Cyber Era Witch
Chapter 382 - 345: Magic Potion

Chapter 382: Chapter 345: Magic Potion

Farosa let go of the kitten she was holding.

It was the finest looking Chinchilla Silver she had ever seen, identical to Mack’s incarnation.

"Meow!" It was not adjusting well to its current situation, making a panicked escape and leaving behind tiny drops of blood on the sand. Several soldiers desperately pursued it to prevent it from disturbing Honma Noriko’s safety.

Farosa watched all this with a cold gaze.

Clad in a dark brown linen cloak that concealed half of her face like a witch fearing her tracks being uncovered, she only left her slender and enigmatic eyes visible.

At her command, the room had been prepared with everything she had asked for, all manufactured by Xisheng, adorned with the brand’s light gold, cursive art fonts that had a charm of their own.

Ignoring all the noise outside, she removed her veil, applied makeup in front of the mirror, the luxurious cosmetics making her face feel rejuvenated; she exuded a fragrant allure that was coveted by many, and her reflected beauty was unparalleled.

These were the things that complemented her, for today Farosa was providing the world’s most exquisite service: resurrection, longevity, eternal life. These were treasures beyond price.

However, Farosa needed more than just money; she coveted power and wisdom, wishing to be the only transcendent being left in the world, to wield this extraordinary power all on her own.

But that goal was still a long way off.

With ambitions inflated to chaos, Farosa took her steps outside.

She walked barefoot on the beach, the world’s first artificial beach, where every grain was man-made, not natural, composed of smooth, fine micro-pearls with no risk of an unsafe slip, perfectly safe.

Even the tides were restrained by machinery, only gasping for air hundreds of meters away, driven away by breakwaters, barriers, and tide-blocking machines.

She was standing upon the future, Farosa thought as she looked down at her toes. It was their honor.

"Do you require anything else?" Honma Noriko, sitting in the life support device, asked through a semi-transparent partition. The advanced sampling equipment ensured her voice didn’t lose any clarity, as if she were standing right beside Farosa.

"I don’t need anything else," replied Farosa, "But you, you’ve certainly made quite the preparations."

"...They are necessary..." murmured Honma Noriko.

"You brought me a cat," Farosa said.

"Kanako made a mistake," Honma Noriko looked at Farosa. "Or perhaps you know something."

"The cat scratched me."

"Do you require medical attention?"

"I refuse to be examined," Farosa stated.

Honma Noriko sat on a white medical chair, her body punctured by exactly 32 white tubes, connected to highly sophisticated health monitoring equipment, which recorded the real-time state of every organ in her body; red and blue numbers danced across the displays, symbolic of her extremely imbalanced physical condition.

Seeing that Honma Noriko had stopped talking, Farosa glanced around. In the absence of Yanagawa Fumihiko, she saw a cordon set up outside the agreed meeting point, with hundreds of guns aimed at her body, ready to fire should Honma Noriko encounter any danger or if either Honma Noriko or Yanagawa Fumihiko issued any command, prompting her death.

They had only permitted Farosa to come alone, minimizing the risk.

She surveyed the medical fortress constructed by Honma Noriko, such a solid structure that even if everyone outside were slaughtered, it would be impossible to force open the medical chamber – Honma Noriko sat in the safest place in the world.

Yanagawa Fumihiko returned on foot.

"Where is the cat?" Honma Noriko inquired.

"Neutralized," Yanagawa Fumihiko responded. "And Kanako, she’s been locked up."

"..." Honma Noriko closed her eyes, awaiting the ritual to commence.

The wind blew.

A seagull was silently taken out, dying over the sea 2 kilometers away.

Farosa sat at the entrance of the small cabin, patiently waiting; this was not her first time facing such a tense, critical situation. The last time, she had confronted a deity, a god of boundless authority and wisdom.

But then, she had a Godslayer weapon in her hand.

Now, she had little with her apart from the Star Crystal Stone; all else were harmless products supplied by Xisheng. The only thing she truly trusted was the Yamano Sanae hanging on her waist, hidden in a leather water bag, luckily the inspectors didn’t ask her to take a sip.

The time had come.

The sun pierced through the clouds, and Farosa turned towards the ritual altar.

