A transparent liquid was injected into the carotid artery, and the mithril collar loosened slightly to allow the solution to diffuse.
Bright light illuminated Amora's body, as blinding as Mongel's white robe. She squinted as a slight swelling sensation spread through her veins. At this moment, the coolness of Mongel's touch was the only thing that offered her some comfort. Due to the anesthetic effects, Amora's vision blurred, and she found it hard to concentrate.
She lay quietly, like a pure white lamb.
This was just the preparation.
The transparent reagent Mongel held was designed to enhance magical resistance. It adhered to the inner walls of her arteries, forming a protective membrane to shield her blood vessels and surrounding areas from drug-induced corrosion.
When the magical conduits inside the mithril collar reacted, they generated enormous energy. Since these conduits were connected to Amora's nervous system, improper protection could easily result in severe accidents. The rare magic-resistant reagent Mongel was injecting into her would form tiny anti-magic zones around her neck and internal organs, shielding all critical parts.
As for how effective the protection would be… that depended entirely on Mongel's skill.
"Does it hurt?" Mongel asked softly, placing a clean, alcohol-scented cloth over her eyes.
Amora closed her eyes, the strong smell of alcohol intensifying her headache. "Mild swelling in the veins. I'm very dizzy. Please reduce the dosage and increase the anesthetic."
"There's no need to reduce the magic resistance reagent unless you'd like to risk becoming brain-damaged during the next reaction," Mongel replied. Though he asked for her input, he never accepted it. He always had a slew of reasons to counter her. "And if I increase the anesthetic, you won't feel anything at all. I need you to stay conscious throughout the process."
Amora began feeling a slight nausea. These magic-resistant reagents, while effective at countering magical reactions, often caused physical discomfort. There was no such thing as a perfectly harmless magical potion. Amora had grown used to it, and her adverse reactions weren't severe. The cloth Mongel had placed over her eyes likely contained more than just disinfectants—whatever it was, it didn't alleviate her headache, but it did sharpen her focus completely.
"Concentration potion…" she murmured. It was often colloquially known as a stimulant. This potion forcibly heightened a magister's mental focus, dramatically improving magical efficiency. However, it was harsh on the brain, and overuse could easily lead to sudden death.
"There's also the alcohol mixed with frost dragon saliva—it's another thing that can help keep you conscious. I've already tempered the concentration potion's effects, but it's true that this kind of substance isn't ideal for children," Mongel said while stirring something, the soft clinking of glass coming from his hands.
"Headache," Amora said flatly, her task being to report every sensation she experienced truthfully to him.
"That's normal," Mongel replied, completely unconcerned. "Stop talking. I'm cleaning the collar's surface grime."
Amora shifted uncomfortably, only for Mongel to quickly fix her head in place with a metal frame.
He placed a monitoring crystal in front of him, its display showing a dense network of magical conduits intricately linked into a complex system, as fine as the human nervous system. The mithril collar's surface appeared smooth and seamless, but without the crystal, the conduits would have been invisible.
Recently, Mongel had been making adjustments to the magical system inside the collar. Its complexity required extensive calculations, analyses, and countless experiments. While Mongel could work on such continuous experimentation for six months straight without issue, Amora couldn't. She needed metabolic recovery, sleep, and social interaction; she couldn't afford to lie here doing nothing for half a year.
For Mongel, this presented a challenge. He had to complete the micro-adjustments, optimize the arrangement of conduits, and improve the foundational magical formulas before Amora's body gave out under the strain.
Fortunately, Mongel was an absurdly brilliant researcher of magical systems.
At least, in all the books Amora had read, no one else had been able to single-handedly execute such a monumental project. The sheer calculations alone would make the world's top magical corps researchers collapse in frustration. They would need at least 300 experts sharing consciousness over several years to produce even a vague result.
But Mongel had already constructed the system's entire framework by himself. All he needed now was to fine-tune the imperfect elements.
Time passed as Mongel stared at the monitoring crystal, performing calculations and occasionally asking Amora questions. She responded with the shortest academic phrases possible, enabling him to make adjustments. Eventually, Mongel fell completely silent, and Amora could only remain quiet as well. She estimated that at least half a day had passed—judging by the alcohol-soaked towel on her eyes, which had long since dried out.
The most pressing problem was that she was hungry.
Amora decided to remind Mongel. "Can you get me something to eat?"
"Shut up and don't disturb me," Mongel replied coldly.
Amora felt absolutely miserable. The effects of the concentration potion had worn off, leaving her not only with a pounding headache but also drowsy to the point of near-collapse. Yet the intense pain and numbness radiating from her neck kept her oscillating between sleep and wakefulness. To stabilize the collar, Mongel had fixed her head in a strange and uncomfortable position, while the rest of her body remained anesthetized. At this point, the only part of her she could still move was her toes.
Mongel's experiment didn't seem to have reached a critical stage yet, as he wouldn't have paid her any attention if it had.
Seizing the moment, Amora spoke up again, "I said I want food."
"I said shut up," Mongel replied, his tone as flat as ever.
