In the end, Heisenburgle wouldn't arrange the thing until Lucas had filled crates with the dragon's drug of choice, but that was fine. He made a few of the bottles strong enough that even the smell might kill a normal man to screw with her, but mostly he just knocked them out, one batch after the other, as quickly and efficiently as possible.

His heart wasn't in it. In fact, he really wasn't sure he wanted to make drugs for anyone but her at this point. I can't cut them off cold turkey, of course, he reasoned. But I think maybe if I survive this, it's time to look into making methadone.

Lucas couldn't think of many things he might do that would be more unpopular than killing Skylara, but that was definitely one of them. No one would like it. The Prince would never allow it, the nobles that he served would skin him if he failed to keep up with their growing habits, and the workmen who were addicted to the watered-down version might well riot. Even allies like Kar'gandin and Sir Tristian will probably kill me if the Whisperers or the dragon don't do it first.

He sighed. All of that was a later problem. Right now, it didn't matter if he'd lost any interest in Blue or that he'd much rather make boosting potions. What mattered was that he had to eat his vegetables before he could go outside and play, so he knuckled down and polished off three crates of the stuff in record time.

Then, working with the gnome, they planned the trip. Which involved a few strange accessories that Lucas hadn't expected. The first of which was an array of potions that the gnome had prepared for him.

"Just in case," Heisenburgle insisted. "Trolls are dangerous for more than just their claws. If you get their blood in an open wound, it can cause growths that will eventually prove fatal. A dilute acid wash is highly recommended if that occurs, though I'm told it might sting a little."

"That might sting more than a little," Lucas said, looking at the evil yellow liquid in the vial. "Looks awfully strong to me."

"Yes, well, it hasn't been diluted yet, naturally," the gnome answered. "I just wanted to see if your talent let you know that or not."

Elixir of Divine Grace (1 dose): +21 Agility (flowing), +6 poison (inflaming), -2 intelligence (impatient). Duration: 5 minutes. Imbibing this potion causes sleeplessness for twelve to twenty-four hours.

Hydrognomic Acid (concentrated)(1 dose): 15 Poison(Dissolute). This is a strong acid and is not intended for consumption.

Healing Draught of Disease Resistance (3 doses): Healing 8(Fortifying), poison 3(tainted), endurance 2(hale), agility -1(sluggish). +25% healing to ongoing diseases such as Troll's Touch or Mummy Rot.

Sulfurous Potion of Fulmination (single use): This potion explodes on contact with air, creating nine cubic feet of flame. Quick burning. Lasts less than one minute.

Lucas gave the gnome an exasperated look as he went through each of them in detail and what they were for. The acid was for clean-up, and the healing potions were specifically formulated for diseases that he might get for fighting the thing. Both of those seemed like overkill since Lucas had no plans to get hit. He was pretty sure that if he was going to fight an eight-foot-tall mountain of muscle, then the first hit would probably be the last hit.

The final potions were more interesting but not as interesting as the sword he provided afterward. Normally, Lucas wouldn't have lumped together potions with swords, even potions that were meant to be thrown to explode. In this case, though, since they were both made to catch on fire, he made an exception in this case.

"What the hell even is this…" Lucas asked, gaping at the thoroughly unconventional weapon. "How did you… Couldn't you just have like a magic flaming sword or something?"

The gnome took Lucas's consternation as praise and basked silently in it for a moment before he explained the strange weapon he was giving to Lucas. It was a long sword, mostly, but it had strange holes all along the blade and a handle on the hilt that was reminiscent of the brake lever on his old ten-speed.

"Magic? Harmumph," Heisenburgle snorted. "Magic is an ephemeral shortcut and not to be relied upon. Real magic is found in perfect alchemical outcomes and finely engineered marvels!"

After he finished crowing, he explained the mechanism in detail. Apparently, trolls regenerated so quickly that they shrugged off wounds that weren't made with flame or acid, and this blade was made to catch fire on command.

"It's based on an old dwarven design for a fire axe," the gnome explained. "The thing is filled with ten minutes' worth of lamp oil, and even after that runs out, the hot iron will be good for another five before it becomes just another sword."

"Just another sword, huh?" Lucas said, eyeing the thing skeptically. "I thought you were going to make an Acid Blood Potion I could use on an actual sword."

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"Actual sword?" Heisenburgle raised an eyebrow. "I'd be tempted to take offense if I couldn't see how much you love it. I'd planned on something simpler, it's true, but then I remembered this, and I thought we might test it out."

"Test it out?" Lucas spat. What he was feeling was anything but love. "You mean no one has used this before?"

It was a little heavy, and the balance was off. If he was fighting anything else, he would have been tempted to ask for another weapon, even after the demonstration, when they went outside and actually lit the thing up. It was cool and everything, and he would have killed at Burning Man, but still, it felt wrong. It will feel better after I max out my strength, Lucas told himself.

"Used it? Of course, people have used it," the gnome protested, calming Lucas down before adding, "Just not to kill a troll, but it should be perfectly sufficient."

