They rode down the familiar grassy hill.
That little village, which sat peacefully on the banks of a large blue lake in the middle of a caldera, was a sight for sore eyes.
Distilleries, vats, furnaces, transformers, storage depots...Ever so slowly, the seed of industry that Stockwell had planted into the hot, yellow ground across the lake was taking shape. It had spread like a giant metallic fungus, digging its tubular steel mycelium into the sulfur rich dirt.
Stockwell took note of all that has changed in Moot Village's footprint since last he came. It had been quite some time, and he was pleased to see that Niven and Faber had been hard at work.
He sighed and gave Vera a tired smile as they rolled down into the caldera. "Well, here we are… back to ground zero."
Vera strained her eyes and spied a form waving happily at them from the village. "I think that's Niven waving at us."
"He and Faber no doubt have questions for me. I certainly haven't been going easy on them with the projects I've forced upon them."
He turned to Vera who was smiling peacefully. "And don't think I'll be going easy on you just because you died. I expect you to be training your electromagnetism magic even harder now to make up for what you've lost. That includes continuing to learn electron orbitals and honing your electrolysis."
Vera frowned. "...yes."
"And don't think you can shirk your marksmanship practice either just because you have a talent."
He snapped the reins and hurried the horses down the hill. "We all have a tremendous amount of work to do."
…
And so, after exchanging warm salutations and allocating tasks, they set off to work immediately.
…
"Light amplification by stimulated emission of radiation", or "laser" for short.
Lasers were simple tools in principle, and fundamental to many technologies in the modern era. Stockwell understood how they worked, but the actual nuances of constructing them were more elusive than Stockwell had previously thought.
He had perhaps wasted a little too much time on this project of his, but he had fallen victim to the sunk cost fallacy and now needed to see it through regardless.
—he had a truly diabolical idea on how to weaponize a laser.
There were several different techniques to generating the parallel, amplified rays of light that defined a laser. Stockwell only understood three of them well: Laser diodes, solid-state lasers, and gas lasers.
Ideally he would've made laser diodes since they were by far the most powerful and efficient of the three types of lasers he understood, but he had wasted too much time on that. He needed specific semiconductor materials as well as some precision electrical engineering that he just didn't have the expertise to make with the resources they had available in Moot.
He then tried his hand at making solid-state lasers which used a solid crystal as their core. He knew the 22nd century method of mass producing corundum glass used in geo domes, but that was difficult to scale down to make the large, pristine, sapphire or ruby core for a solid state laser. Additionally, the solid state lasers he could reasonably make just didn't have the power he was looking for.
So in the end he decided to make use of a gas laser. It was the simplest of the three and he really should've just gone with this option all along.
The laser sat bolted to the work bench in front of him.
The construction was relatively simple; a 60 centimeter long glass tube filled with CO2, helium, and neon gas with a pair of parallel mirrors capping either end. Voltage was run through the gas causing it to fluoresce, while the parallel mirrors effectively organized the varying rays and wavelengths of light into a cohesive beam that escaped through penetrating one of the mirrors after ample amplification.
Due to the mixture of gasses within the tube, the vast majority of the laser's power was emitted at two distinct wavelengths of light. About 20% visible light at 630nm, and 80% infrared light at 1600nm.
When he turned it on at minimal power, the laser produced a bright red spot on whatever surface it was pointing at.
The majority of the energy generated by the laser was infrared, just beyond the range of human vision, so the beam's path could not be seen by the naked eye, nor was it readily absorbed by the atmosphere. It did however have enough energy to char wooden surfaces and cause permanent blindness with so much as glance.
He wanted to use this laser as a replacement for his flare — a way to blind and frustrate enemies.
He got this idea from a device that riot control squads used back on Earth known as a "crowd flasher." The device consisted of a high power laser controlled by a set of precision motors. A high fidelity camera would look at a crowd and send the information to a facial recognition AI that would control the motors to precisely flash the laser into the retinas of hundreds of people from hundreds of meters away in seconds.
It was an extremely effective tactic at diswading rioters from approaching certain zones of control. Additionally, it was trivial to change the wavelength of the laser to penetrate any protective glasses rioters may have worn or increase the laser's power to permanently blind rioters.
There was a gray area as to whether permanently blinding rioters en masse was "humane", but it was an effective means of control that didn't involve gunning people down.
"Would you rather we use the alternative?" Was the common defense police used when defending their use of crowd flashers.
All that aside, Stockwell did not have access to high fidelity cameras, facial recognition A.I., and precision motors. But he was nothing if not inventive.
He carefully guided a 0.5 centimeter diameter metal tube into the hollowed out left eyeball of a zombified dire rat head.
Gaulder and Vera had both said to him that just a part of a corpse could be turned into a zombie, and he'd been trying to figure out a use for that.
The rat head in question was just the top half of the creature's skull with some attached flesh and brain matter. It lacked the ability to do anything other than move its eyes.
The metal tube he inserted into its hollowed out eyeball was essentially a periscope. One that was small and light enough to fit in the rat's iris and be moved around by the rat's orbital muscles, and wide enough to accommodate the width of a laser beam.
He then carefully lined up the laser with the bottom of the periscope sticking out from the underside of the rat skull.
He stood back to behold his handiwork.
The dire dat stared blankly back at him with one eye with the periscope sticking out the other.
For his bootleg crowd flasher, the zombie's right eye would replace the high fidelity camera, the zombie's brain would replace the AI, and the zombie's orbital muscles would replace the precision motors.
That was the plan at least.
He worried that the zombie rat brain wouldn't be able to understand the command "make eye contact" but Galdur assured him that all zombies possessed the same level of intellect regardless of their source materials. They should be capable of carrying out that simple command.
He leaned a drawing of a man's face against the wall on the far side of the laboratory.
"Okay. Zombie rat, I order you to make eye contact with that drawing." Stockwel said.
Galdur had made the zombie, but had ordered it to heed Stockwell's instructions.
The rat's pale eyeballs rolled around in their sockets for a moment before settling on the drawing.
Stokwell then turned the laser on at minimal power. It wasn't super dangerous at this power, he just wanted to be able to see it so he could make adjustments.
Sure enough, the beam was reflected into the periscope and out of the rat's eyeball.
The resulting red spot it left on the drawing was a little off where it should've been; a few centimeters below the eyes of the drawing.
He adjusted the mirrors in the periscope until the red spot was shining directly into the drawing's eyes.
"Okay, now then zombie rat, continue making eye contact with the drawing"
Stockwell picked up the drawing and moved it around.
He was giddy to see that the rat's eyes, along with the laser, were following the drawing. It was a little clumsier than he would've hoped, but he was certain it would still be ridiculously annoying to be on the receiving end of the laser beam even at minimal power.
He giggled to himself and leaned out the door of the laboratory.
"Hey Vera!" He called out.
"Come in here for a moment. I want you to see something!"
He went back inside.
"Okay. Zombie rat, make eye contact with the person who's about to walk through this door."
…
Stockwell fiddled about with a set of dark metal tubes, levers, and slides. He slid them in and out of each other carefully, trying to discern the friction and resistance between the parts. He was overall satisfied with the parts, but noticed a critical flaw.
He called out to the blacksmith who was hard at work on the other side of the workshop. "I think I found a problem, Mr. Faber. When the trigger assembly is all put together, it ends up leaving a void in the metal lining the wall just below the chamber. I think it's possible a round might get caught in it as the slide is moving."
"Really?" Faber broke away from his task and trudged over Stockwell. "Let me see."
He examined the area Stockwell was referring to. "Oh, yeah. That is a problem."
"How easy is the fix?"
"Hmm…" Faber scratched his beard. "There's no hotfix for something like this. The whole part needs to be reforged."