"I'm starving," Amora insisted. If she didn't press the issue, Mongel might wait until her heart stopped from hunger before even considering resuscitation.
"Twenty days of confinement," Mongel threatened.
The same old trick.
Amora smirked internally and countered in the same tone, "Let's hope you don't beg me to come out and cook for you by day ten."
She heard the sound of Mongel getting up and opening the cabinet, but when he returned, it wasn't with the food she'd hoped for. He silently resumed his work, simulating the magical formulas without paying attention to her increasingly deliberate coughs.
It wasn't until her eighteenth cough that Mongel spoke, his voice tinged with impatience.
"I got myself a sedative," he said coldly. "I'm worried I might strangle you before you starve to death."
Amora cursed him internally, though her facial expression remained stiff from the towel that had been left over her face for far too long. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. Just stay quiet," Mongel replied, maintaining his restrained, indifferent tone. Amora wished he'd give her a sedative too, because at this rate, she felt she might die from frustration before starvation.
Amora lay completely still in the same position, realizing just how exhausting lying down could be. She couldn't wipe away the sweat trickling down her face, her headache felt like her skull might split, her neck was stiff, and the blood vessels in her neck seemed on the verge of bursting. With her vision obscured by the damp towel, she couldn't see anything, and with Mongel silent, it felt as though she were the last person left in the world.
"Don't move," Mongel finally spoke again, breaking the suffocating silence. "Once I confirm the last batch of data, I'll begin implanting the new magical conduits."
Amora's stomach had growled countless times by now, but Mongel continued as if he hadn't noticed. Before she could respond, he stopped her.
"No, don't answer me. Don't let me see your vocal cords vibrate."
Mongel's cold fingertips brushed against Amora's neck as he examined the data on the monitoring crystal. He eventually arrived at a conclusion that was entirely meaningless to her: "If the last conduit in the thirty-ninth set still doesn't generate a response… I'll have to start constructing the fortieth set."
Amora had thought he might say he'd end the experiment if it didn't work. Instead, it was just another delay.
"Theoretically, thirty-nine sets should already be the limit. Adding more will render the magical system unsuitable for independent use. I believe I've taught you that before." Mongel briefly checked her condition before moving to prepare the microscopic equipment.
A magical system is the framework that enables magicians to use magic. Like the chants and meditations of ancient magicians, it forms the foundation of a magician's abilities. In today's fully militarized magical era, all magical systems are controlled by the imperial authorities, and all magicians are registered with the military. Each magical system comes with a unique authentication code. Even civilian magical systems are strictly regulated by the Magician's Guild, making them impossible to forge or use privately.
Since magic became militarized, its development has accelerated at an astounding pace, producing increasingly incredible results. No longer a niche field confined to isolated towers, magic has become a key element in inter-imperial power struggles, a force capable of shaping the entire continent's political landscape.
Over the past two decades, alongside the military expansions of the three major empires, the world's most powerful magical corps have also begun developing a new generation of magical systems.
As the training of magicians has become more widespread and the number of magical troops has expanded dramatically, the new generation of magical systems is increasingly based on shared consciousness. These systems are no longer suited for individual use but allow hundreds or even thousands of magicians to connect simultaneously, maximizing their collective power through shared and synchronized consciousness.
One of the critical distinctions between shared and independent magical systems is the number of magical conduits.
Mongel's movements were precise and swift. Thanks to localized anesthesia and the extremely small incision, Amora felt almost nothing. Implanting magical conduits was an incredibly time-consuming process. Especially without an assistant, the implantation of a single conduit—from insertion into the body to fully operational status—could take over seventy-two hours.
Amora regretted it a little. She should have found a way to make Mongel get her some food earlier. In seventy-two hours, she might be nothing but a starved husk.
"Does it hurt?" Mongel asked, a question so gentle it could almost make one feel cared for.
Amora couldn't even feel her throat as she spoke, but she responded calmly with a single word: "Hungry."
"…" Mongel removed the towel from her face and replaced it with a fresh one. "You can sleep for a while. It'll reduce your energy consumption."
What a brilliant idea, and unsurprisingly, it came from Mongel.
As her stomach growled, Amora decided to take his advice and sleep.
"Wait, I told you to stay awake…" Mongel's voice grew fainter and fainter until it vanished entirely from Amora's world.
Stay awake, you said. Isn't sleeping also a form of staying awake?
Amora had already fallen asleep, and for once, she dreamed—albeit a fragmented one. Her sleep was rarely filled with colorful dreams; most of the time, it was just a black-and-white replay of Mongel's twisted actions during the day.
But this time was different.
She saw a massive flying object blotting out the sky. She saw colossal magical devices the size of hills, and countless magicians linked to the devices through shared consciousness spaces. A precise magical system channeled a vast, galaxy-like stream of information through innumerable endpoints into the magical device, which then redistributed the data into the minds of individual magicians.
It was a shared magical system, something far more terrifying than even the latest generation.
She saw a pale, slender hand tapping lightly on a screen made of data streams. On one of those hands was a jade ring identical to Mongel's.
Except this one was blood red.