NOVEL WEB 13. Knowledge is Power
One week later:
Constantine sat cross-legged on his simple bed, a subtle glow emanating from the mana within him. Beads of sweat formed on his brow as the inner heat intensified, as if a small sun blazed within him, incinerating the impurities. He exhaled slowly, the tension draining from his muscles. When he opened his eyes, they were clear and sharp, and his skin tinged with a healthy tone that hadn't been there before.
Preferring concrete values over vague feelings, he immediately commanded, ‘Implant, show me my current mana statistics.’
<<------------>>
Current amount: 0.123
Maximal capacity: 0.124
Energy concentration: 0.91
<<------------>>
He briefly reviewed the numbers and nodded. There was steady, albeit slow, growth. Just as he had expected.
‘Time to move on.’ It had been a week since he arrived in the village, yet, due to his exhaustion—both mental and physical—he hadn’t done any studying. Instead, he spent the previous days resting, making his house livable, and purifying his body.
Standing up, he stretched his legs and arms, enjoying the sensation with a smile on his face. All his worries were gone; the tranquility of the village brought him long-needed peace.
Exiting his house, he pondered, ‘Experiments with monster cores should be my priority.’ His legs itched with impatience as he increased his pace. The houses on the horizon quickly drew closer. The villagers toiled in the fields around the road he walked, and the children played just as they had on the day he arrived. Time in the village seemed to stand still. He walked straight into the village, receiving a couple of cursory glances.
Reaching the third house from the entrance, its walls a bit more solid and its size larger than the others, he knocked. He waited, impatiently drumming his feet against the dusty road. Eventually, with a squeak, the doors opened, and an elderly woman peeked through the gap.
“Ah, Constantine, you again? Did my pain remedy not work, or do you need more?” she spoke, her tone calming and soothing.
“No, auntie, this time I need something more specific.”
“Come in, then.” She stepped aside, opening the doors wider. Slipping inside, Constantine inhaled the refreshing smell of herbs, which soothed his mind. With wide eyes, he absorbed his surroundings. He noted the various mortars and porcelain bowls scattered across the tables. Drying herbs hung from the ceiling, gently swaying in the draft.
“Shalvia and Thymus are out harvesting herbs if you are looking for them.”
Constantine cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, glancing around the herbalist's cluttered workshop. "Well, auntie, I need a strong medicine to put an animal into a deep sleep, paralyze it, or, even better, put it into a temporary coma."
The elderly woman pierced him with her toxic green eyes. He could see the suspicion in her gaze, so he continued, “Auntie, as you know, I was sent by my master to observe and record the local nature. And, I am afraid, I need to examine some animals alive.”
Her eyes didn’t leave him, pinning him to the floor. At last, she looked away. “Eight large coppers, and I warn you, if I see you doing anything suspicious, I will report you.”
He nodded and, reaching into his pouch, took out eight coins and placed them into the woman’s outstretched hand. He sighed, fully understanding her suspicion—he had arrived only recently and was asking for a drug that could easily be used for nefarious purposes.
‘Such a shame that the old man had no books on herbology.’ Using his implant, he has scanned a large portion of his former teacher’s library, saving its contents. But even with his implant, he couldn’t devise any medicine or drugs without knowing the effects of local herbs. He was forced to utilize the services of the village's herbalist. A woman who, he had to admit, knew her stuff.
“It will be ready by the evening. Now, hush, let me work.” The herbalist waved him away, motioning toward the doors. Just as he turned to leave, the doors opened, and two children rushed in: one boy and one girl, twins, sharing their black hair and toxic green eyes with the woman.
“Uncle Constantine, are you an addict?” The girl asked innocently, yet Constantine could see the taunting smirk on her face. The corner of his mouth slightly twitched.
“You must be; otherwise, you wouldn’t be visiting so often!” The boy chimed in, making Constantine frown.
The old herbalist glared at them threateningly. “Shalvia, Thymus! What did I teach you?”
