Natasha hesitated for a moment before finally speaking. "It's hard to describe precisely. But if I really had to use an analogy…" She paused, thinking, then continued, "Imagine the relationship between an air cylinder and a balloon."
Arya blinked, trying to follow. "Go on."
"The air cylinder represents the total capacity—the absolute upper limit—of one's Talent," Natasha explained patiently. "The balloon represents our physical body."
Natasha raised her hand, gesturing as if holding a tiny balloon between her fingers. "Right now, most of our bodies are equivalent to finger-sized balloons. Fragile, small, and far from robust. If a balloon this tiny tried to contain all the gas from a full-sized air cylinder…" She gave a wry smile. "It would burst instantly."
Her expression turned serious. "That's what it means to exceed the body's ability to withstand the Talent's limit. It's not that the power is wrong—it's that our bodies aren't strong enough to contain it."
Though Natasha spoke calmly, there was a heaviness behind her words. It wasn't theoretical knowledge she gained from books or observation. It was the outcome of a near-death experience—a lesson carved into her flesh.
The last time she'd used her Talent beyond her safe threshold, it had nearly destroyed her body from the inside out. Bones had cracked, blood vessels ruptured, and she had barely managed to return alive. In truth, her explanation today was knowledge purchased with suffering.
And yet—
"Understood," Arya replied simply. "Thank you."
That was it. No extra questions. No sympathetic pause. No interest in Natasha's near-fatal story.
The abrupt end left Natasha feeling both exasperated and faintly amused.
Exasperated because—back on Blue Star—she had been a golden young CEO admired by countless people. Even here, in this brutal new world, she was one of the rare holders of an S-grade Talent. And this was the attitude she received?
Used for information and then tossed aside? Really?
But amusing, too, because this behavior fit Arya perfectly. It matched the exact impression Natasha had of her: sharp, logical, indifferent, and utterly uninterested in anything that wasn't directly useful.
Arya, of course, had no intention of caring about Natasha's mood. Now that she had obtained the answer she needed, she could finally confirm the hypothesis she'd been building.
Her decision to seek Natasha earlier wasn't random—it had been carefully calculated.
After all, Talents like Arya's or Rogers' were not good references for understanding Talent overload. Their abilities didn't reflect raw output or destructive force. Natasha, however, was different. Her Talent was a pure attack-type—simple, focused, and direct. No auxiliary effects. No complicated mechanisms. Just raw damage output.
That made her the perfect case study.
And now, with Natasha's answer, Arya felt her long-sought conceptual breakthrough finally solidify.
Talent equals magic.
It was the conclusion she had been circling for days. Now she finally held the confirmation she needed.
If Talent functioned like magic—broad, varied, yet governed by rules—then she finally had a path toward developing a potion that could enhance, or perhaps even elevate, one's Talent.
Her eyes sharpened with purpose.
"Roy," she called through the communicator, "do you have any mental-type monster materials or herbs?"
"Yes," he replied almost instantly.
"Send them to me."
Within minutes, she received a box filled with ingredients: Screeching Bat wings, Fluffy Alpaca fur, Swaying Flower petals, Blue-Spore Mushrooms, Forget-Me-Nots, Whispering Grass, and a variety of other mental-type materials.
Arya's research officially began.
Although the abilities granted by Talents varied wildly—some enhanced the user's body, some manipulated external objects like Rogers' Talent, some unleashed pure offensive force like Natasha's—they were all still manifestations of the same underlying energy. Magic, in a broad sense.
So Arya built her experimental approach around the rules that governed magical enhancement and progression.
Her personal information panel stated clearly that magic could not be upgraded—but knowledge could be accumulated.
That alone told her that Talent elevation could not be achieved through simple repetition or willpower. There must be a structured path, a requirement that had to be met.
And yet, despite knowing this, Arya's first attempts were disastrous.
Three batches. Three hundred jars of potion.
Not a single one emitted the sparkling glow of a successful brew. Not even a half-qualified product.
Arya sat at her alchemy table, hands tugging at her already messy black hair, deep shadows under her eyes. She looked like someone who had stayed awake for far too many hours—because she had. She hadn't slept in days.
"What's wrong… what am I missing…?" she muttered, staring at the three hundred failed mixtures.
Her proportions were correct. Her technique flawless. She had tested every combination and variation she could think of.
So where had the process gone wrong?
She opened her personal information panel again, staring at the words displayed there as if willing them to reveal a hidden clue. She read it once. Twice. Half a dozen times.
But personal information remained limited. No matter how intently she scrutinized it, no new data appeared.
With a sigh, she closed the interface and leaned heavily against the table, her weary eyes drifting to the notebook filled with recipes—every one of them crossed out with decisive lines.
"No… something's definitely wrong," she whispered. "But the preparations were correct. The proportions were normal. So what else could it be…?"
Her gaze slid to the list of ingredients written beside each formula.
Then her eyes froze.
"…Wait."
Her heartbeat quickened.
"Ingredients!"
She slammed open her personal information panel again, this time staring at a single letter she had always brushed past without thought.
E.
Her Talent was E-grade. Roy's Talent was E-grade. Rogers' Talent was also E-grade. Even the majority of Blue Star's population who had been forcibly transported here had awakened Talents—most of which were E-grade.
If she wanted to create a potion that elevated an E-grade Talent to D-grade…
Then the potion itself had to be at least D-grade.
How could she elevate Talent using ingredients that were only E-grade themselves?
She stared blankly for a moment before letting out a helpless, self-mocking laugh.
Of course. Of course she had made such a fundamental mistake.
She had been trying to break the ceiling using materials that had never even touched that ceiling.
But—
She froze.
"…I don't have any D-grade ingredients."
Even Roy, with his wide network, probably didn't.
D-grade ingredients had never appeared in the entire Forgotten Forest. Even if they had, no ordinary person could obtain them at this stage.
Unless—
Arya's eyes widened. A memory flashed.
Natasha.
No—not Natasha directly, but something Natasha had given her.
Arya hurried to the storage room and pulled out a small wooden box. Inside lay the Volcanic Worm Natasha had gifted her earlier.
A genuine D-grade, mental-type monster.
It was the perfect ingredient.
Unfortunately, it was also the only one she had.
Still, one was enough to attempt a breakthrough.
After confirming Roy had no D-grade materials, and Natasha likewise had none to spare, Arya accepted reality. This single Volcanic Worm was her only chance.
She carefully placed it onto her Alchemy Workshop table.
"Then I'll just have to succeed on the first try," she murmured.
She began dissecting the Volcanic Worm with careful precision. The creature was not large, but every part of it was valuable. She spent half an hour extracting the crystal core and preserving its internal fluids.
Fortunately, the crystal core was still intact. That alone made this entire experiment possible.
After pulverizing the D-grade crystal core into fine powder, Arya pulled out her collection of glassware. Measuring cups, beakers, alcohol lamps, funnels—and at last, she assembled a crude but functional distillation apparatus.
With only one crystal core, she had to purify it flawlessly.
Once the setup was complete, she reviewed the next steps mentally. Then she selected the rarest E-grade auxiliary herbs she possessed and arranged them neatly beside her workstation.
Everything was ready.
Taking a deep breath, Arya lit the alcohol lamp.
Her real experiment—the true attempt at Talent enhancement—had finally begun.
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