As the life force surged and echoed back, visions of the enhanced parasitic pods soon appeared.
Leonard studied the strengthened effects carefully, preparing to adapt each seed's enhancement according to future battle environments.
The first image showed a mature parasitic pod bursting open, scattering seeds that drifted with the wind. Some landed on the ground, others on animals. Seeds that hit the ground curled up, roots twitching faintly, lying dormant until they were either eaten or stepped on.
Once disturbed—or if they landed directly on an animal—the seeds exploded. Roots shot out wildly, piercing into flesh.
The creatures screamed and writhed in agony, soon staggering like the walking dead before collapsing under the open sky.
It was a cruel enhancement, far more vicious than the pods' original parasitic function. The strengthened pods rooted and sprouted instantly upon contact with a living body. Rapidly growing roots seized the host's joints and nerves, controlling their movements, turning them into either puppets or plant fodder.
The process was agonizing. Birds, beasts, even reptiles twisted in pain until the parasitism completed. Once finished, the roots took full control of the host's brain and nervous system, making them living puppets.
Even Leonard flinched. The scene was too vivid—the roots writhing through flesh were sickening to watch.
If such plants ever spread... the world wouldn't end, but they'd be destroyed before they got that far.
Still, used strategically with Leonard's enhancement techniques, this first type could become a terrifying weapon.
The first vision faded. The second appeared.
This one was less grotesque. Again, the pods burst open, scattering seeds that, upon landing, transformed randomly into flames or clusters of ice crystals.
Both effects were highly contagious. A single touch from a living being would spread instantly, consuming the entire body. Ice froze anything it touched into solid crystal, while fire reduced it to ash.
From the visuals, each seed now carried an elemental enchantment—fire or frost—that detonated upon parasitism, dealing destructive damage.
It sacrificed reproduction for combat power, a brutal trade-off.
Then came the third image.
This enhancement was unusual. After purification, the pod took the shape of a Pea Shooter—something Leonard recognized from his previous life. It continuously fired parasitic seeds.
These seeds were slightly stronger than the originals. More importantly, when they hit the ground, they grew quickly into full parasitic pods, continuing to fire new seeds. If they landed on a creature, they rooted instantly and drained flesh.
A troublesome opponent either way.
Each of the three enhancements had its strengths. Leonard decided not to upgrade further but to keep this pod as his main seed source.
It was the best choice—flexible, efficient, and adaptable to battlefield conditions.
...
Leonard finished his work, but Midgard still refused to let go of the little unicorn, hugging and rubbing it while making strange cooing noises like a doting parent.
Leonard looked away.
The unicorn's eyes were vacant, like a salted fish that had given up on life, limp in Midgard's arms.
"Stop tormenting my unicorn."
Leonard couldn't take it anymore and pulled the creature free.
"You're going to break it."
Freed from Midgard's grasp, the unicorn immediately perked up, whimpering in protest.
Leonard petted and comforted it, soothing the poor thing's wounded pride.
"Sorry, it's just too cute. And it can even complain," Midgard said with a grin, glancing around. "You really are impressive, managing this entire Botanical Garden alone."
"It's fine. Not that hard," Leonard replied, scratching the unicorn's chin and flicking its horn as it rolled around, nuzzling his arm playfully.
"By the way, how's the estate coming along?"
"Everything's set. Most plots are planted with Wolfsbane Potion ingredients," Midgard said, watching Leonard and the unicorn with thinly veiled envy. "I saved you a patch. You can plant something there if you want."
"I doubt I'll have the time."
Leonard noticed Midgard's increasingly mischievous stare and quickly set the unicorn down before it became a target again.
"You'll use it eventually. After graduation, you can't just keep running back here all the time. It wouldn't be practical," Midgard said as the unicorn bolted off, a hint of regret in his tone.
"True, but that's for later," Leonard replied. "By the way, how many Aconite fruits do you have left?"
"None," Midgard said. "Damocles uses them for enhanced Wolfsbane potions and sometimes for testing improved formulas."
"Then you'll have to wait. My Aconite won't ripen until next month," Leonard said.
"No rush. It's not like anyone's insane enough to attack us now," Midgard replied casually.
Leonard nodded, about to speak again, when a sudden crash rang out.
He turned sharply. The bottle of unknown potion had shattered. Its contents spilled across the floor—and the curious little unicorn was already licking it up.
"That's not for drinking!" Leonard shouted, sprinting toward it.
That potion hadn't even been tested yet—it was a chaotic mess of unstable magic barely worthy of the name!
He'd meant to study it first, but the unicorn was faster. Too fast.
By the time Leonard reached it, the unicorn had already licked the floor clean. It smacked its lips, looked up at him with innocent confusion, and blinked.