Forging the Ego
“You look much healthier today. That's a real relief.”
“Thank you for your concern.”
I gave a wry smile and bowed my head slightly. I resealed the magic circle I'd been inspecting. I'd rushed over after hearing that the room's entrance had half vanished, but thankfully, it wasn't a big issue. One of the spells in the magic circle had simply overlapped with the door, adding a layer of distortion on top.
“Repairs are complete. It wasn't anything major, so no need to worry. Thank you for letting me know.”
“Heh heh, this is our section, so we should be the ones thanking you.”
Hongryeong said with a smile. I glanced around discreetly. It was the largest room on the 2nd floor, reserved solely for him and his four companions. Fortunately, no one else was in sight.
Noticing my glance, Hongryeong let out a soft chuckle.
“Don't worry. Omon didn't come to the tower today.”
“Haha, no, I was just wondering where the others had gone.”
“Is that so? Then I must have misunderstood.”
Haha—we both laughed heartily. I gave him a deep bow and left the room. Only after closing the door did I realize cold sweat was soaking my back. I smiled bitterly.
I owed that group far too much, and it made me overly cautious. It wasn't borrowed from Hongryeong himself, but from one of his crew—a young man named Omon. He was a member of the Mugeumgo organization, the only group running loan sharking across the entire university. They even owned a whole city.
He'd heard rumors that I collected elixirs and materials, so he lent me the money. Thinking I could pay it back quickly, I'd snatched it up. And now here I was.
The interest was brutally painful. Damn, no matter how much I paid, it never ended. Factoring in the funds for my research, it felt like it'd take another ten years to clear the debt.
I cut the thought short. Dwelling on negativity would just drain my mental energy. Better to focus on work.
I had to move to the next room. As I handled my tasks, I pondered for a long time. I even bought and scoured various books. About how ego forms.
In truth, things with ego were common in many spells. Ego could form anytime with enough accumulated mana. Ordinary animals absorbing mana and becoming intelligent magical beasts followed this principle, as did ancient regional mana turning into spirits. Even some enduring magic circles in the towers had faint intelligence.
Anything saturated with mana inevitably developed ego eventually.
But my puppets were newly made. The shadows didn't hold much mana either. There was no hope for natural ego formation. I needed a special method.
Time flew like an arrow as I mulled it over. Thoughts multiplied, haunting me even during work. Soon, nearly all my waking hours were filled with worries about puppets and shadows.
It was four months after the last experiment. I stood before the professor.
“So, you want to skip this lecture?”
The professor writhed on her bed. Wrapped tight in thick blankets like a caterpillar, she looked up at me. It might've seemed comical, but I kept my face rigid, tense as a board. The moment I finished speaking, her mana permeated the air, coiling around my body.
She extended a hand from under the blanket. Her waiting butler gently lifted her up. He folded the blanket neatly, straightened the bed, then began dressing her.
Reflecting the professor's tastes, the butler now had a dragon's head. Originally a flat humanoid puppet, it was unrecognizable now—a masterpiece born from a week of her relentless nagging after seeing me customize others' puppets.
Human and dragon features harmonized perfectly. Golden scales gleamed subtly on exposed skin. Sharp emerald eyes matching the professor's made the fierce dragon head look intellectual and keen. Black-and-gold ornate robes complemented the scales, enhancing his dignity.
I couldn't even remember how much blood and sweat I'd poured into it, setting aside everything else. Living amid this immense mana, it exuded ever more antique grandeur. Maybe this one could awaken ego naturally. The thought crossed my mind.
I kept my head bowed, waiting for her dressing to finish. Finally, she sat back on the bed. The butler brought a table and prepared tea. She lifted the cup, savoring the aroma.
“If you have a good reason, I won't refuse.”
She sipped slowly. My rigid mind raced through excuses under the tension. But she'd see through lies instantly. Honesty was best.
“Lately, my worries about my magic and puppets have deepened. I need closed-door training, so I came to ask.”
“Closed-door? You?”
She snickered. The mana grew heavier. I hurriedly added,
“Yes, I'm truly sorry. Lately, even keeping up with lectures feels overwhelming, so I feel the need to grow more.”
“Fair enough. You were the first eliminated this time.”
She nodded. I bit my lip. She was right. In recent treasure hunts, I often got swept out without contributing. The peak was last lecture—an underwater city where beasts overwhelmed me before I could act. First out, as she said.
As students improved, traps and beasts scaled up too. I'd grown a bit, but not compared to others. Combat wasn't my forte anyway.
She sipped in silence until her second cup emptied.
“Fine, do as you like. I know roughly what you're up to anyway.”
I beamed and bowed deeply.
