A Panacea in the Making

Tissue and blood samples.

There was a clear, calculated reason I had asked for them: If I bring these to Spiky, she might find a way.

Among all the plants I was currently raising, she was the sole companion endowed with poison-based traits. It wasn't born of mere wishful thinking, either. Watching Kim Su-ho earlier, a stubborn sense of déjà vu had gnawed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at the back of my mind.

His horrific lacerations had obscured it at first, but now that the flesh was cleanly regenerated, the resemblance was unmistakable. The engorged, pulsing veins. The sickly jade discoloration beneath the skin. While not an exact replica down to the last symptom, it was virtually identical to the wild horn-hogs felled by Spiky's venom back in the Tower.

That was why I had requested samples of the infected flesh on a hunch. And if Spiky couldn't crack it? Well, I would just have to spend the night at the workbench, brewing experimental antidotes until something stuck.

As I sat lost in contemplation, Lee Se-hwa leaned in from the adjacent chair.

"Ji-soo, do you happen to have a detoxifying potion as well...?"

"Not at this exact moment, no."

"Does that mean...!"

A spark of hope lit up Lee Se-hwa and Commissioner Kim Han-soo's faces simultaneously. Still, there was no need to inflate their expectations prematurely.

"I can't make any definitive promises yet," I cautioned.

"Ah..."

"I'll do everything in my power to formulate one, though."

Both of them nodded earnestly.

"If there is anything you require, please do not hesitate to contact me at any hour," Commissioner Kim said.

"I'll back you up unconditionally with whatever resources I can offer, too," Lee Se-hwa chimed in.

"Understood."

Right on cue, the sterile isolation room door hissed open. Chief Physician Baek Kang-hyun emerged, gingerly carrying a sealed medical container.

"Here are the tissue cultures and blood samples you requested."

"Thank you."

As I accepted the vials, the veteran surgeon hesitated, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

"Um... regarding earlier. I deeply apologize for my conduct."

He was referring to grabbing me by the collar. Honestly, I hadn't taken it to heart. In his shoes, faced with an unverified fluid being dumped down a dying patient's throat, anyone with medical training would have reacted the same way.

"Don't worry about it," I replied with a faint smile. "You don't need to give it a second thought."

"May I... at least ask for your name?"

"It's Yu Ji-soo."

Baek reached into his coat pocket and presented a sleek, embossed business card with both hands.

"Should you ever require medical expertise, equipment, or clinical facilities, please call me without hesitation. I will assist you to the absolute limits of my ability."

"I appreciate it."

After exchanging brief bows, I turned and exited into the outer corridor.

"Look! Someone's coming out!"

"S-Su-ho oppa! How is Su-ho oppa?!"

Right, I almost forgot about the crowd out here...

Commissioner Kim Han-soo, who had stepped out to escort me, raised a hand to address the anxious gathering. "For now, the immediate crisis has been neutralized."

"Ah..."

"Thank heavens... thank God..."

Some hunters collapsed onto the waiting room chairs as their legs gave out from sheer relief; others simply stood frozen, exhaling long, trembling breaths. Kim Su-ho was evidently beloved to an extraordinary degree. Almost every high-ranking Elite Hunter stationed in Seoul had abandoned their schedules to keep vigil outside his door. It wasn't a curated media persona—the man was genuinely cherished by his peers. Why else would South Korea's busiest vanguards assemble in a single hallway just to pray for his recovery?

I was about to quietly slip toward the exit when a small shadow darted directly into my path.

"Excuse me!"

It was Han Song-hee, the youngest Elite Hunter in the nation.

"Thank you! Thank you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠so much for saving our Su-ho oppa!"

She bowed until her forehead nearly touched her knees. Dried tear tracks still stained her cheeks, but she was beaming with radiant gratitude. Staring down at her, a strange flutter settled in my chest. Before I could process it, the entire corridor seemed to swivel in my direction. Behind her stood Lee Se-hwa and Commissioner Kim, watching with gentle, paternal smiles, while dozens of Elite Hunters stared at me with gazes thick with curiosity, awe, and reverence.

Ugh, I really hate being the center of attention.

My brain tends to short-circuit when all eyes are on me. Terrified that I might utter something painfully awkward and spawn a fresh batch of embarrassing memories, I forced my voice into a calm, detached drawl.

"I only did what needed to be done. Excuse me, then."

"Oh..."