Yanagawa Fumihiko had prepared all the items Farosa requested: one ritual knife, one Star Crystal Stone, three plantain herbs, three yarrow grasses, a pair of griffin’s beaks, a single rare dragon scale, as well as other high-quality grinding and extraction tools—all advanced industrial products with precision and efficiency far superior to Middle Ages hand-grinding.

"You have drunk so many spices," Farosa said as she began to operate, gazing toward Honma Noriko in the medical pod, "they have made your bloodline more... robust and long-lived. Once the ritual succeeds, you will gain another 100 years of life."

"Is the success rate high?"

"I’ve read the stories of the Empresses," Farosa said, "they did such things in ancient times, and I know what reactions to expect. You just have to listen to me."

"Whatever you want, I will give it to you," Honma Noriko said softly.

"Thank you," Farosa said, "I actually like you very much. You’ve grasped the essence: everything we do is in the pursuit of eternal life."

"I could have peacefully accepted death," Honma Noriko murmured, "but in my middle years, a condemned criminal once said in front of me, ’I don’t really envy the rich because I know they will die just like me.’ It was then that I had a strong desire to correct that faulty view."

"It’s almost finished," Farosa said.

She ground the herbs into a powder while chanting a miracle, many different patterns and traces appearing in the air. The magic potion would soon be prepared.

Honma Noriko closed her eyes.

She used a secret technique, and the machine behind her was capable of reading her brain waves and converting them into text.

"The Seven Seals tell me that the impostor Mack has been long dead, so we could never have encountered him on the beach," she sent a message to Yanagawa Fumihiko.

"Yes, it’s the same now; what we met was just an ordinary cat," Yanagawa Fumihiko admitted. "Kanako brought it over. Her role in these matters is quite baffling, respected Madam."

"The Seven Seals only recognize us as members when ’Xisheng’ is united as a whole," Honma Noriko said. "They are ready to expel any unqualified individuals at any time."

"Without you, we would inevitably fall from the ranks of the Seven Seals. So I sincerely wish you eternal life."

"If I encounter any misfortune, or signs of mental disarray or being controlled, please level Anjiu City to the ground."

"Yes," Yanagawa Fumihiko agreed.

Farosa completed the assembly of the magic potion.

"It’s done." She poured the extracted magic potion essence into a glass bottle.

The sunlight streamed through the cloud-patterned glass, entrancing like a dream, as if someone had bent and folded a corner of the universe, and poured a quarter-liter of liquid into the bottle.

"Is it ready?" Honma Noriko’s voice trembled.

"You can come out and drink it," Farosa said, calm and collected.

"I’m watching you," Yanagawa Fumihiko said.

"I know," Farosa replied with her hands clasped behind her. Facing the sea, she watched the rising sun, leaving her back vulnerable to any bullet or blade.

The moment the glass door of the medical sanitary device opened, it started the countdown to the end of Honma Noriko’s life; she wouldn’t survive more than an hour or two in this vile, primitive outside world.

Honma Noriko glanced at Yanagawa Fumihiko, whose body shook violently, then he nodded slowly, moved toward the life support device, pressed the safety button on its side, and entered the password.

The sealed unit released air with quite a noise, and the glass door lifted.

Yanagawa Fumihiko gently helped Honma Noriko out of her medical chair, but she shook her head, walked out of the pod alone, monitoring probes and medical films falling away from her body like a baby being severed from the umbilical cord.

She stepped onto the artificial sand beach where the air had been scrupulously cleaned, even building a semi-transparent glass canopy to maintain a low-bacterial environment as much as possible.

Life and death hung directly in this instant.

Honma Noriko looked at Farosa’s back, so mysterious and inscrutable. The thousand-word treatise on mysticism that she had written had convinced Honma Noriko, the Ancient Witch from a millennium ago, contested by Near East Providence, Kyoto Infinity, and Lighthouse Core, interfered by Black Fire Innovation, her trace once interrupted, and now she had bravely stepped forward, presenting herself with this providential opportunity.

So much money, so many resources, they must be made worth it.

She was the greatest investor in corporatism ever known.

Now she was investing in her own future.

Honma Noriko picked up the magic potion and drank it in one gulp.