(Arin's POV)
A smooth yet constant humming sound filled the usually quiet and authoritative office room.
Vwooooom...
It was not the sound of magic at all. Not the sound of a chanted spell, nor the sound of a resonating mana artifact. It was the sound of metal friction, a spinning shaft, and the whir of wind generated by pure physical laws.
In the middle of the Headmistress's office, lined with a red velvet carpet and surrounded by towering mahogany bookshelves, Stain's Centrifuge machine looked like an alien monster completely out of place. Its sturdy black steel frame absorbed the crystal lamp light, while the glass tube in the center spun at high speed until its contents became a blur.
I stood beside the machine with my hand still gripping the crank lever, even though the rotational momentum was already kept stable by a flywheel.
"Two thousand revolutions per minute," I reported calmly while looking at the attendees in the room one by one. "Without wind magic. Without power crystals. Only pure mechanics."
Duke Edwin Rhyms sat on his luxurious leather sofa. His body leaned forward. His golden eyes, usually cold and calculating, were now locked onto the spinning glass tube. He was not looking at a machine. He was looking at gold being minted.
"And how are the results?" asked the Duke. His voice sounded heavy and impatient.
"See for yourself, Lord Duke."
I pressed the brake lever slowly. The brake pads rubbed against the iron wheel, producing a soft squeaking sound before the machine slowed down and finally stopped completely.
The liquid inside the glass tube had separated perfectly. Dirty brown pulp settled densely at the bottom and walls of the tube, while in the center, clear golden yellow liquid shimmered purely.
Type A Antibiotic with the highest quality.
"Incredible..." mumbled Duke Edwin. He stood up, walked closer, and picked up the tube. He held it up to the light. "Usually it takes six hours for Alchemists to purify liquid this murky into something this clear. How long did this machine take? Five minutes?"
"Four minutes and thirty seconds," I corrected. "And its capacity can be increased tenfold if we build an industrial version."
"Productivity up a thousand percent..." Duke Edwin chuckled. A dry laugh, but full of the satisfaction of a merchant who had just found a new diamond mine. "Arin, you truly are a useful little bastard."
However, not everyone in the room was smiling.
Selena Rhyms, the Headmistress and a Sixth Circle mage, sat in her grand chair with a sour face. She stared at the black steel machine with a gaze hard to interpret. A mixture of reluctant admiration and deep dislike.
"This thing possesses no mana," said Selena coldly. Her fingers tapped her desk with a restless rhythm. "It moves, it works, but it is dead. This is Revolutionary technology, Arin. You brought heresy into the heart of my academy?"
The room's atmosphere tensed slightly. The Revolutionaries, a group that rejected magic and worshipped steam engines, were ideological enemies to tower mages.
"This is not politics, Madam Selena," I answered calmly while wiping a little grease from my hand with a rag. "This is physics. Centrifugal force does not take sides with kings, rebels, or gods. It only obeys mass and speed."
"Physics or not, this object offends my aesthetics," sneered Selena. "Rough black iron, smelling of oil, it ruins the view of my office."
"But it saves our financial balance sheet, Mother," interrupted Duke Edwin firmly. He placed the antibiotic tube back on the table carefully. "I do not care if this machine was made by a demon. If it can multiply our Liquid Gold production before winter arrives, I will justify it before the Royal Council."
Edwin looked at his mother with a pragmatic gaze.
"We can call it an Ancient Artifact from the Pre-Magic Era or whatever. The important thing is, the factory in the North must operate with these machines next month."
Selena sighed deeply, a sign she surrendered to her son's greed. "Suit yourself, Edwin. Just do not ask me to touch it."
Duke Edwin looked back at me, his hand outstretched demanding.
"The blueprints, Arin. Hand them over to me. The Rhyms family blacksmiths will start mass-producing them tomorrow morning."
I reached into the protective tube on my back, pulling out a large paper scroll containing the technical design of the machine. However, I did not hand it over immediately. I held it in the air.
"There is one small problem, Lord Duke," I warned.
Edwin raised an eyebrow. "What? Are you asking for another share increase? Do not be greedy, Kid."
"Not about money. This is technical," I explained while opening the scroll on the table, pointing to a small ring-shaped component filled with iron balls.
"The outer frame can be made by ordinary blacksmiths. But this part, the Ball Bearing, is the key. These steel balls must be perfectly round with a zero point zero one micron tolerance. If they miss even slightly, this machine will vibrate violently and explode, sending glass shards into your factory workers' faces."
I stared seriously into the Duke's eyes.
