Amid the swirling chaos of experimentation, Han emerged from his tent, striding purposefully toward the two individuals from the previous expedition, their faces marked with curiosity. Drawing closer to their tent, he found a vigilant figure stationed there, a sentinel of sorts, guarding the entrance.

As Han approached, the sentinel raised a cautious hand, halting him in his tracks, and inquired about his intentions and presence. Han found the man's manner brusque, a perception compounded by his abrupt scrutiny. He only sought answers, the insights of those who had tread this territory before. Yet, even if these individuals weren't accessible, dealing with the sentinel would suffice, given that he likely possessed local knowledge. In a calm, indifferent tone, Han addressed the sentinel, "I had some questions for them. If that's an issue, perhaps you could assist?"

The attendant, who was habitually seen by the side of Lord Edun, scrutinized Han for a moment before conceding, "I suppose there's no harm in that. So, what is it that you wish to know?"

A fleeting sense of relief crossed Han as he considered that this man might be of assistance. Without hesitation, he explained his question, "I'm in search of a type of berry that grows in the slums. They're black and typically found on shrubs or trees."

The attendant pondered the question, mentally retracing the alleys and corners of the slums. In a sudden epiphany, he responded, "I think I know what you're referring to! Those berries are likely in the estate's kitchen. Lord Edun has a liking for their taste and incorporates them into his beverages. He accumulated a substantial supply during his days as a knight. But, why this sudden interest?"

Han, masking his true intentions, replied casually, "No particular reason... Could I gather some of them, though?"

The attendant shrugged nonchalantly. "Certainly, if you wish. The Lord possesses an abundance of those berries, so I doubt he'd mind. Feel free to visit the kitchen and locate them."

Satisfied with this outcome, Han nodded his gratitude and made his way toward the estate's kitchen.

An hour elapsed, and Han reentered his tent, carrying a cloth bag that he reverently placed on the table. With a rush of excitement, he undid the bag's fastenings, revealing a bounty of blackberries, each akin to a grape in size. Their sheer abundance left Han in awe; this was his first encounter with these raw, unprocessed treasures. Wasting no time, Han embarked upon the journey of concocting the Antidote. His initial task encompassed the meticulous processing of the berries and their accompanying leaves...

The rationale behind Han's substantial collection of these berries lay in their pivotal role as the primary ingredient for the antidote he intended to forge. Bolstered by newfound insights gained through increased proficiency, Han executed his duties with delicate precision, his care extending to the nurturing of these berries. His prowess in herbology and botanical knowledge ensured no facet escaped his expertise.

In this endeavor, he was reminded of an article from his past life, an unexpected connection spanning both realms. The berries, known scientifically as Sambucus nigra, were none other than elderberries. Although on Earth, the effects of this berry weren't as strong as it was in Arcanicia, maybe it was due to the way they were grown and the different atmosphere. Renowned for their antiviral, antibacterial, and antidiabetic attributes, along with a plethora of nutritional advantages, the realization dawned that these berries could offer a complete cure for early-stage Virus patients. Yet, the antidote's efficacy waned as the Virus progressed, rendering it insufficient for advanced cases. While symptoms might abate, further deterioration halted, and the lingering effects endured for two years. To secure full recovery, patients would necessitate a two-year regimen of this remedy. 

With this knowledge as his compass, Han persevered unwaveringly, tending to the berries and their attached leaves, embroiled in the creation of the antidote.

But Han remained cognizant that the antidote's formulation alone would not suffice to eradicate the Virus from the slums. Months had transpired since its outbreak, necessitating stringent safety measures. The cleaning of bed linens, personal hygiene, belongings, and even abodes, emerged as imperative. Every minuscule object demanded thorough sanitation, a necessity forged by the Slums' unwillingness to gamble on the Virus's resurgence.

Meanwhile, in the heart of Onaphia, within the distinguished chambers of the Alchemist Organization, the Duke's office radiated an aura of composed efficiency. The Young Duke, an embodiment of poise and detachment, engaged in his administrative duties. His cobalt gaze shifted sharply towards the bookcase stationed nearby, an evident irritant to his temper. With a measured yet assertive grace, he rose from his seat and advanced towards the source of his vexation.

Confronting the bookcase, his fingers brushed a book cloaked in a blue cover, resulting in an uncanny response from the furniture – a hidden passage unfurled. The bookcase pivoted, unveiling a clandestine corridor that reverberated with muffled cries and urgent pleas. "Too noisy for his own good," the Duke muttered, his countenance inscrutable as he embarked upon the hollow pathway. The bookcase was sealed shut, veiling the secret once more.

The passageway culminated in a door, which the Duke unlocked before him. Within the enshrouded chamber, a massive cage loomed, its dimensions rivaling that of a wild beast's enclosure. Suspended in its center was a man adorned with pink locks, his form fettered by chains, his consciousness a flickering ember.

The Duke's derisive chuckle reverberated within the chamber. "Who would have fathomed? The once-mighty Viscount, master of the Herbalist Guild, ensnared within the confines of a cage," he taunted, savoring the tableau of irony and triumph before him.

The captive, a once-distinguished noble, seemed to have weathered a lifetime's hardship within his prison. His visage bore the weight of time, his unkempt beard and creased countenance telling a tale of prolonged captivity. Mumbling incoherently, he teetered on the precipice of consciousness, reduced to a state of profound oblivion.

"Mealtime, dear guest," the Young Duke remarked impassively, presenting a bowl of porridge. With a flourish, he introduced a concealed powder into the mixture before placing it within the cage's gaping maw.

The shackled man, akin to a beast, lunged towards the aroma, consuming the gruel with an appalling voracity that defied his noble origins. "Disgraceful! A far cry from the rival I once perceived. You resemble an animal more than a contender," the Duke scorned, resuming his seat and witnessing the spectacle with detached amusement.

"Another attempt on your offspring's life, orchestrated in your name, has been dispatched. It's remarkable how they persist in eluding death, particularly your heir, though his days are numbered. Slowly but surely, poison courses through his veins, administered by your replacement. A demise awaiting your realization, yet far too late," the Duke's voice dripped with madness, his laughter bordering on lunacy.

Within the shadows, a tear escaped the captive's eye, a manifestation of his silent torment.

"This is the fate of those who obstruct my path!" the Duke declared ominously, departing the dim chamber, leaving the Viscount to his desolation.

"Ugh, the mere proximity to him besmirches me," the Young Duke remarked, his revulsion palpable as he smoothed his attire. "A bath is requisite to cleanse me of this filth," he added, a modicum of sanity returning as he trod the path back to his office. Despite the satisfaction derived from the orchestrated turn of events, the removal of his impediments, and the imminent realization of his ambitions, he remained oblivious to the King's persistent dispatch of expeditions to the Slums. Even if such pursuits endured, they held no bearing on his triumph, for his objectives within that realm had already been achieved. The culmination of his ambitions loomed ever closer.