Wizard starting from shoeing donkeys Chapter 1567 - 540: Super Evolution Potion

In no time at all, Everton stepped into a vast, enclosed room buried deep within the hall's heart.

At last, he grasped the reason behind the reluctance showing on his head Potion Master's face.

Before his eyes loomed a colossal, twisted, and menacing creature that scarcely evoked the elegant, captivating form of a dragon from any viewpoint these days.

Right then, the monster ahead boasted five heads, yet only a single one looked proper; the other four came out warped or shrunken, dangling like pointless trinkets near the central one.

Heads shaped in five distinct ways.

Yet nothing like the robust, mature heads seen on a genuine Multi-Headed Dragon.

Scales covering its frame evoked a jumbled painter's board, blotches of red here, green there, splashed haphazardly across the skin without a trace of allure.

The standout feature alone was its aura of power, which ought to match a hatchling dragon's but now rivaled a full-grown Giant Dragon's.

Actually, it outstripped the might of a mature Five-Colored Giant Dragon.

What's more, Everton spotted right away how the creature's power surged as it ravenously gulped down chunks of unidentified savage beast meat.

This sight drove Everton into profound reflection, and soon enough, he swiveled to question, "Lunfrell, how did it end up this way?"

"Uh... I reckon it's from the overwhelming backlash of that fresh Super Evolution Potion, so..."

"Can't even a giant dragon endure it? Then what's the sense in brewing such a potion? You believe I could handle it?" Everton's eyes tightened, his gaze turning hostile toward Lunfrell, his Chief Potion Master.

"Well... Your Highness, crafting novel potions demands endless trials; we're almost at breakthrough, aren't we?"

"See, doesn't it look stunning?" Lunfrell's cheeks reddened as he defended with fervor.

Stunning?

Everton shot a look at the mangled monster just ahead, then at the no less warped and hideous Lunfrell next to him, left utterly at a loss for words inwardly.

Still, for all Lunfrell's stooped back, slanted neck, off-kilter gaze, and rank halitosis, no one could dispute his elite status as a Potion Master—the whole Empire lacked anyone else with his knack for Alchemy.

That's precisely why Everton kept him on.

"Fine, what's the point of parading this before me?" Everton jabbed a finger at the grotesque beast in front.

"Your Highness, it's hideous, I'll grant, but mark my words—with its blistering growth pace right now, ample grub will propel it to the late Epic tier of an elder dragon in under a week."

"Sure, the toll is steep; I'd peg its remaining years at a few decades, maybe only ten or twelve."

"Why not give binding it to your will a shot?" Lunfrell proposed.

"Bind it? You fool?"

"What scenario do you imagine I'd unleash it in?" Everton demanded, eyeing him like a complete dimwit.

"But... Just look, it's so striking, its might so immense; wasting it by killing it off would be tragic." Lunfrell lamented.

"If you're set on holding onto it, do so temporarily, call it a live demo of the potion's impacts, nothing but tossing away some rations. Still, push your experiments faster; my patience has limits!" Everton relented after mulling it over, figuring a spark of motivation for his underling was in order.

"Count on it, Your Highness; the refined Super Evolution Potion won't be long in coming." Lunfrell, stirred to the core, slammed a palm against his gaunt chest.

"I've got promising trails already, and for the next brew, I'm eyeing a higher share of Elf Blood Essence."

"Splendid, I'm awaiting your triumphs." Everton dipped his head.

...

A pair of days straight had slipped by.

Viscount Hamadi's crew drove the inquiry ahead with intense vigor. No sooner had he returned than he secured firm aid from his overseer, Marquis Roys, rallying nearly every Federation operative scattered through Tamriel, the Imperial City.

Alas, no solid leads had emerged so far.

Only a lone day lingered from the trio he'd pledged, leaving Viscount Hamadi in a foul disposition.

He'd sworn it to Lord Rein face-to-face after all; botching this would color Lord Rein's opinion of him—and cast doubt on the Federation's honor?

"Nothing breaking through?" Hamadi glowered at the agent standing nearby.

"My lord, still silent on that front."

"Prince Everton and steward Buchanan barely stirred from the manor lately. The prince's lone venture out was two days prior, for a session in the Imperial Palace."

"Like you noted earlier, if that covert lair sits in one spot, tailing their steps is our sole path to uncovering it." The agent briefed.

"Holed up in the manor, one palace jaunt only?" This report creased Hamadi's forehead as he slipped into thought.

"Imperial Palace? Nah, potion work demands supplies, far too bulky to schlep about."

"The manor?"

"Exactly—didn't you track Empire's key royals in the past? Those watch logs still around?" Hamadi pressed.

"Indeed."

"Hand over the watch logs for this Second Prince."

"Right away, my lord."

Swiftly, a hefty stack of files, piled to half a meter, landed in Hamadi's grasp.