New Life As A Max Level Archmage 22 – Plans

The liquid inside the conical flask was surprisingly unassuming, as was the container itself. Made of plain glass with a skinny neck plugged by a cork, its design wasn’t nearly fancy enough for how powerful she knew it must be.

Saffra asked, “Can you see anything when you [Inspect] it?”

“No,” Jasper said, seeming impressed. “Not even a na. And I can identify potions better than most. One of my teammates is an alchemist.”

Saffra swallowed. It made sense that she couldn’t decipher a na and level from Vivi’s potion, but even an orichalcum couldn’t? Much less one who was familiar with alchemy?

“Open it,” Jasper said. “It’s not an accurate way to asure how strong a potion is, but you can get a feel for its potency by the fus. The stronger ones leak out mana, sotis a lot.” He glanced at the man pinned between two rows of seats. “Quickly, now, if you’re considering this. I wouldn’t bla you if you chose not to. Dragons are stingy about their hoard. Even a regular master might not be happy with their apprentice giving away a top-tier potion.”

“She’s not a dragon,” Saffra said. It felt sowhat surreal that she was only mostly sure of that fact.

“Yeah, sure, kid. On with it.”

Saffra hesitated a mont longer before pulling out the cork.

Magic flooded the air, so thick and bright to her senses that she jerked her head and eyes away. The raw vitality of a thousand verdant forests and all the life within gushed in waves out of the glass. She swore the air congealed physically, the mana was so dense.

In a panic, Saffra fumbled the cork back on. Trace amounts of mana stopped leaking out.

Trace amounts?

That was the impression she’d gotten from the fus?

She shared a wide-eyed look with Jasper, and even he seed speechless for the first ti. His mouth worked a few tis.

He said, “She’s definitely a dragon.”

“She’s not a dragon.” Saffra wasn’t convinced anymore, not remotely.

“Well, I reckon it’ll do the job. Decide. We’re not flush with ti.”

Saffra looked at him with distress. “What should I do?”

“That potion is liquid startal,” he said simply. “Easily level fourteen hundred or above. Probably higher. A genuine relic. Most likely, it was ant for your protection and no one else’s. I don’t know anything about you two though. She’s your master, not mine. How upset would she be?”

“She took as her apprentice this morning,” Saffra said miserably.

Jasper paused. He patted her on the shoulder. Not unsympathetically, he said, “Decide.”

This wasn’t fair.

She was already on rocky footing with Vivi. While she seed like the sort of person who cared about keeping people safe, this potion was beyond valuable. It was undoubtedly the most expensive item Saffra had ever held—by orders of magnitude. Quite literally worth its weight in startal.

Would Vivi be furious if she used it to heal people who wouldn’t survive otherwise? Angry enough that she would nullify the already tentative apprenticeship, and perhaps seek repaynt?

Or retribution? It might be valuable enough to warrant that.

Saffra didn’t get the feeling that Vivi would care much if it were a normal potion, or even an orichalcum-rank potion like Jasper’s, but this flask of liquid might be worth a small castle.

Or literally priceless. It was the sort of miraculous panacea the High King himself would keep on his person.

Why had she given one to her?

She felt sick to her stomach. No matter what happened, whether this potion wasn’t rightfully hers to give away, she couldn’t let people die if she could do sothing about it.

“How much do I dilute it?” Saffra asked.

Jasper didn’t try to convince her away from her decision. He focused on the practical. Saffra had already wasted enough ti. “Estimate high. He’s going to be in bad shape once I pull him out. He’ll need instant healing. Say…nine parts water, one part potion.”

Saffra gaped. “You said a single drop of water might cut it in half.”

“It’s not a science. And you felt it. There’s enough restorative magic in that potion to regrow a forest—several of them. I think that might be too little dilution, but I’m no alchemist, I just know one. Quick, now.” He was already positioning himself in front of the seat.

Saffra fumbled her waterskin off her belt and uncapped it, then uncorked the potion. She had to mute her magical senses so she didn’t go blind. It was indescribable, the feeling of overgrowth that radiated out of the thin neck of the flask.

