealing chemical burns.
The gel is hard to wash off and continues to corrode their flesh for hours.”
The recipe was even simpler: a colloidal silver solution of ultra-high concentration mixed with a polymer gel based on glycerin.
That’s it.
“I use it as a lubricant for my kunai and shurikens,” he added, mechanically touching the handle of one of the throwing knives on his belt.
His weapons interested me.
After finishing recording the recipes, I made sure that all the details, thanks to my new skill, had firmly settled in my head, and asked:
“Your weapons…
Why do they look so much like the arsenal of Japanese shinobi?”
Blade looked at me, then broke into a wide smile.
“Because I am a true shinobi.”
“What?” I asked, genuinely surprised.
This fact was absent from my meta-knowledge.
“Just like that,” he shrugged.
“Long story.
I cleared out the bloodsucker population in Japan, ran into their boss, Alexander Haskiel, whom you heard about today and almost died from.
But, as befits the forces of a beaver, I managed to escape.
There, half-dead, I was found by an old master.
He took me as his apprentice.
For a couple of decades, I learned to be not just a killing machine, but a shadow, a ghost of a killing machine.
When I finished, old Haskiel had calmed down and wasn’t looking for trouble anymore.
But the other clans had relaxed over these decades and forgotten about my existence.
Oh, how much vampire blood was spilled then…” This grin of his was the most bloodthirsty I had seen today.
“And when was that, if it’s not a secret?”
“Well, the ‘wild 90s’, as they called them in the Soviet Union.”
I quickly calculated in my head.
“So, you spent a couple of decades training in ninjutsu before the 90s, lived before that, and more than twenty-five years have passed since then…”
“Ah, I see where you’re going with this, kid,” he grinned.
“I’m 173 years old.
I’m a dhampir.
Half-human, half-pureblood vampire.
They are born extremely rarely and are usually defective, inheriting all the crap from both races.
I, on the other hand, got lucky.
The strength and regeneration of ghouls, but without their weaknesses.”
“And who is your father?”
Blade’s gaze turned icy for a moment.
“It doesn’t matter.
I killed him anyway.” He abruptly changed the subject.
“We’ve gotten carried away with chatter.
I have to get to work.
If anything, stay in touch.”
“Yeah, let’s go.
I could use some sleep too.”
“Yeah, have fun in your workshop,” he nodded towards my workbench.
“But don’t get too carried away.
Sometimes my alchemy stuff would explode right in my hands.”
“I’ll try…” I mumbled.
If there was one thing I was sure of, it was precision, accuracy, and clarity, granted by the Master Clockmaker.
Blade left, disappearing into the night as quietly as he had appeared.
And I, despite the burning desire to try out the new recipes immediately, locked the garage and went into the house.
The headache concerning the Haskiel clan was resolved.
I could breathe freely.
Standing in the silence of my new home, I suddenly realized that today had been a turning point of sorts for me in this world.
I hadn’t just survived.
I had fought back, found a powerful ally, and gained invaluable knowledge.
The main lesson was now learned: in this world, you can’t get too carried away collecting mystical ingredients in random places.
Sooner or later, it attracts attention.
But now I was much better prepared for that attention than I was yesterday.
Now I had a plan, resources, and an ally.
And a whole night ahead to sleep before a new, crazy life.
I woke up to the sunbeams filtering through the blinds.
This time, thankfully, my sleep was deep and healthy, without a hint of paranoia.
The threat from House Haskiel had been neutralized, and it felt like an invisible but incredibly heavy burden had been lifted from my shoulders.
Saturday morning greeted me with a surge of pure, unadulterated motivation.
I wanted to create.
And create serious things, not toys like the Spudgun, especially since I now had new recipes.
Who was I to resist this desire?
Especially considering it was beneficial to me from all sides.
I quickly calculated the potential profit in CP.
Beast Potion: The first portion should give at least 200 CP.
Then decreasing: 150, 100, 50, 40…
Five potions—that’s about 620 CP.
Alchemical Grenades: UV Flash and Garlic Cloud are simpler consumables.