That qualifier was enough to make Lucas want to strangle the little bastard, but he refrained. Instead, their conversation moved to armor, which was a tight, mostly waterproof set of leathers, and then the expedition itself.

Fortunately, once everything was planned, he didn't have to wait long, and twenty-four hours later, he was in a convoy heading toward what would either be testing grounds or killing fields, depending on how well his potions worked.

The mountain was as rugged as he'd imagined it, but there was less snow. It clung only to the top of the peak and was nowhere near the ice troll's cave. When Lucas made a joke about how it was going to have to fly north for the summer, Heisenburgle gave him a sour look and explained the hibernation cycle of such beasts as if he cared.

Then, not so long after sunrise, they were setting up on a hill across the way from the cave. Heisenburgle had brought a telescope because he wanted to view the fight in detail, but he wanted to be hundreds of yards away when he did it, and once that was done and Lucas was armed and armored, he walked along to where the fight would take place with no one to keep him company, but the dozen different potions ordered neatly in a bandolier across his chest.

He wouldn't drink those, though, until it was time. His boost potions only lasted for five minutes, and though his advantage increased that to ten, they still weren't something he was going to pop until it was time. If this went well, he'd work on making a longer-lasting variant, but for right now, the question he had should be able to be answered in a few minutes.

What did maximum strength feel like? Would he be able to survive the experience? Was it enough to make him an ultimate badass?

It was all pretty straightforward, but as he stood outside the foul-smelling cave, he still swallowed as he thought about whether or not this really was a good idea. Some training wheels never hurt anyone, he told himself as he glanced over to where Hisenburgle was watching him.

Lucas was never actually going to turn back, of course, but as he felt the alchemist's eyes upon him, he pulled out and drank his first potion to pump up his endurance. Then, a few seconds later, he followed suit with strength and agility.

None of them tasted anything close to good, but he ignored the chalky, bitter flavors as well as the way they made his stomach gurgle as he felt their effects start to take hold of his limbs. He saw his veins throb and felt his pulse race as the potions began to work their magic.

He saw an alert flash briefly. Congratulations, Maximum Alchemical Potential Achieved! But he decided to hold off on seeing exactly what that was going to give him until the fighting was done. Instead, he quickly checked his attributes to verify that the numbers were as high as they felt like they were.

Agility 34, Endurance 35, Strength 32. Big numbers. He had the toughness of the mountains, the grace of the air, and the strength of the beasts. Heisenburgle could dunk on magic all he wanted, but as far as Lucas was concerned, this felt amazing.

They weren't quite perfect numbers, but triple what he usually had, which was somewhere between Olympian and superhero as far as he could tell. Where exactly was what he was going to find out today.

Lucas drew his blade, then bumped the handle twice to start lamp oil oozing out of its ports before he flicked the flint mechanism to light it. Then, he yelled out, "Hey, Big ugly! I got an order of ass-kicking here with your name on it!"

He waited, and when he didn't hear anything, he pulled out one of his three Potions of Fulmination and chucked it into the cave to get this thing's attention. Lucas hadn't actually been planning on throwing it too hard, but the force with which it left his hand surprised him as it arced into the darkness.

It reached deep enough into the cave that he heard the explosion more than he saw it, but the roar of pain and rage that followed was far stronger. "Well, that got its attention," Lucas mumbled to himself as he heard the commotion continue in the shadows. The troll wasn't exactly on fire, but there were enough lingering embers and flames on it that Lucas got a feel for its size and bulk.

At least, he thought he did. Those estimates changed radically as the thing continued to grow as it approached. It sounded big the whole way, but he really only stood how big it was or how fast it was going as it approached the entrance to the cave, barreling toward him like a methed-out mountain gorilla or a whole damn offensive line.

The troll was enormous. Rather than the giant green monster he'd expected, it was closer to an olive-gray. It didn't just have yellowed teeth and claws; there were bony protrusions scattered around its body that made him take Hiisenburgle's warnings about cancerous growths a little more seriously.

Lucas didn't have time to worry about the long-term consequences right at that moment, though. He barely had time to worry about the short-term concern of becoming a bloody smear and leaped out of the thing's way as it ran toward him on all fours, looking to paste him.

His dive to the side was a desperate one, and Lucas expected that he'd only just barely clear the danger zone in time. So, he was puzzled when he moved and was back up on his feet before the thing even passed him.

"The fuck?" he asked himself, too stunned to strike out at the monster's exposed flank as it breezed by less than a foot in front of him.

"What is going on with these reflexes?" Lucas wondered aloud as the thing took a dozen feet over the stony hillside before it managed to skid to a stop. When it turned to face him, it had an almost human expression of surprise on its face. It obviously didn't understand how it had missed out on its meal.

To be fair, Lucas barely understood that, either. Without his boosts, he would have been toast.

"Alright, ugly," Lucas said, raising his blade, "You want to dance? Let's dance."

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