Weapons of Mass Destruction

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 with that annoying group of people. Yes, the human healer is interesting. Beautiful even. A true monster these dumbasses should be every bit as terrified of as they are of Nyssa. And yet they aren't. How foolish of them.

Then there’s 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, along with some other assholes I don't bother remembering.

They’re all invaders in my personal space, but for now I’ll allow it, because the current state of affairs is fun.

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

All of this has taken days of nonstop work, just so that man could prepare for what he’s calling 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’s just like a child learning to run, but not on flat land.

Instead, he’s immediately thrown himself off a cliff, moving his tiny legs just to catch up and clumsily waving his hands to keep from losing his balance. That is what he is. Dumb as fuck, and yet he’s still throwing himself headlong into it.

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

And he’s just so arrogant, asking for my help, barging into my laboratory, and using my equipment as if it were his own. Does he even realize I’ve already come up with hundreds of ways to end his life over just such an insult?

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

I’m a graceful lynthari. There has never been as perfect an example of my race as I. 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 as he creates 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 strips down almost completely. I take note of his conductive body and the many scars covering it. Some of the female helpers he’s brought take note of his ass.

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

Once that’s over, they 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 serves as a mix of coolant and mana isolant. A quick calculation estimates the value of the liquid alone at a million shards, and everything else I’ve 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 very much, but it is difficult and painful to break the millions of years of evolution that scream for him to stop. Yet he does it all with ease.

Even submerged in the blue tinged liquid, his eyes continue to glow so powerfully that it makes me wonder how they haven’t boiled the liquid.

Everyone else takes a step back, they’re all mere side characters after all, and the next step belongs to him alone. There’s not even a hint of hesitation in him as he starts the process during which his body begins to break, but it can’t be healed yet, otherwise, the changes to the construct won’t take hold, and he knows that.

There are several kinds of pain. The pain of not being able to satisfy my curiosity is the worst. Then there are the kinds that you can suppress with will alone, followed by the sort you can block with skills, and finally, some that you simply 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 the last few bubbles of his breath escaping into the liquid? Probably not, as his eardrums already seem to have ruptured.

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, with the sheer amount of blood staining it from within.

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 currently inside my shielded lab halts just before exploding out, pulled back toward something inside. More and more cracks appear, and leaping back with a laugh, I move to avoid the liquid, which, after all, is extremely toxic. Then the container's glass shatters completely, and there in the middle of it all, he floats for mere moments before finally 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 his flesh, with the most noticeable running diagonally across his chest, another on his neck, and one on the side of his forehead with its furthest 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 within is the same. Everyone, even the dumbest so-called S ranks, would be able to notice that. Even the cute fish that woman wrote about would be able to notice that.

His eyes glow with an arrogant will and confidence that one day might be inextinguishable.

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

As happy as I am with the show I just got to watch, I wish he would poke that corpse of the long dead godking a bit more, use it often, and let it inside his body.

Maybe one day.

POV The Disciple of the Megacity's Head Guard

It’s 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 what’s 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 has been going there to train.

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

Him being reasonable and actually doing so is the part that generally surprises people the most, but he might have simply decided he didn’t want to push it, given the things he’s been doing as of late. And it isn't even primordial energies he’s been training with, it’s his mana and all the ambient mana he gathers from everything around him, with the way his pulls sometimes reach out toward the city and activate portions of the defenses.

Today is one of those days, as I put on my helmet and activate the visor installed inside that allows me to see the faint movements of mana through the surroundings. It’s nowhere near as detailed in comparison to a true master’s sight, like those who are rumored to see rivers, wavelengths, streams, and particles in isolation. 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 human was going to be trouble, especially once 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 available mana with it. It continues to gather speed before being pulled into the huge whirlpool surrounding 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 his 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 exclusively with the pieces the guildmaster will be needing to enact 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, he feels no more powerful than a normal attendee, but something about him feels sharper now.

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 themselves tightly around his body, creating a skintight suit around himself. I know it is something he keeps 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 have made it impossible for him 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 currently carry chunks of mana that he’s, according to his own words, manifested into the shape of armor. I tested it before, and a single pauldron is half my weight. And despite being made entirely out of his own mana, it doesn't leak, even after weeks. It’s remained compressed, and even the most delicate testing couldn’t detect any mana leakage. In addition, there are some inscriptions laid into it, either by him or the people he collaborated with.

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 faceplate.

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, which combined stand as tall as a five story building.

The sheer amount of mana required to create something this big with such high density is beyond me, and I just stare in fascination as the cranes move, setting the pieces onto the general shape he’s currently assembling until he once again disappears inside of it as they all click and connect together. As this happens, he moves the limbs, testing their motion and making sure all is well, and even making on the spot changes as he molds these massive pieces with his will alone.

When we did testing before, it required the energy of an entire mana core just to spark the inscriptions into activation. Yet he’s doing all of this 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 across its surface and the deep hum of mana powering the suit rumbles from deep inside.

There isn't a single moment of hesitation or unsure movement as he takes his first step, and the floor beneath us shakes, the heavily reinforced flooring trembling with his movements.

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 can scarcely describe ramps up. Almost like someone’s holding a rope with a rock tied to the end as they spin 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 suit of armor lifts into the air without any obvious means of propulsion. It just floats up like it weighs nothing and then launches itself 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 an expression of childish joy I haven't felt in a long time.