Freddy had a lot of money; considerably more than he knew what to do with. A trio of alchemists dedicated to helping him juice beyond all reason was a much-needed financial outlet. And to the trio, a stable income was worth its weight in ether.
Their job was simple enough—make the most comprehensive list of performance-boosting substances anyone has ever seen. Well, maybe not that simple. But at the very least, they had plenty of funds to work with. To this end, they would be provided a monthly budget of just a little over a billion dollars—and they would need it, given how many researchers they would have to hire.
Then, once the time came, and his soul healed enough for him to go back to drastically modifying himself, he would task them with getting all those substances ready to go. It wouldn't be much longer, hopefully.
He was well aware that he was a little out of touch when it came to what money was worth. But he didn’t expect that he was this clueless.
When he threw out the billion-something dollar budget offer, he was fully expecting them to try and squeeze him for everything he was worth. Granted, this budget was specifically just for researching the substances, which he would pay for separately once the day arrived.
But rather than trying to ask for more, they stared at him in absolute shock. Anya looked like she would faint.
“You’re serious?” Kale asked. “And this is just for the research?”
Freddy nodded.
The trio exchanged looks, only to start screaming excitedly.
He was mildly confused as to why this made them so excited. They surely had to earn plenty of money as it was, no? Well, Freddy was vaguely aware that the cost of ingredients, assistant work, and equipment for alchemy could make the profit margins horrifyingly thin, but still.
Given their excitement, he felt the need to point something out. “I will be reviewing the research progress every month,” he reminded. “If you disappoint me, that will be the last month you get funding from me.”
That seemed to temper their excitement a bit.
“Of course,” Henry said, a small smile still on his face. “We’ll do our best not to disappoint you, sir.”
Kale was practically shaking in place. “Do you guys have any idea what this means!? With this kind of funding, we can fund an entire small department! This is a chance for us to become the eminent experts on this topic!”
“Okay, cool it down,” Henry said. “If he is willing to provide this kind of funding, I’m sure Mr. Stern’s expectations for our work are accordingly quite high.”
They really weren’t, if he was being honest. Half the reason he even wanted to give them that much money was to hopefully keep their mouths shut about his identity. He just wanted them to dig through books and compile a list of medicines—but judging how they were talking about it, they seemed to be ready to do a whole lot more than that.
Not that he was going to say anything. If they wanted to go the extra thousand miles, they were welcome to do so.
They visited the legal department and drew up a contract. The lawyer clearly knew who he was supposed to try and please—the Entrepreneur badge made that abundantly clear. The first draft for the contract was borderline demonic. Freddy would own the rights to literally everything they created or discovered while he was funding them, regardless of whether it was related to what he was paying them for or not.
And arguably, that was one of the milder clauses.
The trio was nervous, yet resigned. They were ready to sign the contract as it was, even though some of the clauses could trap them in debt for the rest of their lives if they messed something up.
Now, Freddy wasn’t interested in putting himself in a bad position. But he also didn’t want to inflict a slave contract upon the poor people. He ended up cutting out some of the particularly egregious crap, like the clause that made it so they would owe ninety-five percent of all class credits earned if they ever held a course on the topic he was hiring them for.
But some things, even if a bit iffy, he wanted to keep. Most importantly perhaps, he would have the right of say on who they were allowed to be permanently employed with. For the rest of time.
If he wanted to, he could literally stop them from finding permanent work ever again. Obviously, he had no interest in doing so. But he definitely wouldn’t be happy about letting them work for someone he considered an enemy.
By the time Freddy was done, he was left with a lawyer who obviously considered him an idiot, and a trio of alchemists who were genuinely baffled at how favorable the terms appeared to be for them.
These terms are still pretty harsh… Geez, being a non-combatant really does suck, huh?
Judging by their muttering, which they probably thought he couldn’t overhear, Freddy couldn’t help but conclude that they were tragically broke. Sure, they earned a lot of money, but they had so many expenses that they were all functionally in debt.
Tuition, class credits, ingredients, assistance, equipment, recipe licensing, failure-to-deliver fees, housing costs, tax—it all stacked up pretty high.
Frankly, he didn’t know why he was surprised. He already knew that being a non-combatant was terrible. But… well, he hadn’t expected that to reach so high up the ladder.
Once they signed the contract, Freddy took them out for dinner to celebrate their new deal. It was awkward as hell, with them clearly walking on eggshells around him.
The following day, he had Henry teach him how to make the spa brew.
The color was supposed to be a particular shade of green. If it turned out yellow, it was garbage. It wouldn’t work at all. If it turned out dark, it worked, but the darker the color, the more poisonous it would be.
Freddy’s first attempt ended up brown.
“I have literally never seen someone mess it up that bad,” Henry declared. “Seriously, I have never seen this color before in my life, spa brew or otherwise.”
