The forest west of the Vale estate became alive with morning light.
Ethan adjusted the strap across his shoulder and glanced over his gear one last time before stepping into the bush. He was far from a helpless infant ten years ago.
On his back hung his latest invention, a compact automatic crossbow, its limbs reinforced with steel and its firing mechanism driven by a small rotary motor he'd cobbled together from scavenged materials. The copper windings had once been imperial coins, (purest copper available to Ethan), melted and drawn thin by hand.
The insulation was hardened beeswax, painstakingly boiled and filtered.
For power, he'd built a primitive dry cell battery,charcoal as the cathode, hammered zinc as the anode, vinegar as the electrolyte, all sealed in a clay casing.
Ethan even made Safrena make him a backpack for the more than five pound battery.
It wasn't elegant. But it worked.
And more importantly, it reloaded and fired itself with every pull of the trigger.
Strapped to his wrists was the Hand of Thor Mk.3, his taser gloves improved after the Hans incident. He'd tweaked the discharge plates, added more efficient silver channels, and doubled the capacitor capacity. They weren't lethal yet, but they hurt.
Hanging from his belt were a few more homemade tricks:
Smoke bombs, made from ground charcoal mixed with saltpeter and sugar, packed into small ceramic shells. They ignited with friction, creating thick, choking smoke in seconds.
Stink bombs, simple but brutal. Sulfur scraped from lamp fuel, mixed with crushed rotten egg shells and a pinch of fish oil, all sealed in fragile glass. Break one, and the world hates you for ten minutes.
A small dagger if everything fails, though with his father around the probability is zero.
Kael walked ahead, his sword brushing against the undergrowth. He didn't say anything but the constant weird side glances were sending enough signal to Ethan.
"Come on say whatever you want to say" Ethan rolled his eyes
"You sure about bringing all that ju…equipment? Father will only allow us to take care of one or two weak ones" Kael asked as politely as possible.
Ethan scoffed. "These 'equipment' are the pinnacle of human innovation in a pre-industrial society. You'll thank me when you run out of lightning."
Kael shook his head but didn't argue. He'd long learned that once Ethan started speaking science, there was no stopping him.
Arione led the group, massive sword strapped across his back. "Stay sharp boys" he called over his shoulder. "Scouts said Rank 1 beasts, rat-type sighted near the old mill. They travel in packs. Don't underestimate them."
"Giant rats," Ethan muttered. "Will they be bigger than the NY ones?"
....
They found them just past the creek, a swarm of hulking, but still rodent shapes darting between the roots. Each one was the size of a hound, at least two times that of New York city rats. Their yellow eyes glowing faintly with mana.
And then, as one turned its head and hissed, a crackle of energy formed around its mouth.
"Stay behind, only fight when I ask" Arione barked.
Arione moved to the front, holding his massive sword in one hand he just started cleaving through the beasts without carrying about all the attacks hurled towards him.
Against these rank one rats, Arione does not even need to defend as their strongest attacks could only manage to leave small white marks at best on his thick skin.
After taking care of the big ones, He lets the boys take care of the rest, while looking around for any surprises.
After getting the green signal, Kael instantly drew his sword.
A sphere of compressed lightning shot past Kael and exploded against a small tree trunk, splintering it into kindlings.
Kael dashed forward, lightning flickering around his hands.
Meanwhile Ethan asked Aimi to scan the rats and bring out their status panel
Designation: Gnawkins (rats with magic powers)
Origin: valeria western woods
Classification: Rank one beast (equal to knight trainee, but can use magical attacks like rank D super)
Affiliation: hostile most of times
Strength: 50-60
Agility: 63-65
Constitution: 37-45
Perception: 48-50
Intelligence: 0 (no sign of using any strategy, pure instinct driven)
Mana:No available matric available to quantify
"They are easy to take down in an one on one, If we do not attract four or five together, there should be no problem"
Ethan knelt, bracing the crossbow against a tree. The motor whined faintly. With a soft, mechanical heartbeat, the first bolt loosed and buried itself in a rat's flank.
"Projectile velocity: 67 m/s. Penetration depth: 8.2 cm. Target mobility: impaired, Good job Host" Aimi reported calmly.
"Yes, a good hit," Ethan muttered. "Reload cycle in three… two…"
The crossbow clicked. Another bolt flew. Another rat dropped.
Kael vaulted over a rock, a bolt of his own lightning slamming into the pack. Arione watched from the sideline, nonchalant but ever ready to step in.
Meanwhile, Ethan wasn't watching the battle. He was studying.
One of the rats screeched and reared up, fire swirling around its teeth. The spell flared but then it stopped. A pause. Just for a moment. Then another fireball formed. Another pause. Then another.
He frowned. "Aimi, time the intervals."