"Rhyms blacksmiths cannot make them. They are used to hitting hot iron with large hammers, not carving microscopic steel. Only one person can make this with the required precision."
"Who?" asked the Duke.
"Stain. The Dwarf who made it in the Undercity."
Duke Edwin's face twisted into an expression of obvious disgust.
"Stain? That Apostate Dwarf?" Edwin snorted roughly. "By the Gods, Arin. First you bring this corpse-smelling Mad Biologist..." The Duke glanced to the corner of the room in disgust, "...now you want me to do business with an outcast Dwarf blacklisted by all forging guilds?"
In the corner of the room, the figure the Duke mentioned was squatting on an expensive carpet worth thousands of gold.
Ghislain Bassil.
He looked completely out of place in this luxurious room. His robe was dirty with green plant sap stains and dried blood. His white hair was a mess like a bird's nest. He was busy picking dirt from his shoe soles using a scalpel, completely unconcerned with the high-level business conversation taking place.
"Hey! Do not dirty my carpet!" snapped Selena seeing a lump of mud fall onto the carpet.
Ghislain only grinned, displaying his yellow teeth. "This forest soil is rich in nutrients, Old Hag. You should be thanking me for bringing it."
Duke Edwin massaged the bridge of his nose, looking dizzy seeing the collection of 'colleagues' I brought.
"Why is your hobby collecting weirdos, Kid?" complained the Duke to me. "Then where is the Dwarf? Why didn't he come himself to negotiate? Is he too arrogant to face a Duke?"
I turned to Karim standing stiffly near the door. "Instructor Karim can explain it."
Karim jolted, then took a step forward awkwardly. His face looked reluctant.
"Reporting, Your Excellency," said Karim stiffly. "Stain, he refused to come. He said he would rather swallow a screwdriver than have to bow before a noble."
Duke Edwin's eyes narrowed dangerously. "How insolent."
"There is personal history, Lord Duke," continued Karim carefully. "Stain holds a deep grudge against Count Alphine, Miss Celia's father. He considers you to be the same. He said nobles only know how to ruin metal, not appreciate it."
"So he refuses to cooperate?" asked the Duke sharply.
"Not entirely," I interrupted. "Stain surrendered all negotiation rights to me. He is willing to mass-produce Ball Bearings, provided I act as the intermediary. And of course, he demands high payment to buy new tools."
"He let go of a chance to meet the Duke for the sake of ego?" Elena, sitting beside her father, shook her head in disbelief. "Is that person stupid or too idealistic?"
"He is an artist, Elena," I answered. "To Stain, this machine is art. Your politics are boring to him."
Duke Edwin fell silent for a moment, weighing it over. His ego was disturbed, but his business needs were greater. Without those bearings, this machine was scrap.
"Fine," the Duke finally decided with an annoyed tone. "I will pay his royalties through you. I refuse to beg a crazy Dwarf in the sewer. Ensure the supply is smooth, Arin. If production stalls because that Dwarf throws a tantrum, it will be your neck I wring."
"Understood, Lord Duke."
The tense atmosphere slowly thawed. An agreement was reached. The machine was accepted, logistics agreed upon, and money would soon flow.
I started rolling up the blueprint again, feeling relieved a heavy burden was lifted.
However, that tranquility was shattered instantly by the sound of dragging footsteps on the thick carpet.
Scuff... Scuff...
Ghislain Bassil stood up from the corner of the room. He limped toward the Duke's desk, ignoring Selena and Edwin's disgusted stares.
He did not carry a contract paper or business proposal.
His thin wrinkled hand reached into his dirty robe, then pulled out a coldly gleaming metal object.
He placed it on the shiny mahogany desk with a disturbing clack sound.
A syringe.
Not an ordinary syringe. The tube was made of thick glass, and the needle was incredibly long, thick, and terrifying. The kind of needle designed to penetrate bone, not just flesh.
"The spinning toy business is done, right?" Ghislain's voice sounded hoarse. His wild eyes stared straight at me.
His crazy smile bloomed wide.
"Now, my payment, Arin. I came all the way from the North, leaving my beautiful plants, enduring the nausea of smelling noble perfume in this room, not to drink tea."
The room fell silent instantly.
Edna, who had been quiet beside Karim, immediately stepped forward with a pale face. "Professor Ghislain, what are you doing?"
Ghislain ignored Edna. He pointed at my chest with his dirty index finger.
"You promised me, Kid. Spinal cord fluid. Fresh. Straight from the source."
"What?!" exclaimed Elena. She stood up immediately, looking at me and Ghislain alternately with horror. "Spinal cord?! Arin, what does this mean?"