Her hands shaking only slightly, she poured one part to nine of potion into the waterskin. The red liquid swirled orange as it fell, and made a sizzling sound when it hit water.

She capped both containers and shook her waterskin, mixing the substance.

“Ready?” Jasper asked.

Saffra nodded.

With a hard pull, the orichalcum-rank adventurer ripped the seat out of place, freeing the unconscious man. He grabbed him, pulled him over, and dropped him to the ground. The rough handling didn’t matter; either the potion saved him or he was dead anyway.

Jasper stuck a hand out. Saffra handed him the flask, and he uncapped it and poured so into the man’s mouth, massaging his neck to force the liquid down. It was a first-aid technique every adventurer knew, for this exact scenario.

The man’s body had been…broken. Gruesoly enough that Saffra had been struggling to keep her eyes on him. She couldn’t believe he hadn’t died instantly. Even a high-tier potion shouldn’t have been able to help him, not with such an imminently fatal injury.

Yet, even diluted ten tis over, and thus probably hundreds of tis weaker than its base state, Vivi’s potion had no trouble whatsoever. Saffra watched with morbid fascination as the man’s body fixed itself. It was as unnerving of a sight as the injuries themselves, to be honest. He glowed white and green with pure, overwhelming restorative magic, flesh weaving together and spine snapping together with a noise she would always rember.

He shot up, hacking and gasping, both hands clutching at his chest. Brilliant light leaked from his skin, excess magic flowing out. His head pivoted from side to side, eyes wild—and slightly glowing—trying to understand what had happened.

Jasper looked at the waterskin in his hand, shaking it side to side. Liquid sloshed around.

“Fuck ,” he muttered. “Barely used a swig.”

aning her flask was now a miracle solution with at least a dozen more doses inside.

Saffra tried not to think about what even the tiny amount of the potion she’d used was worth. Definitely more money than she would earn in her lifeti. This was a Titled’s ergency potion. Sothing beyond that.

A potion taken from a dragon’s hoard, maybe.

She shoved that ridiculous idea away. Lady Vivi wasn’t a dragon.

Right?

…It did explain why her ‘common knowledge’ was so spotty. And why soone so obscenely powerful had shown up out of nowhere.

Saffra was not apprenticed to a dragon.

Jasper patted the man on the shoulder. “No ti to explain. Glad to see you’re alright. Go join the others.” He stood, capped the waterskin, and tossed it back to Saffra, who caught it with a fumble.

“Let’s go see who else we can save,” he told her.

***

It was bleak work, picking through the wreckage to find those who needed Vivi’s potion. Saffra took refuge in the fact that, no matter how bloody the experience, and how concerned she was for her tentative apprenticeship status, she was saving lives.

Enough ti had passed that the passengers of the Convoy were organizing. Particularly the adventurers. Jasper and Saffra weren’t the only ones working through carriages for the injured.

As Jasper had predicted, there were a few healers, though none above gold rank. Those four individuals had set up near the functioning magical artillery—the other turrets disabled by virtue of being planted into the ground—and they were treating the injured as they ca.

When the chaos settled, she had used more than three quarters of the potion. Saffra stared at the flask with dismay sinking low in her stomach. Yes, she’d definitely ended her apprenticeship before it began. An apprentice being a nuisance by forgetting a necklace a city over was one thing, but one burning through tens of thousands of gold without permission was another entirely.

“Worry about it later,” Jasper said. “We’re far from out of this. Let’s et up with the rest.”

The overturned part of the Convoy had been evacuated, and civilians were boarding the less-damaged section at the back. The adventurers above bronze-rank stood outside in a group of fifty or sixty.

On the way over, Jasper muttered, “Hate being the leader. Not my role at all.” He strode up to the group of adventurers and, despite what he’d said, called out in an authoritative voice, “All eyes on .”

All eyes did, indeed, turn to him. Bodies too, after they saw who was speaking. In monts, the group’s heated discussions had stilled, and they all looked at Jasper. As a result, at Saffra too. She shrank at their attention.

