Little Tyrant Doesn’t Want to Meet with a Bad End

What should one do before drinking medicine?

Roel wouldn’t say that he was an expert on this topic. He recalled how martial artists in his previous world had a habit of meditating under a waterfall for several days in order to reach their peak state. However, it seemed like this world didn’t share that custom, though it was not as if Roel would do it anyway.

Some might pray to the gods and wish for everything to go well. However, seeing how Roel was dealing with some dark and sinister stuff here, he didn’t think that the gods of this world would be willing to give him their blessing.

Forget it, I’ll just gulp it down and get it over and done with!

Roel stared at the two bottles of serum that he had spent 1000 gold coins to acquire from the Gold Coin Shop—Lobor Enhancement Serum Type II and Lobor Cooling Serum. The former was a bottle of viscous black fluid that looked no different from crude oil while the latter looked a teeny bit tamer with its dark blue color.

He uncapped the two bottles and began pouring them into a glass cup.

To his surprise, the black viscous fluid flowed smoothly like water whereas the tamer dark blue fluid flowed slowly like a thick molten caramel. The two fluids began to effervesce upon contact, as if some sort of sinister chemical reaction was taking place.

Roel eyed the color of the mixture carefully as he recalled the description of the items.

“I’ll be able to drink it once the color settles at dark red…”

Time ticked by as Roel observed the mixture patiently. Around ten minutes later, the mixture inside the glass cup finally turned dark red, and the effervescence had stopped too.

Roel picked up the cup and took a sniff. He could smell a scent similar to orange juice in it.

“System, is this fine? Can I drink it now?”

【Scanning object…】

【Color matches. Reaction matches. The serum is ready for consumption.】

“That’s a relief. But still, it feels so odd for something with the texture of milk to have the smell of oranges… Forget it, cheers!”

Roel swirled the fluid inside the glass cup lightly before tilting his head back and gulping down this serum mixture that had cost him 1000 gold coins.

Its texture is thick like gravy, and it has a weird taste too. The slight orangey scent does mellow down the weirdness a little, making it at least palatable.

For those inquisitive minds out there, this was Roel’s commentary on how this highly expensive serum mixture tasted.

That being said, the value of medicine lay not in its taste but in its effectiveness. After downing the serum mixture, Roel closed his eyes to focus on the miraculous changes that were happening to his body…

… or he would have been if not for the fact that nothing was happening at all.

“What’s going on? I thought I was supposed to have a huge burst of power and go Super Saiyan! System, is this how the serum mixture is supposed to work? I paid 1000 gold coins for it, and nothing is… Gahh!”

Halfway through delivering his indignant consumer complaint, Roel’s body suddenly shuddered as he felt a burning heat rising from his stomach, spreading all over his body within seconds.

He could sense his temperature rising at a rapid pace, such that his head was starting to feel groggy from overheating. He immediately rose to his feet and struggled to make his way over to his bed, only to find himself blacking out after barely taking a step.

Bam!

The chair was knocked to the ground, falling right beside a collapsed black-haired boy.

---------------------------------------------

While Roel was knocked unconscious under the effects of the serum mixture, far away in Rosa, the little Soul-calming Lamp that he had sold to the Sorofya Merchant Association was gradually creating ripples that would eventually change his fate.

“It’s working! It really is working!”

A ginger-haired middle-aged man dressed in opulent robes sat upon the main seat in a dark room while exclaiming in agitation.

There was a shabby-looking oil lamp placed on the table in front of him, emanating a bizarre white light. It illuminated the magnificent paintings and invaluable old books spread around the room, as well as the plants that were specially imported from Gran Fiefdom that were placed along the sides…

… and not to forget, the excited faces of those gathered around the centrally positioned table too.

“Mister Bruce, how are you feeling at the moment?”

“I feel great. The corrosion is slowing down… No, it has pretty much come to a halt.”

He touched his own chest as he tried to perceive the changes that were going on in his body, and soon, he nodded his head affirmatively once more.

“The unease in my soul has vanished, and I can feel that the effects of the undead reanimation gradually undoing itself. What’s amazing is that it actually has no side effects on me at all… Andrew, are you able to identify what this lamp is?”

“I’m afraid that I’ve never heard of this item before. However, I’m certain that it’s an antique originating from before the Third Epoch.”

