Shadows That Defy Control
I sat down and slowly reviewed my past research results. Looking back now, they were filled with clumsy, absurd guesses and experiments. Some came from direct trials, while others were discarded plans. It was through this messy research that I'd finally reached where I was today.
First experiment. Yeah, back then I even harbored hope that I could overcome this crisis in no time. At that point, I tried overlaying other shadows onto the puppet. It was a simple idea: the more shadows I packed into a puppet, the more power it would hold. But the moment the shadows seeped in, the puppet slipped from my control. The shadows clashed as they tried to devour the puppet's form, horribly twisting its shape and circuits. In the end, their infighting and the puppet's rejection triggered a massive explosion. The puppet and shadows alike shattered into pieces.
After several repeated experiments, I realized my approach of treating shadows merely as tools of power was wrong. So I explored two new directions. One was linking a single shadow to the puppet; the other was merging all shadows into one massive lump. Both failed.
The single-shadow attempt failed amid the puppet's fierce rejection, no matter how many times I tried. From this, I learned that one being could only have one shadow. Every puppet already had its subordinate shadow. Forcing another one on it caused backlash and explosion. It was completely unexpected—and it upended all my future plans.
All the shadows I'd prepared were infused with strong mana to reduce the puppet's consumption. But if I couldn't use them... Regretfully, I tried a few more times, but the results were the same. I had to admit that grafting foreign shadows onto puppets was fundamentally flawed.
So I shifted the shadow-merging approach too. Abandoning the plan to replace the puppet's own shadow, I wove multiple shadows around it as the core. They linked together into a stable structure, efficiently supporting the central puppet shadow. Through this connection, they emitted even stronger mana than before. This has to work, I thought.
But the instant I connected them to the puppet, its original shadow destabilized. Internal imbalance followed, and the puppet collapsed under the shadow's power. I scraped together the fragments to find the cause. After prolonged investigation and repeated tests, I understood: I'd failed to grasp the shadows' inherent nature.
All shadows seek to mimic their owner, always keeping themselves in an imperfect state. This trait affected the linked structure, leading to breakdown. These experiments and analysis took five months. Building on that, I tried again. That was the third experiment. A wry smile crossed my lips at the bitter memory.
I first tried creating a Mana Heart solely from shadow. Since I couldn't add multiple shadows or use others, I made the puppet's own shadow hold mana. It was fairly successful. But when I combined it with the puppet, they rejected each other—their mana types had diverged. The shadow lost its Mana Heart under the puppet's pressure, reverting to a normal shadow.
Next, I divided the shadow into tiny particles and mixed them with mana. It would lack power, but it could assist the puppet, I predicted. As expected, the puppet moved with reduced mana drain using the shadow's power. It seemed perfect. But problems arose when mana flowed through the magic circuits. The shadow clashed violently with the internal spells, tangling circuits, separating from mana, and exploding the puppet.
When I told Maira this, she laughed, calling it an amusing puzzle. Now, the next experiment loomed. Following her advice, I'd seen and experienced much in the shadow world. I'd gained insights there. Reviewing past results, I smiled confidently. The old me and the current me were worlds apart. This experiment would succeed for sure. I was certain.
And it failed. The explosion was enormous. If I hadn't sensed the danger and activated protective barriers, I'd have been blown away too.
"What went wrong this time..."
I sighed, dismantling the layered barriers. Approaching the explosion site, I brushed the traces. Even the shadow had vanished without a dust speck. I'd thought this one progressed stably.
In prior tests, I'd seen shadow autonomy as the instability factor in puppet fusion. So this time, I weakened it maximally—drawing from shadow world visions of shadows dissolving into mana flows, like the massive currents from dead, mingled shadows without will. I melted the puppet's shadow to minimize autonomy, similar to past experiments where I'd glimpsed potential. The shadow had blended well with mana then; without spell rejection, it would've succeeded.