Both of them sighed.
This was because they were running low on adamantite. Or more precisely, they were running low of useable adamantite.
Normally, when a smith would mess up the shape of a piece, they could just reheat the material and reforge it back into the desired shape, that way the actual material would not be lost. But this was a slightly different case when it came to enchanted materials.
For enchanted materials, such as adamantite imbued with 「 Lesser Mitigate Weight」, there was a limited number of forgings one could perform before the enchantment would dissociate from the metal and loose all effect, so there was incentive to get pieces right on the first try.
But since the process of alloying the enchanted adamantite with aluminium into stygilight already used up a single forging, room for error for when it came time to shape the stygilight was incredibly tight, lest one wanted to forgo the enchantment.
"I'm okay with recycling stygilight for something small like this." Stockwell rubbed his forehead. "I've already purchased so much adamantite off the market that the Kingdom's prices have artificially inflated. If I buy anymore, those geezers in the smithing guild are going to throw a fit."
Faber chuckled lightly. "Do my ears deceive me? Is the big bad Gray Wolf scared of a few elder meatheads lazing around in the capital?"
Stockwell returned Faber's laugh. "Well, they only tolerate me because I keep steel prices at rock bottom. If they're scared about what I might do when I solidify a complete monopoly and are planning a boycott against me at some point, I don't want to give them an excuse to start one now."
Faber waved his hand dismissively in a joking manner. "The only ones 'experienced' enough to work with adamantite are those few handfuls of elders with sticks up their asses. Surely you can get away with making adamantite prices a little higher without angering the rest. You know, just to torment them a bit." He let out a hearty laugh.
Stockwell smiled. "Well damn Mr. Faber, you sure don't like your old superiors do you?"
"Well, they are the reason I left the guild to go practice my craft in a tiny village after all. They allocate the right to work on more expensive pieces based on seniorship rather than actual merit." Faber shook his head ruefully. "It's a ridiculous system that serves only to enrich those who've been a part of the guild for longer."
Stockwell shrugged. "Isn't that only natural though? Seniority in and of itself is the chief method on which people climb the corporate ladder. It isn't necessarily a bad thing."
"Maybe." Faber said. "But the way those elders go about doing it.. All it does is deprive newer blacksmiths of valuable opportunities to grow and prove their skills. They care more about preserving power between them than the craft itself. Basically, they're all just bastards as far as I can tell."
Stockwell chuckled. "It sounds to me like you have a very well thought out and impartial position on the subject, Mr. Faber."
The blacksmith threw his hands up jokingly once more. "Yes, well, there you have it. My incredibly nuanced opinion on the state of smithing affairs in this country. Free of charge."
They laughed lightly together.
"Anyways, Mr. Stockwell. It's been a pleasure watching you shake up the markets. You give an old smith like me hope that our ancient craft might actually make some progress towards something greater."
"Flattered." Stockwell smiled. "I guess I'll consider buying up a little more adamantite if that's the case."
Smithing most certainly will be making progress towards something greater. Stockwell thought. Thanks to magic, many of the blacksmiths of the New World had the ability to shape metal as if it were clay, meaning that there was much less infrastructure needed when it came to producing detailed parts for complex machines. If a wide scale industrial revolution were ever to take place in the New World, it would undoubtedly be a thousand times more vigorous than the one that occurred on Stockwell's planet.
He began to recollect the other pieces he was fiddling with. "At any rate, Mr. Faber, having a few pieces of unenchanted stygilight in my pistol isn't going to do any harm."
Faber nodded. "I hear ya."
The amount of gear Stockwell wished to carry into combat was ludacris on paper: Multiple firearms, batteries, flammable gas and air tanks, poison gas canisters, a heavy flame retardant and chemical resistant cloak, a full suit of plate-mail armor, and many, many more tricks that he kept tucked away.
The sole thing that even made the prospect doable was that all purpose enchanted alloy of aluminium and the 「 gauntlet of the giant」 that increased his carry weight. But even so, the gear was still bulky and Rhamnusia was not likely to be outrunning anyone anytime soon.
Faber stuffed the pistol piece into his apron and returned to his work.
Stockwell turned his attention then to another set of miscellaneous metal pieces. They were similar in nature to the pistol pieces, only that there were more of them and generally longer.
He examined each part closely as he assembled the weapon. He frowned. "Is there a reason why you made the resistance on the springs so strong?"
"What do you mean? Which springs?"
"The springs on the gas piston and bolt carrier. The resistance is too high. The point of a gas-operated reload mechanism is defeated if the discharge can't actually move any of the parts."
"You're delusional." Faber grunted. "There's more than enough powder in those rounds to move the bolt, and then some."
Stockwell squinted as he brought up images in his mind depicting his old war memorabilia. He honed in on the schematics of his sturmgewehr. "No, I think you're wrong. The force of the discharge might be able to overcome the resistance of the springs, but it first has to get over the inertia of the entire reload assembly-"
Stockwell's lips closed abruptly. He slowly cracked into a defeated smile. "...Oh, I'm being an idiot, aren't I?"
Faber chuckled quietly to himself.
Stockwell shook his head. "The inertia is much less since we're making everything from lighter alloys."
Faber nodded. "The extra resistance on the springs is to expedite the closing action. Might increase the fire rate that way."
Stockwell scratched his chin. "Maybe. But let's not try to make it too fast. I'd much rather trade fire rate for handibility if it comes down to it. Somewhere around 450 rounds per minute should be more than adequate."
He turned to Faber having remembered something. "Oh, and since we're on the subject of alloys, how long has it been since you last checked the arc furnace?"
Faber's eyes suddenly grew wide and he leaped to his feet. "Ah! The next batch should definitely be ready by now."
He dropped what he was doing and eagerly raced out of the workshop. "I'll go and pull it out right away!"
Stockwell smiled and returned to work.
He put the materials aside and started preparing a demonstration for someone else.
…
Vera entered the workshop and found Stockwell sitting at a workbench. "You wanted to see me?"
"Yes, yes. I want to show you something important." He beckoned her over to the workbench.
In front of him was an array of various metal plates and pieces.
He held up a thin gray plate. "This, Vera, is a steel plate. Pretty, simple right?"
"Right…"
"And this—" He held up a tiny, elongated copper object. "—is currently the bullet you use."
Vera nodded.
He continued. "It's 8.5 millimeters in diameter and weighs about 14 grams. It's made around a hardened steel core. Moreover, we typically load the cartridge with about 16-17 grams of nitrocellulose, so when fired, it's leaving the barrel of your rifle to what I'd assume to be around 700-800 meters a second."
He touched the tip of the bullet to the steel plate. "It can perforate 10 millimeters of steel with very little issue. And since the thickest plate armor anyone around here seems to wear really only gets to about 5 millimeters, rarely will you ever encounter an opponent who can defend against it."
"Okay… Your point?" Vera already knew at length the penetrating abilities of her rifle.
"My point, Vera, is that you will rarely encounter an opponent who can defend against it, not never."
He put the steel plate back down. "There exists in this world materials much stronger than simple steel."
He looked at Vera. "Quick, what's the hardest thing you can think of?"
"Um." She flustered for a second. "Diamond."
Stockwell nodded. "Yes, diamond, very good. If only it weren't so brittle. What's the next hardest thing you can think of?"
"That'd have to be adamantite."
"Ahh yes, of course. That ubiquitous miracle metal. Not quite as hard as diamond, but still very hard indeed." He smiled in a knowing manner. "Tell me Vera, what is it that makes things hard?"
"Umm…" Vera scrunched her forehead.
"That is to say, what determines the hardness or softness of any given material? What does it mean scientifically for a material to be hard?"
