I Returned To Kill Monsters, And Created The Worst One

Chapter 5 — A Ticket Far Away

Elara Veyne

Another year passed, and to my misfortune, selling potions illegally was more work than making them.

I had mastered the first part years ago. The problem came afterward.

A nineteen-year-old girl could buy a few herbs at an apothecary without attracting attention. She could buy half a dozen vials. Maybe ten. The problem was coming back three days later, buying twenty more, showing up another week looking for specific reagents, and expecting no one to start wondering why someone with no laboratory, no license, and no shop of her own needed so much alchemical material.

I made that mistake only once.

The man behind the counter looked at me, then at the vials I had placed on the table.

“You bought two dozen of these last week.”

I smiled a little nervously.

“What an impressive memory you have...”

“What are you doing with so many?”

That was how I discovered I needed to be a little less lazy.

I started buying ingredients in different neighborhoods. Vials in one shop, herbs in another, reagents at the eastern market, and sealing paper near the station. I never bought large quantities and varied the times whenever possible. Sometimes I bought things I didn’t even need just so my list would look less specific.

It was exhausting.

But it worked.

The ingredients didn’t need to be particularly good. That was one of the few advantages my blessing gave me without trying to kill me in return. A mediocre herb could produce a good potion in my hands.

The difficult part was preventing a good potion from becoming too good.

My first customer came back “complaining.”

Or at least, I thought it was a complaint.

The woman who had arranged the sale placed the empty vial on the table.

“The buyer wants to speak to you personally.”

“What’s the problem?”

“The problem? She wants to thank you and order more. The vial she bought worked faster than she expected.”

I stared at the vial.

I had reduced the formula.

Reduced the blessing.

Used cheap ingredients.

Even so, a potion that was only supposed to speed up muscle recovery had gotten the customer back to work in less than half the expected time.

I had to make the next one worse.

I started considering that a skill of its own.

The Caldris had spent years demanding perfection. Now I needed to figure out exactly how close I could get to it without drawing attention.

That was how it went for months.

Work during the day, potions at night, and calculations during practically every break in between.

When I thought I had finally created a safe routine, I found Gideon Caldris in a vial shop.

It’s curious how a man can ruin an afternoon without even knowing you’re there.

I was wearing a simple cloak with the hood partially raised, more because of the rain than any elaborate attempt at disguise. I was comparing two types of ampoules when the door opened.

I recognized the voice before I looked.

“I hope you received the rest of the order.”

My entire body went still.

The merchant behind the counter practically straightened himself.

“Lord Caldris. Of course. The last shipment went out last week, but I admit I wasn’t expecting another order so soon.”

I glanced sideways.

Gideon was only a few meters away from me.

A year had passed since the last time I had seen him in person during one of my shopping trips. To him, it probably meant nothing. To me, it was still not enough time.

“Production has increased,” he replied.

“From what I’ve heard, quite a lot. Forty crates of containment ampoules in a single month is no small amount.”

Gideon gave that polite smile I knew well.

“Business is thriving.”

Containment ampoules.

I had used hundreds of them.

And I knew exactly what Gideon usually bought them in large quantities for.

My mind immediately went to the girl with brown braids.

I hadn’t seen her since the Caldris took her.

Maybe it had nothing to do with her.

Or maybe it had everything to do with her.

Then Gideon placed one hand on the counter.

And that was when I truly froze, when my muscles and my breathing refused to keep going of their own accord.

I saw the ring.

Dark metal.

A small reddish stone.

Three lines engraved around the base.

The air completely vanished from my lungs.

For years, I had watched that finger turn the ring just before the pain began.

Sometimes Gideon didn’t even need to give an order. All he had to do was touch the stone with his thumb, and the collar I wore would activate.

My neck burned.

There was no collar.

I knew there wasn’t.

Even so, my hand flew desperately to my throat, and I almost scratched myself trying to remove something that clearly no longer existed.

I heard blood pounding in my ears, and for a second the walls of the shop seemed far too narrow.

