Chapter 902 - Beautiful specimen

POV The Doc

It has been days, almost a week, since that beautiful, messed-up specimen of a human came down to my humble abode together with that annoying group of people. Yes, the human healer is interesting. Beautiful even. A true monster that these dumbasses should be just as scared of as they are of Nyssa. Yet they aren't. How foolish.

Then there is the hired help. Some paid body modification "specialists", that overly patient man trying to eat that greatsword absorbed in his arm, even a few people from the Crimson Forge, and some other assholes I don't bother remembering.

They are all invaders in my personal space, but for now I allow it, because what is happening is fun.

I helped too, of course. We made preparations, and with all that tasty leviathan spinal fluid, we created such amazing injections of colors I haven't seen in my entire life.

All of what is happening now took days of working nonstop, just so that man could prepare for what he calls his masterpiece: the Megaconstruct.

Would I be angry if he went through all this effort just to destroy it, or as the others call it, fix the state of his body? Of course I would. Yet, he did not disappoint. Oh, he is just like a young kid learning to run, but not on flat land. Instead, he immediately throws himself off a cliff, moving those tiny legs just to catch up and clumsily waving his hands so as not to lose balance. That is what he is. Dumb as fuck, yet throwing himself headlong into it.

I like the guy. He is indeed the kind of man I could get along with. The others lack that drive. They live too long. They don't carry any wounds, and their minds never get close to the verge of breaking as I would prefer.

And he is so arrogant, asking for my help, barging into my laboratory, and using my equipment as if it were his own. Does he even realize there are hundreds of ways I have already come up with that would allow me to end his life for such an insult?

A poison, using a favor that Thane owes me, a mana stone tuned to a very specific frequency, a cute animal that would explode in his face after receiving three and a quarter pets, or a painting of a naked velnar woman with inscriptions designed to push his mind just a bit further toward breaking.

I’m a graceful lynthari. There has never been as perfect an example of my race as I am. My curiosity shall always triumph over any other emotion I might feel. So I shall allow it all, but once he fails to deliver, if he becomes just like everyone else, I shall dissect him.

I, of course, watch the process of him making his Megaconstruct, even if I’m, for some stupid reason, not allowed to interfere, bite, or touch anything. But I can endure. I am an adult lynthari man.

So I watch as he gets nearly naked. I take note of his conductive body and the many scars covering it. Some of the female helpers he brought take note of his ass.

Patiently, I sit there for hours as they bathe his body in conductive paint, and as he etches his inscriptions into it later. They are so clumsy I shed a tear or two. It is just like watching the first lynthari emerge from a cave and start walking on two legs instead of all four. It is beautiful.

Over that, they dress him in clothes, place a special helmet on his head, and then they drown him. They place his body into a container filled with a special liquid that is a mix of coolant and mana isolant. A quick calculation estimates the worth of just the liquid at a million shards, and everything else I have seen is about three times that.

That beautiful specimen takes a deep breath, letting all that liquid flow into his body and fill his lungs. He doesn't need to breathe that much, but it is difficult and painful to break the millions of years of evolution that do not want that to happen. Yet he does it all so easily.

Under that bluish liquid, his eyes continue to glow so powerfully that it makes me wonder why they don't boil the liquid.

Everyone else takes a step back, mere side characters after all, and the next step belongs to him alone. There is no hesitation at all as he starts the process during which his body begins to break, but it cannot be healed yet, otherwise, the changes to the construct will not take hold, and he knows that.

There are multiple kinds of pain. The pain of not being able to satisfy my curiosity is the worst. Then there are the kinds that you can block with your will, followed by the sort you can block with your skills, and finally, some that you simply cannot block and must endure.

Would he be angry if I tapped on the container and asked him which one he feels? Would he even hear me with his mouth currently open in a scream that sends a few final bubbles of air into the liquid? Probably not, as his eardrums seem to have ruptured already.

It takes hours, during which I find myself moving closer and closer, ultimately pressing my face against the glass of the container. I cannot see through it, however, because of the sheer amount of blood muddying it from the inside.

Unfortunately, all good things have to end, and this does too. Not with a death and a body I could examine, but with a crack spreading through the container.

The mana threatening to burst forth and suffocate everyone inside my shielded lab halts just before exploding out, pulled back toward something inside. More and more cracks appear, and with a laugh, I jump back to avoid the liquid, which is extremely toxic. Then the container's glass shatters completely, and in the middle of it all, he floats for a mere moment before landing on his wobbly feet.

He staggers, he groans, he almost falls. But he regains his balance, suppresses the pain, and through his sheer will, keeps his consciousness afloat. He breathes heavily, suppressing the shaking of his hand as he watches it, and then he straightens up. His fingers run through his wet hair, combing it back from his face.

New scars decorate his body, scattered all over, with the most noticeable running diagonally across his chest, another on his neck, and one on the side of his forehead with its edge touching his eyebrow.