I gave a polite nod and hastened my pace toward the elevator. Just as the metal doors began to slide shut, Han Song-hee's youthful shout echoed down the hall.

"N-Next time we see each other, let's follow each other on Byeol-star!"

Her parting words were classic high schooler. There was just one tiny problem.

I don't even use Byeol-star.

Social media algorithms had always felt far more convoluted than navigating a monster rift.

"You don't need to harbor any concerns regarding the potion," Commissioner Kim Han-soo assured me as we approached the government sedan waiting at the underground exit.

"Until an official state contract is drafted and finalized, the Awakened Persons Management Bureau will maintain absolute confidentiality."

It was music to my ears. I wasn't the type to brag or broadcast my assets before the foundation was set in stone. At present, the varieties of potions I could brew were severely limited, and mass production remained an impossible hurdle since I hadn't figured out how to artificially propagate the rare seeds. Hearing the head of the bureau address my unspoken worries so cleanly was immensely reassuring.

He didn't climb to the commissioner's seat on luck alone.

Mentally bumping Commissioner Kim up a notch in my personal estimation, I nodded. "Thank you."

He offered a gentle, hesitant clearing of his throat. "Still... it wouldn't hurt to create a Byeol-star account at your convenience."

"Excuse me?"

Meeting my bewildered stare, the commissioner broke into a hearty chuckle. "Once you are officially registered as an Elite Hunter, whether you appreciate the limelight or not, possessing at least one public platform proves immensely beneficial for diplomatic leverage. Ha ha ha..."

"...I will consider it."

After a formal exchange of parting courtesies, I slipped into the back of the sedan.

"Let me reiterate: should you need anything at all, contact my office directly," he called through the window.

"Understood. I'll reach out the second the concoction is complete."

The sedan glided smoothly out into the afternoon traffic, eventually dropping me off at my quiet residential district. Stepping across the threshold of my apartment, I shed my coat and exhaled a heavy sigh.

"Haaah... I'm home, guys."

Pyolong, pyolong!

Perhaps because I had been gone for an unusually long stretch, an exuberant chorus exploded through the living room.

Yeomyeong-i intensified her radiant golden luminescence, illuminating the walls like a dawn sunrise. Spiky flapped her thick serrated leaves against the pot rim, throwing an adorable tantrum. Mongi puffed rhythmic, lilac rings of hallucinogenic mist, while Deungburi gently swayed her deep-blue, lantern-like petals. From the wooden plant stand, the tiny Spirit of Vegetation dashed across the floor, scurried up my trouser leg, and hopped comfortably onto my shoulder, nuzzling my neck.

A full, chaotic family. Just watching their eager greetings replenished every drop of social energy that had been drained at the hospital.

"Haha, sorry for being late. Seeing you guys really heals my soul."

Home was truly the greatest place on earth. Even the newly planted seedling of Thunderstrike Grass gave a delicate, green twitch in its soil, coaxing a chuckle from my lips. Still, rest would have to wait. Kim Su-ho was out of immediate mortal peril, but the foul necrosis running through his veins remained a ticking time bomb. If the poison wasn't neutralized swiftly, his condition could plummet back into cardiac arrest at any moment.

"Spiky, I need your special skills."

Flap, flap!

I cradled her terracotta pot carefully and brought her to the kitchen table, pulling the chilled bio-sample container from my pocket. Extracting the sealed glass vials containing the black-green infected tissue and coagulated blood, I set them in front of her stem.

"Think you can decipher this poison? Don't push yourself, though. Just do whatever feels comfortable."

Pyurut?

Spiky tilted her red bud sideways, examining the glass. The moment my words registered, she began thrashing her leaves with furious determination.

Such a stubborn little competitor.

Spiky possessed an intensely proud, rivalrous temperament—a personality quirk I had discovered while fighting side by side in the lower floors of the Tower. She extended slender, thorned tendrils, wrapping them around the vials to inspect their contents. Minutes ticked by in silence.

Is this too complex even for Spiky...?

It was a curse wielded by the swamp undead past the 40th floor. Just because she produced paralytic venom didn't mean she was omniscient regarding all toxic compounds. Just as I was about to pack the samples away and consult my alchemy texts—

Shhhk! Shrrrk!

"Whoa! Hey, wait!"

Frightening, maw-like slits lined with razor-sharp fangs split open along her main stalk and foliage. It was the exact combat form she assumed when devouring monsters inside the Tower.

