Chapter 65
Living every day in fear of when the next region might open was truly exhausting.
It felt as though something unseen was constantly chasing me.
At least, the work of attaching magical effects to the accessories I had completed went quite well.
Not every accessory gained the same magic—only the earrings and two rings ended up with effects that reduced mana consumption.
The bracelet, on the other hand, received an enchantment that boosted mana recovery speed.
Either way, it all helped reduce the number of mana potions I needed to consume, so I decided to use them as they were.
The problem was with the rest of the accessories.
Some of the extra rings I’d crafted in various sizes boosted healing magic or increased offensive magic power—those would be perfect for the twins.
But the real issue was with the items that had completely irrelevant magic effects.
I couldn’t give them to my party members, nor could I sell them off.
They had become… well, useless trinkets—too valuable to discard, but not worth keeping.
And the reason was this:
[Green Onyx Silver Accessory Set Effect]
Mana Consumption -30%
Because I’d designed them with a matching look and set bonus in mind, they now triggered a set effect.
And not just a tiny reduction—it decreased mana consumption by a whopping 30%!
So of course I couldn’t just give up even a single piece—the necklace, the hairpin, any of them.
But wearing items with random, mismatched magic effects just to keep the set bonus felt wasteful, too.
While I was stuck fretting over this dilemma, Faber offered me a brilliant solution.
“A magic-effect remover? That’s a thing…?”
It was an item that could erase an existing magical effect, allowing me to enchant the accessory anew.
“Yes. Though, the more you repeat the process, the more materials it’ll take. So you can’t just keep trying infinitely until you get what you want.”
“Still, just having another chance sounds amazing!”
I had been worried that I’d be stuck using my hard-crafted accessories in a half-finished state, so hearing that it was possible lifted my spirits.
Still, I couldn’t help feeling a little wronged.
‘Seriously, if I had to get stuck inside a game, why couldn’t it have been one I was actually good at?!’
In Edaphosia, players never had to do manual enchantments.
So-Hyun had always handed me perfectly enchanted items already, so there was no reason for me to know how the process even worked.
How could I possibly have known there was a system for erasing and reapplying enchantments?
I didn’t even know how the game’s story ended!
Anyway, the next step was clear—I needed to visit the apothecary.
As soon as I entered, the familiar smell of herbs stung my nose.
The shopkeeper looked the same as ever—Dioscorides, with his messy hair and sleepy eyes, greeted me lazily.
“Welcome. What brings you here today?”
“Ah, I need to make some magic-effect remover.”
As I explained my request, he blinked slowly and sank into thought—like watching a sloth move in slow motion.
“That… requires rare ingredients. Hard to get.”
Finally, he spoke.
Of course. I sighed internally. Nothing was ever simple.
“What kind of ingredients?”
I asked nervously. If it was something that would take forever to find, I might as well just stick with the imperfect accessories and live with it.
“You’ll need a substance with high mana conductivity. Like… gemstone dust, for example.”
At those words, my eyes lit up.
Gemstone dust?
I had plenty of that in my inventory!
Just yesterday, I had collected all the leftover powder from polishing gems and sealed it in a pouch.
“I—I have gemstone dust!”
Beaming, I pulled out a small pouch of green onyx powder from my inventory.
Dioscorides’s half-lidded eyes widened a fraction.
“…What is that subspace of yours? A magic bag? I’m curious what you don’t have in there. Makes me want one.”
A magic bag, really?
That was such a middle-aged expression. But since the apothecary’s owner was an actual middle-aged man, I didn’t argue.
And, honestly, he wasn’t wrong—there were quite a few valuable things in there.
“Anyway, if you’ve got the gemstone dust, the rest will be easy. I can make it quickly.”
He finished speaking with a faintly covetous look, still clearly thinking about my inventory.
Just as he said, the actual process of making the magic-effect remover wasn’t difficult.
Probably because it wasn’t something to be ingested.