It is a very different body from before. Similar, but different. I’m smart enough to notice it right away. The mind hosted inside of it is the same. Everyone, even the dumbest so-called S ranks, would be able to notice that. Even that cute fish that woman wrote about would be able to notice that.

His eyes glow with an arrogant will and confidence that one day no one might be able to extinguish.

It becomes boring afterward, with people checking on him, and his healer's way of healing scares me too much, so I quickly leave.

As happy as I’m with what I got to watch, I wish he would poke that corpse of a long dead godking more, use it often, and let it inside of his body.

Maybe one day.

POV The Disciple of Megacity's Head Guard

It is yet another night shift when the barriers surrounding the city flicker. They are nowhere close to breaking, but I notice some newbies panicking until I explain to them what is likely happening.

There is a small training outpost belonging to the Primordial Knights to the southeast of the city, and it is well known that, as of late, their guildmaster goes to train there.

It is rumored he attempted to do that in the city, but was politely asked by the Pathfinder's first disciple not to do that.

Him being reasonable and actually doing so is what surprises people the most, but he might just not have wanted to push it, given the things he has done as of late. And it isn't even primordial energies he trains with, it is his mana and all the ambient mana he gathers from so far off, with the pulls sometimes reaching toward the city and activating some of the defenses.

Today is one of those days, as I put on my helmet and activate the visor installed inside to allow me to see faint movements of mana. It is nowhere near as detailed in comparison to true masters, who are rumored to see rivers, wavelengths, streams, and particles of it. Yet I can still see it as if dark clouds are gathering in the sky to the southeast.

I keep having to remind myself that this monstrous man is just a fourth-year attendee. Maybe I should have trusted my master when he said that a human would be trouble, especially once even the primordial lunatics stepped back and accepted him as their guildmaster.

Another pull covers the entire city, like a wave washing over us before pulling back and trying to take all possible mana with it. It continues to gather speed before being pulled into that huge whirlpool around that place.

With a sigh, I take off my helmet and go to the guard station to fine tune some of the defenses.

POV The Head Quartermaster of Primordial Knights

At the exact minute of the scheduled time, the guildmaster enters the warehouse. Unlike during previous visits, he is alone, after all, the preparations have been completed.

This is one of our satellite warehouses near the entrance to the 5th floor, one of our biggest with equally massive doors, and currently filled only with the pieces the guildmaster will need for his plan.

The atmosphere around him is different. Still casual as he strolls in wearing his normal clothes, and due to his control over his powers, feeling no more powerful than a normal attendee, but something about him feels sharper.

He gives me a nod, and I send a signal to my coworkers as he stops in the exact middle of the warehouse.

At first, he lets his mana seep out, pulling on it and stretching it into threads that begin to weave around his body tightly, creating a skin suit akin to a second layer of skin. I know it is something he has pre-prepared, yet the speed and the sheer density fascinate me as that second skin layer even covers his face in a way that should make it impossible to see.

The last things to disappear are his eyes, glowing golden circles of deep focus.

On cue, my colleagues rush in with heavy duty carts that carry pieces of mana he has, according to his words, manifested into the shape of armor pieces. I tested it before, and a single shoulder guard is half my weight. It is also made of his mana that doesn't leak, even after weeks. It stays compressed, and even the most delicate testing didn't detect any mana leakage. In addition, there are some inscriptions made on it, either by him or the people he collaborated with and brought here.

A few helpers and my colleagues put these on him piece after piece, entirely covering him in finger-thick mana armor, with his head finally disappearing behind the face plate.

Everyone rushes away when he begins to float, and I trigger the second stage as the slots on the wall open and cranes reach out. Each crane bears yet another piece of armor, these combined into an armor the size of a five story building.

The sheer amount of mana required to create something so big and of such density is beyond me, and I just stare in fascination as the cranes move, setting the pieces onto the general shape he starts generating until he once again disappears inside of it as they all click and connect together. During that, he testingly moves the limbs, making sure all works well and even doing some on the spot changes where he molds these massive pieces under his will alone.

When we did testing before, it required the energy of our entire mana core just to spark the inscriptions into activation. Yet he does it all on his own. His heart and his body, which seem so small in comparison to this whole construct, act as the core, kickstarting the web of arrays connecting it all and making it work together as the armor ripples through the surface and a deep hum of mana powering it sounds from deep inside.

There isn't a single hesitation or unsure movement as he takes his first step, and the floor under me shakes, the heavily reinforced flooring trembling.

I send the last signal and the doors open with a groan and a hiss, opening a view into the never ending canyons of the floor beyond.

A sound that I have a difficult time describing ramps up. It is like holding a rope with a rock tied to the end and spinning it faster and faster.

My teeth begin to rattle, and I feel the heartbeats of his core shake me to my bones until that monstrous armor lifts into the air without any obvious propulsion. It just floats up like it weighs nothing and then launches ahead with a boost of surprising speed, the shockwave bounces off the walls and sends me falling onto my bottom.

Watching the armor quickly disappear from my sight, I laugh out loud in a childish joy I haven't felt in a long time.

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