Moroz Magic Tower (3): Engraving the Heart
"And what's the third step...?"
"Once you've made the waterwheel and the waterways, what comes next?"
A riddle, huh... Can't be helped with these professors...
Kim Lusanya Stuzar—Professor Stuzar's personal lesson ended with a question.
Student Jeong Berga Ji-hoon had no choice but to answer.
"You pour in the priming water... and keep turning it. Until it spins on its own."
"Correct. I thought you'd let half the explanation slide."
"No way."
After hearing you'd crack open my chest and doodle on my heart, how could I zone out?
"But I've heard the procedure puts an incredible burden on the body... How's it possible in just 18 hours?"
"We pour recovery magic on you nonstop from the side. You especially have nothing to worry about, Berga-nim."
Lusanya glances at my left arm.
Back when the wave ended, it was beaded with blood clots, but now there's not even a trace.
So that's what they saw in my blood here, more valuable than Blood Death Wave.
"With recovery magic thrown in, we can finish even faster."
Not that they won't provide it, of course.
"...Understood. Ah, and the 18 hours includes recovery time for the body, but anyway."
Hm?
"Anyway?"
"It also accounts for mental recovery. It'll be extremely painful. Rest periods are needed between stages—or even during them."
Ah.
Come to think of it, these mages probably don't have anything like anesthesia.
"Something like anesthetic magic..."
"What's anesthesia?"
"Right. Got it."
It's some seriously sketchy, mad-scientist body mod, but let's consider it positively.
The so-called magic circle people talk about.
Normally innate from birth.
Mana flows from mana roads into the circle in the heart.
Circulate that mana to cast spells.
Now they're making it artificially.
Using blood vessels instead of mana roads.
And something engraved on the heart instead of a circle.
That's the gist, as I understand it.
"What's the success rate...?"
"Eight out of ten."
80 percent... Higher than I thought. Unless...
"Excluding fatalities?"
"...What do you take Moroz for?"
A flicker of human disappointment crosses Lusanya's face.
She lets out a sigh, then speaks again.
"The procedure itself has a high success rate beyond enduring the pain. Especially with recovery magic. The only variable is not holding out. And... most dropouts live on in a limbo state—neither mage nor ordinary person."
Just gotta endure, then.
She's scaring me a bit now, but no one’s more used to pain than me.
"How long for prep?"
"We can start right now."
Of course.
They planned to do it from the start.
I followed Lusanya to the underground lab—or research wing.
True to its depths, the brick walls were damp with dew in the cracks, moss thick in spots.
Dim torches flickered here and there, their oily smell mingling with the musty air in faint waves.
I was starting to worry I'd suffocate during the procedure when a thin thread of frigid field wind carrying pine scent reached us from the darkness.
Vents, at least.
"Lie down."
The bed was cold.
Bed? More like an altar.
The kind sinister cultists use for blood sacrifices... Stop.
If I'm committing, go all in.
"Wh-why tie down my limbs..."
"In case you thrash."
The guy tying my left arm winks at me.
Mask hid his face—it's Boris.
Why the mask, though...
"To reiterate: Stage one opens the mana pathways. Strictly speaking, it repurposes your blood vessels for mana flow, since you didn't have them originally."
No sooner do Lusanya's words end than a huge glass jar of blue liquid floats up via magic.
Liquid high-purity mana swirls lazily around my chest before stabbing in like a wedge.
"Ngh."
"Endure it. Stage one lays the foundation. The longer you hold, the wider your mana roads."
It hurts.
...Hurts, but it's familiar somehow.
A blue snake wriggles through my veins via magic, yet rational thought holds.
Thanks to my cold blood.
Where've I felt this... Ah, stamina potions.
The pain from drinking stamina potions? A diluted version?
"How much left?"
"It's flowing. Just endure... Huh?"
"I am enduring. How long?"
"How are you talking... Huh?"
Lusanya's face is pure bewilderment.
More alive than any expression I've seen on her.
Boris next to her is frozen solid.
"...Endure as long as you can. Normally the patient signals to stop, but... I'll signal. When further procedure is pointless."
"Got it. Gotta stay lying down?"
"...Posture doesn't matter."
"Then give me a magic book."
"Pardon?"
Time's money.
