The current state of the witches was different from when Arina's energy core had been destroyed in the past.

Back then, Arina’s energy core was shattered, but mana still remained within her body. In fact, it was the mana’s reverse flow that caused the problems.

Now, however, the witches had no mana left in their bodies—not even a trace.

“The heart engraved with the circle is still intact.”

This was a classic case of mana exhaustion.

“How could this happen?”

Even with my expertise in magical engineering, alchemy, and healing—all at MAX level—I couldn’t make sense of it.

Of course, magic and witchcraft often defy common sense and logic.

I kept an open mind as I examined the witches’ condition.

“It must have something to do with that…”

A certain restriction came to mind—one that bound Isabel and the witches.

A restriction that prohibited freely learning or teaching anything related to magic.

“This pandemic, the Bell Witch suspected of spreading it, the curse Northern witches have borne for generations, and now this collective mana exhaustion…”

The clues came together like pieces of a puzzle.

“The pandemic is the most urgent issue.”

For now, I had to deal with the problem in front of me.

“But I need the witches to stop the pandemic!”

First, I decided to address the witches’ immobility.

“You people just can’t stand to see money piling up.”

I frowned and called out to the staff nearby.

“Bring me a list of all the medicinal ingredients, alchemy materials, potions, mid-grade and higher mana stones, gold coins, and silver coins we have in the company. Right now!”

“Yes, sir!”

A member of the management team, a second son of a noble family, sprinted toward the office at my command.

“Manager Te!”

“Yes, my lord!”

As I hastily penned a letter, I called out to Theo.

“Deliver this message to Entir Bishop in the Empire immediately. If you pass it through Frostbite, you can use a winter hawk.”

The letter I had written was a purchase request, imploring Entir to procure the materials as quickly as possible, no matter the cost.

“Sir Carrot is on duty today; I’ll deliver it to him directly.”

“Thank you.”

Just as I was about to hand the letter to Theo, a hand intercepted it.

“I’ll personally deliver this.”

“Sir Balzac?”

“Count Arad Jin, you must head to the audience chamber immediately.”

The usually composed knight was unusually serious as he addressed me.

“Is the Grand Witch of Spring in the same condition?”

Sensing the gravity of the situation, I asked, and Balzac nodded in confirmation.

“What about Mary? How is she?”

“Mary…?”

“Yes, I sent her as my proxy to the audience meeting earlier.”

“Ah… Mary is fine. She’s currently attending to another matter.”

“She’s fine?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“It’s nothing.”

“So, Mary seems more like a sorceress than a witch right now.”

It appeared Mary was different from the other witches.

“Thank goodness.”

Relieved, I stood up abruptly.

“I need to stop by the First Factory.”

“For what purpose?”

“I need to make a cure.”

“A cure? For the pandemic?”

“No, the pandemic involves dark magic, which I can’t handle alone. The cure I’ll make is for the witches.”

“You’ve already found a solution?”

Balzac’s urgency softened into curiosity.

“Manager Te! Tell the staff to clear a production line at the First Factory for medicine manufacturing!”

Before answering Balzac, I gave new orders to Manager Te.

“Yes, sir! I’ll make sure they’re ready!”

With my mastery of arcane-punk technology from 100 years in the future, I could produce a low-grade mana potion even with the current infrastructure.

The issue, of course, was the exorbitant cost.

“If mana is depleted, you drink a mana potion.”

After issuing instructions to Theo, I turned to answer Balzac’s question.

“A mana potion?”

“Yes, a potion that replenishes mana.”

“Such a thing exists?”

“It’s a concept that alchemists have theorized for ages.”

“A golden miracle. Can you make it?”

“This will be my first time trying it.”

“I hope you succeed.”

“I will.”

“Of course! If anyone can do it, it’s you, Arad Jin!”

Crafting elixirs and golden chariots had already proven difficult to reproduce with the current resources. They required massive amounts of money and luck—on par with the United States’ Apollo program in the 1960s.

The mana potion I was about to make would be similar.

“Then, I’ll head to the First Factory.”

“I’ll escort you.”

“Sir Balzac, it would be better if you sent the letter first…”

“Ah! No worries about that!”

Balzac whistled sharply, summoning a winter hawk.

The hawk descended with a clear cry, and Balzac securely attached the letter to its leg.

“Deliver this safely! Understood?”

The hawk took off into the sky, and Balzac turned to me.

“Let’s go!”

“Yes.”

Together, we hurried to the First Factory.

Inside, the staff had already prepared the facilities according to my instructions.

Like a chef in a well-stocked kitchen, I dove into the alchemical process.

“Um… Lord Arad?”

“Yes, feel free to ask.”

As I worked, Balzac hesitated before speaking, his expression curious.

“If you can create a mana potion, can you also create gold?”

“I can create gold right now.”

“What!?”

“The problem is that it costs ten gold coins to make one.”

“Ah…”

Balzac’s expression shifted comically from astonishment to dismay.

“I’ll need to focus now.”

“Of course!”

Even as I concentrated on the intricate process, Balzac watched with a mix of awe and fascination.

Despite his curiosity, he refrained from asking more questions after his initial inquiry about gold.

“Hmm!?”

But even Balzac couldn’t remain silent when he noticed something.

“Are those high-grade mana stones being discarded?”

Unable to resist, he muttered the question aloud.

“Yes.”