"Average delay: 4.8 seconds between spell formations. Maximum observed: 6.2 seconds," she replied. "Pattern consistent across multiple specimens."
"Interesting…" Ethan murmured, firing another bolt into a charging rat.
Humans could cast continuously until their mana reserves hit empty, he'd seen Kael throw twenty bolts in a row before collapsing. But these beasts… they had cooldowns. A waiting period. Their spells weren't sustained, they were recharged.
Why?
Were they accumulating mana in a specialized organ? Storing it before each use? If so, what biological process governed that?
"Ethan!" Kael's shout snapped him back. "Heads up!"
Two rats lunged at once. Ethan dropped the crossbow and hurled a smoke bomb at their feet. The shell shattered, filling the air with a choking black fog. He rolled backward, taser gloves crackling, and slammed a charged fist into the first beast's snout.
A violent jolt ran through its body. It spasmed, collapsed, and twitched on the ground.
The second broke through the smoke and leapt, only to be split in half midair by Arione's sword.
"You're getting too distracted," Arione grunted.
"Distracted?" Ethan said, grinning breathlessly. "I'm learning."
"Data logged: magical attack intervals, 4.8–6.2 seconds. Possible biological limitation detected," Aimi confirmed. "Further investigation is recommended, preferably with a scalpel. Ahem"
Ethan's grin widened. "Oh, don't worry. I plan to."
By the time the last rat fell, the clearing was quiet again. Kael wiped sweat from his brow. Arione inspected the bodies. Ethan, meanwhile, knelt beside the corpse of one still faintly crackling with residual mana, his mind racing.
"They can't cast constantly," he muttered. "They have to wait… charge… reset. But they can do it again and again. That means whatever's generating mana isn't running out. Somehow it's cycling."
"And that cycle might explain why they can use multiple elements," Aimi added.
"Exactly," Ethan said. "And if I can understand that cycle…"
He stared at the dead rat, eyes gleaming with scientific hunger.
"…maybe I can build one myself. He, he, imagine imagine enemy waiting for a fireball, instead a f**king boulder flying at their face"
...
Next day (morning):
Afternoon light slanted through the tall windows, falling across the dissection table where the carcass of a magical rat lay pinned open beneath a magnifying lens. It looked grotesque to anyone else. To Ethan, it looked like answers.
He flipped a page in his notebook, charcoal scratching rapidly across diagrams and equations. "Alright, Aimi. Let's map what we know."
"Recording. Host," Aimi's tone was energetic.
"Observation one," Ethan said, pointing his pen at the exposed organs.
"Beasts don't spend mana. They're born from it. saturated with ambient mana from the moment they transform. It's not a resource to them. It's part of their biology."
"Accepted. That would explain their capacity to cast repeatedly without depleting a pool."
"Right. But here's the catch, they still need a cooldown between spells. Five, sometimes six seconds. That means something inside them is recharging."
"Hypothesis?"
"Energy," Ethan said simply. "They're paying for their magic with metabolic fuel, not mana."
"Glucose?"
"Has to be." Ethan paced, thoughts racing faster now.
"Adenosine triphosphate aka ATP, is the universal currency of biological energy. Hydrolysis releases around thirty kilojoules per mole. Enough to power muscle contractions, nerve signals… possibly even spellcasting."
"Insufficient," Aimi countered immediately.
"ATP breakdown cannot produce temperatures sufficient for a fireball or voltages adequate for plasma generation."
"Exactly!" Ethan slammed his notebook shut.
"Which means we're missing a second stage. The mitochondria aren't just oxidizing glucose, they're doing something else."
He paced faster, ideas spilling out.
"What if they're altering electron gradients beyond the standard proton motive force? What if they're coupling biochemical reactions with mana field excitation? Hell, maybe they're tunneling electrons through a field we can't even measure, and that's what manifests as magic!"
"But it is all just speculations, Host"
"Think about it. On Earth, everything runs on glucose. Here too. But nothing on Earth spits fire or lightning. The difference isn't the fuel, it's what they're doing with it. Something happens at the cellular level, maybe even within the mitochondrial cristae, that converts biochemical energy into magic output."
He stopped pacing and stared down at the rat's tissue again, the delicate, web-like fibers around what he suspected was a mana storage organ.
"And I can't see it," he muttered. "I know something's there, but I'm blind to it."
"Resolution limitation: human visual spectrum. Recommend sub-microscopic observation."
"Yeah," Ethan sighed. "I'd need an electron microscope just to start looking at this. Vacuum tubes, cathode filaments, electromagnetic lenses, all things I can't build with just iron and beeswax."
A heavy silence followed. Ethan's fingers drummed against the table. He hated hitting a wall. But in that silence, the discovery, and the frustration, settled deep.
They were close. He could feel it.