"Uhh…" Vera frowned. "I don't know… like… that's just the way things are, right? Diamonds are hard and pillows are not.".
"Charming, fräulein. But no. What determines if things are hard or soft is the combination of their molecular geometry, and the density of their electrons."
He picked up a small diamond from the workbench and held it out for Vera to look at. He held it as though it were just any other piece of scrap metal, without any special care or reverence for the gemstone. "Diamond, for example, is hard because the strong covalent bonds between the carbon bring the atoms very, very close together, which as a result, makes the electron density very, very high. For a diamond like this, that density is around 700 electrons per cubic nanometer."
Stockwell continued. "If the atoms of some other material were to try and perforate the diamond, their electrons would have to force their way through the dense cloud of opposing electrons surrounding the carbon atoms in the diamond. But since the bonds between the carbons are so close and strong, and the cloud is so dense, the electromagnetic interactions almost universally end up breaking the bonds in the opposing material instead. That is to say, you can't scratch a diamond with anything softer than it without it also getting broken."
He put the diamond back down on the bench. "However, that very same structure which makes diamond so hard also makes it brittle. Because the bonds are so short and strong, there is little room for plastic deformation so the moment the diamond is forced to absorb any real amount of energy, it shatters."
"Anyways. Now we come to this." He held up a plate of black-blue metal. "What makes adamantite hard?"
Vera pondered. "Wouldn't it be for the same reasons? Electron density?"
"Correct." Stockwell said. "But not exactly."
She had expected an answer like that.
"Allow me to explain." He turned the adamantite plate around in his hand. "Firstly, adamantite is not on the periodic table of elements, and moreover, it doesn't seem to be a compound of any sorts either. As far as anyone can tell, this, as it appears, is its most fundamental form."
He knocked on the plate with his bare knuckles. "Naturally, it consumed my curiosity as a nuclear chemist. After reading up on what the scholars of this world had to say about it, and conducting my own experiments for all this time, I think I can confidently say that I know more about this material than any other person on this planet."
He pressed his palm to the plate, taking note of how warm it felt compared to steel. "For starters, unlike most metals, adamantite is abysmal at conducting heat and electricity. However, the fact that I can touch it, and that it can still conduct heat and electricity at all means that it still has very 'real' electrons, and that whatever particles which constitute its mass are still subject to the basic laws of thermodynamics. Whatever form of magical matter it truly happens to be, it isn't wholly different from normal matter.
He turned the plate around. "Yet, despite having real electrons, it doesn't seem to form an oxide layer on top of it, and I was unable to get it to chemically react with anything I threw at it. Not even hydrofluoric acid did the trick."
He looked at Vera. "'But wait!' I hear you protesting—"
Vera wasn't thinking anything of the sort. She was just along for the ride at this point.
"We know from the existence of stygilight that adamantite is able to be alloyed with aluminium." He picked up another piece of metal. It was black and radiated with many dark shades of green and blue. He held up next to the adamantite or comparison. "Definitionally, this means that admanitie is capable of making metallic bonds with other metals… but not exactly."
Stockwell continued. "You see, normally when metals alloy, they form a latus of cations with each other and allow their electrons to more or less just flow freely between them, resulting in the electrical conductivity and malleability of stereotypical metals. However, remarkably, what we see is that adamantite when alloyed, actually becomes much less electrically conductive and much more thermally conductive than the average of its constituent parts."
He put the pieces of metal back down. "The refusal to make ionic or covalent bonds under normal circumstances... the odd nature of its metallic bonding... electrical resistivity… extreme hardness…Do you know what that means?"
Vera shook her head desperately.
Stockwell grinned. "It means that there is so much more going on inside adamantite than what meets the electron microscope. There is now more than enough evidence to implicate a secondary complex structure to adamantite atoms, that is to say, an extended nuclear structure."
He said in a way that suggested a groundbreaking discovery unrivaled in importance. But sadly, Vera hadn't a clue what he was talking about.
"It all makes sense. All these properties are explained by the concept of adamantite atoms not having a centralized nucleus." He nodded triumphantly. "It shares remarkably similar characteristics to polynodal atoms such as asimovium. Its durable properties which mimic metal arise form a secondary nuclear structure which forms a complex extended latus with itself. Even its color, which can't be explained by thin-film interference due to the lack of oxides, can be explained by extended photo-nuclear iridescence."
Stockwell waved his hand. "Of course, I have no way of actually confirming its exact structure without a super computer, and ultimately, without a proper catalyst, it'll be impossible to exploit any strong force subversions it might possess in regards to forcing nuclear fusion or fission reactions."
Vera nodded to make it seem like she was listening intently, since after all, such science was far out of her purview.
"Anyways," he continued, "I'm unsure if adamantite even possesses protons and other more elementary particles. I imagine though that since we live in a world filled with magic, the positive charges in adamantite nuclei are intrinsically linked in some way to the same mechanisms you use to cast your own magic."
He looked at Vera. "That is to say, the existence of adamantite is tied intimately to the existence of magic in this world. But perhaps that is already obvious from my perspective as an alien to your world, but I digress. Good to have scientific evidence nonetheless."
He picked up two other plates of metal. One was the color of mint, and shined with a brilliant white purity. The other one had a much more subdued color in contrast. It was a dull lavender, and held a subtle red iridescence.
Respectively, they were mythril and orichalcum.
"Like adamantite, both mythril and orichalcum experience a similar form of metallic bonding, and are also likely to be polynuclear. However unlike adamantite, their nodal distributions of mass are less varied, with mythril being the least varied. Incidentally, their differing structures causes orichalcum to be softer but denser than adamantite, and causes mythril to be softer than both of them and about the same density as iron."
He turned back to Vera. "Now, as cool as the science is behind all of this, I bet you're still wondering why any of this actually matters."
She fought the urge to nod vigorously.
"As mentioned previously, adamantite, orichalcum, and mythril are all very similar, but they do have some key differences. Notably, I've been focusing my attention on orichalcum."
He held up the orichalcum plate. "Because of the more nodal distribution of mass in orchalcum compared to adamantite, it was possible to more clearly ascertain its expanded nuclear structure with conventional chemical tests. From what I can tell so far, it closely mimics a quaternary system of rhenium-tungsten. So on the periodic table, it would be somewhere around a hypothetical 74.5."
Vera frowned. "...I thought you were getting to the part on why all of this matters."
"I am, I swear." Stockwell said. "I'm just trying to get across the idea that we now adequately understand enough of the chemistry behind orichalcum and mythril to start doing some very, very cool things."
Vera furrowed her brow. "...cool things like what?"
"Cool things like this." He smiled as he motioned his head towards the entrance of the workshop.
Vera followed his gaze. It would seem that Faber had been waiting silently by the door to make a grand appearance. He entered the workshop holding a small glob of plaster in between a pair of tongs.
Stockwell called to him. "Is the batch all good?"
Faber nodded proudly. "All good."
"Bring it here so Vera can see."
Faber brought the plaster glob over and gently set it on the workbench. "It's cool enough by now. The mold should just flake away."
He and Stockwell chipped away the mold to reveal an object about the size of one's fist. Stockwell wiped it clean with a cloth to reveal a strangely beautiful object.
It was an ingot of metal.
Upon first glance, Vera thought it was copper. Indeed, the metal was only a couple shades darker than the characteristic rusty-brown of elemental copper, however, as Vera moved her head and gave the workshop lights a chance to reflect off the metal, secondary hues were revealed. Sheens of dark red and purple blew across the surface of the coppery metal like wind through a field of wheat.
"I present to you, Vera, orichalcum tetraboride. OTB for short."
Her hands tentatively motioned to pick up the ingot. She looked to Stockwell and he nodded, giving her permission to pick it up.
It was warmer and slightly heavier than she expected. She rolled it around in her hands.
