Chương 75: Two Hundred Experience, Still Level One

As the last flames disappeared from the crater, a translucent notification appeared before Sieghart and partially obscured the remains of the corrupted pack mother. You have slain a Corrupted Ridge Prowler Matriarch. Black Magic gained 200 experience points. Sieghart raised his eyebrows. The smaller prowlers had granted twenty points each, while the matriarch had rewarded him with ten times that amount. The difference confirmed that experience depended upon more than delivering the final blow.

The system also measured the strength or danger presented by the defeated target. Two hundred points represented more progress than he had gained from several earlier battles combined. Despite that, nothing appeared beneath his name, and his personal level remained completely unchanged. Sieghart opened his status screen and stared at the most irritating section.

Level: 1 Experience: 0/100 His Black Magic continued gaining experience from defeated enemies, yet his personal experience had never increased by a single point. He had killed monsters, assisted soldiers, defeated a battlefield commander, and now reduced a corrupted matriarch to charcoal. Apparently, none of that qualified for whatever mysterious activity the system expected from him.

"Am I going to remain at Level One forever?" The system offered no explanation. It had never been particularly cooperative, so Sieghart dismissed the screen before the complete lack of an answer annoyed him further. At least his escape strategy had worked better than expected. Combining Frozen Floor with continuous Wind Magic had allowed him to move much faster than his young body could manage naturally. The technique required a suitable surface and enough space to maneuver, but those limitations were manageable.

With further practice, he might eventually cross long distances without needing a horse or carriage. A faster version would also give him another method of avoiding Aura users. Even powerful fighters would have difficulty reaching him if he could slide backward while continuously attacking from a distance. Sieghart was already considering ways to improve the technique when Ronan approached the crater. The tracker glanced between the burned monster and the child standing before it.

"You don't look nervous." Sieghart turned toward him.

"Should I?"

"You were almost torn apart, shocked yourself with your own spell, and then burned something the size of a wagon until it became charcoal. Most people would react somehow."

"I faced worse situations during the war against the Firians." Ronan stopped walking. Sieghart had spoken casually, but the answer reminded him that the boy had already experienced a battlefield before reaching the age when most children began learning basic arithmetic. He had watched people burn to death, fought a Firian commander, nearly died beneath a direct attack, and spent an entire night healing the grandfather who had shielded him.

Compared with those memories, being chased through a forest by one oversized monster might genuinely have seemed manageable. Ronan did not respond. He crouched near the crater and cleaned the dirt and blood from his knives with several broad leaves. The tracker's movements remained calm, but his silence carried more weight than any lecture. Sieghart noticed the change and chose not to question it. A moment later, Ronan examined both blades beneath the sunlight before returning them to their sheaths.

"The job is done."

"What about the animals?"

"They're still alive. I killed the remaining prowlers and opened the enclosure, but they were too frightened to leave. We can guide them back after checking the bodies." Sieghart nodded before glancing toward the blackened mass inside the crater. Little remained worth examining unless someone possessed a particular interest in burned bones. Ronan followed his gaze.

"We could have sold the matriarch's fur."

"The fur that was covered in corruption?"

"Some craftsmen know how to purify monster materials. A hide from something that large would have been worth a decent amount."

"A few coins weren't worth risking my life." Ronan looked at him.

"It would have been more than a few."

"It still wouldn't have been worth my life." Sieghart shrugged without showing any regret. Money was useful, but he had already learned what happened when people placed imagined profits above their survival. He possessed enough savings from charging equipment beneath the Lunar Arc guild. Losing a valuable hide was less troublesome than allowing the matriarch another opportunity to reach him.

Ronan could not argue with that reasoning, although watching an alleged seven-year-old dismiss valuable monster materials with such practicality remained strange.

