Chapter 38. Condensed
His grip slipped, but only for a moment. Rhys caught the ball and clenched down, tighter than before. It shuddered, tried to slip, but this time, he didn’t let it. The intense pressure from Rhys’ mana, the steam, and the heat all came to bear on the orb, and it finally, at last, melted.
Rhys’ eyes flashed. Now!
He kicked the cauldron. The lid shot off in a jet of steam. A black blob flew out just behind the lid, hurtling up into the air. He grabbed a potion container from his storage ring and held it out, calling the impurities to him with his other hand. The black blob fell, but it retained its shape as it fell. Rhys pulled it into the vial and slammed the lid shut.
Crrk-crrk-crrk. Instantly, hairline cracks shot through the vial. High pitched creaks and shatters filled the air as new cracks formed and existing cracks dug deeper. Startled, Rhys released Trash Intent on the now-empty cauldron and quickly applied it to the vial. The deterioration slowed, but it didn’t stop. The potion was too corrosive, too destructive. It ate away at the mana powering his Intent and corroded it, the same as it corroded the glass.
Rhys poured more mana in, only for it to sink into the impurities. At the absolute top speed he could feed mana into the Intent skill, he could barely keep up with the rate of corrosion inside the glass. He stared at it, shocked. It was a success and a half. On its own, this potion was a training material, to force him to keep Trash Intent up for longer and practice preventing his mana from getting corroded by impurities. If he drank it…
A sensation of terror came over Rhys, his instincts quailing at the idea. If he drank it, he died. He was absolutely sure of that. It was too corrosive. His body, his mana, neither of them were ready for it yet.
He grinned, looking at the potion. Neither of them were ready yet. With the potion he held in his hand right here, though, they’d be ready. He just needed more practice.
Rhys sat by the cauldron and focused his Intent on the bottle. He’d never used it for more than a few minutes at a time, but now, he held it active for hours. At the same time, he paid close attention to where his mana met the potion, watching the corrosive process closely. If he wanted to drink this potion, he needed to be able to handle it without his mana corroding. Whatever it did in the bottle was the same thing it would do inside him, just on an easier-to-handle scale. If he could solve it here, he’d solve it for when he drank the potion, as well.
Fifteen minutes passed. His mana was almost out, and a tiny headache grew at his temples. He had the vague sensation that Trash Intent was drawing an unusual amount of mana, but he couldn’t be sure. He’d never held it this long before. His Intent held strong, though, showing no sign of wavering. He sipped his mana potion to keep his mana high.
Half an hour. The mana loss accelerated the longer he held the technique. He no longer questioned whether it was unusual or not; it was. He needed to sip the mana potion more often now. His temples throbbed, and his skull ached. His Intent wavered at the edges as his focus wobbled, split between the Intent and his studies, distracted by the pain.
Three quarters of an hour. Rhys sipped his mana potion yet again and kept going. His whole head was on fire. His Intent barely held. He would have given up, but there was something about his mana. About the way it corroded. He’d almost understood it. Just a little longer. He only had to hold on a little longer, and he’d understand!
An hour. The first mana potion was empty, and he was already a quarter through the next one. His vision blurred. His Intent wobbled, on the verge of collapse. But none of that mattered. He stared closely at his mana and the impurities, bloodshot eyes wide. The mana touched the impurities, and the impurities infected it, degraded it, then destroyed it. But where did that energy go? Surely it had to go somewhere.