Stockwell withdrew a piece of parchment covered in diagrams and notes. "Density: 11.93 grams per cubic centimeter. Melting point: 2996 degrees celsius. Electrical resistivity: ~2500 Ohms per meter. Thermal conductivity: 110 Watts per meter kelvin. Thermal expansion: 4.3 micrometers per meter kelvin. Its diamagnetic… and most importantly—"
He turned to Vera, "—its very, very hard."
He showed one of the diagrams on the parchment to her. "The compound is hard because it inserts comparatively tiny atoms of boron into the otherwise mostly empty spaces within the elemental orichalcum latus, resulting in a ludicrously high electron density. It's a fair bit harder than adamantite."
He quickly began searching underneath the workbench. "But because the metallic properties of orichalcum are not solely dependent on electron structure, it maintains much of its strength after covalent bonding. It isn't brittle like diamond, far from it. It is capable of plastic deformation, and its durability is comparable to that of just normal orichlcum."
He pulled forth a bullet and held it out to Vera. "This bullet has an orichalcum tetraboride core in it, and I have a feeling it'll go through 5 millimeters of adamantite like steel through tin."
He placed it in Vera's palm and smiled deviously. "Happy hunting."
…
Research on the extra-anatomical strength exhibited by creatures was progressing nicely. So far, they had been able to identify a few other clear metrics other than health points within their rats.
Stockwell was tentatively calling these metrics "kinetic strength", "physical durability", and "magical durability".
Kinetic strength measured by the number of kilograms a creature could push, carry, or drag, after the predicted value of its muscles was subtracted.
Physical and magical durability were much the same. After the properties of a creature's physical body were taken into account, these two metrics described the additional toughness a creature's body exhibited
Stockwell had assumed that physical and magical durability would've been the same, however, it was clear that they were different because a creature that could exhibit extreme resistance to a normal arrow could sometimes be relatively weak to a magic arrow and vice versa.
Stockwell had no real hypothesis as to why these interactions existed the way they did, but at the very least he seemed to be on the right track since as Galdur and Aamon had said before, the way "data" influenced the world was highly compartmentalized and quantifiable. Therefore, all Stockwell and the rest needed to do was just collect more statistics. With enough analysis the averages should work out over time and they'll gain a clear insight into exactly how everything worked on a deeper level.
It was only a matter of time.
For the time being however, Stockwell was focusing on nailing down the concept of "Mana Points." Like health points, they were implied to be a quantifiable collection of particles. Unlike health point's however which tended to be higher in creatures who were physically larger, the number of mana points a creature had apparently had no correlation with its size.
Stockwell and Galdur were handling a slime imprisoned within a ceramic box. The box was about a meter in every dimension with an open top that was replaced with a fine metal mesh. The brown-green body of the slime within wriggled in response to their voices.
"—and press."
Galdu used a pair of acid-resistant gloved hands to gently press the metal mesh down into the box and into the body of the slime. Differing depths of how far the mesh should be pressed in the box were marked in ink along the side.
Slimes were amorphous and could change their shape to fit through very small gaps, however there was a limit to this ability. If the gap in question was smaller than 1/50 of their resting diameter they would not be able to fully pass through it.
The membrane of the slime peeked through the gaps in the mesh like the bubbles in a stress ball but stayed intact. Once they saw this, Galdur locked the mesh in place by way of a vice clamped to the side of the box.
Stockwell then took a knife and went about shaving off the small amount of slime material that peeked through the mesh.
This was a bizarre procedure that they had taken to call "slime shaving". Their goal was to reduce the natural resting weight and size of the slime.
Ripples of movement appear within the slime, an indicator of some kind of pain as Stocckwell shaved off its extremities, however that was all it could do as it did not have the ability to verbally emote.
Once Stockwell was finished shaving off the material, they removed the mesh and replaced it with a solid slab metal and pressed it down to the same depth of the mesh, but not before applying a small amount of natural healing potion to the underside of it.
This would essentially "squish" the slime into a slightly smaller size and heal it into place.
They had to do this in incremental steps because if they cut off too much too quickly, the natural healing potion wouldn't be able to heal enough of the slime's membrane to achieve the desired effect.
After repeating this step several more times, Stockwell and Galdur ended up with a slime that was naturally about 10 centimeters in diameter. It would endeavor to grow back to its original size if given enough food.
Crucially however, this slime was still effectively the same individual they started with, and as such, shared all of its same anatomical metrics. For example, it supposedly possessed the same number of "mana points."
Stockwell and Gladur removed the lid and moved the slime into a smaller box where it could not easily avoid their next procedures.
"Mosquito." Stockwell muttered.
Galdur revealed a jar containing a monstrous mosquito that had its head and body bound. Stockwell clutched the mosquito with one hand and essentially used its proboscis like a needle to stab into the slime body.
Once the mosquito was inserted, they saw a faint blue light as the mosquito used its innate ability to begin absorbing the slime's mana points. They carefully used a stopwatch to measure how long it took for this blue light to dissipate.
"—sixteen and a half seconds." Galdur muttered.
Stockwell removed the mosquito and looked at a chart to correlate the value.
"That gives this guy a mana point capacity of about 55 miliVeras."
"MiliVeras", or mVr for short, was a unit they had come up with to describe mana point capacity similar to RHC. Vera, their benchmark for mana capacity, had 1000 miliVeras.
"55 mVr…" Galdur nodded along to the conclusion with a small amount of smugness. "...looks like I was right. Same amount as before."
"Yeah, yeah." Stockwell said. He had originally thought that "mana points" existed as a physical entity with the body similar to health points, and that by reducing the mass of the slime they would see a corresponding reduction in the number of mana points.
Galdur, however, with his expertise in casting magic, predicted that they would see no change.
"Mana points are a property of the mind, Stockwell." he said. "Unless you can find a way to compromise the slime's consciousness, there's no getting rid of them."
"So you really don't think there's a way to concentrate them so far to the point they can be studied easier?" Stockwell asked.
Galdur shook his head. "No. Not likely. Like I said, while mana itself is fluid and can be formed into spells, enchantments, and objects,'mana points' are more like a mental fuel."
According to Galdur, there was a clear distinction between "mana" the powerful substance that severed as the backbone to spells, and "mana points" a creatures ability to summon and control mana.
Stockwell sighed. "...Then this is getting us nowhere."
"I would've been surprised if it did." Galdur said. "People have been trying to figure out why mana forms the way it does for 600 years and still no one has a clear answer."
The particular mystery they were talking about was why tier spells tended to develop in certain ways.
There were certain spells, such as 「 fireball」, 「 magic arrow」, and 「 acid splash」 which were naturally "easier" to learn and cast. Easier not necessarily because the spells used less mana than normal, but easier in the sense that mana naturally tended to take the shape of those spells.
It was as though mana itself was designed to only be used for certain spells. Coincidently, all these spells happened to be the original spells supposedly given to the world by the six great gods.
Of course, magic casters still had their own control over the mana they wielded, and could thus develop their own spells irregardless of how the mana naturally wanted to move. Zero tier spells for example, supposedly were entirely developed after the departure of the six great gods.
This same interaction was true in regards to skills. There were skills that naturally tended to emerge within people, and those that had to be consciously crafted through effort and ingenuity.
The most popular theory among magic caters to explain this was that this was simply the will of the gods. It was the gods that created and introduced mana, so naturally, it worked primarily to serve only the spells that the gods used.
Of course, Stockwell was not religious and this was an unsatisfying answer to him.
"Alright then," Stockwell grumbled. "Let's table this for now."
They should eventually try linking mana pools in the same way they could link health pools, but it was unlikely even that would offer any insight into the true nature of mana and mana points.
