Chapter 561: No Matter How You Look At It, It’s Fertilizer
Almost immediately, the water turned a murky brown. The change spread like ink blooming across parchment—a clear sign that the fertilizer’s components were being drawn out into the liquid. For now, there was no significant difference between the two samples.
Which meant the real question was not whether extraction worked, but which water we should ultimately choose.
The advantage of distilled water was simple: once someone learned the procedure, anyone could produce it. The downside, however, was that it consumed fuel. Firewood, coal, whatever source of heat we used—it would cost resources.
On the other hand, water created through magic could only be produced by a mage. Yet it required only magical power, and even a small amount of mana could generate a considerable volume of water. It was a classic case of pros and cons balancing one another.
“They both look the same to me.”
“That’s how it looks to me as well. I’m not sure which water we ought to use. For now, let’s continue the process as is.”
Postponing the final decision, I strained the completed solution through cloth. The liquid filtered slowly, dripping into the container below. That marked the end of the first stage.
When I appraised the results, both samples returned almost identical readings.
Hmm. That made it difficult.
If the results were the same… perhaps we could simply use both methods. Those unable to use magic could rely on the distillation apparatus, while those with magical ability could produce water directly. That would allow broader participation.
We repeated the same process with a different type of fertilizer.
This batch contained discarded medicinal herbs mixed within it. If we could extract even a small portion of the herbs’ remaining components, it would significantly ease the creation of our new fertilizer.
We proceeded cautiously, but simply passing water through it proved insufficient. Very little dissolved into the liquid.
As I had suspected… heat would likely be necessary.
Heating the fertilizer itself seemed impractical. If so, then the water would have to be heated instead.
“It seems plain water won’t suffice. Let’s try using boiling water instead.”
“Understood. If this works, we will require a place to heat water properly.”
Fabienne’s expression tightened slightly, as though troubled. I understood her concern.
Establishing a heating area within the royal castle’s inner courtyard would likely disrupt its carefully maintained aesthetic. The symmetry, the manicured lawns, the decorative hedges—would we be accused of ruining the scenery?
The gardeners might very well scold us.
I poured boiling water over the fertilizer, steam rising in soft clouds as it struck. To prevent the heat from escaping, I covered the tub with a lid. That way, the mixture would steep, trapping warmth within.
If we were going to do this, we might as well do it efficiently.
“This time, it seems to have worked. And… more of the herbal components have dissolved into the solution than I expected.”
“Even used medicinal herbs still retain usable components, then.”
“It appears so. Though whether we could ever use this for people is another matter entirely…”
“Indeed.”
We exchanged glances and shared a wry smile.
If we tried to administer this to someone, we would undoubtedly produce a catastrophically foul-tasting potion. The kind that would require true bravery to consume.
At this rate, those who drank our magic potions might someday be hailed as “heroes.”
No, thank you.
I began mixing the extracted solutions in various ratios, carefully adjusting proportions to determine the optimal blend. This was pure trial and error—repetition, refinement, adjustment.
How fortunate that I possessed the Appraisal skill.
Without it, this process would have taken days, perhaps weeks. With it, I could shave off enormous amounts of time, observing the subtle shifts in properties with precision.
Whenever a particular component proved insufficient in the mixture, I supplemented it, nudging the solution incrementally closer to becoming a proper plant nutrient solution.
And finally—after countless refinements—we succeeded.
Its effectiveness was modest, but we had managed to create a plant nutrient solution derived entirely from fertilizer.
All that remained was to infuse it into Trevi fruit, and it would be complete.
Trevi fruit possessed a porous structure similar to silica gel. It should eagerly absorb the solution, soaking it up deep into its interior.
This… this would truly be Rapid Growth.
“Heh… heh heh…”
“Julius-sama, it appears things have gone well.”
“Ah—can you tell?”
“Yes, well… it’s rather obvious, isn’t it?”
“Indeed.”
At Fabienne’s prompting, Nero gave a strained smile.
Apparently, I was the sort of person whose thoughts showed plainly on his face.
Still, we were only one step away from completion. Before adding the Trevi fruit, perhaps we should test it at this stage as well.
“We’re just one step from completion, but for now, the essential part is done. Of course, we won’t truly know until we test it. Now then… how should we conduct that test?”
“It may be unwise to apply it to the flowers in the garden without permission.”
“You think so too? Then what should we do…”
This was troublesome.
It should be fine, right? Perhaps we could deploy it directly in the field. It was a slow-release type, gradually seeping out over time. That should minimize risk.
Yes. It’s fine. No problem at all.
I could practically see the success unfolding before me.
“Sophia-sama is surely waiting eagerly. Let’s complete it and try using it as is.”
“Are you certain that is safe?”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. I don’t fail.”
“……”
Why were all three of them looking at me like that?
If there was a problem, they were free to say it plainly. If they intended to stop me, now would be the time.
Well?
“Is there… some issue?”
“I do not believe there is any issue with what you have created, Julius-sama.”
“Oh? In that case, we’re fine.”
The response felt somewhat… hesitant. But if I pressed further, they might only grow uncomfortable. Better to wait until they chose to speak of their own accord.
If the cuckoo does not sing, wait until it does.
Though Fabienne resembled a canary more than a cuckoo.
Among the fertilizer batches, I selected one containing a particularly high concentration of Trevi fruit. Then I sprinkled the newly completed solution evenly over it, using a watering can to ensure uniform distribution.
As expected of the gardeners’ break area—there were watering cans of every shape and size.
“That completes it.”
“Amazing. The solution has been entirely absorbed into the fertilizer.”
“Indeed, indeed. No matter who looks at it, it appears to be nothing more than ordinary fertilizer. Rapid Growth is complete.”
My own talent was almost frightening.
This time, the camouflage was flawless.
Anyone who mistook this for a magic potion should try striking their head against the corner of a block of tofu.