With HP or MP potions—or water-breathing elixirs—I had to be careful.
One wrong move, and I could end up brewing poison instead.
But this? This wasn’t something anyone was drinking.
Even if I botched it, the worst outcome would just be that it didn’t work properly.
“Yes! Done!”
I lifted the completed potion toward the light, smiling proudly.
The blue liquid shimmered beautifully, flecks of gemstone dust swirling within.
“That should work fine,” Dioscorides mumbled behind me. “The higher the gemstone’s mana conductivity, the better the result, though.”
So basically—the more expensive the gem dust, the more effective the potion.
In other words: diamonds.
Diamonds, diamonds, and more diamonds.
‘Ugh, damn this capitalist world!’
I trembled with indignation.
You needed gems to add magical effects.
You needed gem dust to remove them.
What next—using rubies to pay for breakfast?!
Back when I was just playing the game behind a screen, I never thought twice about it.
In most games, gems were just standard crafting materials.
Even making a pickaxe out of diamonds didn’t faze me then.
But now, actually living inside the game world and burning through precious jewels like this?
It was absurd.
I hadn’t been isekai’d into a fancy romance novel, dripping in jewelry at some grand ball.
No—I was trudging through monster-infested dungeons, fighting for my life while covered in expensive accessories.
Truly, what a tragic fate.
Anyway, with the potion complete, I returned to the magic workshop.
I took the necklace I’d crafted from the gems I’d mined and polished myself, then poured the potion over it.
A sharp hissss erupted, followed by a menacing cloud of smoke.
“Uh—uhhh… Is that supposed to happen? It’s not going to damage the necklace, right?”
“It’s fine! Don’t worry. That’s a normal reaction. The necklace will be perfectly unharmed.”
Unlike me, who was panicking at the sight, Faber remained calm and steady.
And sure enough, after a moment, the smoke cleared—leaving the necklace intact and unblemished.
‘Phew… scared myself for nothing.’
I sighed with relief, running a hand over my chest.
Still, the sound and smoke were very unsettling—anyone would’ve panicked their first time seeing that.
After a few more successful attempts, I finally completed it:
a set of accessories that reduced mana consumption by 50%!
Plus, they boosted mana recovery.
Now I could sustain my magic for much longer with far fewer potions.
It was a massive improvement—enough to make me proud of myself.
With the biggest hurdle for the next region cleared, I couldn’t help but stand a little taller.
Now, what next?
‘Well, now that the items are done, it’s time to test them.’
I needed to check their performance anyway—and level up for the upcoming area.
And this would also be a good chance to make up with my teammates, who’d been sulking since I ran battle simulations without them last time.
Three birds with one stone!
Perfect plan.
So, I decided to run another dungeon simulation.
I rushed to the training ground and asked my teammates, who were mid-practice, if they wanted to join.
They eagerly agreed—after all, everyone had been itching for a proper fight.
Thanks to that, we were able to enter the dungeon without delay.
Except… there was one small problem.
“Ohh, that battle simulation from before! I’d like to come along this time!”
“…It was fun, wasn’t it? I can’t just let the kids go alone—this Lady Johanna shall accompany you personally.”
The instructors wanted to join too.
‘Wait, that’s a problem. The dungeon only allows up to four people…’
I stared at the two instructors awkwardly.
Our party was already full: Darren the tank, Leo the healer, and Rena and I as the DPS.
If Johanna and Craig joined too, that’d make six people—two over the limit.
But how was I supposed to explain that?
I couldn’t just say, “Uh, sorry, the party’s full.”
I’d have to explain the entire game system first—starting with:
“Actually, I’m from another world, and this one’s basically a video game where dungeons only allow four players…”
Yeah. Not happening.
‘Forget it. Let’s just go and see what happens.’
If we were over the limit, maybe an alarm would sound or something—like when an elevator exceeds capacity.
With that reckless hope, I stepped toward the simulation console.