…
Stockwell slouched in his chair over the fume hood, though, calling it a fume hood was a bit generous.
It was simply a large glass window and chamber he could reach into with a pair of skeleton operated bellows at the top. The result was a net inward flow of air from the laboratory and into the fume hood, but the pauses between bellow squeezes made the air flow uneven, creating a small chance for gas to creep out the window and back into the laboratory. Such a system was an OSHA violation at best and lethal negligence at worst, but it was what Stockwell was stuck with.
He had made a point to draw up some proper air pumps to improve the fume hood, but that little side project had seemed to have gotten away from him, living eternally on the bottom of the "to-do" list.
For now, he simply made sure to wear a gasmask as extra security when working with hazardous materials inside the fume hood.
He patiently watched the little mythril vessel behind the window. Inside of it was a quietly hissing volume of near-boiling mercury metal.
He glanced at the dial on the thermometer. 366 degrees celsius… That's technically good enough, but it would be best to get it a few degrees hotter…
The mythril cup in question was a magic item he had tasked Galdur with making. It had taken a little longer than hoped but the result was adequate. The item in question wasn't much more than a magic thermos; a reasonably common magic item.
Back in the capital, Stockwell had noticed that Marquis Raeven had had one when serving tea, and had become fascinated with it. Simply put, all It did was heat whatever liquid was placed inside of it.
However, magic thermoses were limited in their range of heating. Firstly, most magical thermoses had a built in limiter that would stop heating the liquid once the temperature got too high. This was of course to avoid users from accidentally scalding their tongues.
And secondly, even with the limiter removed, the thermos would still plateau at certain temperatures. This was because due to their very nature, the magic thermoses could only heat liquids. Once the liquid reached its boiling point and turned into gas, the thermos would stop heating.
Even if one were to pressurize the liquid inside it in order to artificially increase the boiling point, the thermos would still refuse to heat any further. Additionally, it would also only heat liquids that were naturally liquid at room temperature in the first place, so needless to say, one could not simply pour in some magma and expect the thermos to heat it up any further.
And so, this was the basic enchantment Stockwell had to work with.
The mythril vessel was not much larger than a standard pill bottle. Its shape was similar to a round bottom flask, only that it was smaller and had a removable base. Its dimensions and the material it was made from had all been specified by Stockwell to Galdur. In addition to not having a built in limiter, he had instructed Galdur to make it heat liquid as fast as the magic would allow.
In the end, they had gotten something that could heat a small volume of room temperature mercury up to its boiling point in about two and a half minutes.
Mercury's natural boiling point was 356 degrees celsius, but small amounts of other metals could be amalgamated into it to raise the boiling point further.
He sprinkled in another gram of tin. The dial of the thermometer slowly climbed to 368 degrees before stagnating.
368 degrees...That should be fine…
He wrote down on a piece of scrap paper the amount of tin and other metals he had amalgamated into the mercury.
He nodded to himself before dumping out the hot mercury into a separate container. The actual mechanics of how such a magic item could exist still eluded him. The item generated heat without the need of any fuel or even his own mana. It simply did its job in peace without complaint.
But then again, all he had seen about magic thus far told him that the conservation of energy was just a suggestion in this universe.
He was far past the point of merely being curious about such things. The magic items before him now appeared in his eyes only as tools to be mercilessly exploited to their fullest extent.
He reached over to a nearby workbench and carefully unwrapped another item from beneath a cloth. Like the mythril thermos, it was also a magic item, and also asked Galdur to make.
Unfortunately, Galdur didn't have the expertise to make the item entirely, so some of the work had been outsourced to an artificer in the Slane Theocracy. The final product was the result of many months of trial and error and long distance correspondence.
It was the same rounded shape as the mythril thermos, only now it was about 20% smaller and made of solid orichalcum.
It had an enchantment imbued into it known as "bottomless cup". As the name implied, it would cause the vessel to continuously fill with beer or some other drink over time.
Stockwell had originally requested that the item be able to produce methanol, but was informed that the enchantment only worked with "drinks" and that it wouldn't recognize methanol as a valid component. So in the end he had settled for an item that made ethanol; an obscenely strong, 194 proof spirit.
He wouldn't be drinking it of course.
He placed the "bottomless cup" vessel into the magic thermos vessel. Thankfully, the two pieces fit together perfectly, allowing a small amount of space in between the two for mercury.
He then filled the thermos back up with the hot mercury.
The goal here was simple: To use the heat generated by the thermos to heat the ethanol within the bottomless cup. This interaction would serve as the core mechanism behind an infinitely reusable, no cost, maintenance free, ethanol thruster.
The "bottomless cup" continuously created fresh, liquid ethanol so long as there was "empty" space within the magical vessel that it could fill. Of course, no space was truly empty because it was occupied with gas, but that distinction was important because it indicated that the "bottomless cup" enchantment world work even if the volume of the vessel was filled with ethanol gas.
Incidentally, ethanol had a boiling point of 78 degrees celsius, so the fresh, room temperature ethanol created by the cup would quickly turn into gas and be kept inside the vessel by way of a cover.
The bottomless cup would continue to generate ethanol in this manner until the pressure within the vessel got high enough that the boiling hot gas would form a liquid, even at the 368 degree limit of the mercury-thermos heater.
According to Stockwell's calculations, that pressure was about 380 atmospheres, or about 5500 psi. The intense internal pressures it was expected to handle was why the bottomless cup was built out of disproportionately thick orichalcum and sculpted in a gently curving ellipsoid shape.
He got to work building.
It didn't take him long to put the rest of the parts together, since the rest contraption was mostly just a valve, an expansion chamber plus fan, and a psychically actuated directional nozzle.
The entire contraption was small and lightweight, weighing about 2 kilograms and fitting into a 20 by 10 by 5 centimeter box; something can be strapped to his wrists without getting in the way too much.
He bolted down the completed thruster to the workbench just in case things got out of hand.
As he was doing this, Galdur walked into the workshop.
"Are you done yet, Stockwell?" The enchanter said dryly. "Were the items adequate this time?"
"We're about to find out."
The pressure and temperature gauges indicated that the thruster was at full capacity. It took about 20 minutes to reach that point from empty.
Stockwell placed on his 「 Ring of meager telekinesis」. His mind was made clear of the two actuators that existed within the small contraption before him.
One actuator opened the valve that allowed the superheated ethanol to escape from the bottomless cup while the other actuator controlled the direction of the nozzle.
"Let's just just release a little to start with."
He concentrated and psychically opened the valve of the thruster by about 10%.
The two men's ears were immediately assaulted by a deafeningly high pitch whine as superheated ethanol gas violently exited the vessel and combined with oxygen in the expansion chamber.
Incidentally, the auto ignition temperature of ethanol was 365 degrees celsius, so the thruster did not need any kind of spark or flame to get it started. The latent heat alone was enough to get the ethanol to combust.
That was where the true power of the thruster came from.
The movement of the high pressure ethanol pulled in atmospheric oxygen into the expansion chamber to continue the reaction. The result was a thin, barely visible, but powerful blue flame that streamed out the nozzle.
Stockwell adjusted the angle of the flame by psychically moving the nozzle. He had about 120 degrees of movement with it.
The heavy work bench rocked back and forth under the force of the small thruster.
The gauges rapidly fell, and after 25 seconds of continuous output, the thruster sputtered out.
Once the ringing in their ears died down from the high pitch scream of the thruster, Stockwell gave Gauldur a firm nod.
"Hmph. Nominal. Good work."
Galdur rolled his eyes and walked out of the workshop. "...You're crazy, Stockwell."
Stockwell went about assembling the rest of them.
…
「 Gentle Repose」
It was a simple necromancy spell that Galdur was able to use.