Freddy winced. “I’ll get it right next time.”
It ended up pitch black. Which, while horribly poisonous, actually worked. That was good enough for Freddy.
“This will work,” Henry said. “That being said, there are ways to prepare it that might work even better for you. I recommend you take a look at those papers I handed you.”
Freddy agreed with a nod.
Next up, he tasked Kale with finding him anything else he could use to improve his studying. An hour later, the man called him over to his office.
“Here you go, mate,” Kale handed him a can of soda.
Freddy looked at it. “Soda… Soda? This is just regular soda.” He checked the can. “What’s the catch?”
Kale shrugged. “Nothing. It’s just soda.” He chuckled. “Sugary drinks are great at spiking your blood sugar. Not great for your health, but you don’t need to worry about that, and your brain loves sugar. Trust me, it’ll help a lot. The more you drink, the better.”
“Okay, I guess…” Freddy cracked the soda can open and took a sip. “Anything else?”
Kale pulled out a small bottle of pills and handed them to Freddy. “Here you go bro.”
Freddy hesitated as he read the label, his face scrunching up in disgust. “Amphetamine!?”
Kale cocked an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“Why the fuck are you giving me drugs?”
Kale stared at him in abject confusion. Then, he laughed. “Oh, that’s funny.”
“It’s not funny; get this crap away from me.”
Kale’s confusion returned in force. “Are you serious?” He scratched the back of his head. “This is where you draw the line? You’d mainline dragon nut juice, and this is too extreme for you?”
“That’s… It’s not the same, okay?” Freddy said, crossing his arms. “There’s a difference between these esoteric magical substances and… meth.”
“Okay, first of all”—Kale raised the bottle—”this is generic amphetamine. It is specifically the kind without meth in its name. Frankly, I was of half a mind to give you actual meth, and even that would still be less extreme than most things you’re gonna end up taking.”
Freddy scowled. “They let you cook meth here?”
“They let me cook dragon nut juice! Which is so much worse it’s not even funny!” Kale sighed. “Seriously, my guy, it’s not a big deal.”
“It’s speed!”
“It’s a school supply! I bought this at the grocery store! People give it to kids!”
Freddy’s expression morphed into one of horror. “They do what?”
Kale sputtered, looking like he was on the verge of losing his mind. Then, he released a breath, and put the bottle down. “Look, I can tell there’s some history here. I can’t force you to do anything. But I just want you to know, that the combination of spa brew, a lot of sugar, caffeine, and amphetamines is the absolute best you’re going to get when it comes to studying performance.
“Seriously, there is nothing else you could even add that would actually help. You can omit it if you want, but… let’s be real here for a moment, it’s a silly hill to die on given what kind of stuff you’re planning on putting in your body.”
Freddy released a disgruntled groan. The man was right and he knew it. But that didn’t really make him okay with taking the pills. If anything, it made him question whether he was actually doing the right thing at all.
After some internal conflict, he was forced to admit that the man was right. This was a silly hill to die on. Sighing, he accepted the bottle. “Thank you. And sorry for the outburst.”
Kale shrugged. “I didn’t take it personally.”
“Now, if that’s all, I think it’ll be best if I head out.” Freddy got up.
“Hey, Mr. Stern…” Kale called.
“Hmm?”
The man hesitated for a long moment. “Thanks. I can tell that you don’t think much of what you’ve done, but for the three of us, this is a chance to turn our lives around. Don’t get me wrong, alchemy is great for making money, but… the bulk of it is rote grinding. Making the same stuff over and over isn’t just boring—its also a horrible source of latent aura.
“For non-combatants, progress is hard. We often have to spend money on personal projects just to have a chance of ever making it anywhere. So… thanks. You’ve given us some amazing terms and a massive opportunity, even if you don’t think much of it. We won’t let you down.”
Freddy smiled at the man. “Just keep up the good work, okay?”
And with that, he headed out, running to try to catch the tail end of Etherology 101.
That evening, he found himself home, ready to finally see just how much of a difference all this stuff will make. He took out the pile of papers on the spa brew and got to studying.
The papers themselves were a lot more detailed than he expected. This wasn’t just a guide on the drug—it was research on its entire history, which was considerably more involved than Freddy expected.
For starters, the spa brew was actually derived from a different concoction.
At first, Freddy couldn’t help but snort at how pretentious of a name it had. But as he delved deeper into the papers, he realized that the name was no joke.
Around fifty years ago, the eidolon of Wisdom had created a potion recipe.
The potion of enlightenment.
The eidolon promised that the concoction in question would “crystallize the sum of one’s knowledge into actionable wisdom.”
As expected, dozens of wealthy tycoons and even lords jumped at the opportunity to have it. It required a team of nearly fifty alchemists, thousands of expensive ingredients, and many days of work, which caused its price to soar to utterly insane levels.
The dozens of people in question all drank their respective potions.