"Fair enough." The tracker carefully descended into the crater. Heat still rose from the scorched earth, forcing him to shield his face with one arm while approaching the body. Most of the matriarch's fur had vanished. Its exterior had cracked like burned timber, exposing patches of dark-red tissue beneath the charcoal. Ronan drew one knife and began cutting through the remains near the center of its chest. The first section crumbled beneath his blade, but the deeper layers retained enough structure to resist him.

Sieghart watched from the edge of the crater.

"What are you looking for?"

"Something that might have survived your attempt to erase the creature from history."

"That doesn't narrow it down." Ronan ignored him and continued cutting. Blackened blood spilled from the wound, releasing steam when it touched the heated soil. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. The tracker moved through several layers of flesh before his blade struck something solid. The sound was sharper than contact with bone.

"There it is." Ronan widened the opening and pushed one hand into the monster's chest. After several unpleasant seconds, he pulled out an object approximately the size of a small apple. The sphere appeared crystalline despite being covered in blood. Dark-red light moved inside it like liquid flame, pulsing slowly even though the creature surrounding it had died. Sieghart descended partway into the crater for a closer look.

The core released an unfamiliar mixture of mana and corruption, although the latter felt weaker now that it had been separated from the body.

"What is that?"

"A monster core." Ronan wiped the sphere against an undamaged section of his cloak. Removing the blood revealed several darker veins trapped beneath its translucent surface.

"It's supposed to be blue. The corruption turned it red." Sieghart focused his senses on the core. The mana inside it felt compressed and strangely organized, as though invisible channels forced the energy to move through a predetermined pattern.

"Was the core corrupted, or did the core cause the corruption?"

"That is a question for someone who studies monsters. I only know that corrupted creatures usually develop red cores, assuming they survive long enough to form one."

"Do the other prowlers have them?"

"Probably not. Cores usually appear inside powerful or rare monsters. Some species develop one naturally, but ordinary animals corrupted a few weeks ago wouldn't have enough time." Ronan held the core toward the sunlight. Its bloody glow darkened the skin around his fingers while faint heat escaped from its polished surface.

"Creatures capable of using magic almost always possess cores. The organ gathers mana, processes it, and distributes the energy through their bodies."

"Like mana channels?"

"Similar, but denser. Human mana channels spread everywhere. A core stores and refines power in one place before releasing it when needed." Sieghart immediately understood why craftsmen valued such materials. A natural structure capable of storing and processing mana could serve as the central component of countless enchanted tools.

"What can people make with it?"

"Weapons, armor, spell focuses, mana batteries, and other magical gear. The exact use depends on the monster and the type of mana stored inside its core." Ronan tossed the sphere lightly before catching it again. Sieghart's eyes followed the movement, although he resisted the urge to warn him against dropping something harvested from a corrupted monster.

"A good core can decrease the mana cost of spells, improve control, strengthen one element, or help a weapon reproduce one of the monster's natural abilities." Sieghart's interest diminished slightly after hearing the first benefit. Decreasing mana consumption ranked somewhere below decorative buttons among his personal magical priorities. Improved control could be useful, but relying upon equipment to compensate for poor skill would only create another weakness.

Someone could steal or destroy an item during battle. The final possibility interested him more. Reproducing a monster's ability could give him access to powers that were difficult or impossible to learn normally.

"Can this one be used safely?"

"Not until someone purifies it. Using a corrupted core directly can affect the weapon, the enchantment, or whoever channels mana through it."

"That sounds inconvenient."

"Corruption usually is." Ronan placed the core inside a thick leather pouch before tying the opening securely. He would bring it to the guild for examination and divide whatever payment remained after the farmers received compensation. Sieghart climbed out of the crater and looked toward the forest. He had learned useful information about monsters and gained two hundred points of Black Magic experience. However, neither accomplishment addressed the reason he had agreed to accompany Ronan.

He still wanted to learn Summoning Magic. Sieghart extended his earth-attuned mana into the soil at his feet. Sand and loose earth gathered in front of him, rising until it formed the rough outline of a sword. He compressed the exterior until it hardened into a crude blade with a straight edge, basic guard, and narrow handle. The weapon looked usable from a distance, although closer inspection revealed countless cracks. Sieghart raised one hand and controlled the sword through Sand Control.

