Among the many potions known to Wizards, the Dragon Blood Potion was one of the most extraordinary. Its effect was simple yet profound—it strengthened the human body, enhancing both vitality and endurance. Even Formal Knights, whose physical strength was already exceptional, could feel its effects.
What made the potion truly remarkable, however, was the vast difference between its possible outcomes. A low-quality Dragon Blood Potion might not even reach the level of a zero-rank potion, its effects barely noticeable. But a high-quality one—refined with true dragon blood—could reach the third rank, making even Formal Wizards covet it.
The rank and potency of a Dragon Blood Potion depended almost entirely on the purity and quality of its main ingredient: Dragon Blood. The purer the blood, the more potent the potion. Yet for Magus, real dragon blood was an impossible luxury. Even obtaining blood from the lesser Sub-Dragon Species was far beyond his current means.
Still, it wasn't hopeless.
The Black Scale Lizardmen, though no longer dragons, carried within them a faint trace of ancient draconic heritage. Their distant ancestors had been descendants of dragons tens of thousands of years ago. Over generations, their bloodline had grown thin and diluted, but traces of Dragon Blood still lingered within them.
Magus's goal was clear: extract Dragon Blood that met the material standards for brewing Dragon Blood Potion from the blood of the Black Scale Lizardmen.
Patting his cheeks to focus, Magus took a deep breath and got to work.
The first step—hauling the heavy Lizardman corpse onto the operating table—left him panting for breath.
"Once I finish the Dragon Blood Potion," he muttered through clenched teeth, "I'll take it myself first. I need to strengthen my body before anything else."
After catching his breath, Magus picked up the scalpel and began the dissection. The bodies of the Black Scale Lizardmen had been preserved with medicinal agents shortly after death, keeping the blood fresh and unclotted. The extraction went smoothly.
Over an hour later, Magus had filled several containers with the deep crimson blood. The next stage began: bloodline extraction.
"Completed one blood purification. Biological Modification learning progress +0.01%."
"Completed one blood refinement. Biological Modification learning progress +0.01%."
"Completed one bloodline extraction. Biological Modification learning progress +0.03%."
Each stage of purification reduced the volume drastically. By the time he finished, a full barrel of blood had been condensed into a little over three liters of thick, jelly-like crimson liquid.
He stared at it with gleaming eyes.
"Dragon Lizard Blood, purity 35.68%. Contains trace Dragon Lizard Bloodline. When injected into a human body, there is a small chance of mutating into a Dragon Lizard physique, but a high probability of rejection reaction. In severe cases, may lead to death. The stronger the physique, the lower the rejection rate."
Magus exhaled slowly. "With my current skill, refining it to this degree is already my limit."
Bloodline extraction and refinement were both branches of Biological Modification, a skill he had yet to master. His technique was still crude. Fortunately, he had a secret advantage—his Synthesis Cube, a mystical tool capable of perfecting materials beyond human limits.
"Each Dragon Blood Potion requires 80 milliliters of Dragon Blood," he reminded himself.
He separated two 80-milliliter portions of the refined blood and placed them into the cube. Lines of glowing text immediately appeared on its synthesis interface.
"Dragon Lizard Blood, purity 51.59%. Contains Dragon Lizard Bloodline. Injection may result in mutation; rejection reaction highly probable. Strength of physique affects survival rate."
"Not enough."
He added more blood, merging multiple batches together. With each addition, the purity rose, but the rate of improvement slowed. It wasn't until the eighth portion that the synthesized product finally changed qualitatively.
"Sub-Dragon Blood, purity 1.12%. Contains faint traces of Dragon Bloodline. When injected into the human body, there is a very small chance of Wyvern mutation, and a high probability of rejection reaction. Stronger physique improves survival and mutation rate."
Magus grinned. "Finally succeeded."
Sub-Dragon Blood—the lowest possible grade of true dragon blood—was the minimum requirement for crafting Dragon Blood Potion. Considering it was his first attempt and that the potion-making process had a high failure rate, he decided to prepare multiple sets of ingredients instead of pushing for higher purity.
From the three liters of Lizardman blood, he ultimately obtained five portions of Sub-Dragon Blood.
Before starting the potion crafting, Magus chose to meditate, restoring his mind and spirit to peak condition. Potion-making demanded extreme precision and control; any distraction could lead to failure.
When he finally opened his eyes, his focus was razor-sharp.