“We are sorry, Uncle Constantine.” The two children responded in sync. Constantine just nodded and stepped out of the house, refreshed by the wave of fresh air. The stench of herbs, albeit initially refreshing, quickly became headache-inducing.
‘Those two brats.’ He knew very well that beneath their innocence, their teasing was intentional and that they enjoyed it. Albeit, it wasn’t like he would beat up some children over a bit of teasing, even if he could get away with it.
Two hours later:
Under the rays of light filtering through the thick canopy above his head, Constantine cautiously raised his bow. Stilling his breath, he aligned the trajectory with the tiny, horned rabbit chewing on the herbs peeking through the dry leaves.
With a snap and a whistle, he released the bowstring, the arrow hurling toward the small animal. The rabbit’s ears twitched, and the arrow pierced its chest. It collapsed into the dried leaves, its front leg twitching one last time.
‘I need more material.’ Constantine itched for more materials for his upcoming experiments.
Quickly approaching the dead rabbit, he plunged his dagger into the soft flesh, blood surging out as he popped out a tiny core. With a crack, he snapped off its horn and stashed it away. Seeing the tiny core the size of a pebble, he sighed, knowing it wasn’t enough. ‘I need a better way to hunt.’
He needed a greater variety of cores and more of them—but he didn’t dare provoke the more dangerous beasts or monsters, having already witnessed the terror of firebats and shadenwolves.
His eyes widened as an idea formed. He felt dumb for not thinking of it earlier. ‘I should start using traps and baits to safely catch something stronger, something predatory.’
Excited by the prospect, Constantine set about making a campfire. He gathered dry wood and kindling, arranging them in a neat pile. Striking flint and steel together, he sparked a small flame, gently blowing on it until the fire took hold. The flames grew, crackling as they consumed the wood.
He wasn’t sure of the possible reactions his first proper experiment might bring. He couldn’t risk doing it anywhere close to the village, not daring to draw attention to himself if it blew up.
‘Implant, record the following experiment. Call the record file 'core reactance experiment number one.’ He dictated the instructions while taking the recently recovered core. He quickly tied it to the tip of his arrow, swiftly retreating from the crackling flames. His eyes gleamed with anticipation.
‘The experiment’s purpose is to determine if the core reacts in any way with flames of lower intensity.’ Nocking the arrow into his bow, he aimed at the center of the fire. A snap echoed through the forest as he released the bowstring. The arrow flew in a parabola, landing in the flames with a whirl of sparks and embers flying around.
He dove behind a nearby tree, holding his breath in anticipation. Seconds passed, and he dared to peek out from his cover. The flames calmly burned, already engulfing the entire arrow.
‘No immediate visible reaction.’ He noted, waiting and watching. Raising his finger, he nodded, ‘The wind is blowing in the way out of the forest. Nothing should smell this bit of blood, I have time.’
Minutes turned into an hour, and the flames slowly vanished. Only a few embers remained, smoldering.
Stepping out of his cover, he approached the extinguished campfire. ‘No reaction to flames of lower intensity.’ Using a stick, he poked through the cinders, his eyes gleaming as they landed on the tiny glass-like ball. As bright and shiny as before, it was untouched by the flames.
‘Implant, are there any changes in the core’s energy radiation compared to the values before the test?’
<<<
He sighed. ‘So the core seems entirely unaffected by flames, at least the low-intensity ones. Might be different in a proper kiln.’
Pocketing the core, he got up. ‘End the experiment recording.’ There wasn’t any trace of dismay on his face. Instead, he absently thought of more experiments he could perform. A smile played on his lips; he was back in the game, experimenting just as he used to love.
‘Dissolution experiments should be next. Water and hydrochloric acid are easy to obtain. Although aqua regia would be more optimal, nitric acid might be problematic to procure.’
He grinned, staring at the smoldering remains of the fire. If the cores were truly made of pure solidified mana, then he wasn’t just exploring the properties of cores; he was exploring the properties of mana itself.