Having just completed an important step, I nodded lightly.

“Expensive…”

“Yes, very.”

During the process, three high-grade mana stones lost their light.

Losing their light meant they had become nothing more than ordinary stones.

“Without mana engines, rubber, ether, or mithril containers, I have no choice but to grind down mana stones crudely.”

The blue liquid produced through this wasteful process amounted to only half a pint.

“For consuming three high-grade mana stones, the potion yield is pitifully low.”

Balzac grimaced at the result.

“The other ingredients don’t seem any less valuable.”

“That’s correct. It’s like alchemically producing gold—it’s an extravagant waste.”

“You mean like spending ten gold to make one?”

“…Yes.”

“Oh dear… Even if we solve the plague, this will be an issue.”

I shared his concern. I hadn’t expected the yield to be so small.

“Three high-grade mana stones for just 500ml of mid-to-low-grade mana potion… And that’s with my luck stat influencing the outcome?”

Even with the added luck stat, the result was disheartening.

“Making mana potions like this isn’t sustainable.”

As prepared as I was for the expense, the sheer cost was staggering. It felt like burning gold and my home just to drink a sip of soda.

“There’s no guarantee Entir will deliver what I requested safely.”

Pouring more resources into mana potions wasn’t feasible. High-grade mana stones could be scavenged from the North, but rare ingredients had to come through Entir, and the Empire wouldn’t let that slide.

“I’ll need to prepare alternatives to potions.”

I set up a separate line with leaves, paper, mid-grade mana stone powder, and other ingredients.

“To think I’d have to use this now… I was saving it for a crucial moment.”

This was a secret technique I had intended to use when pushing the witches to their limits.

But now, I had no choice but to bring out the trump card.

***

The Audience Hall of the High Fortress.

Isabel, in her 240 years of life, was now enjoying a rare luxury.

“You’re fine. Just relax, old lady.”

It was the luxury of receiving a massage directly from Arina, the Grand Duchess of the North.

“…”

Unable to speak due to mana exhaustion, Isabel could only smile faintly at her benevolent ruler.

‘What kind of lineage produces someone this kind and noble…’

A unique sense of pride bloomed in her heart, a pride only she could understand.

‘Whose lineage? Mine and Rune Renslet’s, of course. Hohoho…’

The North was perilous, and the situation with the witches was dire.

Yet, Isabel found herself neither sad nor lonely.

Because before her stood Arina.

“Your Highness! My apologies for the delay! I’ve brought Lord Arad!”

And there was the reliable young knight, Balzac.

“Grandma! Lord Arad!”

“My apologies for being late, Your Highness!”

And now, the Northern wizard who seemed capable of solving any crisis.

Arad Jin had arrived.

“Pardon me, Isabel.”

Upon entering the audience hall, Arad carefully retrieved a transparent vial filled with a blue liquid from his bag.

‘Mana…?’

The moment she saw it, Isabel instinctively knew what the blue liquid in the vial was.

“Good thing I decided to make the syringe as soon as I heard the rumors about the pandemic.”

Muttering to himself, Arad dipped an unusual object into the vial.

It was a small cylindrical tube the size of two fingers, crafted from silver, with a thick needle attached to one end.

“This will hurt a little.”

Tock tock tock.

Arad swiftly rolled up Isabel’s left sleeve and plunged the needle into her vein.

Too drained from mana exhaustion to react, Isabel simply watched his actions with a blank stare.

“The needle has an incredibly fine hole, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed. To craft something that precise… It’s astonishing craftsmanship.”

“Is he injecting the mana potion directly through the needle?”

“Directly into the bloodstream… I’ve never seen such a method before.”

“His reputation for expertise in healing arts wasn’t exaggerated…”

Arina and Balzac observed Arad’s treatment with curious, almost childlike eyes.

The results appeared in less than five minutes.

Isabel began to feel her mana replenishing, about 30% of its total capacity, allowing her to move her body.

“How is this possible…?!”

Her astonished eyes darted to Arad.

“Well then, will you explain everything to me now?”

Facing her shock, Arad, in his usual brusque manner, demanded answers.

“Explain? You mean, Lord Arad?”

“Yes, the full circumstances of what led to this situation.”

“Explain… I would like to, Lord Arad. But the curse makes it impossible.”

“Is the curse responsible for stealing your mana?”

“That’s correct.”

“Then what about now? You haven’t violated the curse, have you?”

“This is…”

Isabel trailed off, unable to finish her sentence.

“Let me rephrase. What happens if you violate the curse in your current state? For example, if you were to continue speaking about matters related to the curse?”

“The mana I just replenished would begin to drain again.”

“All at once, like before?”

“No, that was an exception… It would gradually but rapidly deplete.”

Even saying this much caused sweat to bead on Isabel’s forehead.

“If mana exhaustion repeats, I won’t be able to use magic ever again.”

“I’m aware. For those who have learned magic, it’s a punishment worse than death.”

“That’s correct, Lord Arad.”

Arad’s eyes gleamed at her confirmation.

“So, you’re saying that as long as we continuously replenish mana, I can hear the truth from you.”

“In theory, yes. But as someone who just experienced the mana potion firsthand, I can tell… It’s incredibly costly to produce and very limited in quantity.”

“That is the case with mana potions.”

Arad, seemingly unbothered by her words, reached into his bag and pulled out another item.