Chapter 2 - The First Artifact #1

The Montemer family, a prestigious house of magic. The founding patriarch's talent, said to rival even the guardians, was renowned as a force capable of reshaping heaven and earth.

9th Circle. A supreme realm that appeared only in legends, akin to dragons. Only here, in Montemer, could such a 9th Circle mage emerge.

The circle magic crafted through Montemer's unique methods boasted utmost stability and an endless gravitational pull on mana. Truly, they were mages who grew stronger just by breathing.

That was the Montemer family's unique ability.

"Bullshit. I don't know anything about that."

To Lawrence, an ordinary Earthling, such tales were nothing more than pie in the sky. The young master's words, the blind master's sayings... like some wuxia novel droning on about inner energy.

Magic theory held no meaning for Lawrence. Instead, something called magic circles—now rarely used—set his heart racing.

Intricately drawn patterns. The geometric art born where lines intersected, crafted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠by mages. Lawrence had always been a man who loved such things.

"Young master, you're awake?"

"Hey, uh..."

"It's Rachel."

"Rachel."

The maid smiled brightly at him. She was the only servant in this annex at the edge of the family estate—no, the territory itself.

She looked at him with pity.

I remember. The one maid who cared for this pathetic me.

She'd raised him since infancy, so affection had naturally formed. Human bonds were hard to hide once time piled up.

"Young master, um... is your body okay? The mana still..."

"Yeah. Still can't feel any mana."

"Then, what about the evaluation? Will you just give up and take some inheritance...?"

"It's fine."

Rachel startled. It wasn't the weak, trembling voice she knew. Not the pitiful young master who always shook in fear, but a composed demeanor befitting a magic noble house.

"Young master..."

"It'll work out somehow. Thanks, Rachel."

Was this a simple thank you for all this time, or a farewell hinting they'd never meet again?

Seeing her charge suddenly change filled Rachel with unease.

"Where's that room with the unused stuff?"

"At the very end of the basement. It's dusty and hasn't been cleaned in ages—shall I tidy it up for you?"

"No, no time for that. How many days until the evaluation?"

"Tomorrow, young master."

Lawrence nodded.

The day of the magic evaluation twenty ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠years ago. Yeah, he remembered. The patriarch's summons, the clueless ten-year-old boy, disappointed gazes, excruciating pain...

The child he'd met there had thrown dirt at him and trampled his body. Insulted his mother and mocked the very name Lawrence.

The adults who humiliated a mere child like that and treated him like trash burned vividly in his memory.

Lawrence stared at the message in the corner of his vision and turned. As he walked, memories of life in this annex flooded back.

Rachel had suffered alone so much. Drawing from his Earth days of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠solo living, he'd helped a ton with cleaning and laundry.

The rough, weathered wooden railing felt familiar under his hand. His birth mother had died of some unknown illness, they said. His father, rather than help this mana-less body, had all but driven him from the family.

"What a jerk."

Even so, couldn't he have at least set him up for a normal life?

Such thoughts swirled in his head. Mostly resentment toward the family, disappointment in those unfit to be parents.

And then the family massacre. No idea why, but...

Yet someone had treated him warmly. Rachel, a few relatives. Someone who died...

For them, and to uphold his name in the life ahead, he had to prevent that massacre.

Reflecting on past and future, he reached the warehouse door.

"Here it is."

To his child's body, it felt like a massive dungeon entrance. Maybe some adventurous spirit lingered from childhood.

Lawrence chuckled and stepped inside.

This annex's other name was Trash Warehouse. A dump for anything the family deemed useless...

"Whoa."

To Lawrence, it was a trove of glittering treasures.

#2

Engraving is passive, Manifestation active, got it.

"Isn't that a bit dangerous? I'm a total newbie."

"Hah, with praise like that, how can I refuse?"

Lawrence smirked and began crafting his first artifact.

Crackle—subspace opened, dropping a pen and a head-sized orb.

Oh?

Next came the material item: a long, floppy rod, more like a lump of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠silicone than a stick.

"Holy shit..."

Genuine shock escaped his lips. 9th Circle? Was this really not a dream? Lawrence stared wordlessly for a while.

If it wasn't... His grip tightened instinctively. The power to grow strong. To change things. It was the greatest motivation.

Ziiing— A magic circle visible only to Lawrence's eyes appeared. Incredibly complex and esoteric shapes. The pinnacle of geometry, where tiny circles formed a grand masterpiece of beauty.

"That's my specialty."

It was also his favorite genre. With guidelines like this, how could he fail to trace them?

Lawrence moved without hesitation, pen in hand, etching the magic circle onto the orb.

Scratch, scratch— Smooth lines without a single flaw. A delicacy beyond ordinary folk.

On Earth, he was a YouTuber with over 3 million subscribers, a 3D pen artisan.

This is fun.

People were happiest doing what they loved. And if it made him stronger? Perfect.

It reminded him of his past life, earning money from his passion.

#3

How much time had passed? Rachel paced anxiously before the warehouse.

Growing boys needed regular meals, but he'd been holed up for half a day already.

She couldn't barge in or even knock.

I'm worried.

Cold food from the tray sat by the door; fresh food was in her hands now.

Mages lost in research vanished for days, but young master Lawrence was only ten. Skipping meals at this age...

"To avoid bullying from the other young masters, he needs to eat well."

Rachel knew. Mages were strict on hierarchy, judging solely by skill.

This way, the young mage would be neglected, tormented, and wither away.

She couldn't watch a child die; she wanted to help. It was her master's will who took her in.

Talent, chosen by heaven—what made it worth this thorny path?

Rachel pitied Lawrence deeply.

"Young master, leaving food here."

"... "

No reply. She picked up the cold tray to head upstairs. Too good to waste; she'd eat it. She'd always filled her belly with his leftovers...

Meanwhile, Lawrence filled the magic circle at superhuman speed. Eyes dry, but fine. His young body endured the strain vigorously.

"Whoa, finally done."

How long? His stomach growled, signaling quite some time.

But with his first artifact nearly complete, excitement thrummed.

Crackle! The petrified dragon's eye glowed. The magic circle seeped in, emanating soft light.

Yes, this was...

The artifact I'd researched so long.

Authority, usable only by special beings. Gods, guardians, or representatives of races. Only the mighty or chosen.

That's why his research yielded no answers.

"How do I do the engraving?"

"Got it."

Lawrence carefully pressed the artifact to his chest.

Crackle— Light burst from it, transforming his body with the miracle within. No mana road, but greater power awaited.

"Growth type? How does it level up?"

"Nice."

Lawrence glanced around the warehouse. Foundation laid, but no usable artifacts yet.

Time for second and third, then.

Save one slot as backup.

Goal set. No incantations for others; he could skip that.

Grrrowl—

"Man, starving. Food first."

A bright, childlike smile bloomed on Lawrence's face.