And skills bought with cron? Pricey.
Gotta learn as much as possible.
"...Done."
Stage one ended around when I skimmed an intro to magic theory book.
More readable than expected.
The author clearly cared for students—nice touches everywhere.
Truly flawless as an intro text...
Lusanya's dumbfounded face snaps me back.
"Next stage now?"
"...If possible."
"Let's go. Lying down this time."
"Yes, preparing."
Lusanya's back to her usual face, somehow.
Right. No change, so no point overthinking.
Waste of time.
Cron-bought time, no less.
Stage two flew by, against my worries.
Maybe from ripping my left arm open so often with Blood Death Wave.
Opening the chest felt similar.
Though cutting the ribs hurt more.
Magic sliced clean, but my regen interfered—had to recut flesh midway.
"Blood's in the way. Hold on."
I drained with Blood Death Wave between steps.
"Don't hold awkwardly—use forceps or something. Like this shape..."
"No need to say!"
Sometimes I flexed medical drama knowledge.
While they had my chest open.
"Third stage left, right?"
"This guy is unreal..."
Moroz's stone-faced tower master mutters what sounds like a curse.
Getting closer?
Opening up (the ribs) is key.
The final stage resembled implanting true qi from wuxia novels.
Lusanya places her hand on my chest, slowly infusing white-blue energy.
Following her lead, a new sensation etches into every corner of my vessels.
Blood felt rough and hot; Lusanya's mana was soft and cool.
"Remember it? Try it yourself. I'll guide slowly."
"Yeah. Got it."
Incomprehensible script engraved on my heart.
Not understanding—intuit the meaning, follow slowly.
From heart to fingertips, fingertips to heart, up and down.
A translucent concept sharpens hazily inside me.
"You're doing well..."
"Similar stuff in my line of work."
Who knew Blood Death Wave senses would help here.
Helped?
Yeah.
Great!
"Done."
Finally, stage three.
Mana flow established.
Lusanya wipes sweat from her brow and hands me my top.
"Thanks."
She's already turned away.
She's seen my chest and ribs anyway.
Whatever. Faster than thought.
Not even close to 18 hours—felt like under six.
"When do you plan to return?"
"Late afternoon tomorrow. Around wave end."
"Understood. Rest today, then. We'll collect blood tomorrow."
"Got it. Thanks for the consideration."
"No trouble. Use the first-floor room for rest. Boris will guide you out of the underground."
The research wing door creaks open.
"Then, I'll be off. I'll send word."
"Yeah. See you tomorrow, Lusanya."
Light farewell with Lusanya, and Boris bustles over.
"Incredible!"
"What is?"
"The Artificial Circle Opening Procedure! Finishing so fast, so easily—it's rare!"
"Lots of rough experiences. Boris, that book you brought was great. Excellent stuff."
"Knew you'd appreciate it! It's by my favorite mage. Perfect for self-study."
Boris's eyes sparkle.
Birds of a feather.
"Just like you said. Understood it fine even mid-procedure. Any basic mana operation books? Or on other spells. Teleportation magic would be good."
"Yes! Of course! You're next door—I'll fetch them now. I have some I've used!"
"Thanks."
Sticky guy.
I sit on the bed a moment; Boris returns with books and odds and ends.
Most helpful was Boris himself.
Fired up with love for comrades and country, he boiled down Moroz magic theory—key points, clear and concise.
Guy's got teaching talent...
Moroz theory felt familiar.
Mana like ingredients, spells like recipes.
Pour mana into preset recipe molds like activating skills, get output.
"Follow recipes one by one, use often, and eventually spells engrave on your circle—becoming your magic. That's becoming a mage."
"Heart for me."
"Close enough."
Some aptitudes between schools—rare cases can't learn certain elements.
Boris rants passionately: True archmages craft non-existent recipes with precision.
I tune it out, memorizing the given formulas obediently.
Thankfully, Moroz style was the easiest for me to grasp.
"Why this variable here? Fix this to constant, then split the mana value like fractions—way more efficient, no?"
"...Berga-nim. Jealous."
"Of what?"
"If you're good at magic too, what am I supposed to do! Top assassin! Handsome face! And now..."
"Stop."
Embarrassing praise—save it for the room.