When cast on a corpse, the spell would prevent all forms of natural decomposition from occurring for a period of one week, after which the effect wore off. The spell could also be replied again or refreshed any time during that period.
This spell was mainly used for preserving bodies for resurrection, or in the case of necromancer cults like Galdur's situation, was used to prevent zombies from rotting too quickly
But the spell also opened up the potential for some creative exploitation of corpses, provided one was inventive enough.
That was how Stockwell and Galdur ended up in the lab languishing over the 3 meter long, 7 segmented, curled up leg of a giant orb weaver spider.
It was strapped to the work bench and being sustained via a small cluster of tubes slowly pumping blue blood to and fro.
Stockwell had seen first hand the overwhelming strength of magical beasts, power that existed beyond just the simple strength of their muscles, and he wanted to find a way to utilize that power for himself.
By experimenting with the rats, he had learned that the extra-anatomical "strength" metric persisted in the rat's muscles after death. That is to say, if he caused the dead rat's muscles to contract by way of an electrical impulse, the strength of that contraction would be similar to the strength that the rat had in life.
If he had had Galdur or Vera turn the rat into a zombie, that "strength" metric would be significantly weaker. It also would no longer be able to benefit from strength enhancing potions.
Galdur pointed to a large diagram of the spider leg's internal musculature on the wall.
"I think it's a little lower, Stockwell." The enchanter said.
Stockwell was dressed in what looked like surgical scrubs. It was important that they prevent germs from getting into the severed spider leg. Even though the leg was preserved from natural decomposition by way of 「 Gentle Repose」, the leg lacked an active immune system. They had access to antibiotics, but a single disease causing virus getting in the leg would be a devastating setback for them.
Stockwell looked up at Galdur's finger on the diagram and squinted. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, you have it written right here. The insertion point you want is exactly 10% up the metatarsus."
"Understood."
Stockwell drilled into the exoskeleton of the leg's metatarsus until he reached muscle. He then went about gently inserting a biocompatible stainless-steel alloy electrode into the muscle tissue.
"Done."
Galdur nodded and looked back at the diagram.
"Administering 20 volts now. We should see an unwinding motion in the tarsus and tibia, and potentially a twitch in the tarsal claws. In 3, 2, 1..."
Galdur flicked a small switch connected to a wire that ran to the electrode.
Immediately, the last three segments of the spider leg unwound and the two tarsal claws at the end flexed open.
"Good." Stockwell said.
Galdur released the switch and the leg slowly curled back into its original shape.
"Moving on to the next point…"
The procedure of inserting electrodes into the various muscles of the seven segmented spider leg took several hours.
He originally wanted to use the tentacle of a small kraken because they were supposedly powerful magical monsters with enough strength and dexterity to crack the hulls of ships. However, acquiring the sample, mapping all of its muscles, and controlling and maintaining the limb would've been far too much effort.
The giant spider leg also had several upsides compared to other potential candidates.
Normally, if someone wanted to preserve muscle tissue for long periods of time, they would have to regularly circulate fresh blood to the area. Of course 「 Gentle Repose」 made it so the muscle went into a magically induced dormant state where oxygen deprivation did not affect it. However, if the muscle was being forced to move it would still use up its stored energy and consume the consummate amount of oxygen and glycogen.
So, fresh blood still needed to be regularly circulated.
This was difficult to do artificially in vertebrates, but was much easier to accomplish in arthropods like spiders.
Spiders had an open circulatory system, meaning their blood (called hemolymph in arthropods) was not contained in blood vessels but was instead allowed to flow freely through around organs and muscles. Exchanging hemolymph was much easier since all that needed to be done to keep the muscles fed with nutrients was drain to days old hemolymph that was saturated with metabolic wastes with fresh hemolymph harvested from a living giant spider.
Secondly, the giant orb weaver needed far less oxygen than a mammal or other creature of its size would normally require, as such its muscles were used to working in anaerobic conditions. It was fine to let the hemolymph build up co2 during strenuous activity and reoxygenate it once it was safe.
Thirdly, arachnids had a system of locomotion similar to many other arthropods in that they moved their limbs via a combination of hydraulic pressure and muscle flexion. Hemolymph served as a hydraulic fluid pumped by the spider's muscles which controlled the expanding action of the limb. This aspect is what allowed many arthropods to carry many dozens of times their own body weight and allowed for the limb to efficiently wind up energy for an explosive jump or strike. If the hemolymph was going to have to be pumped in and out anyways, it was convenient to just use the spider's own muscles for that purpose rather than engineer a separate heart to keep the limb alive.
And finally, the spider leg had an exoskeleton. This meant armoring it would be trivially easy since the limb was already evolved to work within a rigid body. All they needed to do was rivet Orichalcum Tetraboride plates into the exoskeleton and call it a day.
He had great plans for it.
…
Stockwell practiced with his gear at the very edge of the village.
He had been in several difficult fights thus far and one thing had been made clear to him: He sucked at close range combat.
Indeed, he remembered very clearly how Zero had easily overpowered him, how Gagaran had snapped his bones and forced him to use one of his precious potions with a single hit, and how Brain would've killed him in one strike had he not been in a severely weakened state.
For dealing with enemies skilled in melee combat, his strategy thus far has been to run away and pray they slip up. That was why when he came across Evileye, an opponent who was lethal with long range attacks that he couldn't run away from, his only option had been to nearly kill himself on a suicide charge.
His lack of defensive and offensive melee power was a glaring weakness in his combat abilities.
I won't allow myself to get overwhelmed like that again. Not until it is finally time to confront Gown and the Sorcerer kingdom.
Of course, he didn't intend to actually fight Ainz Ooal Gown or Jaldabaoth with equipment like this. There would be little point. But he would likely be needing to fight a whole lot of different, much weaker people, before he could get to that point.
He practiced shadow boxing in the evening sun.
He did not wear his cloak so he could better assess his normally obscured equipment in case they were malfunctioning or needed adjustments.
His stygilight armor had been plated with orichalcum tetraboride, giving him the appearance of a shimmering, iridescent copper beetle.
The stygilight had only been plated with a thin layer to benefit from its hardness and corrosion resistance. OTB was on par with stygilight for its other material properties so there was no reason to plate it any thicker.
In addition to the equipment he usually wore into combat such as his oxyacetylene torch, acid sprayer, and battery pack, he now had several more additions to his arsenal.
The most obvious additions were the two giant spider legs seemingly sprouting from his shoulder blades.
One leg arched over his left shoulder while the other wrapped around his right side in a wide arc.
The one on the left was easily recognizable as a spider leg, since all seven of its segments and joints were visible and the only obvious modifications were that the last half of its tarsus and claws were placed by an OTB halberd head, and its exoskeleton was also plated with OTB. The result was glimmering, coppery polearm sprouting from his back.
The one on the right's identity as a spider leg was less apparent, since it was buried deeply within a flexible ignonick shield across the entire length of the limb. The newly made ignoick shield design incorporated an outermost layer of OTB scales.
His philosophy with OTB so far was to use it literally everywhere he could. It was the hardest metal he had access to, so as long as he had the carrying capacity for it, why not put it everywhere?
Together, the two spider limbs would serve as his shield and spear.
They were monstrously powerful compared to his own human arms. They had the innate strength of a difficulty level 50 monster, and they could be further enhanced by agility and strength potions when needed.
The halberd head of the spread arm also had the same enchantments as the Rose Thorn rapier he had gotten from Malvist. The rapier was bent after his battle against Blue Rose and he didn't have a particular fondness for the weapon, so he had had Galdur transfer the enchantment to the halberd head. It was also envenomed with Rose Thorn's unique blend of poisons.
Of course, there were several downsides to the spider limbs.
