Chapter 202: Perfect-Grade Potion
Pandora’s attention snapped back to the present.
Even with Nicole’s sister’s stunning ability to nearly “control” a zombie, she couldn’t bet everything on it.
It was common sense that a zombie of the same rank was generally weaker than a Demon Hunter apprentice of that same rank.
Even though that wretched Third-Rank zombie had just ambushed Wilber and trashed his arm…
Pandora still didn’t believe the zombie alone could finish him.
That’s why she was still here, watching silently, instead of just turning and leaving.
To kill Wilbur…
In the end, she could only rely on herself.
“And me, My Lady.”
Elsa’s voice echoed in the depths of her mind.
The voice was placid. Calm as ever.
But for some reason, Pandora detected an almost imperceptible hint of jealousy.
She smiled internally.
Her right hand tightened on the hilt of her scarlet longsword.
She replied in her mind, dead serious:
“Of course.”
“You are my most trusted maidservant.”
Pandora was serious.
Elsa received that seriousness, clear and complete.
She didn’t speak again.
Instead, she responded with that familiar, surging sense of scorching heat.
The heat wasn’t searing. It was… strong. Reassuring.
Pandora’s hand moved.
From the small, durable leather pouch at her hip, she pulled out several small, transparent glass tubes of different colors.
The tubes were plain. No decorations. No markings.
But the liquid inside glowed with an unnatural purity, a light that seemed about to spill from the glass.
This was “super-high-quality” potion that you couldn’t buy on the market.
This was a System product…
【Perfect-Grade】 Potion.
However, these weren’t the highest-tier Third-Rank potions she could currently brew.
They were Second-Rank potions.
The former, with her current Second-Rank essence, she couldn’t use safely. Forcing it would cause a catastrophic backlash.
As for the latter, if she wanted them to have a real effect against a Third-Rank, these System-produced “Perfect-Grade” potions were her only option.
“‘Brain-Marrow Medley’ for toxin resistance.”
“‘Fount of Purity’ for a short-term boost to the immune system and resistance to plague corrosion, and ‘Stabilizing Solution’ to suppress rapid cellular collapse under high-energy impact.”
“And, to temporarily enhance physique and raise explosive power...”
Pandora’s gaze swept over the vials.
“To take effect when necessary...”
“...it should be of some help.”
Starting at the Second-Rank, Perfect-Grade potions gained a special trait that set them apart from normal high-quality brews.
Their release became more “controllable.”
If you were familiar enough with the potion’s properties, you could, to a degree, precisely control when it kicked in.
Pandora, as the creator of these potions,
knew their nature better than anyone.
So, through her deep understanding, she could temporarily suppress them within her body, holding their power in check until the moment she needed it most!
Of course,
this “controllability” was relative.
At most, she could delay their activation with decent precision for about half an hour. Even she couldn’t hold back a Perfect-Grade potion for a full day.
“But,” Pandora’s eyes flashed.
“For a battle at the apprentice level, this is more than enough.”
She didn’t hesitate.
She uncorked the slender vials, tilted her head back, and downed the glowing liquids one by one.
Cold, warm, slightly prickling…
Liquids of different textures slid down her throat.
She could feel them transform into streams of pure energy, each with a different nature, spreading through her body.
But they didn’t “activate” immediately.
They were just… waiting. Storing their power for the moment to explode.
Time was running out.
Down below, Wilbur could break free from that zombie at any second.
She needed to seize every second.
..................
In the chaotic, debris-strewn clearing before the mall entrance.
In the few seconds that had just passed, Wilbur had exchanged another head-on blow with the obese zombie.
It only confirmed what he already knew.
This zombie was the real deal. A bona fide Third-Rank powerhouse.
And it was the tough type, a “strength” and “defense” build.
If they were both in peak condition, he wouldn’t fear it in the slightest.
Most of the time, in the ruins, zombies of this level were just prey. Targets he used to hone his skills.
But now…
He had zero desire to keep fighting this ugly, disgusting zombie.
His target was the Scarred Woman!
If he had a choice, he wouldn’t even be in this fight.
But he had no choice.
With this much noise, the vigilant, cunning Scarred Woman had to be on high alert. She knew what was happening here. She knew a Third-Rank had tracked her to this location.
In that case, the original plan—to silently track her to her den and report to Aldrich…
was impossible.
The chance to ambush her when she was resting, her guard down…
That was also gone.
But after tracking her this carefully, even paying the price of a mangled right arm, was the whole plan going to fail because of some random zombie?
No.
His thoughts became simple. Direct.
Since he was already exposed…
Then he would use everything he had!
Find her!
And then…
Kill her!
The messy calculus of pros and cons vanished. Only the simplest, most primal idea remained.
Wilbur no longer hesitated.
His wounded right arm hung limp. He stopped trying to look “normal.”
Under his fine control, the viscous mucus coating his arm stopped trying to mend the small wounds and bind the broken bones. Instead, it began to change.
The yellow-green fluid, which had been as thick as gel, became more “active.” More fluid.
And then...