The success of my fused enhancement skills lit a fire in me. If I could reinvent strength and speed, why stop there?
My next target was Speed Enhancement (G). It felt crude—a simple burst of energy to the legs. I wondered if I could apply the same principle: combine an "internal" kinetic efficiency with the external burst.
After an hour of focused experimentation, cycling mana through my nervous system and muscle fibers to reduce internal resistance, then layering the standard speed boost, I felt the familiar shift. The Status updated.
[Skill: Enhanced Speed Enhancement (F) acquired.]
[Appraisal: Increases movement speed by 15%.]
A 15% boost at F-rank, instead of the standard 10%. Another small but significant edge carved out through ingenuity.
Mana Enhancement was a common skill for attack mages, boosting spell power. It was locked behind a D-rank requirement, a gatekeeping mechanism to prevent novices from burning out their circuits. A problem for another day.
Next, I turned to Weapon Enhancement. I tried it on my wooden practice sword. The moment my mana touched it, the grain strained, splintered, and with a dry crack, the sword split in two.
Right. Not all materials could channel mana. I needed something with mana conductivity.
I only had two real weapons: my cheap iron sword and the sturdy metal knife Vice-Captain Kane had given me for "personal protection." The knife, while less durable, likely had slightly better conductivity than crude iron. It would have to be my test subject.
The process was finicky. Pushing mana into an inanimate object was like trying to fill a leaky cup. It required constant, delicate pressure to maintain the enhancement. After thirty minutes of frustrating attempts, I succeeded.
[Skill: Weapon Enhancement (G) acquired.
Effect: Enhances overall weapon performance by 5%. Growth Type.]
A standard, growth-type skill. I couldn't fuse it like the body skills because the "internal" component didn't exist for an external object. To truly revolutionize it, I'd need a weapon designed for it from the ground up—a blade with channels or core material meant to be infused from within.
My mind drifted to the legendary materials I'd read about. The common hierarchy was clear:
· Common: Iron, Steel, Copper.
· Precious/Monetary: Silver, Gold, Platinum (rarely used for arms).
· Magical: Mithril. The dream of B-rank adventurers and master blacksmiths. Excellent mana conductivity and strength.
· Legendary: Adamantite. Only S-rank smiths could work it. Weapons of kings and empires.
· Mythical: Orichalcum. A material of legend, said to be capable of forging holy weapons. Its use was the stuff of ballads.
(And beyond that... tales of Divine Iron, but that was the realm of gods.)
Such materials were fantasies for now. My reality was a cracked practice sword and a single, slightly enhanced knife.
My final experiment of the day was the most daring, born from a memory of the novel. One of the protagonists had stumbled upon a powerful visual skill not through a dungeon drop, but through a bizarre, self-inflicted ritual.
I was going to try to create Mana Eyes.
The process was terrifyingly simple in concept, horrifying in execution. I began by channeling a gentle stream of mana directly into my eyes, enhancing their basic functions. It was uncomfortable, like a pressure behind my eyeballs.
Then came the dangerous part. I placed my palms over my closed eyes, creating a circuit. I used my Mana Breathing Technique, but instead of drawing energy into my core, I focused it directly into the pathway leading to my eyes.
The pressure became pain. A sharp, stabbing agony. My eyes felt like they were swelling, burning from the inside. I was literally force-feeding them pure magical energy.
If this goes wrong, a calm, detached part of my mind noted, I could burn out my optic nerves. My retinas could detach. The eyeballs could literally rupture from the pressure.
Sweat poured down my face. I gritted my teeth, riding the line between breakthrough and catastrophe. The mana flow was a raging river I was trying to channel through the delicate threads of my own senses.
After an eternity of white-hot pain—maybe thirty minutes—the agony crested and began to recede. Not because I stopped, but because my eyes… adapted. The feeling wasn't of destruction, but of awakening.
Trembling, I lowered my hands and slowly opened my eyes.
The world was different.
It was overlaid with a faint, ethereal luminescence. The air shimmered with drifting, tiny motes of mana. The plants in my field glowed with soft, green internal light. I could see the weak, steady flow of my own mana within my body. My ordinary vision was also sharper, details crisp even in the dimming evening light.
With a thought, I could deepen the view, pushing the mundane sight aside to see only the flow of energy. It was a night-vision that saw life force, not heat.
I pulled up my Status with shaking hands.
[Skill: Mana Eyes (F) acquired.]
[Appraisal: A rare visual skill. Allows the user to perceive ambient mana, mana flow within living beings and objects, enhances normal vision, and provides low-light vision.]
I had done it. I had gambled my sight and won a sense beyond normal humans. This wasn't a skill from a book; it was a revelation, forged in risk and pain.
Exhausted but euphoric, I leaned against the cottage wall. The path was clear: I would not just learn this world's magic. I would dissect it, understand it, and rebuild it into something uniquely my own.
And with these new eyes, I could finally begin to see the opportunities hidden in plain sight.