The only way for her to succeed was to burn through an absurd amount of top-tier ingredients and rely on sheer luck.
But she was a divine being, a supreme existence. No matter how much Orson wanted to scream internally, he didn't dare interrupt her reckless brewing process.
"Is it done yet?"
After an hour, Orson finally lost his patience and asked.
Xyla beamed with confidence. "Almost! Just a little more! Believe in me, Adventurer!"
"...Oh, I absolutely believe in you. You keep working—I'll go grind some monsters."
With a helpless sigh, Orson shook his head and mounted his Crimson Lizard King, flying off from Phoenix Forest. He headed to a town overrun by undead creatures and started farming level 60 monsters in a massacre.
Every hour, he would return to Phoenix Forest to check on Xyla—only to find her still obsessed with brewing, completely lost in her own world.
And so the cycle continued.
Twelve hours passed.