Although these herbs were all classified as materials used for Alchemy, Arya did not actually know their specific medicinal properties.
Unlike E-grade herbs, which were clearly labeled with their intended uses, these D-grade herbs came with no such convenience. There were no notes indicating which potion they belonged to, nor any guidance regarding dosage or compatibility. Even the appraisal interface on the small screen offered no real help. The description section merely displayed a vague line:
"Perhaps it can be used for potion making."
That was all.
As a result, Arya had no shortcuts to rely on. The only option left to her was experimentation—testing each herb one by one, recording the results, and gradually piecing together their effects.
It was an exhausting approach, one that demanded both time and patience. Worse still, this kind of foundational research could not be rushed. There were no tricks, no sudden breakthroughs. Every detail had to be verified through repeated trials.
But despite the difficulty, there was no alternative.
Most of the knowledge she needed now formed the very foundation of potion-making. If she wanted to progress further, she had to build that foundation with her own hands.
Thus, on the second day, Arya officially began her research.
She set up the slate and enamel soup pot she had ordered earlier from Natasha, arranging them neatly on her worktable. As before, she adopted the most reliable method available to her—the exhaustive method. Every reaction, every change in color or temperature, and every failed attempt was carefully recorded.
Time passed quickly.
Four days later, Arya finally succeeded.
Through countless experiments and meticulous documentation, she managed to determine the medicinal properties and optimal proportions of more than a dozen D-grade herbs.
Four days.
It sounded like a long time, but in truth, everything had gone remarkably smoothly.
To be honest, Arya had never come from a medical family back on Blue Star. She had no prior training in pharmacology, herbal medicine, or chemistry. Before entering this world, she had possessed no related knowledge worth mentioning.
And yet, her progress felt almost unnatural.
The reason was simple.
After both her Alchemy and Potionology skills reached D-grade, her understanding of potions had undergone a qualitative change. Concepts that once felt obscure now seemed straightforward. Books that would have taken her hours to decipher before were now easy to read.
More importantly, she found herself capable of inference—drawing conclusions from limited information, connecting ideas intuitively, and extrapolating results from previous experiments.
It was as if her intellectual horizons had suddenly expanded.
Because of this, Arya did not feel exhausted during her research at all. On the contrary, she found the entire process strangely enjoyable. Every day, she worked while humming softly to herself, completely absorbed in her experiments.
Of course, research was not the only thing occupying her time.
Almost every day, Roy sent her additional herb samples. And without exception, they were all D-grade.
This alone was enough to lift Arya's spirits.
After all, the greater the variety of samples, the more combinations she could test. And the more combinations she tested, the higher her chances of successfully refining both D-grade Magic Potions and Healing Potions.
Originally, Arya had intended to make the Talent Potion her primary product.
However, due to its inherent limitations—both in terms of usability and market demand—she had no choice but to shift her focus. In the end, she decided to concentrate on Magic Potions and Healing Potions instead.
Fortunately, effort was not wasted.
When the second Mana Tide arrived, Arya finally achieved her breakthrough.
She successfully refined the formula for the Beginner Magic Potion.
[Beginner Magic Potion (D)]
Effect: Restores 10 Mana per second for 10 seconds.
Description: A decent beginner-level potion that rapidly restores Mana.
Holding the light-blue potion in her hand, Arya adjusted her glasses and studied it quietly.
She had brewed this potion herself. She knew every step of the process, every herb that went into it.
And yet… something felt off.
She placed the potion on the table and glanced at the notebook beside it. Then she picked up the potion again, comparing it to her notes. Back and forth, her gaze shifted between the two.
No matter how many times she checked, she could not immediately identify what bothered her.
After a moment of hesitation, Arya pulled out another notebook—an old-fashioned one bound in cowhide.
She had bought this notebook specifically for this purpose.
As a self-proclaimed student of Albert, and as the creator of both the Light Potion and the Talent Potion, she felt it was only appropriate to keep her own formal research journal.
Something like "Arya's Alchemy Notes."
However, just as she picked up her charcoal pencil, her hand froze.
Her eyes widened slightly.
In a sudden flash of inspiration, Arya grabbed the Beginner Magic Potion again and examined it more carefully.
She finally understood what felt wrong.
Apprentice-level potions restored 50 Mana.
Beginner-level potions restored 100 Mana.
That was a full doubling.
Because of her title, Witch of the High Tower, her Spirit attribute had already reached 18, and her total Mana had soared to 180.
For her, two Beginner Magic Potions were sufficient.
But what about everyone else?
What about those without titles?
Most people capped at 10 Spirit, meaning their maximum Mana was only 100.
In that case, a single potion would fully restore their Mana in ten seconds.
Which meant—
One potion was already more than enough.
In other words, it overflowed.
If she pushed herself further and managed to create a C-grade Magic Potion, the restoration would likely double again—to 200 Mana.
At that point, who would even use it for normal recovery?
No one would drink something so extravagant unless they were desperately countering a Mana Tide.
Such potions would have virtually no everyday market value.
They could still serve as emergency reserves, of course. But as consumables? No one in their right mind would casually use them.
After thinking this through, Arya slowly put down the charcoal pencil. She rubbed the black dust off her fingers and began dividing the finished potions into batches.
She had no intention of selling this batch.
Instead, she planned to store them.
Based on her calculations, she needed to reserve around 2,600 bottles to safely prepare for the next Mana Tide.
Even the defective potions—the ones that only restored around 70 Mana—were kept aside. She had brewed those using several other soup pots, and she had no plans to sell them yet.
After all, Roy still owed her a considerable amount.
And more importantly, potions would be far more valuable during a Mana Tide than they were now.
Once she finished organizing everything, Arya went to find Roy.
This time, she was not there to sell.
She was there to buy.
With such a large stockpile of potions, storage had become a serious issue. At the moment, she only had a little over a thousand empty test tubes.
That was far from enough.
"How many test tubes do you still have?" Arya asked.
Roy replied, "There are still more than a thousand being cleaned."
"Then send them to me once they're ready."
"No problem," Roy said. Then he paused. "But there's something you should know."
"What is it?"
"From now on, it's going to be hard for us to acquire test tubes in large quantities."
Arya frowned. "Why?"
"Did you forget?" Roy said. "There are no more supply chests."
For a moment, Arya was silent.
Then realization struck.
All of their test tubes—every single one—had come from supply chests.
Now the chests were gone.
They no longer refreshed.
The test tubes were nearly used up.
And suddenly, storage containers became a critical issue.
Still, if the potions were not meant for immediate consumption and were merely being stored, the requirements were not as strict.
After a brief pause, Arya said, "Then give me another hundred soup pots."
Roy sighed softly. "I still have some, but they're becoming harder to get. People aren't selling items from chests anymore."
"You know why," he added.
Arya sighed as well.
Of course she knew.
Before, when chests refreshed regularly and everyone could find two or three per day, people treated their contents casually. If they could sell something, they sold it.
But now?
With the chests gone for good, every item from them had become precious.
It was no longer about money.
These were daily necessities—true products of civilization.
No one wanted to let them go.
"Achoo!"
Arya suddenly sneezed.
She rubbed her nose and frowned slightly. "Why does it suddenly feel so cold?"
Muttering to herself, she turned her gaze toward the window.
Something about the air felt different.
And for reasons she couldn't yet explain, a faint sense of unease crept into her heart.
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