I’m betting on 100 CP for the first, totaling 240 CP for five of each type.
Silver Potion: The recipe is elementary.
If they give 50 CP for the first, that would be good.
About 150 CP for five vials.
In total, if I can craft them all, I’ll have over 1200 CP in my balance.
“Numbers like these can’t help but motivate…” I mumbled into the void, picking up my smartphone.
It was time to start.
I dialed the number Blade had given me yesterday.
“Hello.
I’m calling from Eric,” I said when someone answered.
The conversation with the man, who introduced himself as Lucas, was short and businesslike.
No unnecessary questions.
The most exotic ingredients: 20 ml of Aconite extract (I took extra)—$4000.
One “Sunlight” Quartz crystal, enough for dozens of grenades—$1000.
A couple of milliliters of the required hunter spider venom—$300.
Pickup available after five in the evening.
Payment—cash only.
Perfect.
Now for the easy part: buying the rest.
And here arose an obvious problem, which shouldn’t have been one: the syn-ephedrine complex.
“Fuck…” I clutched my head.
“If I ask Parker again, it’ll look way too suspicious.”
A synthetic adrenaline analogue.
You can’t find that on the open market.
Ask Blade?
No, I said there would be no problem with it, I need to maintain appearances.
I’ll have to risk it with Peter again.
Ah, what the hell!
I found his number and decided to call this time.
Saturday, a day off.
Even if he’s in the lab, he’s probably working on personal projects.
That’s what I need.
“Hey, Peter, am I interrupting?” I asked as soon as the call connected.
“Hey, John!
No, everything’s fine!
Do you need anything else synthesized?” Peter’s voice was…
strange.
Too cheerful, with notes of impatience and poorly concealed excitement.
He wasn’t even trying to hide it.
“Um, Peter, is everything okay?
Did something happen?” I decided to probe.
“What?
What makes you say that?
No, everything’s great!” His forced nonchalance only confirmed my suspicions.
He definitely had some problems.
And, knowing his personality type, he’d never admit them until it was too late.
“Hmm, well all right.
Guess I didn’t get enough sleep, and my imagination’s running wild,” I smoothly changed the subject.
“But tell me, will you take on another order?
I need about 10 milliliters of syn-epinephrine complex synthesized.
How much will it cost and how long will it take?
Private labs are asking a fortune for that sort of thing.”
I added the last bit on purpose, to give him the impression that I had other, albeit expensive, options.
“Oh, synthetic adrenaline now?
Interesting, very interesting…” Scientific curiosity awakened in his voice.
“Yes, I can do that.
For your volume of reagents, it’ll run about 100 dollars, give or take.”
“I’ll pay 300.
For the rush and your brilliant brain.”
“Um, yes, of course…
Then I’ll probably head to the lab now.
It’s empty on weekends anyway.
I’ll start the synthesis, and you can come by in about two hours.”
He agreed too easily.
My guess about his problems was probably right.
And those problems were most likely financial.
It would be a sin not to take advantage of the moment.
“Peter, one more thing.
100 milliliters of that testosterone you’re familiar with.
I’ll pay a thousand dollars.”
“A thousand?!” I could practically hear his eyes widening on the other end of the line, his breathing becoming ragged.
“Y-yes, I can, of course, but…
John, why do you need all this?”
There it was.
The dilemma.
His scientific curiosity and suspicions were fighting with his desperate need for money.
Time to reveal my hand a little.
“Let’s put it this way,” my voice became more serious.
“When I get there, I’ll tell you a few things and explain.
Not for a phone conversation.
You handle the synthesis and complete silence.
Agreed?”
A pause hung on the other end.
I could hear his heavy breathing.
“Yes…” he finally answered.
“I think that’s for the best.”
He hung up.
Well, looks like today is about strengthening ties with Parker.
I wasn’t just planning to use him, but to make him a full-fledged, if not fully informed, partner.
I wonder, is he already involved with Gwen Stacy, or more specifically, her spider-themed alter-ego?
That would also need to be carefully figured out.