“Thank you!”
“But fail, and there's punishment.”
She grinned: I'll yank your soul and chain it to the tower for ten years. I swallowed dryly. Shouldn't have asked. But words were out; no taking them back. I'd just give it my all.
She gestured—leave. I bowed carefully, backed away, turned, and descended the stairs slowly. Tension eased only on the 4th floor workshop. My legs nearly buckled; I almost collapsed.
Success in skipping lectures bought me a precious week, sacrificing much to tackle the obsession filling my head. Time for experiments.
I rushed into the workshop. First, checked the wall shelves. Materials I'd gathered: millennium yew wood, century brainstone, dream fish—relics naturally etched with magical circuits from accumulated mana.
Buying these prevented debt repayment. Sole reason: to birth ego in shadows.
Literature confirmed ego from ancient mana. So, could ancient shadows too? That's why I collected these mana-rich natural items—their shadows would mirror potent mana.
I took the millennium yew—strongest mana here, perfect puppet material. Matched my experiment ideally. Carried it to the workbench. My shadow awaited, prepared.
Placed the wood atop carefully. Synced with my shadow, carved meticulously. Coarse but beautifully grained, it revealed an owl shape with minimal alteration—pure material essence.
The owl shadow mirrored it. Detached and bottled carefully. It flapped wildly, seeking its owner, but sleep spell induced dormancy.
Injected mana for a Mana Heart, largest and strongest yet. Stable so far—expected, as prior tests succeeded.
Took owl puppet and shadow to pre-set magic circle—my torso-sized, seven-layered complex weave.
Placed bottle inside, infused mana to activate. Mana clouded, darkened, blackened the interior—a simulated shadow realm.
To craft it, I'd studied shadow realm materials, creating artificial awakening environment for ego.
Shadow stirred, escaped bottle, explored—seeking owner. But layers severed puppet link. It half-assimilated: dimming, flickering, visible only around Mana Heart.
I swallowed. Yes, like my shadow's original fragile state. It'd bloomed from there. Couldn't extract it—would dissolve outside. Pushed owl puppet in; link restored.
Faded shadow dove into puppet at feet. Success? But connection triggered erosion—in puppet form, twisting unstably. It rampaged in the mini-world, beyond control—a berserk beast, not true ego.
Had to destroy it outside. Perfect conditions, yet failure. Why? Pondered amid shards. Material? Shadow? More tests needed.
Poured other materials into puppets—all failed.
“Damn, my precious points.”
Muttered at wreckage pile. Half gone already. Lightning-hardened century rock, dream-fish— all deformed on shadow contact.
Unexpected, but reason clear: their innate mana/circuits clashed with forced Mana Heart. Even fusing, their tendencies rejected shadow mana. Collision prevented new ego; balance broke, failure.
Costly materials oxidized to nothing. But no despair—didn't expect easy win.
Signaled my shadow. It brought pre-soaked shadow-puppet pair—shadow steeped in potent mana two months. Only survivor; others shattered.
This might work. Tense, placed in circle. Failed. Knelt dazed amid fragments.
Process perfect: linked, harmonious. But excess mana eroded balance, blackening puppet. Extracted—exploded.
Damn. Realized: shaping environment alone couldn't forge ego.
More tries, same. Too optimistic. If basic fusion sufficed, world would teem with AI. Needed more than physics/mana.
Gazed at sole success—my shadow. It shifted per will: melted form to vast fog, starry night sky. Those stars: its egos.
Observed endlessly; sensed resonance from each. Prepared experiment therefrom.
My shadow reflected my will: high intelligence, independent mana. Ego as tiny seeds like stars. Thought structure would birth them naturally. Failed.
Shift thinking: ego not from mana. Explains failures—lacked core despite power.
What core? Staring stars: that. Failures highlighted their uniqueness—pure devotion to me. Professor Heisen's implanted direction: moves/thinks for me, purpose aligned.
Shadow mere vessel; will matters, not mana quantity. Past failures: remade shadows artificially, expecting natural ego sans trait consideration.
Redirect research. Needed not pricey materials/potent shadows, but connected, purposeful, mana-bearing entity. That could ego any shadow.
Exists? Dragon heart maybe—unattainable legend.
Compiled experiments in scroll. Gazed, pondered endlessly. Scoured books, gathered info. Paused commissions—even puppet mana-filling. Losses piled mountain-high.
Ignored lectures, tower duties. Gut screamed: solving this pivotal.
Isolated utterly, delved magic/shadow essence. Endless tests: inspected puppets, checked magic, probed shadows. Emptied arsenal sustaining research.
A month passed. Grasped faint possibility.