After receiving Richard's invitation, Bryton arrived without delay. As always, Richard used his "Charlie" persona to borrow a villa for the meeting.
"Lord Charlie." Bryton, who looked even more haggard than before, greeted him with fervent eyes that burned with hope.
Richard gave a slight, expressionless nod. "Sit."
Once Bryton had settled down, Richard took out a vial of crimson liquid. The moment Bryton laid eyes on it, his heart leapt. He looked at Richard, excitement dancing in his gaze.
"Lord Charlie… is this… is this the Elixir of Life?" Bryton asked, his voice trembling with anticipation.
"Yes," Richard replied flatly. "Each vial extends your lifespan by ten years. The body can handle up to five doses—fifty years, max."
"You handled the last transaction well. This is your reward." With that, he handed the vial over.
Bryton's hands quivered as he accepted the crystal vial. The red liquid within shimmered with specks of starlight, radiating a mysterious charm that stirred a deep, instinctual longing in his heart.
He quickly snapped out of it. Just as he was about to drink, a trace of hesitation flickered in his eyes. After all, tales of sorcerers and their twisted tricks weren't uncommon. But in the end, the yearning for more life won out.
He clenched his jaw and downed the elixir in one go. Contrary to what he expected, it didn't taste like blood—it was slightly sweet, even pleasant. But then, a surge of heat ignited within him, rising from deep inside like a firestorm, threatening to set him ablaze from the inside out.
His entire body flushed crimson, as if he had been boiled like a lobster. His eyes bulged, bloodshot and wide, and his whole figure swelled slightly from the intense reaction.
Richard calmly observed the whole process, making detailed notes and analyses. He needed to log the physiological effects on Earth-born humans in order to refine the potion formula for local compatibility.
Roughly a minute passed.
Bryton's transformation began. Blood vessels bulged as blood flowed rapidly. His previously loose, aging skin tightened. Age spots on his face faded and vanished. Wrinkles softened. Excess body fat melted away, revealing the toned contours of muscle beneath.
By the time it ended, Bryton looked revitalized—at least fifteen years younger, brimming with energy and vitality.
"Incredible! Unbelievable!"
Bryton stared at his hands in amazement, patting his body all over with disbelief and glee. He felt better than he had in decades.
Meanwhile, Richard's system finished its scan, gaining a clearer understanding of Bryton's physique. Since Earth's humans had never been exposed to magical potions and lived in a low-magic environment, they lacked any form of resistance or tolerance to magical substances.
As a result, the elixir's effectiveness was enhanced by 10%.
"Seems the effect went well," Richard said. "Your lifespan has increased by eleven years. Keep sending over the goods. I'll give you another vial next week."
The moment Bryton emerged from the villa, his bodyguards and assistants were stunned.
He had entered looking like a man on death's door—withered and decaying. But now he was rejuvenated, energetic, glowing with life. It was as if he had shed decades of age in a single afternoon.
Without wasting time, Bryton immediately began organizing the next shipment of goods. He also resumed attending social gatherings among the wealthy elite.
Though he hadn't advertised his transformation, and neither his assistants nor bodyguards dared breathe a word, news still spread like wildfire. Those same elites who once knew him bedridden in the hospital were now seeing him walk with vigor before their very eyes. Their attitudes flipped instantly.
The same people who'd brushed him off just days ago now rushed to greet him with enthusiasm. Business partnerships that had been left in limbo were suddenly greenlit. Supplies, equipment, and specialized machinery were swiftly approved for sale.
They didn't know the full truth—but Bryton's transformation wasn't something that could be faked. Everyone wanted to live longer. They may have scoffed at the rumors before, but now? Now they believed.
After a round of negotiations and strategic exchanges, those wealthy elites got what they were after: intel. Now, they each began calculating what rare goods they could offer to that mysterious sorcerer in exchange for the Elixir of Life.
Of course, some began pondering a more aggressive route—wondering if that sorcerer could be controlled… and made to serve them.
Over the next few days, Richard received an influx of resources, machinery, and devices—far more than before. In return, six more vials of the Elixir of Life were exchanged.
For now, these billionaires had become Richard's personal ATMs.
Thank you, Mother Nature.
---
Osborn Industries Tower – Research Laboratory
Norman Osborn was deep in analysis of the Elixir of Life. Though it was a treasure, Norman—just over forty—wasn't fixated on longevity. His bigger concern was the Osborn family's hereditary disease… and breakthroughs in human enhancement serums.
So the moment he acquired the Elixir, he got to work.
Earlier, a sample of werewolf DNA had given him critical insights—helpful for his enhancement research. But the genes had degraded and lost their activity. Now, with the Elixir's potent vitality, he hoped to reawaken them.
The experiment progressed smoothly. The elixir's vitality indeed reactivated the werewolf DNA. It was a major breakthrough.
However, when he began combining werewolf genes with his enhancement serum, complications arose.
Norman doubled down on experimentation, exploring every possible method to solve the problem.
---
After enchanting one of his devices, Richard rubbed his shoulder and decided to rest a bit.
These days, Katherine had been constantly busy—apparently chasing down some explosive scoop. She hadn't had time to explore the art of life with him recently, which left Richard feeling oddly… off. The Dragon Bloodline's healing energy was flowing smoothly, but he wasn't quite used to the peace.
So, he decided to indulge a bit in the Lighthouse Nation's entertainment to clear his mind.
And, well—there was another reason.
He wanted to check out the country's infamous pay-to-play bar shows.
Rumor had it, at certain bars you could watch sports games. And if that didn't excite you enough… you could pay to play some games yourself. Richard had lived in this country for a while now and had scoped out the area well. Tonight, he headed to one of the more upscale bars nearby.
Once inside, he saw that the "balls" here came in all colors—white, brown, yellow, black—take your pick. Back in the Mothrella World, he had sampled all kinds. These were nothing new.
Just as he was scanning the bar for one that matched his tastes, a body drenched in the scent of alcohol and perfume suddenly pressed up against him.
Soft, springy, and nearly suffocating.
Richard knew the Lighthouse Nation was open-minded.
But this?
This was more than he'd expected.