Inside the apothecary, the scent of crushed herbs thickened with heat, clinging to the air like steam rising from the earth itself. Copper trays glimmered beneath lamp light, cabinets groaned under the weight of dried roots and powdered monster glands, and amidst it all, Miach stood at the bench, stirring a simmering blend with slow precision.
When the mixture reached its critical point, he lifted the glass flask from the flame with practised ease. A thin stream of distilled Dungeon water followed, swirling into the brew like mist binding to morning air. He swirled the contents, watched the colour stabilise, then poured the liquid into a slender glass tube. Only after checking for clarity, viscosity, and mana-flow — no clouding, no disruptions — did he finally offer it to Luthar.
"What do you think of this?" he asked. The voice was steady, trained, but threaded with something hopeful. A craftsman wanting approval
Luthar took the potion without hesitation. His HUD flickered to life, symbols cascading and numbers forming as it evaluated composition and restorative output. Only when the final assessment appeared did he answer.
"This won't work," he said, calm and certain. "I need something stronger. Something that can restore damaged tissue completely. One drink — full regeneration."
Miach exhaled — not frustrated, simply accepting the reality.
"That kind of potion is beyond my reach here," he replied quietly. "Not with the restrictions the lower world has placed on me."
Luthar's attention shifted to the parchment beside the burners. Lists of rare herbs, extraction ratios, failed attempts and crossed diagrams lay there like ghosts of potential. He tapped the sheet once.
"Then I'll find those herbs. They have the strongest healing properties noted so far. I just hope your descriptions are accurate."
Miach paused, caught off guard. He had not expected Luthar to cling to the idea even after hearing how impossible to find them. The god stepped closer, eyes tracing the parchment, expression darkening with something between caution and regret.
"Even if you find them, they are not the best herbs for healing potions", he continued to speak "They're only good for beauty elixirs, not regeneration. Their healing is faint, fragmented. To make them viable for real restoration, you'd need to extract the regenerative essence in massive quantities then fuse it together."
He looked at the glass tube again, light flickering across his eyes. "Without special talent… it borders on impossible."
Silence followed — thin, sharp, unmoving.
Then Luthar breathed out, thoughtful. Not deterred — intrigued.
Weak essence could be amplified. A flawed property could be perfected. If nature offered only fragments, fragments could be reforged into something whole.
"I only need to collect them once," Luthar murmured, more to himself than to Miach.
"If a few are not enough, I'll propagate them. Clone them. Cross-breed them until the regenerative trait stabilises."
Miach froze for a heartbeat. Words like clone, cross-breed, and stabilise meant little to him. A quiet realisation settled instead — Luthar was walking a path Miach could not guide.
His best potion was no more than a starting point.
A faint disappointment flickered across his face as he remembered offering his potions as a solution only an hour ago. Now reality circled back, cold and exact: Luthar would still need to descend into the Dungeon and gather what could not be bought.
As Miach took back the tube, its warmth faded — just like his hopes of helping Luther
Luthar turned, robes brushing the table's edge, footsteps steady as he moved toward the door. Then — almost an afterthought, or perhaps a courtesy — he paused.
"I'll return once I have them," he said without looking back. His voice carried direction, not doubt. "And when I finish cloning them, if you have time, I would like your help with identifying properties I need to extract and fuse.."
Miach blinked, surprise softening his disappointment. The gap between them still yawned wide, but Luthar had left a path open rather than sealing it shut.
"I would be honoured," he answered quietly.
Luthar stepped out of the workshop and into the front room, closing the door behind him. The heavy herbal warmth faded into the sharper scent of dried stock prepared for sale. Naaza stood at the counter, sorting vials into neat rows. Her head lifted as soon as she heard him.
"You're finished already?" she asked, tail twitching with concern. "Was Miach able to help you at all?"
Luthar adjusted his cloak, expression unreadable but composed.
"He helped as far as current materials allow," he replied evenly. "Once I secure the herbs, we'll continue, The rest depends on luck. "
Naaza's ears lowered — realisation settling immediately. "So you're still going to try?"
"Yes."
No hesitation. No weight of doubt.
With that, he stepped past the counter and pushed open the front door. The bell above it chimed — bright, final, unaware.
What Luthar didn't see was the figure standing at a distant corner, half-shadowed beneath an eave. He had been watching for some time — the gaze fixed solely on him. Not a customer. Not a passerby.
A witness.
Only after Luthar vanished into the crowd did the watcher shift and slip away, leaving no trace behind.
The spy had yet to grasp the danger of shadowing a Tech Priest. Watching from the dark was safe only while Luthar remained unaware. If he ever caught the faintest hint of eyes tracking him, the man in the alley wouldn't have the luxury of regret — he might not even remain a man at all.
Authors note : by the way I want to know if somebody once me to trim upcoming chapters as till chapter 230 entire Apollo are going to continue at just say sometime it's feel like nothing is happen.
If anyone more warhammer related novels this is the right time to support as I am preparing for a personal FanFiction with mc who is chaos space marine by the end of month 6 or 7 chapter depending on the support I would continue or dropp and if I have enough support one chapter would be written every week .
45+ chapter of tpm 18 chapter of TBFW exclusive to Parteon.
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