"I've burned through almost my entire potion stock..." Lucian muttered, glancing at the sky. It was already dusk.
Knowing he was going to stress-test his magic, Hephaestus had graciously bought him a starter pack of mind-recovery potions. In this world, chugging too many potions inflicted debilitating toxicity buildup on the body. Fortunately, since Lucian could literally rewind his physical state, potion toxicity was entirely irrelevant to him.
Potions are going to be a massive financial bleed in the future, Lucian analyzed.
Adventurers made fortunes in the Dungeon, but their overhead costs were astronomical, with weapon maintenance being the absolute worst offender. Unlike a standard frontline fighter, he didn't need to waste Valis on weapons, armor, health potions, or antidotes. His only critical logistical weakness was his severe dependency on mind-recovery potions.
Potions are just a crutch for the early ga. Once I stabilize, I'll just engineer a permanent magic beast designed exclusively as a mana battery. With that long-term solution locked in, Lucian closed his interface.
It was ti for dinner, so he headed back to the cafeteria. Catching sight of him, Hephaestus waved him over. Lucian grabbed a tray and slid into the seat across from her.
"How did the research go?" she asked, a hint of genuine curiosity in her voice.
"Making steady progress, but the ntal tax is brutal," Lucian admitted.
"The tax?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Mind drain," he clarified. "I've figured out a way to magically purge the toxicity buildup from chain-chugging potions."
"The Familia can loan you the funds to stock up on potions," Hephaestus offered carefully. "However, the credit limit won't be exceptionally high. We're in a critical expansion phase right now, so you'll need to lean on your magic to find a more permanent workaround."
"You an applying it to forging?" Lucian's counter-question plunged the goddess into a deep silence. She imdiately grasped the terrifying implication behind his words.
Yes, his creation magic could be weaponized for blacksmithing, but the thodology would likely border on blasphemy to her. Hephaestus valued the grueling, step-by-step evolution of her children's craftsmanship. Because of this core philosophy, she violently opposed any concept remotely resembling an industrialized assembly line that rendered true artisans obsolete.
In Orario, the absolute pinnacle of human potential far surpassed the limits of mindless machinery. The introduction of automated lathes or mass-production factories would stagnate the divine art of forging forever. She couldn't fathom exactly how Lucian planned to exploit his magic, but she could easily predict the cataclysmic market disruption it would cause.
It was the exact sa reason she would later classify the legendary Hestia Knife she forged for Bell Cranel as a 'heretical path'. The blade wasn't inherently evil; rather, a weapon that forcefully leveled up alongside its wielder destroyed the entire purpose of a blacksmith's lifelong pursuit of perfection. It was one of the very few tis she had compromised her ideals.
If Lucian unleashed his creation magic upon the forging industry and began mass-producing flawless gear, he would single-handedly obliterate the growth potential of the mortal realm. To her, that was true heresy. In Hephaestus's eyes, 'evil' wasn't defined by destructive magic, but by anything that chained the infinite possibilities of the lower world's children.
"If you restrict it strictly to your personal use, and absolutely refrain from flooding the market, I will permit it." After a long, tense pause, she finally compromised, unable to justify suffocating his unique talents.
The absolute uncrossable line was that his magic could not destabilize the livelihoods of others. If he started playing one-man arms dealer and supplying weapons to the entirety of Orario—or worse, the whole world—he would massacre the blacksmithing trade overnight.
"Deal." Lucian smiled brightly.
Hephaestus was surprisingly progressive, a trait clearly evidenced by the fact that she hadn't imdiately smited him upon waking up. Her 'free-range' managent style wasn't negligence; it was a calculated risk, ensuring he still had access to vital resources without chaining him to a forge.
The primary perk of joining a powerhouse faction was the guaranteed ntorship and heavily guarded Dungeon escorts. She had offered him the standard track: partying up with veteran smiths. But his absurdly versatile magic ant he could likely solo the upper floors with zero issues, which was why she hadn't forced him onto a roster.