"Ghislain!" snapped Duke Edwin, his hand slamming the table. "Arin is an important asset to the Rhyms family! Do you think I will let you drill holes in his back here?! You could paralyze him!"
"He already agreed!" retorted Ghislain no less loudly, saliva spraying from his mouth. He stared at me with terrifying obsession. "Right, Subject Zero? We agreed in my shack back then!"
All eyes were fixed on me. Elena looked at me with a pleading gaze for me to deny it. Edna was ready to pull me away.
I sighed a long breath, staring at the terrifying needle on the table.
"True," I answered softly. "I promised."
"Are you crazy?!" shrieked Edna hysterically. "Arin! Cerebrospinal fluid extraction is a high-risk procedure! Especially performed by a madman in the headmistress's office without sterilization?! If he misses by one millimeter, your motor nerves are severed! You will be paralyzed from the waist down for life!"
"I know the risks, Doc," I said calmly.
"Then why?!" demanded Elena while gripping my arm. "We gave you money! We gave you facilities! You do not need to sell your body to this madman anymore!"
I looked at Elena, seeing the genuine worry in her golden eyes. Then I turned to look at Ghislain who grinned widely waiting for me.
"This is not about money, Elena," I explained.
I walked to the desk, picking up the syringe and turning it in my hand.
"Ghislain, he wants to know why my body can accept Grizzly Serum without exploding. He wants to know why Static Mana Syndrome makes my mana channels rigid but not break when high pressure flows through them."
I stared at the needle.
"And honestly, I want to know too."
I lifted my face, looking at the Duke, Selena, and my friends.
"I have reached my limit, Lord Duke. My training with Instructor Brook proves my physique is getting stronger, but my breathing technique, Piston Heart, is starting to hit a dead end. I cannot withstand Professional Tier Aura without destroying my own body."
I tapped my chest.
"There is something inside here. Inside my bone marrow producing this strange blood. I need data. And only this madman..." I pointed at Ghislain, "...is genius enough to dissect it and give me the answer."
"So you want to be a voluntary guinea pig?" asked Selena with a tone of disbelief. "For power?"
"For survival, Madam," I corrected. "My enemies are getting stronger. If I stop evolving now, I die."
Heavy silence descended again.
Duke Edwin stared at me for a long time. He saw the same determination he saw when I offered him the antibiotics. The determination of someone willing to burn themselves for a goal.
"You are a troublesome asset," grumbled Edwin. He leaned back. "Do it. But with one condition."
The Duke glared at Ghislain with a killing aura.
"If your hand slips even slightly, if you cripple him, Selena will freeze you into an ice statue on the spot, then shatter you into dust particles. Understood?"
Ghislain merely chuckled, not afraid at all. "My hands are steadier than any bureaucrat in this room, Kid Edwin."
"And the procedure must be supervised!" interrupted Edna quickly, taking over medical control. She snatched her medical bag. "I will handle sterilization. And I will monitor his heart rate. Ghislain is only allowed to puncture!"
"Whatever, Hygienic Woman. Hurry up!" urged Ghislain.
Quickly, Duke Edwin's expensive desk was cleared of important documents.
"Forgive me, Lord Duke," I said while climbing onto the mahogany desk and lying face down. "I will try not to drip blood on your expensive desk."
"Be quiet before I change my mind," grumbled the Duke, looking away unable to bear watching.
Elena stood beside my head, holding my hand tightly. Her hand was cold and trembling.
"Do not look," I whispered to her.
"I will look," replied Elena stubbornly, though her face was pale. "I will make sure he does not kill you."
Edna applied cold alcohol to my lower back, exactly in the gap of the lumbar vertebrae. The smell was stinging.
"Ready?" asked Edna, her voice tense.
Ghislain held the long needle. He wore no gloves. He only grinned, his eyes sparkling crazily while feeling my spine to find the gap between the vertebrae.
"Hold your breath, Subject Zero," whispered Ghislain, his voice full of terrifying anticipation. "Let's see what monster hides inside your marrow."
I bit the pain-relieving cloth Edna offered. Closed my eyes.
I felt the tip of the cold needle touch the skin of my back. Pressing. Piercing the skin. Piercing muscle. And entering the narrow gap toward my nerve center.
STAB.
A sharp, aching pain struck from my back straight to my brain, like being struck by lightning from within.
"Hmmph!"
I groaned stifled. Elena squeezed my hand until it hurt.
And in the darkness behind my eyelids, I waited. Waiting for the answer to the curse I had carried all this time.
Am I defective? Or am I something else?