Firstly, each of the limbs was controlled by way of 12 separate psychically actuated electrodes that would cause the individual muscles in the limb to relax and contract.
Learning how to move the limbs freely in the way he wanted would take a lot of practice. And learning how to exploit the hydraulic mechanisms that arthropods used to store up power in them would take even more practice.
It would be like trying to learn how to walk again for someone who had completely lost the feeling. But, humans have done it before.
Also, because the limbs were controlled via electric impulses, the limbs would be useless if his battery pack happened to be destroyed. So that was something to consider.
Secodonly, the limbs also needed to be given fresh hemolymph, oxygen and glycogen once a week when undergoing light activity, or once a day with strenuous activity.
Thirdly, the limbs were heavy. Very Heavy. The metal and armaments could be enchanted with 「 mitigate weight」, but the biological matter of the limbs could not. Each one weighed in excess of 50 kilograms.
Luckily, with his 「 Gauntlet of the giant」 that increased his so-called "carrying capacity" by 150 kilograms, he could manage the weight and maintain his balance as though the limbs weren't there. However, he had other gear to manage as well, and was dangerously close to going over that 150 kilogram limit where the weight would begin to affect him normally. It was the main reason why he had to limit himself to two limbs.
He practiced moving the shield and spear in tandem with one another. His movements were simple and methodical, but he was certain he could improve with time.
In fact, he considered making another unarmored pair that he could wear at all times and use as additional arms around the lab, just so he could get more practice training his mind to wield them as an extension of his body.
Galdur clapped lightly from behind him where he was sitting on a rock.
"...Bravo, you managed to not impale yourself this time."
Stockwell had not neglected to enhance his own limbs either.
Strapped to his forearms and lower legs were four small ethanol thrusters.
Like the spider limbs, they were psychically actuated. And also like the spider limbs, he would have to learn how to use them as an extension of his own body, albeit easier to use since they were supposed to work in tandem with his normal movements.
If he moved an arm or a leg in a direction, he would activate the thruster and point the nozzle in the right direction to assist in that movement. This was another way to bridge the gap between him and the superhumans like Zero, Gagaran, and Brain.
But having the additional speed alone was not enough since he didn't have the reflexes and senses to properly utilize it.
To solve this, he had come up with a way to temporarily heighten his senses in the moments he needed too.
He remembered how he nearly destroyed his mind and body against Evileye by consuming a trio of concentrated haste, agility, and strength potions, but he also remembered the extreme power and mobility it granted him and certainly didn't want to forgo having access to that power.
So what he had come up with was a psychically actuated potion distributor within his gas mask. All it was was a pair of highly concentrated gaseous potions stored above the filters in his gas mask that when actuated, released a small amount of gas into the mask.
All he needed to do was time his inhalations when he needed to and he would immediately be granted a tenth to a fifth of a second of heightened senses, agility and strength; just long enough to complete a strike or aim at a target.
He tested it out.
"Galdur! Pull!" He yelled.
"—Huh? Oh…" In response, Galdur cast a spell.
「 Catapult」
Several clay pigeons sitting beside Galudr launched into the air behind Stockwell.
Stockwell activated the device in his mask and a small puff of haste potion hit his nose. He inhaled the moment he heard Galdur move.
Immediately his sense of time slowed down to one tenth speed. Activating his thrusters, he turned on a dime in and took up his automatic rifle.
His eyes locked on the three clay pigeons gliding through the air.
He carefully lined up the sights of his rifle in his slowed down sense of time and squeezed the trigger.
Bang.
The first round excited the rifle. He could hear the individual mechanical clicks of the trigger assembly ejecting the spent shell casing and loading in a new round from the magazine.
The first pigeon shattered.
Without letting go of the trigger, two more rounds excited the rifle.
Bang. Bang.
The last two pigeons shattered and his awareness returned to normal.
The entire process took about a quarter of a second from the moment Galdur threw the pigeons.
Stockwell's mind recoiled with a powerful headache. That always happened when using concentrated haste potions.
If he wanted to be able to function normally in combat, he would have to learn to endure it.
"Alright Galdur, I'm done psyching myself up. I'm going for the tree. This time for sure."
"Mm, If you say so."
Once Stockwell made some final adjustments to his equipment, he approached a tree in the distance.
The tree was a very old oak. Its trunk was at least 2 meters thick and had evidence of previous damage on it from blunt attacks.
Stockwell glared at it like an old enemy.
Alright. Focus.
He raised his fists and took a basic fighting stance. The halberd and shield on his spider limbs did the same.
He calmed his breathing and steadied his heart rate. Managing both of those factors carefully was absolutely essential to maximizing the value of his potions.
He was confident his tools had the capability for this. It was simply a mental game of keeping his wits through the pain and psychically actuating everything at the right moment.
Go!
He started with concentrated strength potion, ejecting a small puff of it into his mask at the same time he psychically activated the thruster on his right forearm. He laid into the tree with a right punch.
The key was to not waste the potion. He only needed the strength effect to be active the instant he made contact. He breathed the potion into his nose the moment before his fist hit the tree.
Yes!— oW!
Of course, he knew the pain was coming. Pain was just pain, health points however were a resource.
The bones of his fist shattered beneath his armored gauntlet as they made a dent into the tree trunk. He ejected a miniscule amount of healing potion in response. The point of this practice was to mathematically determine the greatest ratio of damage inflicted on a target compared to the damage inflicted on himself.
Obviously, using an ax would be the best way to fell a tree without harming one's self, but he needed to practice harming himself for cases in which he had no choice but to answer force with force.
His right fist healed itself as he withdrew it from the tree and followed it with a left punch, utilizing the potions and thrusters in the same way.
Jolts of pain ran up his arms, but this was par for the course. Compared to the beings of this world, he was a cockroach, and so he needed to fight like a cockroach.
Once he got comfortable with timing of his fists, he moved onto kicking the tree trunk.
As he continued to pummel the tree, constantly destroying and rehealing his limbs in the process, he kept conscious track of the gauges hanging off the side of his helmet that corresponded to the amount of each potion. He needed to constantly be doing math on the fly to make sure he was honing in on the right strength-damage-self damage- healing ratio.
Okay. Okay, good.
"You're doing better, Stockwell." Galdur said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. Which for him, sounded like a sarcastic taunt.
Stockwells punches and kicks bored into the side of the tree, ripping out huge portions of wood in the process.
The tree began to grow unstable.
Alright! Coup de grace!
He actuated the electrodes along the length of the spider arm wielding the halberd head. The slashed forward in an explosive movement.
However, for every action there was an equal and opposite reaction. The huge mass of metal and spider meat slashing outward from his body needed to be contracted so he wouldn't throw himself off balance.
He simultaneously actuated the electrodes on his shielded spider limb, hardening the flexible shield and digging it into the ground.
The halberd sailed through the air and cut cleanly through the ramined portion of the tree.
With the trunk severed, the tree fell over to one side and rolled to a stop.
Galdur clapped politely from behind.
Stockwell cracked his knuckles, pleased. Though, he wasn't too happy about now having to clean up all the sap and leaves he was covered in.
As for the state of his armor and weapons, he gave them a quick once over…
As expected, the OTB and stygilight were spotless. Wood was not a worthy opponent for them.
"Bravo." Galdur muttered. "Now let me check on the slime. Hopefully you didn't beat it to death."
The enchanter shuffled over to him.
Stockwell nodded and turned towards Galdur. He then crouched and looked upwards so Galdur could peer into a crease in Stockwell's armor just below his neck.
Galdur placed his finger on the creese and pulled it back. "Come out."
Transparent gray ooze seeped out from the seemes of Stockwell's armor following Galdur's finger.
This was an undead slime resurrected by Galdur's magic. It was a very weak monster but served several crucial functions.