“Miss?”

The merchant was looking at me.

I forced my fingers to release the fabric over my neck.

“I’m fine.”

I wasn’t.

“You’re very pale.”

“I just need some air.”

I took the vials I had already paid for and walked toward the door, trying not to look like someone running away.

When I passed Gideon, I felt his eyes on me.

I didn’t look.

That was my mistake.

Because the moment I reached the street, I began wondering why he had looked.

Had he recognized my face?

Maybe he remembered me from the evaluation.

Or maybe he would ask the merchant what I had bought.

Then he might end up finding out about the other shops.

Maybe he would discover the potions.

Discover where I lived.

My steps became faster.

The rain had stopped not long before, leaving the street stones wet and the air cold. I crossed two corners without even noticing where I was going.

“He’s going to find out.”

The sentence repeated in my head.

“He’s going to find out. He’s going to find you. He’s going to put that thing around your neck again.”

My breathing became shallow.

I stopped in an almost empty square and leaned against the edge of a fountain.

“Stop!”

My voice came out low.

It didn’t help.

I ran both hands over my face, trying to breathe slowly, and looked around me.

I wasn’t in the laboratory.

There were no guards.

There was no collar.

I was nineteen years old and had a key in my pocket to a room Gideon didn’t even know existed.

Even so, my body seemed not to believe it.

I lowered my eyes.

A puddle of rainwater had formed between the stones.

My reflection was there.

Frightened.

I hated seeing that.

Four years hiding my ability. One year working on my own. Months planning a journey to the other side of the continent because I intended to destroy that man one day.

And all it had taken was for him to walk into a shop.

The anger came as quickly as the fear.

“Pathetic.”

A woman passing nearby gave me a strange look.

I ignored her.

I wasn’t talking to her.

I kept staring at my own reflection.

My body was afraid of Gideon.

Maybe it always would be.

That didn’t mean I had to obey the fear.

I ran my fingers over my neck once more and finally managed to take a deep breath.

The next time I saw him, maybe my hands would still tremble. Maybe that damned phantom pain would return.

Fine.

I didn’t need to forget what he had done.

I only needed to make sure that, next time, I was the one with enough power to remain standing.

I met Edda Voss two weeks later.

Officially, she sold herbs, resins, tinctures, and old objects in a shop so narrow that two people could barely pass between the shelves at the same time.

Unofficially, she sold practically anything someone could afford.

“You’re too young to be looking for buyers who don’t ask questions,” was the first thing she said to me.

“And you look too old to still be asking so many questions,” I replied. I no longer cared much about giving proper answers to inappropriate questions or remarks.

She stared at me.

I thought I had just lost my possible contact.

Then Edda laughed.

That was the beginning.

At first, I brought four or five vials at a time.

“An acquaintance makes them,” I explained.

Edda opened one, smelled it, and looked at me from the corner of her eye, as if that alone was enough for her to know the truth.

“Of course...”

“It wasn’t me!” I ended up saying.

“I didn’t say anything...” she replied.

We never managed to get past that argument.

Over time, I started selling almost everything through her. Edda knew merchants, mercenaries, unlicensed apothecaries, and even doctors willing to buy products they didn’t want to register officially.

She charged an indecent percentage.

I complained.

She raised it.

Then we negotiated.

Maybe friendship was too strong a word for what existed between us, but after a few months, Edda was the only person in Veyrhold who knew when I had a fever, when I was short on money, and when I was pretending not to be worried.

And obviously, she also knew I made the potions.

I never admitted it.

She had the courtesy to pretend she believed me.

“You remind me of my granddaughter,” she commented one night while counting coins after the sales.

“I’m sorry for your granddaughter...” I joked.

Edda looked up.

“So am I. The girl was unbearable.” She gave a small, awkward laugh.

I found out some time later that her granddaughter had died.

I didn’t ask how.

Edda didn’t ask why, sometimes when I slept at her house, I woke up frightened and crying.

It was one of the reasons we understood each other.