A spectacled old man wearing a pointed hat, Andrew, remarked as he stepped forward to examine the Soul-calming Lamp close up.

“This oil lamp appears to be made of a special kind of dirt, and the oil within seems to be the blood of some creature. My guess is that it’s the product of an heretical cult. Judging by the lack of adverse side effects, it doesn’t seem to be from an evil cult. It’s probably from one of the cults in the Second Epoch that has already been forgotten by civilization,” replied Andrew.

“Is it possible to replicate it?”

“I can give it a try, but the chances of success are slim.”

“If you aren’t able to do it, no one else will be able to either. What an irony. I never thought that a day would come when I’m dependent on a lamp to live,” remarked Bruce Sorofya wryly.

No one else in the room could bring themselves to laugh at his remark. A heavy silence lingered in the air until a man holding onto a black wooden staff finally spoke up.

“Given the rate the oil is depleting, the oil lamp should be able to last us several years, which means that we have more time on our hands to devise a countermeasure.”

“Yes, you’re right. With this additional time bought and our influence as Sorofyas, it’s not entirely impossible for us to find a remedy.”

The group inside the room tried to maintain an optimistic attitude.

Bruce Sorofya smiled bitterly to himself. It was at least a good thing that he managed to obtain this lamp, so he shouldn’t get too pessimistic about the current situation, he thought.

“With these additional years bought, I’ll be able to raise Charlotte up. By then, I’d be able to leave with no regrets. If that doesn’t work out, we’ll have no choice but to put our lives on the line.”

Bruce’s words brought grave looks to everyone inside the room. The crowd nodded as one, resolutely, as if affirming their determination.

It was then that someone suddenly thought of something and asked.

“Who is the seller of this oil lamp? Do we have the person’s information?”

“It was sold by the Ascart House of Saint Mesit Theocracy.”

“What? The Ascart House?”

Upon hearing the words from his subordinate, a frown immediately formed on Bruce’s forehead and he lowered his head in thought.

This reaction made the rest of the group gathered around the table look at one another quizzically before Andrew finally propped up his glasses and inquired.

“Bruce, are you acquainted with the patriarch of the Ascart House?”

“N-no, I don’t know him. It’s just that… we have some history together. Did the seller leave behind any words?”

“No. On the contrary, he instructed the manager of the branch not to reveal any information about himself.”

“…”

Hearing those words, Bruce visibly relaxed a little, thinking that it might have been all a coincidence.

Indeed. It has been nearly a hundred years since then, so who would still remember the promise from back then?

Bruce chuckled to himself, thinking that it was all over. Yet, who could have thought that there would still be a continuation to the story?

“What’s weird though is that the seller is the son of the Ascart Marquess, and he’s only nine this year.”

“9-year-old? He’s of the same age as our young miss. Could it be that he secretly sold the treasure behind his family’s back?”

“Haha, how is that possible? This is an antique from the Second Epoch! It can easily be regarded as a family heirloom in any noble lineage!”

“According to the report, it appears that the Ascart Marquess instructed his son, Roel Ascart, to handle the transaction. Based on the information we have gathered, this young successor doesn’t possess any transcendental abilities, so this might be an attempt to get on good terms with the local branch. That could help them in building up a partnership with us in furthering the development of the fiefdom’s commerce.”

“That’s possible. If the young successor is unable to become a transcendent, he’ll have no choice but to focus his efforts on managing the fiefdom.”

While the crowd was discussing the affairs of the Ascart House, Bruce Sorofya fell silent once more.

The others didn’t think much of the Ascart Marquess’ decision of entrusting the job of selling the Soul-calming Lamp to his son, but Bruce felt that there was something more to it.

He felt that it was a reminder coming from the Ascart House, a reminder that they still remembered the promise. The Ascart House was urging him to fulfill his end of the promise, and in order to do so, they even went to the extent of offering him their family heirloom, so as to keep him alive.

Bruce had no idea how the Ascart House knew about his current condition, and he had no idea how the news of him being the buyer leaked out either. A hundred years passed in a flash, but the veil of mystery surrounding the Ascart House only thickened.

“Could this be fate?” he muttered weakly.

After another long moment of reflection, he couldn’t help but utter his daughter’s name in a daze.

“Charlotte…”