It floated shakily above the grass before turning horizontally. The exterior was solid enough to retain its shape, but Sieghart sensed that the inside remained almost completely hollow. Only a thin layer of compressed earth formed the blade. If the weapon struck anything harder than a branch, the shell would collapse immediately. It possessed the appearance of a sword without the internal structure necessary to function like one. That was remarkably similar to the problem affecting his summoned mana weapon.

The incomplete Mana Sword formed a handle, guard, and part of a blade. Yet each section behaved like an individual construct instead of a single solid object. Sieghart spread Mana Transfusion across the earthen sword. The energy coated its exterior before flowing into the cracks and empty spaces beneath the surface. He attempted to fill the hollow interior evenly. Mana gathered near the handle first, but the moment he pushed it farther through the blade, several sections became unstable. The weapon tilted sideways.

Sieghart corrected it with Sand Control while reducing the amount of mana entering its weaker side. Ronan climbed out of the crater and discovered him already conducting another experiment.

"Are you training again?"

"I stopped for several minutes."

"You spent those minutes interrogating me about monster cores."

"That was learning, not training." Ronan stared at the floating earthen sword.

"And this?"

"Physical manipulation."

"That sword is made from earth you're already controlling with magic."

"I'm using it as a mold." Sieghart strengthened the outer shell before channeling more mana into its interior. The blade became heavier, but the distribution remained uneven. The idea possessed several advantages over practicing with another rope. The sword's rigid shape resembled the weapon he wanted to summon, while the hollow interior allowed him to practice creating a continuous internal structure. Sieghart briefly wondered why he needed to summon a weapon from raw mana at all.

He could create swords from earth, ice, fire, or possibly compressed wind. An Ice Sword would be easier to control because it counted as one of his elemental constructs. A sufficiently compressed Water Blade might possess greater cutting power, while a Fire Sword would damage anything it touched. However, those would remain products of Black Magic. Their shapes might resemble weapons, but their existence would depend upon elemental spells. Summoning belonged to a different discipline.

If Sieghart abandoned the process whenever elemental magic offered an easier alternative, he would never expand beyond the abilities he already understood. He did not need another method of creating fire. He needed more options, especially powers that enemies could not predict after witnessing his common spells. Ronan watched mana flow across the earthen weapon before releasing another weary sigh.

"You should learn how to relax."

"I know how."

"No, you know how to fall asleep after exhausting your concentration."

"That still counts."

"Do you want to take over the world or something?" Sieghart ignored him. He adjusted the Mana Transfusion coating and forced the energy deeper into the sword's hollow interior. The outer shell cracked near the guard. He repaired it with Sand Control before redistributing the mana through the damaged section. Ronan waited for an answer that never came. The truth was that Sieghart possessed no desire to rule the world.

Running one farm had required enough repetitive work, and ruling entire nations sounded like an endless sequence of arguments, paperwork, and people blaming him for problems they created themselves. He only wanted enough strength to survive, enough freedom to choose his future, and enough power to punish the people who had murdered his grandparents. Unfortunately, those modest goals seemed to require becoming capable of fighting half the world. The earthen sword trembled as mana finally reached its tip.

For one brief moment, Sieghart sensed a continuous connection extending from the handle through the entire blade. Then the outer shell split down the middle. The sword collapsed into loose sand and scattered across the grass. Most children would have become discouraged after another failure, especially following weeks of slow progress. Sieghart simply gathered the sand again. The next sword formed more evenly than the first.

Ronan rubbed his forehead before turning toward the forest, where frightened animals still waited to be guided home. He had asked whether Sieghart planned to conquer the world as a joke. Watching the boy immediately repeat the failed exercise made the question feel slightly less ridiculous. Sieghart created the guard, hardened the blade, and began filling its hollow interior with mana once more. Relaxing could wait. The world certainly had.