C75 — [Transhumanism] (Paid-Patrons)

Three months fly by like a dog racing through an open field, and soon enough, I find myself knee-deep trying to catch up.

Although I’ve delegated most of the research to John, I’m simultaneously conducting my own investigations, just in case he decides to add anything that might backfire on me, and I make full use of [Lazy Genius], of course.

These three months correspond to three uses of the Perk, which I’ve leveraged to significantly improve the Trial of Grass recipe. I've managed to eliminate all the adverse effects, such as infertility and the shrinking of the thalamus—a part of the brain crucial for producing emotions.

Why did it take three whole uses, you ask? It turns out the Perk’s ‘One Action’ refers quite literally to a single Action.

Enhancing and fixing the original recipe constitutes a ‘Series of Actions,’ so I had to use the perk strategically and with caution.

I completed the ritual in the second month and initiated human trials in the third.

At this point, the success rate is so high that almost every death row inmate I’ve received gains all the benefits of becoming a Witcher, with none of the drawbacks.

None seemed particularly thrilled however, likely due to the fact that each successful trial inevitably ends with the subject reduced to a charred pile on the table.

If there’s takeaway from the Emperor's eradication of the Thunder Warriors, it’s: Never give a group of psychopathic, possible autistic prisoners freaking superpowers and then let them loose…

Which’s why I decided to incinerate them all

Harsh? Maybe, but it’s better than introducing Supervillains to Nasu.

It also tied the loose ends that are their genetic materials, which I couldn't exactly dump into the London sewers and hope for the best.

Who knows what creatures lurk beneath the city and how they'd be affected by a steady portion of Grass Potion in the form of mutated biomass?

Life’s never dull for yours truly, particularly since I frequently use [Reinforcement] to flood my system with dopamine even while experimenting.

‘Especially while I’m experimenting.’

The same can’t be said for the Queen of Heroes, who wandered into my Workshop every now and then—and by that, I mean, every single day, to be exact.

Not that I’m complaining… From her outfit, the grace with which she struts across the room—dress trailing on the ground like a lovebird’s tail feathers, yet still able to be perfectly clean—to the way she drapes herself over me; crimson eyes demanding attention while I work.

It is a little distracting, I’ll admit, and partly why it took so long for me to work on the Trial.

“Is it almost done?” Forearms resting on my head, bressts sandwiching my nape, Gil tilts her head, breath gently tickling my ear.

I nearly jump when something wet and slick and soft drags across my earlobe.

“Gil… What did I tell you?”

I growl in a low and guttural tone as I press the Queen against the table, my lips hovering just a breath away from hers.

“There’s a time and a place.”

“Am I not as interesting as your…”

Gil leans in effortlessly, despite my grip on her wrists, her tongue tracing a line from my chin to the tip of my nose as she grins.

“Research?”

“You’re definitely more interesting.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but.’”

“But you have to let me work if you want me to conquer the world or whatever. Isn’t Stella enough for you?”

I have already had the talk with John, and the Golem seemed quite happy letting go of his Creation.

Rolling her eyes, Gil crosses her arms and nudges me back onto the chair with naught but a finger. “The Doll’s reactions are entertaining, but she’s rather… Unskilled, and a bit too shy.”

“Be that as it may, I really need to work, so if you could—”

“I have an idea,” Gil mutters with a mischievous smile, interrupting as she drops to her knees and clumsily fingers the buckle of my belt. It's almost amusing how she can be so graceful and skilled in nearly everything, yet still struggles with men's clothing.

"Not today."

I lift her up by the armpits, giving her nose a playful pinch as I conjure a chair beside me. It's not that I'm opposed to intimacy—who is?—but if this continues, I will never get anything done.

Throughout history, there have been numerous examples of once Great Kings who later succumbed to lust, and although a life of indulgence does sound tempting, I'd prefer not to follow in their footsteps. "But you're certainly welcome to be my lab assistant if you'd like?”

There’s not much she can help me with.

Gilgamesh naturally lacks interest in Magecraft as a whole.

Not that I can really fault her.

What Spell isn’t already part of that literal treasure trove of hers?

What Mysteries remain unknown to [Sha Naqba Imuru]?

Gil uses Od predominantly to access the [Gate of Babylon], and that’s about it.

She doesn’t even know how to use [Reinforcement]—never felt the need to learn the Spell before, I reckon.

“Hm… Back in the day, Magi would have done anything to spend a night with me.”

“We’ve spent plenty of nights together—missing one won’t be the end of the world, plus I’ll make it up to you.”

“When?”

“Later.”

I grab a pair of safety goggles, tuck her hair behind her ears, and slip them on.

Next comes the hazmat suit. "Until then…”

“Is this necessary?”

“It’s for your safety.”

I shrug, while Gil snorts haughtily, as though finding the mere idea of her needing protection ridiculous, and maybe it is.

“Like that’s possible.”

“Better safe than sorry. Now put your legs in. I’ll zip it up.”