“Organize,” Jasper ordered. “Silvers, golds, mithrils.” He pointed to a fresh section of grass with each rank. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”

There was a mont of silence as they considered him, then everyone obeyed. An orichalcum-rank commanded instant respect. It was possible several people recognized Jasper simply by face and reputation. Titled were the rarest adventurers, but orichalcums were uncommon enough their nas crossed kingdom borders as well—especially the more established orichalcums.

Saffra wondered if the order applied to her too, and she took a hesitant step toward the gathering group of silvers. But Jasper’s hand dropped onto her shoulder, so she stayed put.

There were three mithrils, twelve golds, and a few dozen silvers. Jasper looked them over, then nodded. In any other situation, it would have been an impressive gathering.

Jasper said in a bright tone, “I’ll be honest, gents, we’re probably fucked. At least one of you has put it together, right?”

That brought a sober silence to the group. So faces were taken aback by the opening announcent, so confused and angry, and so silently grim. Those were the ones who knew what Jasper ant, probably. Saffra herself didn’t, and gave him a confused look.

It was one of the silver ranks who spoke. An old straight-backed woman with a sword and shield, face severe. “The Ghul-Feather disabled the engine car. That’s where the power cores are.”

“Right you are,” Jasper said. “aning these lovely aether-cannons? Just for decoration.” He paused and anded, “They might generate enough power to deal with so mithrils and lower before they sputter out. Not more than that.”

A uniform look of horror fell over the adventurers who hadn’t known. Saffra too. She knew this was a terrible situation, but Convoy attacks weren’t unheard of. The aether cannons were supposed to handle threats even beyond Titled—though obviously not level twelve hundred, like that Ghul-Feather. She had thought they would simply hunker down and wait for help.

She could have intuited that the engine car’s removal would create complications, but she hadn’t known it would disable their defenses entirely. Why have such a crucial single point of failure?

Probably because there was no helping it. And that ‘single point of failure’ was absurdly fortified. A glance into the distance showed a level 1200 monster still failing to penetrate the carriage’s hull. It was pacing around the block of tal, clearly frustrated. It let out a two-headed caw that filled the air for miles in every direction, making Saffra wince and her ears flatten against her head. She didn’t know how the monster had torn the engine car away, but the carriage itself was unbelievably tough.

“So what do we do?” one of the gold ranks demanded.

Jasper planted his huge bow in the ground and leaned on it, grinning. “There’s one silver lining, so don’t go crying for your mothers quite yet.”

Everyone hung on his words, until it beca clear Jasper was waiting for soone to prompt him.

An irritated mithril-rank, a dwarven warrior, growled through his thick beard, “Stop with the theatrics, son. Not the ti nor place. Speak plainly.”

“The silver lining is that our glorious hero is no doubt on her way.”

He waited expectantly, and one of the gold ranks was impatient enough to prompt, “Our glorious hero?”

Saffra had a bad feeling. She reached up to pull on Jasper’s sleeve and hiss sothing at him, but he stepped away and flourished two open arms at Saffra, as if presenting sothing incredible.

“Behold,” Jasper cried out. “The apprentice of the great and terrible—”

Before the third word out of his mouth, Saffra was already repeatedly kicking the man on his shin. Thank the heavens, he cut himself off before finishing whatever insane title he’d been about to give Vivi. He laughed as he danced away from her furious leg.

Her face was burning so brightly it probably matched her hair. “Shut up,” she hissed. “What is wrong with you?”

If Vivi was a dragon—and she wasn’t, there was no way she was a dragon—then she wouldn’t want it announced to the world. She’d explicitly said she was lying low, however poor of a job she was doing.

More seriously, Jasper faced the group of adventurers and said, “There’s a Titled on the way. A strong one. This girl is her apprentice.”

All attention fell on her, and she was just as mortified as during Jasper’s antics a mont earlier. She squird in place.

“Who?” a voice called out.

