"Mmm…"
Arya, who had been on the verge of offering to sell information, suddenly covered her mouth.
The moment she swallowed the forty-second vial, she finally couldn't take it anymore.
Good heavens.
She hadn't eaten breakfast. In fact, she hadn't eaten anything at all. Since waking up, she had done nothing but drink potion after potion.
People often assumed that drinking potions was easy.
It wasn't.
Each vial only contained about ten milliliters, true—but after consuming more than forty in one go, the total volume was already comparable to more than half a bottle of mineral water. Worse still, potions all carried a faint bitterness and a lingering metallic taste. Drinking them nonstop without food was torture.
Arya leaned back, took a slow breath, and decided she desperately needed something solid—and something that didn't taste like alchemical residue.
She immediately opened her contact panel and sent a message to Rogers.
Only then did she notice that all three of her friends had already messaged her.
At a time like this, survival, strategy, and information could wait. Eating was the most important thing in the world.
Rogers: "Big shot, you finally replied. I thought something had happened to you."
The response came instantly, as if Rogers had been staring at the chat window the entire time.
Arya: "I was too busy yesterday and fell asleep right away. I'm starving now."
Rogers: "That's normal. Anyone who can make that kind of potion would be busy. I'll go prepare food for you and Roy."
Arya: "Okay. Thank you."
Rogers: "Don't mention it. If it weren't for the Magic Potion you made, I'd probably already be dead."
With that, Rogers logged off to prepare the food.
Arya leaned back against the wall of her shelter, using the brief pause to finally take stock of the outside world.
The changes were impossible to ignore.
Both the world channel and the regional channel looked completely different from before.
The most striking change wasn't the messages—it was the number at the top of the interface.
World Population: 18,051,642,519 / 22,658,443,985
In other words, more than four billion people had died across the entire Mana Tide world.
Was it tragic?
Of course it was.
The number was horrifying by any standard—over a billion deaths per day. Even imagining it made Arya's chest feel heavy.
And yet…
Eighteen billion survivors.
Under circumstances this brutal, this chaotic, this unforgiving, the fact that so many people were still alive felt almost unreal.
In Arya's mind, if ten billion people had survived, it would already have been considered a miracle.
After all, not everyone could be like her—someone capable of mass-producing Magic Potions to replenish mana and stamina. Most people had to rely on luck, limited resources, and raw endurance.
She couldn't help but wonder how the rest had managed it.
Materials? Stockpiles? Did everyone somehow possess hundreds of thousands of units of resources?
She didn't know.
And ultimately, she didn't dwell on it. Other people's survival methods were their own business.
When she switched her attention to District 666, however, the situation was far more grim.
From the initial few thousand people, only 132 remained.
And even that number existed thanks to the combined efforts of Arya, Roy, and a handful of others. Without them, the district might not have even maintained a three-digit survivor count.
She scrolled through the recent chat history.
The messages were… exactly what she expected from District 666.
"It's over! The Mana Tide is finally over!"
"I've been locked in my shelter for three days straight. I'm going hunting right now!"
"You still have energy? I barely slept seventeen hours total these past three days."
"You're brave to sleep at all under these conditions."
"I slept in short bursts."
"Hahahaha! I survived! I'm still alive! Xin Tianle, you Silla slave, just wait—I'll hunt you down myself!"
"Wait, someone actually survived after being schemed against by Xin Tianle?"
"How are you the only one left? Didn't you say your group ran out of supplies?"
"Don't you know? Corpses contain magic power too."
"Holy hell, that's ruthless."
"Why didn't I think of that?"
"…Isn't that common knowledge? That's how I survived too."
"Well damn. Looks like there are experts among us."
"So after fighting for a month straight, can we officially call ourselves Karim people now?"
Arya's lips twitched.
If the first person had been forced into it because Xin Tianle had deliberately tricked them out of supplies, the second was simply indulging in slaughter.
Though… given this was District 666, it somehow fit.
As for the last message, uncomfortable as it was, it wasn't entirely wrong.
According to the Karim World's Will, the maximum attribute value for a Blue Star human was only ten points.
And when Arya had chatted with Natasha—a pure combat-oriented survivor—she had learned something important.
Each level-up only granted one attribute point.
That meant the world title Arya had obtained, which granted ten points to all attributes, was effectively equivalent to leveling up forty times.
From that perspective, the difference between Blue Star humans and the natives of the Karim continent became obvious.
It wasn't talent alone.
It was their environment—an environment that forged stronger bodies and higher limits from birth.
Just then, Rogers arrived with the food.
The warm aroma instantly made Arya's stomach growl.
She began eating without ceremony, simultaneously opening a group chat with Rogers, Natasha, and Roy.
Natasha didn't say much.
She didn't even ask about the Talent Potion—something Rogers was clearly dying to know more about.
Instead, Natasha only asked about the world title.
Roy, on the other hand, wasted no time.
The moment he joined the chat, questions flooded in.
Potions. Titles. Crafting. Selling. Profit margins.
Anything even remotely related to making money.
Arya didn't dislike it.
She preferred straightforward people.
Even if calculations existed between them, they stayed within clearly defined boundaries.
Arya: "Do you want information about some of the benefits of the title?"
Roy: "Yes. Name your price."
Arya: "But you still owe quite a few promises."
Roy: "…That's hard to argue with. Tell me what you need."
On his side, Roy scratched his head, helpless.
There was no helping it. Life was life.
Between the potions Arya had provided and the opportunities she'd created, his debt had already piled up so high he didn't even know where to begin repaying it.
He'd considered using base units—he had plenty of those—but everything had happened too suddenly. Neither of them had clarified the exact form of payment.
Still, information about the title was invaluable.
So anxiety crept in.
In business, promises weren't jokes. As long as he was alive, any debt he acknowledged had to be repaid.
Arya: "Nothing for now. After all, I've already successfully made the Talent Potion."
Roy: "Alright."
Arya: "Don't be discouraged, Old Roy. I'll give you the information. You helped me a lot while I was researching the Talent Potion. We can discuss compensation later."
Roy frowned deeply as he read her message.
What was the hardest thing to repay in this world?
A favor.
Arya's words made her intentions clear. She wanted him to owe her.
He knew it.
And yet, he couldn't refuse.
Especially since she was the only person among billions who possessed a world title.
Even though the world will had explained how titles were earned, no one truly understood what "Contribution" meant.
Could everyone be expected to study, research, and craft like Arya?
If that were the case, the standard was absurdly narrow.
Roy sighed and finally typed three words.
Roy: "No problem."
Arya: "All attributes increase by ten points, and two related professional knowledge levels increase by one."
…
Roy completely broke down.
Seriously?
Did he really have to read books?
Was that favor just going to vanish into thin air?
No—wait.
At the very least, the attribute boost alone proved this wasn't that simple. For a Blue Star human capped at ten points, gaining that much instantly transformed someone into a superhuman.
Arya didn't care what Roy was thinking.
She picked up another potion, tilted her head back, and drank it in one go.
She had already made up her mind.
From now on, Talent Potions were just juice.
Whether they worked or not?
That was up to fate.
Ding.
[Your Talent level has increased.]
Arya froze.
"…?"
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