The auxiliary materials were all laid out in order—simple herbs, powdered minerals, and purified water. The Sub-Dragon Blood glowed faintly red in a glass vial beside the beaker.
Lighting the alcohol lamp, Magus carefully added the ingredients one by one, stirring gently as each dissolved. The early steps mirrored his previous refining of Silver Moon Flower, but there was one crucial difference—the final infusion of mental power.
Under the flickering candlelight, Magus extended a finger. A faint blue-purple radiance gathered at its tip before merging into the beaker. His lips moved rapidly, uttering an incantation in a tongue both ancient and strange—its syllables sometimes sharp and piercing, sometimes low and resonant.
The crimson liquid responded, swirling and reshaping itself with each word.
For any true Wizard Potion—even a zero-rank one—guiding the process with mental power was essential. Without it, the potion would inevitably fail. That was what made Wizard Potions so rare and mysterious—the fusion of magic, science, and will.
Minutes passed. The crimson mixture simmered quietly, gradually shrinking in volume. Then, without warning, it boiled violently, releasing green smoke before exploding with a soft pop!
All that remained was a lump of charred black residue.
"Completed one Potion Making (failed). Potion Making proficiency +4."
Magus didn't seem discouraged. "Even failure teaches me more than refining herbs," he murmured.
He hadn't expected success on his first try anyway.
After a brief rest, he tried again.
The second attempt also failed. So did the third. But with each failure, his movements became steadier, his control over spiritual energy more refined.
On the fourth attempt, something changed.
The liquid stabilized. The ripples calmed. And when the potion finally settled, a faint red glow shimmered at the bottom of the beaker.
"Completed one Potion Making. Potion Making proficiency +12."
"Sub-Dragon Blood Potion (Zero-Rank / Low-Grade) — upon consumption, strengthens physique. Effect varies based on user's constitution; weaker bodies experience stronger results. Repeated use yields diminishing effects."
Magus exhaled in relief. "Only a Sub-Dragon Blood Potion, but it's a success nonetheless. The purity of my materials was too low for anything better. Still… this is good progress."
Without hesitation, he lifted the beaker and drank the potion in one gulp.
The moment it hit his stomach, a surge of blazing heat erupted from within, racing through his veins like molten metal. Magus gasped, his body trembling as if submerged in magma—every nerve on fire.
Pain and exhilaration intertwined.
Minutes dragged by like hours until, at last, the agony began to fade. When he opened his eyes, sweat drenched him from head to toe. His shirt clung to his body, completely soaked.
But beneath the exhaustion, he felt it—a torrent of power coursing through his limbs. The weakness that had haunted him for so long was gone. Energy pulsed in every muscle, every bone.
He stripped off his shirt and looked down. The frail, skinny frame he'd grown used to was gone. His chest was broader, his arms firmer, faint abdominal lines visible beneath a thin layer of skin.
Clenching his fist, he felt muscles tighten beneath his skin, strength coiling like a spring.
Opening his status panel, he blinked in astonishment.
Physique: 0.7 → 2.6.
A full increase of 1.9 points.
"That's… incredible." He couldn't hide his excitement. "A physique of 2.6—roughly equal to an Apprentice Knight who has trained for four or five years."
He laughed softly, still breathing heavily. "A single potion turned me from a frail ordinary man into someone with the strength of a Knight apprentice. This is the power of Wizard Potions."
And this was just a low-grade, zero-rank potion.
He could only imagine what a true Ranked Dragon Blood Potion might accomplish. A single dose could push an ordinary person straight into the ranks of true Knights.
"Ranked potions are still far beyond me," Magus admitted, his gaze steady. "But for now… this will do."
He flexed his fingers, feeling the warmth of new life flowing within him. For the first time since awakening his gift, he truly felt the boundless potential that magic and alchemy held.
The Sub-Dragon Blood Potion had not only strengthened his body—it had ignited his ambition.
The path ahead was still long, but Magus was no longer the same frail scholar who had once struggled to lift a corpse onto the table. He was stronger now, in both body and spirit.
He smiled faintly, setting the empty beaker aside. The scent of charred residue and herbs still lingered in the air.
"Next time," he whispered, "I'll refine a higher-rank potion… one worthy of the name Dragon Blood."
With that quiet vow, the flickering candlelight reflected in his determined eyes, heralding the true beginning of his journey as a Potion-Crafting Magus.