novellhall Chapter 2: The potion is still the most potent!
Chapter 2: The potion is still the most potent!
Looking at the panel, Ivan's tone was filled with regret.
"The power of nine dragons... It seems the panel's effects don't take into account the medicine I took before, which is a bit of a shame."
"In that case, let's test the waters with two mercury pills first."
Thinking of this, his gaze fell on the two things he used most often in front of him.
Mercury ointment and mercury pills.
The former is applied externally, while the latter is taken internally.
This is the cheapest, most widely used, and also the most toxic drug for treating syphilis among the lower classes in this era.
none of them.
Mercury ointment costs seven cents a jar, and mercury pills cost three cents each.
It's as cheap as peanuts from a street vendor's cart.
Ordinary low-income patients can usually rely on this to get through a few months, and those who are lucky can even get through a few years.
Of course, in the end, your teeth will fall out one by one, your gums will turn black, and your mouth will always be filled with a sweet, rotten smell.
But given Evan's current financial situation, this is the only option.
He picked up two small, grayish-white pills.
The meatballs are slightly larger than peas, with a rough surface, and they crumble slightly when crushed by fingertips.
He popped them into his mouth.
The pill struggled down my swollen throat, scraping against the inflamed mucous membrane as it slid into my stomach, leaving a burning sting.
Evan frowned and swallowed twice before suppressing the urge to gag.
Then, a notification popped up in his field of vision.
You have taken a mercury pill. Effect lasts: 6 hours.
[Effect: Syphilis rash slightly subsided.]
Does this reverse the side effects?
Upon seeing this line, Ivan's heart filled with anticipation: "A plot twist!"
You reversed the side effects of the mercury pills.
Your digestive ulcers have been relieved! 12% → 11%
Your brain nerve damage has been alleviated! 17% → 16%
Your oral cavity has been strengthened, and your physical constitution has been permanently increased by 0.001.
After reading the hint, Ivan's lips curled into a grin.
In this moldy, dilapidated apartment plastered with old newspapers, a sickly nineteen-year-old revealed his first genuine smile since transmigrating.
"0.001? Okay, even a mosquito's leg is meat."
Thinking of this, he picked up the jar of mercury ointment, unscrewed the metal cap, scooped out a dollop of dark gray ointment with his index finger, and was about to apply it to the red spots on his arm.
[Warning: Only one type of drug can be effective at a time.]
Ivan's hand froze in mid-air. He pursed his lips, scraped the ointment back into the jar, and casually rubbed his fingers on his trouser leg.
"Alright, let's look at other medications then."
He picked up a small glass bottle.
The bottle was barely thicker than a thumb, and there were no labels on it, only a symbol he didn't recognize engraved on the bottom.
After the cork was pulled out, four black mud pellets rolled out, each emitting a strange odor.
It doesn't smell like medicine; it smells more like the humus in a forest after the rain, mixed with some indescribable spiciness.
He had just received this from Professor Priss, who taught him biology, today.
When the pale professor handed him the small bottle, he didn't even blink behind his glasses.
He only said one sentence: "Take it on time, record the reaction, and it can improve your physical fitness."
After all, as the signatory of the poverty subsidy agreement, it was his obligation to cooperate with the school's laboratory experiments.
It's written in black and white on the contract.
He was initially somewhat apprehensive about the black pills of unknown origin.
But now that he had the talent, he simply picked up a pill and popped it into his mouth.
The moment the mud ball entered my mouth, I tasted a strong bitterness on my tongue, followed by a strange numbing sensation that spread from the back of my tongue all the way to my throat.
[You have ingested an incomplete Night Demon Potion. Effects last: 12 hours.]
[Effect: Permanently increases Constitution by 0.2]
[Did you reverse the side effects?]
"Good heavens... a potion?"
Ivan sat bolt upright in his chair, the chair legs scraping against the floor with a sharp screech.
"Isn't this the kind of drug that only those with extraordinary powers use?"
"How did you end up at the university...?"
His mind raced, and his pupils contracted slightly in the dim light of the kerosene lamp.
"Wait... Could it be that someone is using us mortals to experiment on supernatural drugs?"
The moment the thought crossed his mind, a chill ran down his spine.
This is not just a rumor.
In this bustling yet dirty city, rumors never cease.
Workers in the dock area say that there are ghouls deep in the sewers that devour the corpses of homeless people, and that the names of those who have gone missing will never appear in any newspapers.