"I'll do it myself.” Nose upturned, she slowly slips her arms out of the dress, revealing the fair skin beneath while the discarded piece of clothing pools beneath her feet.

"You’ll not have me, Temptress!"

"Yes, yes, like I haven’t had you a thousand times already."

“Don’t blow it out of proportion, we’ve had intimacy 61 times in the past three months at best.”

“But I did have you.”

Gil giggles, slowly pulling the zipper up just enough for a sliver of modesty, then glances at my crotch. “Really? Of all the things I’ve worn, the yellow hazmat suit’s the one that does it for you?”

“It’s… Different.”

Humming, she takes my hand and places it on her chest.

“It’s not too late to change your mind.”

"I won't." Fighting the urge to rip the suit off her, I zip it up in one smooth motion.

Gil didn't seem angry about my decision, though. 

More amused, if anything. "Rough... I like it."

“Woman, I swear.”

After Gil gets dressed, I explain the functions and purpose of the Ritual to her.

The Queen doesn’t seem interested at all.

Like a math teacher who won’t repeat a lesson, I don’t explain it again—not because I’m frustrated with my distracted ‘student,’ but because I trust she won’t harm me.

"You remember everything?"

"Yeah... Though I'm not sure how I feel about you... Mutating yourself like this."

"Anything for power."

"Just so we're clear, if you stop being human, I will put you down."

"Wouldn’t have it any other way."

I wink, preparing the steel coffin that’ll gather the Od from the local Leylines into the Gems I commissioned from Rin herself.

"Leo, I'm serious."

"I know.” Loading up W-03, the mixture that results from me combining elements of Nasu with the ‘the Grasses’, I connect the second ejection machine, letting the green substance floods into

“If my Humanity fades and I mutate into a horrific monster, you have my full permission and blessing to kill me stone-fucking-dead. No hesitation.”

Gil crosses her arms and exhales loudly, her expression screaming that she’s about had it with me.

Then, some of the tension bleeds away. "So this is how my advisors felt when I defied them…”

“Like challenging the Gods?”

“No. That had to be done. I’m talking about drinking the wine that cur from Umma gifted me… I blacked out for two weeks straight and woke up a district demolished.”

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

"What? I didn't kill anyone. And I had their houses rebuilt—upgraded their dirt huts into homes. Created hundreds of jobs. They were bowing at my feet after the fact. Granted, they were my citizens, so bowing was mandatory, but…”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that too.”

After setting up the machine, I open the coffin and inspect the automatic knives and needles. The needles are so tiny that reinforcing them with Magecraft’s nearly impossible, and without [Reinforcement], the needles will not be able to penetrate my skin, which is where the knives come into play.

The first will surgically remove small sections of my skin, allowing the needles to enter and deliver the dosage effectively.

Once inside, the machine will absorb some Od from the Leylines to fortify itself, preventing me from damaging it during the Ritual.

Typically, treated leather straps are recommended to restrain young Witchers taking the Grasses, but none of them can withstand my strength—I’ve tested it myself. They can’t even handle 5% of my power; just flexing my muscles would cause the straps to tear within seconds, so I have replaced it with Titanium chains as well.

There were never any issues with the previous subjects, but I’m not like them, am I?

“One last thing,” I mumble, turning to the Cauldron in the center of the Workshop.

With a snap of my fingers, the Baobei turns translucent, revealing the Apostle slumped inside.

By the second month, Serios had lost the ability to scream or curse.

Resigned to his fate, he’s since lain there since—listless.

Apostles, as a species, are already immortal, but with the [Undying] attribute from the Sacrifices, the [Child of the Constellations] aspect that lets him convert any light from the Celestial Bodies—Sunlight included—into Od, and the [Mana Reactor] formed from the Souls he sacrificed, Serios is possibly the closest thing to a True Immortal in the world at the moment.

Thankfully, his offensive capabilities are quite low; otherwise, he’d be quite the problem.

[Undying] and [Child of the Constellations] are useful, but what I truly desire is [Mana Reactor], even if at the risk of Possession. Unfortunately, no Pill has formed despite the lengthy duration.

You'd think three whole months would be sufficient for the Emerald Heart Cauldron to condense one of those Xianxia Pills, but you’d be wrong. It almost succeeded thrice, and each time the 'Gate of Heavens' slammed shut in my face as the Cauldron churned out a pile of ash. "Hey there, buddy, how are you feeling?"

“Urgh… Aah…”

“Me too, buddy. Me too.” I gently pat the Cauldron and gaze longingly at the shape of a Pill being nurtured from the Apostle’s melted flesh and blood. “Soon. Soon, I’ll relieve you of this torture.”

Once the Pill is formed and I obtain a permanent version of [Mana Reactor], I’ll use [Pilferage] to steal his [Undying], granting the Apostle eternal rest.

Consider it an act of mercy for giving me such a convenient power boost. With the [Mana Reactor], I hope to rely less on hand-to-hand combat and simply flick away all the low-level enemies. The mention of salvation catches the attention of the Apostle, who glances at me, but otherwise remains still.