A little more than a year after first hearing the name Azhareth in that teahouse, I finally had enough money.

Not just for the ticket.

To survive.

That was important.

I had no intention of crossing the continent with three coins left in my pocket and enough hope to pay rent.

During that year, I managed to get a few contacts in Namarra through merchants who did business with Edda. Nothing extraordinary. A man who worked with lodging for foreigners had reserved a simple room for me for a few weeks. A woman connected to the herb market had agreed to introduce me to local suppliers. I also carried the names of two people who might be able to help with temporary documents and work.

Maybe...

I didn’t completely trust any of them.

But I wasn’t going in blind.

My luggage remained small.

A few clothes suitable for the hot climate I still couldn’t imagine, basic alchemical instruments, money divided among four different places, documents, maps, and a few books.

Edda watched as I checked everything for the third time.

“You know they sell clothes in Azhareth, right?”

“I’ve heard rumors.”

“And food too...”

“That I still need to confirm personally,” I teased her.

She huffed, somewhat worried about my trip.

Before leaving, I placed a small pouch of coins on the counter.

Edda looked at it.

“What’s this?”

“Work.”

“I thought you were leaving.”

“It’s only a business trip.”

I handed her a folded sheet of paper.

“I want news about the Caldris. Unusual purchases, large contracts, new people entering the estate, employees disappearing, military movements. Anything that seems strange.”

She opened the list.

“Do you happen to want to know whenever Gideon Caldris changes tailors too?”

“If he starts ordering funeral clothes, I want to know who they’re for.”

Edda studied me for a few seconds, ignoring my bad jokes.

“Do you have some problem with that family?”

I sighed.

“None.”

“Of course.”

“Use the Sigil Post. The intermediary in Namarra is written on the back.”

She put the paper away.

“You know this is going to be expensive.”

I pushed the coins toward her.

“That’s why I’m paying.”

Edda took the pouch and immediately put it away.

“Your mother must have had a lot of trouble with you, young lady.”

My smile disappeared before I could stop it.

All I could remember of my parents were their screams fading away during the war.

She noticed.

As always, she didn’t ask.

Instead, she put two more vials of antidote into my bag.

“A gift.”

“I don’t like gifts.”

“Good. Then pay me when you come back.”

She actually managed to make me laugh.

The platform was crowded when the mana train arrived.

Great lines of blue light ran along the metallic side of the train, pulsing as the arcane core slowed down. Workers carried luggage, families said goodbye, and vendors shouted food offers to anyone who had not yet discovered that everything inside the train cost twice as much.

Edda stayed with me until boarding was announced.

“I’m going to miss the potions from that mysterious alchemist of yours.”

“I’ll let him know.”

“Also tell him to stop using vitra root in the regenerative. You can taste it at the end.”

I slowly turned toward her.

I had never told anyone the formula.

Edda smiled.

I decided it might be better not to know how much that old woman had discovered during the last year.

I boarded the train.

When I found my seat, I placed the bag on my lap and looked out the window.

The train began to move.

Veyrhold slowly slid past me. Towers, bridges, dark rooftops, tracks wet from the rain, and in the distance, the enormous structures of the Church dominating part of the city.

Somewhere among those streets, Gideon Caldris continued living as if he had never done anything to me.

Livia was probably sleeping on expensive sheets.

Julian was still driving carriages and smiling at women who had no reason to hate him yet.

And that girl with braids might still be in some windowless room.

I touched my neck.

Maybe it would take more than a few years for my body to forget certain details.

It didn’t matter.

The city began to disappear behind the rain.

I was leaving because I wanted to.

For a place I had chosen.

With money I had earned and a key to a room in Namarra that no one had placed in my hand in exchange for my obedience.

When I returned to Aldervane, it would also be because I wanted to.

I rested my head against the glass and watched Veyrhold grow smaller.

The next time Gideon Caldris saw me, I didn’t want to simply be strong enough not to tremble.

I wanted him to finally discover what it was like to stand before someone who could decide what happened to him.