Last year, a mysterious gas explosion occurred at a textile factory in the East District. The factory was demolished overnight after the explosion.
The land was sold the very next day. There was no investigation, no reporting, nothing at all.
And then there were his parents, who suddenly "committed suicide."
There are also rumors that maintenance workers once ran out screaming from the school's underground pipe system.
They said they saw something, and then they were sent to a sanatorium, and no one has seen them since.
People at the bottom of society believe in the existence of the extraordinary.
In taverns, laundries, and on the back benches of churches, people whispered and exchanged impossible stories.
But the authorities will always deny it.
The newspaper explanations are always plausible: gas leak, mental instability, alcohol-induced hallucinations, the case is closed.
Science is the new gospel of this era, and anything outside of it is not allowed to exist.
"If Arkham exists, then there's definitely something wrong with this world."
Ivan's eyes lit up. It wasn't the light of fear, but the burning intensity of a gambler seeing their hole cards.
He savored the bitter taste left by the black mud pill in his mouth, then his gaze returned to the small glass bottle in his hand, and to the remaining three black pills.
"Since you're using us ordinary students as test subjects, don't blame me for tearing your hypocritical masks to shreds."
"Reversal".
[Reversal progress: 4 hours.]
"Tch! Do I have to wait for the loading screen?"
Clearly, magic potions and ordinary medicines are not in the same league.
The side effects of the mercury pills were instantly reversed.
At this moment, a slight warm current rose from my stomach and climbed up my spine.
The warmth came quickly and went quickly, giving his heart a sudden jolt that sent a shiver through him as if he were taking off.
Then, that withered, cold body, which looked like it had been lying in a morgue for three days, finally regained a bit of the warmth of a living person.
Not much, but enough to confirm that he was still alive.
Ivan moved his fingers and felt the numbness in his fingertips subside a bit.
The potion works incredibly fast!
"Instant effect? No wonder it's a magic potion!"
Just as Ivan was marveling...
A violent wave of dizziness washed over him, as if someone had pushed his head underwater.
Immediately afterwards, a large patch of cold sweat broke out on my back, and my shirt clung to my spine, wet and cold.
Hypoglycemia: 30%...40%...51%...
A red warning message appeared on the panel.
"The potion worked?"
Physical fitness is increasing, the body is rebuilding, and rebuilding requires fuel.
The black mud ball was rapidly depleting his already dwindling blood sugar reserves.
Along with the dizziness, Evan could indeed feel something happening deep within his body.
The muscle fibers trembled slightly, and a faint, tingling sensation came from the bones—a strange feeling that was a mixture of pain and growth.
His body is getting stronger, but if his blood sugar drops to zero first, he will faint before he can get stronger.
He struggled to stand up from the chair, his knees buckled and he almost knelt down, only managing to steady himself by grabbing the edge of the table.
Then he stumbled and pushed open the bedroom door. The thin wooden door, with holes patched up with old newspapers, clattered under his hand, almost falling off its rusty hinges.
The living room was narrow, only five or six steps away, but he walked as if he were crossing a river.
The floorboards creaked and groaned, each plank seemingly conversing about whether or not to break.
His hip slammed into the armrest of the patched canvas sofa in the living room, causing the sofa to slide back half a foot, revealing a patch of gray-black dust underneath.
The kitchen has no door, only a narrow doorway partially obscured by a floral curtain.
He ripped open the curtain and rushed inside.
His hands trembled violently as he pulled open the peeling, cracked cabinet door.
The hinge let out a sharp scream, and the white paint on the door panel peeled off like scales, falling onto the stove.
His hand groped around in the cupboard for a bit, knocking over an empty can, and finally grabbed the old tin can that held biscuits.
The "Unida" logo printed on the can has been worn away to just a blurry outline.
He unscrewed the lid, and found no cookies inside, only a small half-jar of brown sugar, which had hardened into lumps and was damp at the edges.
He reached right in, grabbed a handful, and stuffed it into his mouth.
The sweetness of the brown sugar exploded on his tongue, the coarse particles chafed his teeth, and some crumbs got into his trachea. He coughed twice, but didn't stop, grabbing another handful.
The sweetness slid down my esophagus, like gasoline being poured into an engine that was about to stall.
By the time he put the third piece in his mouth, Evan already felt a sour and greasy sensation.
But the hypoglycemia finally subsided slowly, and the trembling in his fingers gradually calmed down.
The hypoglycemia has subsided.