Within days, they began acting strange.
And then, before long, every single person who had drunk the potion vanished.
A massive investigation was launched. Despite many months of search, only five of the people were ever found, all in similar circumstances.
They had moved somewhere to the countryside, bought a small, humble home, and were living ordinary, mundane lives, spending their free time on hobbies like knitting, reading, or cooking. They seemingly transformed into completely different people, becoming kinder, more social, and were trying their best to integrate themselves into whatever community they had moved into.
Below, there was a section of an interview with one of the people. They had requested to stay anonymous, but some speculated the person in question to have been Lord Agnus, a bloodthirsty, brutal warlord.
[Interviewer adjusts tie, shifts in sofa] “Thank you for having me, [REDACTED].”
“You’re welcome.” [Interviewee smiles]
“I would like to ask you a couple of questions. If you want to skip a question, please say so. Are you ready to get started?”
[Interviewee nods]
“All right, then… First, I would like to ask… What is it that the potion of enlightenment does, exactly?”
“It enlightens you.” [Interviewee laughs] “It connects the dots. That which you already know becomes… clearer to you. The best path forward becomes abundantly obvious.”
“And how did this result in you suddenly moving to [REDACTED] and starting a new life?”
[Interviewee shrugs] “Because this is objectively the wisest thing to do.” [Interviewee leans back, looks up at ceiling] “You know, when I drank that potion, there was a moment where I pieced together a grand plan. I figured out all the best ways to crush my enemies and carve out my legend. And it didn’t stop there. I just knew what I was going to do, even beyond that. And beyond.
“It was then that it started becoming obvious to me: I was stuck in a loop. And what was it for, ultimately? There is no joy in conquest. There is only a grander throne beyond. In a world so vast, where would that take me? High above, sure, but to my death, inevitably. There would no doubt come a day when I’d fall, and no matter when it came, I would meet my end with a heart full of regrets, lamenting I couldn’t have seized something even greater.
“It was at that moment that it just came to me. What was I doing? And why? Theoretically, should I make it to the highest of peaks, a position of absolute power, what would I even do then?” [Interviewee gestures around the room] “I would probably do this. Rest. Focus on enjoying those few things which brought me joy. So I asked myself—why wait? Why risk it?
“Statistically speaking, the odds were so stacked against me that my goal might as well have been impossible. I had plenty. More than enough. I don’t know how much time I am given, but now, I know, should I die, even tomorrow, my heart would be at peace. I will have reached that highest peak of power. Where I could do exactly what I wanted, all my life. Be happy.”
[Interviewer nods] “I see. I can’t help but notice a considerable change in personality. Would you say that you regret drinking the potion, given the effect it had on you?”
[Interviewee smiles] “As I am now, no. I do not. But… I also know that, if I had known what would happen, I probably wouldn’t have taken it.”
“Would you care to elaborate on why you feel that way?”
“Well, it’s because… I mean, sure, you most certainly do reach enlightenment…” [Interviewee grows absent, looks up at ceiling, halts for approximately ten seconds] “But you die. You die, and you are replaced by a version of you who, in a sense, lives as the most vicious mockery of everything you stand for. You see… I feel humans are born with a kind of madness to them.
“It is this madness that holds our ambition, our greed, and our purpose. It is what lets us believe in that which is greater than ourselves—what lets us manifest meaning. To become enlightened… is to break this illusion. To see the world as it really is, and to see how small you really are. When I die, I know I won’t care a whit of how I’ve spent my time. It is perhaps that… more than anything else… that… that makes me feel that I might have fucked up.”
[Interviewer nods] “I see… What do you believe happened to the others who haven’t been found yet?”
[Interviewee shrugs] “I don’t know. I’m guessing much the same as what happened to me. They likely covered their tracks better than I.”
“Thank you for your time, [REDACTED]. I believe that concludes our interview.”
The following section described what happened after the discovery of what the potion did. For starters, it was declared an extreme poison. Few to no commissions had ever been requested afterwards, with a notable exception being the empire, who used it as one of the highest forms of punishment for treachery. The author estimates that the potion made for a greater deterrent than even the death penalty.
The estimated cost of the potion appeared in a section. It was well within what Freddy could afford.
Unable to force himself to keep reading, Freddy skipped past the history stuff. He wanted to get to the practical stuff, but the intense headache forced him to go to bed early that night.
He found himself standing before the mirror, his expression looking back at him. He could see the palpable madness in his own eyes, hear it on the stale bathroom air, slip on it on the tiles. It swarmed around him, whispering, cackling, shouting indignantly.
The headache grew worse. His face visibly contorted as he opened his mouth.
“I don’t want to drink it.”
And it all went away. The dilemma. The madness. The headache. He went to sleep, and dreamt of dying.
Yet another mad day began.
And once more, he worked towards the day where he would die with a heart full of regrets.