Most importantly, by squishing into the bottom most layers of Stockwell's clothing, it formed an airtight seal that prevented air from reaching his skin. This was important if Stockwell wanted to use blister and nettle agents that could potentially worm their way through gaps in his cloak.
Secondarily, as an undead, it was completely immune to negative energy attacks and was actually healed from them instead. For example if he were to be targeted by a 「 Ray of Negative Energy」, the beam would be absorbed by the slime before hitting Stockwell. Of course, the opposite was true for healing spells. If someone targeted him with a healing spell, the slime would surely be killed and Stockwell wouldn't receive the healing spell. That's why it was important that healing be done through potion internally through his mask.
Thirdly, the slime helped with thermoregulation. His armor was very insulative, and It got very hot inside when active. Because slimes naturally circulated their protoplasm around even at rest when squished very tightly, a single magical cooling pad placed on his bare chest was enough to keep his whole body fairly cool.
And finally, the slime helped keep his body from getting too messy by serving as a big slimy body bag. He expected his limbs to liquify and his insides to burst at some point like they had done before. It was just more convenient if his bodily fluids were intercepted by the slime instead of soaking into his equipment.
The reason there were this using this slime in particular was because it was supposedly immune to non-magical bludgeoning damage. It could be harmed by piercing and cutting implements and a whole slew of other effects, but should theoretically be fine persisting within Stockwell's armor when he received external blows.
Galdur examined the slime seeping from Stockwell's armor. "It's still in the same condition from before, feel free to put it through some punishment."
Someone approached them from behind. "Hello? Mr. Stockwell?"
It was one of the villagers. "I take it you're done with the tree?" The man asked tentatively.
Stockwell glanced at him. "Yesh. Lumber's all yours."
Of course, he wasn't felling a tree just for the hell of it.
…
Vera entered the laboratory. "Niven was worried about you."
Stockwell was sitting at his workbench cautiously organizing a mixture of yellow and white powders in a small dish. He was staring through a magnifying glass, carefully using tweezers to move aside the individual grains of powder and assessing their fineness as well as the overall homogeneity of the mixture.
"That kid is just a little uneasy is all, he'll grow out of it with age."
The side of Vera's mouth dipped in a frown. "He said you were doing something 'insane' or whatever. Something about fluorine gas was it? Said you were trying to ignite ice. I came to see if you were okay."
Stockwell scoffed. "Oh please, a little fluorine never hurt anyone... Well, actually no, that's a lie. But my point still stands."
He returned to his mixing. "Chemists just have the natural tendency to hear the words 'elemental fluorine' and run for the hills. They're just overreacting is all…" He chuckled lightly. "No pun intended."
"And besides," he said, "I was being hyperbolus when I was talking about igniting water… though…" Stockwell looked up and pondered. "...now that you mention it again, I do remember hearing about strong liquid fluorinating agents, ClF3 and the like… hmm… could be interesting…"
"Wesley?"
Stockwell waved her off. "Anyways, I'm bold, not stupid. I don't plan on maiming myself anytime soon."
"...right."
He picked up the small dish of powders and headed towards the door. "This is more of an outdoor kind of reaction. You might want to watch it, it should be spectacular."
Vera nodded and stepped aside. She followed Stockwell out the door.
He found a small clearing outside and placed the dish on the ground.
"What is it?" Vera asked.
"It's a mixture of nickel fluoride and mythril dust." He started to lay out a piece of metal ribbon atop the dish.
"Mythril is an interesting little element. Its white coloration stems from the fact that it is a near perfect diffuse reflector of light, however its greenish sheen is the result of photonuclear iridescence. Interesting stuff. And, unlike its cousins adamantite and orichalcum, it's a little friendlier with other elements. I've been able to get it to react with fluorine under the right circumstances. Ah—"
He quickly ran back into the lab as though he had forgotten something. He returned moment's later with a small vial of metal ribbons. "I think Faber has my torch, I'll just have to improvise."
He went back to the dish. "As I was saying, under the right circumstances, fluorine is able to get near enough to the extended mythril nucleus and engorge itself on its shallowerer electron orbitals… as fluorine is known best for. However, because of the secondary shape that mythril atoms take, fluorine is forced to get very close to it as it bonds. And because of that, the enthalpy of formation is very high. That is to say, this reaction produces a lot of heat."
He carefully laid out the metallic material from the vial onto the dish. "There we go…."
He looked at Vera. "So anyways, all this is is a high energy thermite reaction. I suggest closing your eyes half way and only looking at it with the very edge of your peripheral vision. Brace yourself."
"Wait—"
Stockwell did something and then quickly turned his back and ran.
The dish ignited into a brilliance far outpacing any of the lightning bolts she was able to cast. She shut her eyes and still she could see clearly the outline of the fire plume though her eyelids.
And though she stood a great deal away from the tiny little dish, the heat was so great that she felt as though she were standing next to a towering bonfire.
The reaction stopped just as fast as it had begun.
"That seemed a little better than last time." Stockwell said. "I guess it really is worth the extra effort to get the mythril dust super fine—"
"—What the hell was that!?" She blinked several times to wash the stinging sensation from her eyes.
"Like I said, it was just a high energy thermite reaction. Very simple chemistry."
"...give me some more warning next time." The hazy outline of the fire plume slowly faded from her retinas. "What are you planning to even do with that stuff?"
Stockwell shrugged. "I don't know. It could have its uses as an incendiary weapon or as a component in some kind of flash-stun device."
"Is that even necessary?"
"Necessary? You don't seem to understand Vera." Stockwell replied. "If we were fighting mere humans, then yes, it would be overkill. Something simple like white phosphorus would be more practical and just as effective in a weapon. But were not fighting just mere humans."
He walked up to the charred and still glowing site of the thermite reaction. "We're up against more than just simple flesh and blood. Now that we're taking better measurements, it's clear exactly how far the laws of physiology are being bent. It's much safer to treat the warriors of this world as walking, biological bunkers with concrete for skin."
He kicked apart the glowing mass of loose soot with the tip of his shoe. "Why do you think I have so many different types of poison gasses? Chlorine by itself is just as deadly under normal circumstances and is by far the easiest of my chemical agents to make."
"Well uh—"
"—It's because thoroughness is a necessity. Human biology is riddled with achilles heels: The respiratory system, circulatory system, the nervous system, the lymphatic system and so on. Everything from the epidermis down to the DNA and cellular respiration needs to function precisely in order for someone to stay alive and fight to their full capacity."
He cracked a smile when he examined a hard lump of glass formed in the dirt.
"Sulfur mustard, arsine, phosgene oxime, lewisite, cyanogen chloride. Blister agents, blood agents, choking agents, nettle agents… The goal is to attack as many physiological systems as possible, with as much vigor as possible to the point of extreme overkill. Throw everything you know about ld50 out the window. That is the only way it seems to be able to overwhelm these creature's capacity to resist tissue damage, these health points, if you will. And once they are overwhelmed, then they finally become reasonably mortal."
"So." He concluded. "Elaborate overkill is entirely necessary."
He began to laugh coldly. "And that is also why I'm cooking up a very special kind of chemical. Though, it has proved more difficult than originally expected."
"—Hello!"
Both of them turned to see the blacksmith approaching them.
"Oh, Hi. Do you need something Faber?" Stockwell asked.
"Yes, actually." Faber was covered in oil stains and his face had a large toothy grin plastered on it. "Dragonfly is almost ready for testing. I just wanted your opinion on what color to—"
"—Red" Stockwell replied without hesitation.
"Red?"
"Yes, paint it red. And it needs a balkenkreuz painted on it too."
Stockwell grinned. "It's an iconic combination that inspires fear in all who see it."