I leave him to sulk alone and climb into the coffin that will hopefully elevate my power to new heights.

Smiling at Gil from inside what could be my actual coffin, I lick my dry lips and laughingly say. “Time to hit the switch.”

As I settle into the coffin, Gil silently fastens the titanium straps around my arms, legs, and torso. This silence is unusual for her. Although I know curiosity kills the cat, I can’t help but ask. "Are you worried?”

She replies, "I'll shed a tear if you die, then I’ll spit on your corpse for dying to something so stupid.”

Chuckling back, I lean back; gaze glued to the ceiling. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, but I’ll be fine.”

As the coffin door closes, plunging me into near-total darkness, my confidence begins to waver. “C’mon, Leo…” If I could, I’d slap my face, if only to summon the rage that’ll devour my fear like a starving shark. “You can do this. If unsuspecting kids can survive the Grasses, so can you.”

I’ve taken into account every possible variable I could think of, even testing the new Grasses formula on cells from every organ.

This is foolproof.

“You can do this. You’ll do this.” Mumbling to myself, the mantra barely audible over the whirring of robotic arms, I hum as the attached knives dig into my skin, tilting to allow the accompanying needles access. It’s the best and only way to suppress my regeneration, but damn, having knives spin and peel away my flesh’s definitely not making it to my top 10 experiences.

Pain-wise? It’s a 3 out of 10. 

Irritation? A solid 10. 

I’m sure many will disagree, but having foreign objects in you for hours isn’t exactly what I’d call… Comfortable.

“10… 9… 8…”

Honestly, installing that countdown timer was idiotic. What was I even thinking?

“3… 2… 1…”  My jaw clenches as I brace myself, feeling an unexpected cooling sensation while the green mixture floods my veins. Thirty seconds tick by. Nothing. Just a faint, almost pleasant tingle.

“Huh… This isn’t so ba—”

The words die in my throat the instance I voice it.

A searing, prickling heat erupts in my bicep, racing up to my shoulder and down to my fingertips. 

Arm alight—skin burning; muscles pulsating; I claw at it instinctively, or try to as I struggle against the restraints, the friction peeling my skin away, revealing raw muscle beneath. Call me crazy, but somehow that felt intentional.

“Regretting not taking me up on my offer?”

Gil’s voice echoes in from outside while I fight the third seizure in the past—‘It’s only been 5 secs?!’

Why the hell did I think it’d be a good idea?

What fresh Hell spawned the demonic impulse to add a goddamn timer to the machine?!

“VERY MUCH!!!”

“Good.”

“Oh, hardy-har!”

It’s been a full two minutes, and it’s definitely the worst two minutes of my life.

“Fuck this—!” [Primeval Reversal] kicks in, flooding me with familiar strength that has never failed me up until now, amplifying the [Reinforcement Enchantment] on the machine. Suddenly, earsplitting scrapes echo from the solid titanium door as tiny claws dig through, and a small, flat snout pokes through, followed by—“Caragor?”

The damn thing seems to grin at me as it yawns, then makes a leap from the coffin straight onto Gil’s lap, who’s— “Are-Are you reading a fucking magazine?!”

“I was bored, and you said it yourself: You’ll be fine.”

“Sorry if me screaming bloody murder isn’t entertaining enough for you…”

Heaving weakly, I slump against the metal coffin, while my body—as if having a mind of its own—prepares for another struggle.

“The suit makes it very difficult to see anything; you might want to work on that, but it’s actually pretty comfortable.”

Oh, fuck you!

“Hey, can any of you get me out? This isn’t working.”

“I think it’s working perfectly fine, what’d you say, Demon?”

Again, it yowls, amused; slit eyes zeroing on my face as it lays back down–the little shit.

* DING!

Desperate to distract myself, I open the [Tree] and find another Branch taking shape—‘[Transhumanism]?’ The Branch itself deals with, you guess it, the ‘Art’ of improving human biology through various methods—magically and technologically both.

[Transmutative Form]

That's the first Perk, which lets me take on the form of any creature whose mutagens I ingest and / or inject, gaining all abilities inherent to their species.

I can store up to 12 different Mutagens at once, but can only use one at a time, all at a cheap price of 3AP. The best part?

There are no cooldowns, and practically no other limitations—just an endless supply of power at my fingertips.

If I can synthesize Dragon cells into Mutagens, I might even acquire a [Magic Core].

But where would I find Dragon Mutagens, you ask?

Well, the corpse of Albion lies in the deepest depths of the Clock Tower, and with my relationship with Lorelei, I’m sure we’ll be able to figure something out later, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Mentally preparing myself, mood uplifted by the new Perk that’s just a click away, I return to reality and face the pain again. In my struggle, I’ve inadvertently destroyed the timer, which’s nice, until I realize I can no longer tell how long this is going to take, hence I ask Gil, who takes a glance at the time, flips her magazine and casually smiles.

“Three more hours, hang in there.”

“FUCK!!!”