Two days later:
Under the flickering light of a candle, Constantine leaned over the single table in his simple shed. A tiny rabbit, lacking the distinct horn, a mundane animal, lay motionless on the table, its shaved chest rhythmically rising and falling.
He raised his dagger, his eyes flickering, his brows twitching—he hesitated. He didn't enjoy it. In his previous life, he had always laughed at people protesting against tests on animals, but now, staring at the living, breathing creature defenseless on his table, he felt dislike, even after multiple previous experiments.
‘Fuck this, for the knowledge! Implant, record the core implantation experiment number six.’ He pushed down his hand, cutting into the tiny chest, his movements precise and careful. Amidst the blood, he swiftly picked up the core lying beside the rabbit and slowly lowered it into the incision, placing it in the same spot he observed the thunderhorn rabbits had their cores.
Grabbing the needle and thread, he stitched the incision and stepped back, dagger in hand, his body ready to move if needed.
In the silence, he observed no visible change. He muttered, “No obvious reaction. During the surgery—" he hesitated, knowing his sloppy work hardly deserved the term, "—procedure, veins, muscles, and nerves remained unattached."
The rabbit twitched, its entire body spasming, smoke coming out. Constantine reacted immediately, leaping further away, gripping the dagger even tighter. His eyes never left the rabbit, glued to its twitching body.
The rabbit's body convulsed violently, limbs jerking in chaotic spasms. Constantine's heart raced as he watched, gripping his dagger tightly. Suddenly, the twitching ceased, the creature lying unnaturally still, its tiny chest frozen mid-breath.
‘Another failure. The body reacted negatively to the inserted core.’ He approached the rabbit, his muscles tense, ready to react if the rabbit came back to life—even though none of his previous tests suggested anything like that. The creature didn’t move, its body remaining perfectly still. Lowering his blade to its face, he observed carefully; there was no mist.
"The rabbit is dead," he muttered, voicing his thoughts aloud to help himself focus. "The core insertion caused death, as with the previous experiments. More experiments are needed for proper conclusions."
‘What went wrong? Maybe rejection, like with organ transplants? The beast was mundane, so maybe the shock from the sudden introduction of mana? Or perhaps an allergy to foreign mana?’ He knew too little about the mysterious mana, and it made him frustrated; he hated not understanding something.
He shook his head, dismissing the last option. ‘No, absorbing monster cores is possible for cultivators and monsters alike. Also, if it were true, just infusing a bit of mana into attacks would be deadly.’
Ideas for more experiments to narrow down the possibilities came to his mind: transplanting cores between two monsters, replicating the experiment another five times, and hoping for some deviation. Or perhaps even implanting a core into a living human.
He crossed the first option, ‘Too dangerous.’ Killing a monster was already hazardous, and catching one alive was beyond his current capabilities.
‘No, traps, traps, are what I need.’ His eyes lit up, even more assured of his previous idea. If he could trap a monster and then knock it out safely using the solution he got from the herbalist, it might work. At least, if the solution even worked on monsters.
His eyes lit even further, a grin crossing his face, ‘How does the magic electricity emitted by the rabbits behave? Could I perhaps use well-insulated shoes as the counter? Or perhaps create a Faraday cage?’ He furrowed his brows and shook his head. Although it was an interesting experiment, if he couldn’t guarantee that the electricity emitted by the magic taser rabbits behaved the same way normal electricity did, it would be too risky.
He sighed, knowing he could, at least temporarily, cross out the shortcut to getting a core. ‘After this, even excluding the danger and absurdity of self-surgery, the path of implanting an existing core into myself is invalid.’
Tired, his mind weary after the day of mutilating rabbits, he sat down on his bed. He didn’t regret the time he spent, the resources he used, or the coin he sacrificed. He was going to form his own core, and for his sake, he had to know more of their properties. The knowledge was his power and the path forward; all the pieces and bits of various experiments slowly joined together like a complex puzzle.