Chương 13: Life or Death Etching

Outside the window, the acid rain showed no signs of stopping. It poured down relentlessly as if it meant to fall for eternity. Looking out, a grey, bleak curtain of water blanketed the entire world. Inside the cramped rented room, the pungent smell of the industrial beast repellent was so thick it almost felt tangible, churning the already stagnant air into a suffocating miasma. Yet, for Rowan, this harsh chemical stench provided the ultimate sense of security.

Stripped to the waist, he sat cross-legged on the old, torn mattress. Under the savage efficacy of the "Scavenger" serum, the wound on his right calf had stopped bleeding, forming a thick, ugly black scab. The bone-deep chill that felt like being submerged in ice water was fading, replaced by the itchy, throbbing ache of muscle fibers aggressively knitting themselves back together. Rowan ignored his right leg. He took a deep breath and severed the neural link to his Aether Core. Whirrr—hiss...

Accompanied by a faint sound, the micro "Aether Core-IIα" lying dormant beneath his skin fell silent. A long-lost sense of lightness washed over Rowan, like a fish tossed onto the shore finally plunging back into the water. Cybernetic spell cores operated via a link to the mage's Source Crystal Core, but they also constantly leeched mana from it—essentially locking away a permanent portion of the user's "mana bar."

With Rowan's aptitude as an unranked mage, walking around with the Aether Core active always felt like walking with a heavy weight strapped to his back. But for the etching, he needed to be in his absolute prime.

"Destruction before construction..." Rowan muttered softly. Rowan's gaze was steel, his voice exceptionally clear in the dead silence of the sealed room. Inhale—Exhale— He closed his eyes. His mental power extended inward through his chest like fine, hair-thin tentacles. Embedded right where his heart beat—like a high-dimensional projection—was a tiny, translucent crystal in the shape of a regular tetrahedron, no larger than a walnut, with mirror-smooth facets.

That was the [Source Crystal Core]—the genesis of all supernatural power in the world of Terra. It was an entirely blank canvas, unpolluted by any worldly laws.

"Let's begin." Rowan snapped his eyes open, leaving nothing but cold, cold resolve in his gaze. He grabbed the [Mana Primordium]. Without a trace of hesitation, following the exact procedures outlined in his textbooks, he pressed it firmly against his left chest, right over his beating heart. Channeling his mental power, Rowan synchronized the vibration of his Source Crystal Core to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Woom—!

As if sensing the resonant call of its origin, the primordium's gentle, pale-white halo erupted violently! A rich, indestructible surge of pure elemental mana surged straight through his flesh. This mana carried no aggression; llike a shell of pure amber forming in an instant, layer upon layer wrapping Rowan's fragile Source Crystal Core. Guided by Rowan's mental power, the yellow light retracted, exposing a paper-thin sliver of the Crystal Core's surface. This was the blank canvas upon which he was about to paint.

This shield, condensed from pure mana crystallization, granted Rowan an immense sense of security. Hesitating no longer, Rowan pressed his right thumb down hard. With a crisp crack, he popped the lead seal off the top of the vial. The pungent, highly stimulating scent of volatile mana instantly filled the air. Rowan tilted his head back, aimed the vial at his left chest, and poured the entirety of the low-grade etching fluid—with its 45% impurity rate—straight down, not wasting a single drop!

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Ssssssss—!!! The moment the etching fluid touched his skin, it didn't slide down his chest like a normal liquid. Instead, like a sentient super-acid, it instantly vaporized into a spectral blue, toxic mist. Surging through his pores, blood vessels, and mana nodes, it drilled violently into his body!

"Arghhhh!!!" Rowan's body instantly curled up like a cooked shrimp. A strangled, choking gasp tore from the depths of his throat. Pain! An agony that defied all language! The chemical agents, laced heavily with industrial impurities, acted like tens of thousands of microscopic, rusted steel saws ripping and churning through his veins and nerve endings.

Carrying the berserk, destructive taint unique to Terra's industrial waste, they surged toward Rowan's heart, intending to grind that fragile Source Crystal Core—along with his life—into dust. If this were an underhive gambler attempting the etching without the protection of a primordium, his crystal core would have shattered in this exact instant. But Rowan had a shield! Rowan forced himself to peel a sliver of rationality away from the death-by-a-thousand-cuts agony, agonizingly channeling his mental power.

