Chương 38: A Reading of 0.000006%

000006% The corridor behind the arena's medical wing was empty, carrying only the faint scent of dried mugwort and herbal antiseptic through the cool air. Lucian stood with his back against the granite wall, arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes narrowed. About ten steps away, Astra sat on a long wooden bench. The ash-grey-haired girl was carefully winding a strip of hemp cloth around a tiny scratch on her pinky finger — the only mark Golan's sword had managed to leave, from the wind of a near-miss.

From the tip of his index finger, hidden inside his sleeve, a thread of mana perception thinner than a ten-thousandth of a hair was quietly threading through the air, slipping into Astra's mana channels and toward the core of her soul. With ninety-five billion two hundred million points of Spell Control, his perception moved without leaving a single ripple of heat, gliding past her body's natural defenses without provoking any visible reaction from her Divine Battle Instinct.

But the moment his perception touched the depths of Astra's soul, the System interface in Lucian's vision suddenly seized up violently. Ting! Ting! Ting! A cascade of gold and dark-red alerts flashed in rapid succession, data scrolling past at a dizzying speed, choking his entire computational bandwidth like a flash flood. [DEEP ANALYSIS: TARGET ASTRA] Status: Extreme External Drain / Multi-Layer Seal Actual usable mana output: 0. 000006%! [Estimated Combat Power if fully unlocked:] [Measurement not possible. Data exceeds current assessment authority.] [SEAL MECHANISM: THE SEVEN SACRED SEALS.] Structure: 7 rings of multilingual arcane chains braided into the spine and the root mana channel. Energy loss ratio: 99. 999994% of natural output redirected to an unidentified target. Lucian went rigid where he stood. His back pressed flat against the cold stone wall, his eyes blown wide, pupils shrinking to two pinpricks. Point-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-six percent?

The part of his brain trained on years of financial spreadsheets ran a basic division problem automatically, without being asked. One part in sixteen million six hundred thousand. The 411, 892 Combat Power she'd used to dodge thirty-six of Golan's strikes was only one sixteen-millionth of what her body actually produced. Take four hundred eleven thousand and multiply it by sixteen million... and the bare minimum, before accounting for any burst multipliers or divine skills, already came out to roughly 6.

8 trillion. Nearly seven trillion Combat Power. At sixteen years old. A doomsday-class monster was sitting on a splintered wooden bench, bandaging a scratch on her finger. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Lucian stood there for several long seconds, recalculating the number twice just to make sure he hadn't lost his mind. Clack. Astra finished tying off the bandage, admired her finger with satisfaction, and stood up.

The moment she rounded the corner of the corridor, she startled — a ten-year-old boy in a grey traveling cloak was leaning against the wall, eyes glazed over, face as white as if he'd just watched his entire family go bankrupt. Astra blinked. She looked at Lucian's dusty cloak, his pale face, then at the half sweet potato still in her hand. Apparently, she reached the most obvious conclusion.

She reached into the rough cloth pouch at her hip and pulled out the other half of her roasted sweet potato, still steaming and fragrant. Astra stepped closer, gentle and light-footed, and held the half potato out toward Lucian, her voice soft and utterly sincere.

"Are... are you hungry? I got a really big one from the arena kitchen. I already ate half. You can have this half." Lucian slowly lowered his gaze. He looked at the golden, steaming half potato resting in the girl's calloused palm, then lifted his eyes to her soot-smudged face and completely sincere smile. A girl carrying nearly seven trillion Combat Power in sealed potential — was standing in front of him, offering half a sweet potato because she was worried he might be... hungry.

Lucian looked down at the sweet potato. Then back at Astra. Seven trillion. Half a sweet potato.

"You..." Lucian's voice came out hoarse, his fingers trembling slightly as he took the warm potato.

"Do you know what's inside your own body?" Astra tilted her head. She answered honestly.

"You mean the Seven Sacred Seals? The High Priests said it's a sacred blessing of self-sacrifice. Those seven chains are what keep me from being corrupted by the power of darkness, so I can use my whole life to protect humanity when the great calamity comes." She smiled, her clear ash-grey eyes without a trace of doubt.

"It's my destiny." Destiny, my ass. Lucian's grip tightened around the half potato in his hand. Through the eyes of a former finance worker who'd spent years dissecting fraudulent contracts, this so-called "Divine Blessing" and "Seven Sacred Chains" were nothing more than the single most brutal labor-exploitation contract he'd ever laid eyes on. To Lucian, the structure looked less like a blessing and more like a contract written directly into Astra's soul: seven layers siphoning away 99.

999994% of her output for some unknown purpose while the Church taught her to call it sacrifice. She was sitting on power measured in trillions, living in patched clothes and eating a roasted sweet potato while believing the drain was a blessing. Deep in Lucian's mind, the System gave a quiet pulse. [Language structure of the Divinely Chosen Covenant identified.] Old Elvish Ancient Demonic Fragmentary Sacred Tongue [Original contract source: unavailable.] Lucian took a slow bite of the sweet potato.

If anyone still had the original covenant, the Holy Church's Grand Sacred Archive was the obvious place to start looking. He wasn't some hero who liked saving the world. He hated trouble, hated hollow noble ideals, and hated having to carry other people's fates on his back more than anything. But seeing a priceless asset being drained down to the marrow by a garbage contract offended every professional instinct Lucian still carried from his old life. He looked up at Astra, his voice suddenly flat.

"Done eating?"

"Huh? Yeah, I'm done." Astra blinked.

"Good. Go rest in your room after your next match this afternoon." Lucian turned and strode quickly down the corridor toward the exit, still holding the other half of the sweet potato, the corner of his mouth twitching over and over.

"Point-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-six... Whoever drafted this exploitation contract deserves to be shot ten times over."