“No clue. Never heard of her. But suffice it to say that once the cavalry is here, we’ll be safe until a proper rescue party arrives.”

He grew serious.

“Problem is, we have to survive until then. She’s—how many hours away?”

“Just one?” Saffra answered hesitantly. She’d said one to two hours, and an hour had passed. “At the most. That’s what she said, at least.”

That bolstered the spirits of everyone around.

“We won’t last an hour without the aether cannons,” the old woman said, not ready to seize false hope. “There are hundreds of people in the Convoy. Never mind us, or the magic the train and engine car themselves are putting off. Every monster for ten miles slls us. And these are mithril rank hunting grounds. aning at least a few stray orichalcums.” She raised an eyebrow at Jasper. “How many could you handle?”

“Less than what’s coming,” he said cheerfully.

“And I doubt three mithrils will change much. All due respect,” she said, nodding at the three adventurers wearing blue badges. Facing back to him, she said, “You don’t sound suicidal. You have a plan?”

“I sure do. Retrieve the power cores and power the aether cannons back up.”

She stared at him, then looked at the increasingly frustrated Ghul-Feather in the distance. It had to be at least forty feet tall, so even a half-mile away, it was intimidating.

“That’s a Titled-rank monster,” Saffra said, voicing what everyone was thinking.

“And a nasty one,” Jasper said. “Level twelve hundred, not so border case.”

That created a ripple in the gathering. Most if not all were too low level to [Inspect] it, so they hadn’t known the monster’s exact strength.

“Even I’m so weak it didn’t give a second look,” he added helpfully. “Not tasty enough to be worth the ti. Only those power cores are. Lucky us, right?”

“Enough with the gas,” the dwarf rumbled. “State your plan.”

“Well, it’s a work in progress. What do we know about Ghul-Feathers?”

“Aren’t you the expert?” Saffra asked.

“I’m hardly a walking bestiary.”

“They’re cowardly,” soone offered. “Opportunists. Not really monsters that get into direct conflict often. They’re supposed to be extinct.”

As adventurers, everyone had read a bestiary or five, and Titled-rank monsters were often the most fascinating. With so many dozens of adventurers present, they had a body of knowledge to work with. People called out with what they had.

“Weak to divine spells and fire, like most undead?”

“Most of ‘em use ranged attacks?”

“Shouldn’t be able to see through an [Invisibility] of sufficient strength, I believe. Certain stealth skills might have success?”

“Not at twelve hundred. It’ll see through anything we have, for sure. Maybe an orichalcum-rank?”

They looked at Jasper, and he shook his head. “Nothing suitable myself.”

“Even if soone got close enough, how would they get into the engine car? Isn’t it locked?”

The discussion picked up, murmurings filling the air.

“Will retrieving the power cores even matter?” a voice called out, confused. “Wouldn’t we need the entire car to reconnect?”

“There are ergency power slots elsewhere in the Convoy,” Jasper said.

“There are?”

“Yes. For if the link between the engine car and the train breaks for so reason.”

Nobody asked him how he knew that. The discussions resud. They didn’t make much headway. Jasper watched, clearly not expecting them to find a real answer, yet seeming at ease with the situation.

“I don’t see how it’s possible,” the severe-looking older woman finally concluded. “So tell us your plan already.”

“Soone said it earlier,” Jasper said. “Ghul-Feathers are cowardly. They mostly use ranged attacks. All we need is soone who’s all but invulnerable, who can stride right up, walk in, take the cores, and leave. The Ghul-Feather will do its best to kill them from a range, but if it can’t—it’ll give up.”

Halfway through, Saffra understood. She paled, yet also felt a surge of hope.

“Ah. Yes,” the old woman said dryly. “All we need is soone invulnerable to Titled-rank monsters. Such a simple requirent.”

“In fact, it is.” Jasper turned toward Saffra with a sly smile. He pulled an arrow out of his quiver and nocked it. “I saw those shields she put on you,” he said casually, drawing the bowstring. “Went through a damn book of spells, didn’t she? Paranoid woman. Lucky us. Mind if I run so tests?”