"Achoo—!"
A sharp sneeze echoed through the Alchemy Workshop as Arya slowly woke from her daze.
She had been roused by the cold—and by a strangely heavy pressure on her chest.
Instinctively, the first thing she did was look down. Her chest felt tight and oddly constricted, and when she lowered her gaze, she found Gang Emima curled up right on top of her, fast asleep with its tiny eyes narrowed in contentment.
Well… no wonder she felt suffocated.
Having a pound-plus owl pressed against her chest would do that to anyone.
Muttering under her breath, Arya cast a Light Body Technique to steady herself and carefully rose to her feet, one hand gently supporting the small creature perched on her. As she floated upward, the towel that had been covering her abdomen slid to the ground.
She blinked.
"…You little sweetheart."
Somehow, the tiny owl had thoughtfully placed it over her earlier. Despite its usual mischief, moments like this made her heart soften.
Arya picked up Gang Emima and set the fluffy creature on her head.
Wait.
How long had she been asleep?
And more importantly—
What about the Magic Barrier?
Still foggy from exhaustion, Arya hurried out of the workshop. The sunlight pouring through the window met her eyes the instant she opened the door.
Sunlight?
Did the Mana Tide end while she was unconscious?
She turned back toward the room. The symbols that had been flashing nonstop were now dim and quiet, just as they were before the Mana Tide had begun.
Only then did Arya fully realize it really had ended during her sleep.
But even so, she needed to check the core on the third floor. Ending the Mana Tide didn't mean she could ignore maintenance.
When she ascended the tower and inspected the core, the numbers flickered:
2546 / 30000.
Over two thousand minutes remained—and crucially, the core was still recovering strength at one point per minute.
Relief washed through her.
To be safe, she poured the rest of the prepared Magic Potion into the core. She always felt most secure when the Magic Barrier brimmed at full capacity.
Afterward, she went downstairs and began tidying up the cauldrons scattered throughout the workshop.
That was when Gang Emima slowly stirred.
"Chirp, chirp, chirp!"
The little creature hopped excitedly, flapping its not-yet-functional wings atop Arya's head. The owl had been frightened earlier when Arya collapsed suddenly; now that she was awake and talking, it finally relaxed.
She was alive, conscious, and functioning—
which meant the world was safe…
and more importantly, its three daily barbecued snacks were safe.
"Oh, you're awake, little one? Hungry?" Arya asked, smiling tiredly. "I'm starving too. Let's go find Rogers and ask what he's got for breakfast."
She placed the cauldron aside and held Gang Emima up to eye level.
"You might not believe this, but I had a strange dream," she said, rubbing her temples. "I dreamed I invented a ridiculously powerful Magic Potion—one that could improve a person's Talent. I even got some grand recognition from the world will. Absurd, right? Why would I dream of something like that? Am I so dissatisfied with my Talent already? Humans really are insatiable."
Her voice trailed off. It was obvious the lack of sleep had scrambled her thinking.
Gang Emima stared at Arya with wise, almost pitying eyes—like a teacher looking at a particularly slow student. It was practically radiating the sentiment: My master may be brilliant, but she is also very, very silly.
Arya returned to her first-floor workspace, sat at her Magic Desk, and suddenly froze.
Because right there…
was the message she thought she had seen in her "dream."
"…So it was real?"
In a flash, she darted back into the Alchemy Workshop. She yanked open the door, eyes locked onto the crucible containing a swirling, rainbow-colored potion that had already cooled.
Floating closer, she mumbled under her breath, recalling the frantic, sleepless state she had been in before collapsing.
"It really… happened."
Her memory finally aligned with reality. With a wry smile, she resumed processing the potion—because even though it had cooled, the dregs still needed to be handled.
She scooped out the residue with a slotted spoon, drained excess liquid, re-settled the mixture, filtered everything, and finally began bottling it.
By the time she finished sealing all two hundred bottles of the Talent Promotion Magic Potion, she exhaled deeply, shoulders relaxing.
Then she eagerly grabbed a bottle and downed it.
The taste was… strange. Like several concentrated fruit juices mixed together in a way no sane person would attempt. But her body didn't react at all.
That wasn't surprising.
A 5% success rate meant almost nothing in practical terms. There was no way she would awaken new Talent effects with her very first dose.
So she kept drinking—bottle after bottle—while checking her personal status.
Individual Name: Arya
Race: Blue Star Human
Title: Witch of the Tower
Level: 1
Strength: 12 (+32)
Agility: 11
Stamina: 12
Spirit: 18
(Peak value for ordinary Blue Star humans is 10.)
Health: 120
Mana: 180
Talent: Light Body Technique (E)
Magic Skills: Gathering Art (E)
Knowledge Skills:
Herbalism (E), Alchemy (D), Symbolism (E), Cartography (E), Potionology (D),
Magic Circuitry (E), Demonology (E), Mineralogy (E), Mechanical Engineering (E),
Materials Science (E)
(Personal information can also be checked through the activated tattoo in the Shelter.)
Arya nearly dropped the bottle she was holding.
Her stats—her core attributes—had skyrocketed.
And not just that—two of her knowledge skills had also advanced.
She immediately opened the "Title" section—something she hadn't possessed before, yet now appeared in her interface.
[Witch of the Tower]
Effect:
• All attributes +10
• Potionology +1
• Alchemy +1
Function:
• Greatly improves comprehension of all alchemical disciplines.
Introduction:
Stars explode into gold dust in her crucible, moonlight is forged into chains that bind the river of time;
sulfur and roses dance together at the tower's peak, each petal carrying the curses of forgotten civilizations.
When the winds of the Seventh Era shatter the ancient bronze door, faded star maps ignite once more within her eyes.
The bones of heroes transform into alchemical foundations, scepters and crowns melt into twilight glass in her flasks.
The tower devours a thousand years of moonlight to grow, its spire piercing the heavens as emerald thunder erupts from its tip.
Stardust burns on her fingertips, severing the threads of fate;
every epic in history is but a signature at the bottom of her crucible.
"Wow. That's… dramatic."
Arya touched her face in embarrassment. The poetic description felt overly flattering—like something straight out of a legendary epic rather than her current, sleep-deprived reality. But she couldn't help feeling a hint of pride as well.
After all, she had poured countless hours into her research.
Perhaps this was the equivalent exchange mentioned in Albert's notes—
the idea that Alchemy always rewards genuine effort.
The title's effects were also astonishing.
Her attributes had increased by the strength equivalent to an entire person, and both Potionology and Alchemy had risen.
And the comprehension boost would be invaluable for future breakthroughs.
But looking at her current stats, Arya couldn't help wondering—
Was she even still considered human?
Compared to the standard peak of normal humans, she no longer fit the category at all.
She leaned back, thinking of something amusing.
"This information might be worth something," she mused aloud. "I should ask Roy later if he wants to buy it."
Gang Emima chirped again, hopping proudly on her shoulder as if it deserved half the credit.
Arya laughed softly.
The Witch of the Tower had awakened—and her journey had only just begun.
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