A faction that hoarded resources, offered zero guidance, and demanded absolute servitude was a scam only an idiot would join. Hephaestus, however, respected his autonomy, offering a tailored, hands-off approach that was undeniably the optimal way to nurture an anomaly like him.
Later that night, several Familia mbers lugged massive crates of mind-recovery potions directly into his room. They had just discussed the loan over dinner, and the goods were already delivered. The administrative efficiency was terrifying.
Honestly, Lucian was deeply moved. The goddess had treated him with nothing but pure, unadulterated sincerity. She claid she couldn't offer much, yet these crates contained easily four to five hundred vials—an industrial-scale wholesale order.
If he conserved energy, he'd burn through five vials an afternoon. If he went all out, he'd double that. At a conservative estimate of twenty vials a day, this stockpile would comfortably last him almost a full month.
Lucian had absolutely zero intention of rushing into the Dungeon just to farm Valis. Survival took priority. He needed to finalize his combat rule sets and solidify a cohesive fighting style before stepping foot into the labyrinth. Hephaestus had accurately read his intentions, which was why she had essentially bankrolled his R&D phase. The math was simple: this potion stash was the bridge that would safely carry him to his first massive payday in Orario.
"Rule Creation: Sli Armant Paraters—"
"Rule One: A magical organism composed entirely of raw mana. Its default state is a sphere, laced with complex internal mana circuits."
"Rule Two: Capable of independent locomotion via slithering or bouncing."
"Rule Three: Highly resistant to kinetic impacts up to a defined threshold."
"Rule Four: Possesses the ability to consu external mana to permanently augnt its own structure."
"Rule Five: Capable of perfect mimicry, cellular division, and seamless recombination."
"Rule Six: Can fundantally alter its own elental or physical properties by consuming specific physical materials or concentrated magicules."
"Through Annihilation Maker and Magic Creation, execute permanent materialization: Sli Armant." Lucian downed a mana potion and imdiately triggered the sequence.
A violent shockwave of pure energy exploded from his core, fundantally mutating the dark clothing clinging to his skin. It severed its parasitic drain on his mind, solidifying into an independent, living entity capable of passively generating its own mana supply. Completely drained, Lucian's eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed unconscious onto the bed.
"Puu?" The [Sli Armant] emitted a soft squeak.
It liquefied, pooling on the bedsheets before reforming into a bouncy, pitch-black sphere. A shadowy question mark popped out of its head, rapidly shifting into a bright exclamation point. Understanding the assignnt, it flattened itself out, shifting into a massive, heavily insulated black sleeping bag that snugly swallowed Lucian whole.
Such overwhelming, suffocating security~
anwhile, deep within the estate, Hephaestus lay awake, replaying the day's absurd events.
That child's talent is terrifying. Three anomaly-class spells right out of the gate... I can't even begin to calculate his ceiling, she murmured into the darkness. It's impossible not to look forward to the monster he'll beco...
But as her mind inevitably drifted back to the morning's disastrous introduction, a furious blush crawled up her neck.
Does that technically count as us being entirely exposed to each other? Experiencing sothing so mortifying on her very first encounter with him threw her usually unshakeable mind into total chaos.
And then, the realization hit her: he had slept in this exact bed. He had used these exact sheets. It was probably just her imagination, but she swore she could still sll his faint, lingering scent woven into the fabric.
It actually... slls quite nice.
Wait, what did he actually think of my eye? Her core insecurity roared back to life.
He hadn't recoiled in disgust, which was a massive relief, but not hearing him verbally confirm it left a gnawing anxiety in her chest. The divine, billion-year-old maiden was suddenly acting like a flustered teenager, hopelessly overanalyzing a random accident.
"Aaaaargh, this is so frustrating!"
Unable to stop thinking about him, Hephaestus buried her burning face into her pillow, thrashing around the bed like a pathetic, overgrown worm.
[Author's Lore Note: The protagonist's core chanic is essentially the power of "I think, therefore it is." [Rule Creation] provides the frawork, allowing his sheer imagination to manifest logically. Without these foundational rules, relying solely on imagination is like building a skyscraper without a foundation—it would collapse under its own weight.]
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