He condensed every ounce of his mental power into an invisible, microscopic "Etching Knife." Guided by this mental blade, the berserk flood of fluid was reined into a hair-thin strand. Like a micro-surgical scalpel, it landed delicately on the flawless surface of the Source Crystal Core. What he had to carve was the absolute origin of water-element magic—the [Water Source Rune].

"The first stroke." The mental knife dragged a deep blue groove across the translucent crystal core. The agony of literally "tattooing" the essence of his soul made Rowan's vision go black in patches. Merely carving the most foundational Water Source Rune required micro-engraving 360 agonizing mana circuits... Rowan's brain ran like a processor at maximum overclock.

The curvature of every line, the micro-adjustment of every node—he had mentally rehearsed them tens of thousands of times over the past twenty years of his life, waiting for this exact day.

"Don't stop... if I stop now, it's all over..." He clamped his mental power in a vice grip, refusing to let the etching knife deviate by even a fraction of a millimeter.

"Second stroke... Third stroke..." A complex, dark blue pattern carrying a mysterious, rhythmic cadence slowly began to sprawl and outline itself across Rowan's Source Crystal Core. Sweat, mixed with a greyish, foul-smelling impurity expelled from his pores, rolled down Rowan's spine. Amidst the excruciating pain, his consciousness reached a state of crystalline clarity. He could even feel the rhythm of his heartbeat resonating in perfect tandem with the circuits being carved by his knife.

Time seemed to lose all meaning in this state of focus and agony. In the dead-silent rented room, the only sound was Rowan's heavy, bellows-like panting. Beneath the skin of his left chest, the earthy-yellow glow of the primordium shield intertwined with the deep blue light of the etching. They flickered erratically—bizarre, yet profoundly sacred. Detecting critical life signs from its host, the AR projection on his retina began frantically spamming red alerts, and an ear-piercing siren echoed in his mind.

"Shut up... System, forced hibernation!" Rowan violently shut down every single interference with sheer willpower, pouring 100% of his processing power into the micro-engraving of the crystal core. Eighty circuits... A hundred circuits... A hundred and twenty... When he reached the 250th circuit, the dark impurities within the low-grade etching fluid began a frantic counterattack. Hairline cracks began to spiderweb across the otherworldly primordium shield.

The pure earthy-yellow hue was slowly being corroded away by the industrial sludge.

"Not done yet... Hold together!" Rowan bit down hard on the tip of his tongue. The rusty tang of blood instantly snapped him back to full lucidity. He accelerated his carving speed. Two-seventy... three hundred... three-fifty-nine! The most critical one—the final stroke that determined whether the mold could close into a complete loop."

"Done!" Rowan unleashed a roar from the depths of his soul. Carrying the very last wisp of blue mana, the mental etching knife flawlessly outlined the 360th circuit. Woom—!!! A burst of blue light erupted from Rowan's chest, then rapidly retracted. The Möbius ring on his wrist also flickered erratically, pulsing with light and shadow. An immense volume of mana frantically poured in.

Within Rowan's mental perception, the crystalline facet etched with the [Water Source Rune] seemed to open inward, unlocking a self-contained micro-dimension. Like a tidal wave, mana smashed open roughly one-fifth of this newly opened pocket space's foundation. The free-floating mana that had lingered around his heart seemed to finally find its home, violently rushing into this newly forged inner reservoir. Rowan collapsed weakly onto the mattress, gasping greedily for air.

The skin on his chest was a raw, burning red, but that death-by-a-thousand-cuts agony had vanished. In its place was an unprecedented, transcendent sense of profound comfort. At this moment, the physical boundaries of sight and sound were shattered. Outside the window, the acid rain battering the sheet metal had previously just been dull white noise. But now, amidst that harsh clatter, Rowan could actually "hear" the faint, resonant frequencies generated when countless water droplets collided and tore apart.

That was the rhythm of the [Water Source Rune]. This filthy Seventh Abyssal Hive was still rotting away, but right now, Rowan had finally earned the qualification to look down upon these worldly laws. He looked down at the hideous surgical scar on his left arm—the humiliating brand he had received by trading his dignity and future to the Consortium for the meager right to survive. But now, he felt the deep blue "miracle" resting within his left chest—a miracle that belonged entirely to him.

In this cramped, dim rented room reeking of pungent chemicals, Rowan suddenly began to chuckle softly. The laughter was weak at first, but it soon pulled at his chest cavity, morphing into a hoarse, manic whispering laced with mockery. The entire world was still a colossal, rotting mud pit. But starting tonight, he was no longer a rat waiting to be slaughtered in it.