The information displayed through the appraisal glasses made Arya's brows knit tightly.
[Level 3 Magic Barrier Core (D)]
[Energy: 16920 / 30000]
[Effect: Generates a 20-meter radius shield capable of resisting S-level magic attacks. Requires constant magic-power injection to prevent energy depletion and maintain defensive strength.]
[Description: A shield core developed by a group of fanatics in order to withstand Mana Tides; extremely high consumption.]
Just looking at the consumption rate—almost one point of energy per second—was enough to give her a headache. After a moment of hesitation, Arya pressed her palm against the core and injected her own magic.
One point of magic power converted to one point of energy.
Simple, but brutal.
A full 30,000-point core would keep the shelter safe for a little over eight hours. Judging by that, a Level 2 shelter should have around 20,000 points, lasting roughly five and a half hours, and a Level 1 shelter 10,000 points, which meant not even three hours.
No wonder the will of the world insisted that shelters had to be upgraded as soon as possible—this was the reason.
But looking at the numbers again, Arya's expression darkened.
The world will demanded that humans survive three full days of the Mana Tide.
That would require nearly 260,000 points of energy—or in other words, 260,000 points of magic power.
"Hiss—my heavens," Arya muttered. "This is… extremely troublesome."
Her quick mental calculations left her stunned. If this was true, then how many people could realistically survive? The natural recovery rate for the average person was only one magic point per minute. That recovery speed couldn't possibly keep up with consumption.
Basic materials did contain magic power and could temporarily supplement it, but even so, she had no idea how many people would live long enough to see the end of the Tide.
Arya wasn't worried about strangers.
More accurately, she was worried about specific people—her grandmother, her uncle's family, the ones who scammed her, and the person who had hit her with a car.
She absolutely refused to let them die before she could settle her old grudges. Otherwise… who would she vent her buried resentment on?
After realizing she could survive with her own hands, Arya knew she wasn't a good person—but she also wasn't some monstrous villain. As long as no one provoked her, she would never harm innocent people.
Therefore—
For the sake of revenge, she suddenly found herself praying for the safety of her "enemies."
After murmuring to herself, Arya stood up and drifted downstairs. From the first floor, she grabbed a +50 Magic Potion, uncorked it, and sprinkled the entire contents over the core.
The liquid evaporated instantly, like alcohol left in hot air.
The core's energy ticked upward by 50 points.
A spark lit in her eyes.
Excellent—Magic Potions worked.
Arya let out the breath she'd been holding. At last, her tense expression softened.
"Don't be afraid. Big Sis is an Alchemist," she said proudly, stroking the tiny creature in her arms. "A Mana Tide like this can't hurt you."
"Chirp chirp."
As if it understood her mood, Gang Siqiu finally stopped trembling. From the moment the Mana Tide started, the little creature had been shaking like a frightened chick. Arya hadn't let go of it for even a moment—whether she was checking the shield's symbols or retrieving potions, she always kept it nestled close.
Now that she had a plan, sleep became irrelevant. Arya rolled back her sleeves.
She had to start brewing Magic Potions immediately.
According to her calculations, even if she brewed the weaker +30 Magic Potions, she would still need roughly 8,666 bottles. That meant she had to complete around 44 batches—which translated to 15 batches per day.
Thankfully, she had bought plenty of herbs earlier, and the Stone of Rest provided an endless Spring of Repose, so water wasn't a concern. What she currently lacked was a sufficient number of pots.
After pouring out all the Magic Potions she had and refilling the shield core completely, Arya hurried downstairs to contact Roy.
She had barely stepped onto the first floor when she heard three consecutive notification beeps.
Opening her friend panel, she found new messages waiting.
Roy: "Do you have any extra Magic Potions on hand?"
Rogers: "Boss, do you still have Magic Potions for sale?"
Natasha: "How many bottles do you have left? I'll pay whatever price you want."
Arya smirked.
Good, good. Everyone had clearly figured out the situation. They were all quite smart under pressure.
However, she ignored Rogers and Natasha for the moment and contacted Roy first.
Arya: "I need ten pots—each must hold at least twenty liters or more."
Roy: "If you brew that much, how many people can the Potion supply?"
Arya: "Fifteen pots per person. And that's only enough to guarantee Level 3 shelters. Level 2 shelters won't last until the next batch is done."
Roy: "How long does a single pot take to finish?"
Arya: "At least eight hours."
Roy: "And you can get about 200 bottles from one pot?"
Arya: "To be precise, every hundred milliliters makes one bottle."
Roy replied almost instantly.
Roy: "I can give you a hundred pots—each forty liters or more. Free. But the Potion price will be calculated separately."
Arya froze.
"…Are you trying to kill me?"
One person brewing one hundred pots a day meant nearly 20,000 bottles. Even if she skipped filtering and bottling, she still had to stir a hundred pots.
Just thinking about it made her feel like she might ascend directly to heaven out of overwork.
Roy, however, wasn't joking.
Roy: "It can't be helped. It's a special situation. If we don't get through the Mana Tide, District 666 won't have many survivors left. And when everyone's dead, no one will be buying your Potions anyway."
Arya hated how reasonable he sounded. She couldn't argue.
So she gritted her teeth and accepted her fate.
For her own survival—and for the market.
Arya: "Fine. You win. But your side must hold out at least twelve hours first."
Roy: "We'll manage. What about herbs? If you're short, I'll supply them for free—same for water. Just send a list."
Arya: "Don't need water. Already solved that problem. But I am short on herbs. I'll send the list later. Make sure the herbs are washed beforehand. Washing them takes too much time, and I can't handle that workload alone. Also—Potion prices are doubling. And all the unsold attribute potions I gave you earlier—return them."
Roy: "Understood. Leave it to me."
After Roy left to make arrangements, Arya finally found time to reply to the other two.
She sent a group message.
Arya: "I'm starting production now. I'll deliver once they're ready. We'll discuss the price later. All transactions will go through Roy in twelve hours."
Natasha: "Understood. If you need anything, just say the word."
Arya: "Slabs. I need five hundred stone slabs—each fifty centimeters. Same type as last time."
Natasha: "Got it. I'll handle it immediately."
Arya didn't care how Natasha acquired them. As long as she delivered, that was enough.
Finally, she responded to Rogers.
Arya: "I'm starting production now. I'll send the potions once they're finished. Price later. Transactions through Roy in twelve hours."
Rogers: "Boss, do you have any requests?"
Arya: "Food. Food that boosts all attributes."
Facing the workload of a hundred pots, she needed nourishment—real, effective nourishment.
But she wasn't thinking about eating for pleasure. Attribute-boosting food mattered because even a single point added to her status could combine with her crude attribute potions, raising her overall stats by two points.
Rogers: "Understood! I'll prepare the best food possible—and some specially for Gang Siqiu!"
Arya exhaled and rolled up her sleeves.
Time to work. The Mana Tide wasn't going to wait.