So I harvested the puppet shadow, liquefying it into fluid mana, and injected it inside. To avoid circuit friction, I created a separate path—like blood flowing through the puppet. But it failed. The liquefied, "deadened" shadow regained autonomy upon connection. It veered from my path toward the puppet's mana, triggering spell rejection and explosion.
Why? Repeated tests under varied conditions yielded the same. Sighing, I realized something from these failures: shadow autonomy is dependence on its owner. All shadows reject everything but their origin upon reconnection. That's why they fiercely repelled my mana.
The "dead shadows" I'd seen couldn't exist in reality—shadows need owners. It worked there because it was Heisen's subspace, with altered laws. My confidence deflated rapidly. I'd been so sure.
I unrolled a scroll and slowly recorded the experiment. Liquefying it took over ten vials of silver night flowers—worth over five hundred points combined. Including others, even more points vanished. Why do points never suffice, no matter how many I earn? Wiping my face, I thought. No time to rest. Slapping my cheeks, I refocused. I had to prepare the next quickly. I'd toiled a month nonstop for this day; I couldn't waste it.
My shadow, waiting, fetched the next puppet—roughly my upper body's size. Identical ones lined the workshop wall. I placed it atop the layered magic circle, a filter blocking all external contact. No shadow visible; I'd extracted and stored it.
My shadow offered the vial labeled "25." Misty fog rippled low inside—the puppet's shadow. Stroking it, I wryly smiled. This test yielded insight: shadows always link to their owner. So, discard autonomy-removal plans. Time for another path. I had one in mind.
Gazing at my shadow as it manipulated the circle, inspiration struck—from it. First, reduce its mana repulsion. All explosions stemmed from shadow-mana clashes. Unresolved, no progress.
I delicately infused mana into the vial. From my Seedling stage, it filled evenly, seeping along the shadow's faint texture. Confirming acceptance, I added more cautiously. Mana accumulated, then overflowed; I directed it inward. Filling the shadow, it formed specific flows, etching natural circuits—like an upside-down tree. Concentrated mana blended, emanating independent vitality. Identical to my shadow's first ego circuits.
Whew, success. Relieving tension, I sighed. Theorized, but first practical run—refined through failures. It held stable. Uncorking, I set it at the puppet's feet. Hesitant at first, the shadow sensed its owner and pooled there swiftly.
I swallowed. Now the crucial part. Cautiously injecting mana, the Mana Heart pulsed, scattering through the puppet. Manipulating gently: one step, two, three. No issues. Mana flowed circuits normally; shadow fine. Success? A smile spread.
But not yet safe. My goal: shadow controlling mana drain. I trickled puppet mana to it. The shadow reacted, roots spreading everywhere. Stabilized, I moved it again. Success! Minimal drain; shadow powered it with its own mana. My dream unfolding!
Then it exploded. Mana backlashed instantly, surging through the link to hit me. I spat blood. My Seedling shook too. What happened? It had worked.
Perplexed, I replicated exactly with another. It shattered again. Mana amount? Adjusted. Spells? Tweaked. Circuits? New puppet. Same result. Shadow burst, wrecking it.
Finally, realization: the shadow's Mana Heart collapsed unstably. Due to formlessness. Gazing at my shadow—how did it sustain? After thirtieth explosion, I grasped it.
My shadow had such instability too—still does. But it had ego. A core anchoring the Mana Heart. Centered on ego, it devoured my mana, forming its shape—becoming me-like yet distinct. Ordinary shadows couldn't.
Spitting blood, I slumped. Now I understood my shadow's uniqueness. Why seniors flocked to Heisen's lectures. Unlike common shadows, this one—born of the professor—had its own ego, a unique lifeform. Yet retained shadow traits: eternally linked to owner, growing together. For self-reliant mages, such a familiar was priceless. Yeah, it was precious—beyond my making.
To succeed, puppet shadows needed ego. But how? If possible, I'd have done it at creation. Another failure; today's tests ended. Tomorrow, tackle backlog. Who knows when next chance.
I sighed deeply.