She can do that outside the dimensional gates?! Wait, no—more importantly...

Those mouths meant she was about to eat!

These were samples riddled with an unidentified, high-tier necrotic plague. Terrified that she would poison herself, I lunged forward to pull her away, but she was faster.

CRUNCH! SNAP!

"Spiky! Spit it out! That's not food!"

Before I could intervene, she had swallowed the infected tissue, the blood, and the thick borosilicate glass vials whole. Panicking, I snatched her pot, hoisted her upside down, and began shaking her stems to dislodge the glass.

Then, a cascade of luminous blue text detonated across my vision.

"Huh...?"

I froze, staring back and forth between the floating interface and the inverted plant dangling from my grip.

Pyuruuung!

Spiky crossed two broad leaves over her chest—the botanical equivalent of folding her arms smugly—and puffed out her petals while still hanging upside down in my hand. Her sheer cuteness disarmed my shock. I gently set the pot upright on the table.

"...Spiky. Did you know that was going to happen?"

The plump crimson bud bobbed up and down in a definitive nod.

"Can you... produce an antidote for this?"

She tilted her head inquisitively, as if asking why I was stating the painfully obvious.

"Ha..."

I had always known the mystical plants I cultivated were remarkable, but to think she could assimilate an alien curse and mutate her biological defense system on the fly... Overcome with relief and awe, I scooped the pot into my arms and spun around the kitchen.

"Hahaha! You're incredible! Spiky, you're an absolute genius!"

Kya-reuk!

Oblivious to the technicalities, she simply fluttered her leaves in delight, thrilled by the praise.

"Alright, time for a royal reward."

I yanked open the freezer, pulled out a thick slab of premium pork belly, and embedded three raw monster mana stones deep into the fat. Tower climbing was officially paused until the newly planted Thunderstrike Grass fully matured. The difficulty ramped up drastically past the 10th floor; no matter how eager I was to test Spiky's evolved capabilities, I refused to let impatience endanger my companions. Preparation always came first.

Even though she had eaten earlier, Spiky tore into the mana-infused pork with terrifying enthusiasm.

Munch, crunch, tear!

The thick meat vanished in seconds. Satisfied, she shivered her foliage with a content rustle.

"Spiky, mind if I borrow some of your new thorns?"

She bobbed her head obligingly and gave her entire stalk a vigorous shake. A shower of lustrous, dark-violet needles detached cleanly, scattering across the clean countertop.

"Perfect. This is plenty. Thank you."

Scooping the spines into a velvet pouch, I carried Spiky back to the sunny bedroom where the others were already dozing. With a soft click, I closed the door. The rest was up to my own hands.

"Whew. Time to get to work."

My recently awakened secondary trait: Alchemist. It was time to prove whether the title carried real weight.

I emptied my dimensional inventory onto the workbench: refined distilled water, powdered high-grade mana crystals, preserved drops of Essence of Dawn, and Spiky's freshly harvested spines.

"I'll start by stabilizing them with the Essence of Dawn."

The Myriad Poison Spines were an unprecedented reagent found in no terrestrial text or Tower compendium. Unlike the simple offensive poison pouches I had cobbled together for combat, this formulation required medicinal transcendence—it had to neutralize an incurable curse without destroying the host's organs.

Igniting my mana-crystal burner on the lowest flame, I desiccated the spines under controlled heat, rendering them brittle before pulverizing them in an agate mortar into an ultra-fine, midnight-violet dust.

"First hurdle cleared."

With the basic component locked into my automated crafting registry, the real crucible began: blending the toxic powder with restorative Dawn Essence.

"They aren't bonding smoothly."

When I applied the standard brewing methodology used for normal healing potions, the violet powder resisted emulsion entirely, clumping like oil atop water. The curse energy ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠inside the powder violently repelled the pure life force of the Dawn Essence.

Still, nothing of consequence was ever achieved on the first try. As the old adage went, failure was merely the foundation of mastery. Rather than feeling discouraged, a fierce surge of focus gripped me. I was forging a potion that had never existed in human history—enduring countless trial-and-error runs was part of the price of admission.

I lost all track of time. Hours blurred into a rhythm of pipettes, temperatures, catalysts, and lunar mana balances. The dark night outside gave way to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the faint, purple hues of dawn, and just as exhaustion threatened to numb my fingertips, a radiant chime resonated in my skull.