Ludger unfolded the materials he had received from Hans.
They were written in an ancient language, but that was hardly an issue for Ludger.
He possessed knowledge of old archaeological languages.
“A journal.”
At first glance, it seemed like an experimental log, but once he read it, that wasn’t quite right.
If anything, it was closer to a researcher’s personal diary.
Ludger slowly turned the pages. They had weathered considerably over long years, but not to the point of being illegible.
Today was septic tank inspection day, so the laboratory smelled a bit. The fact that even such trivial daily matters are getting on my nerves must mean fatigue has definitely built up. It’s probably because the experiments ran late into the night. I should have at least gotten some sleep. Still, yesterday’s process of injecting mana into ‘Kali’ was quite successful. To think such tremendous energy could be contained within the body of a small beast—it’s astonishing.
An experiment related to spirit beasts.
Ludger turned to the next page.
The changes in ‘Kali’ are remarkable. Originally, it was just an ordinary forest animal, but now intelligence can be felt in its gaze. Its fur shines silver, and its claws have become harder than steel. It’s still clumsy at regulating the flow of mana, but its potential is enormous. Everyone, myself included, was overjoyed. Yet at the same time, we felt fear. What exactly are we creating right now? Are we stepping into the domain of the gods?
Last night, I walked outside the laboratory. The stars decorating the night sky were unusually bright. I wondered—among those stars, might there be beings like us, exploring life, or even trying to create it? I suddenly felt lonely. Where does this research end, and are we truly walking the right path? These are worries I can’t share with anyone. My colleagues seem focused only on data and results, uninterested in such fundamental questions. Still, I understand them. After all, this is also for humanity.
Today, we increased the amount of mana injected into ‘Kali’ to the maximum. The mana waves pouring out of its body shook the entire laboratory. In that moment, I saw a very clear emotion in its eyes. It was pain—and sorrow.
This experiment has long since gone beyond mere scientific curiosity. We are rewriting the definition of life. But in the process, what will we lose? Perhaps we’ve already lost it. After the experiment ended, I looked up at the night sky. Otherwise, I felt I wouldn’t be able to endure it.
The sky was clear and beautiful. Countless stars sparkled. That beauty looked like the potential of our future. But aside from the starlight, the night sky is dark—almost as if showing us the path we must walk. This is embarrassing; I suppose I became overly sentimental. In any case, the experiment was a success. We created spirit beasts. Someone will surely try to use this for military purposes. But that was never our wish. Our original goal was for humanity. Humans who develop and evolve on their own, rather than remaining puppets of the gods.
Ludger’s hand paused as he turned the pages.
‘Gods and humans.’
These people, too, had been struggling in their own way to escape Lumenis’s grasp.
‘Did “evolving humanity” mean trying to turn humans into spirit beasts?’
Some might ask whether spirit beasts are, in human terms, essentially mages.
But Ludger could firmly say that wasn’t the case.
‘Spirit beasts are the result of an excessive accumulation of mana within the body, causing the very nature of their existence to mutate. No—if we’re being precise, it’s evolution adapted for survival.’
Because ordinary beasts cannot use magic.
They lack the intelligence to employ spellcraft, and thus have no way to expend the mana that keeps accumulating within them.
‘The environments where spirit beasts are born are, by default, saturated with dense mana. Naturally, even the plants and insects there are all excessively infused with mana.’
When beasts living there graze on plants, concentrated mana continues to build up in their bodies.
‘If refined properly, it becomes a potent elixir. Left in its natural state, however, it’s closer to poison. Spirit beasts grow while continuously feeding on it. Or by preying on beasts that have consumed it.’
Just as heavy metals accumulate in the body, mana continues to build up, causing physical mutation.
Those that adapt and survive the process can become spirit beasts.
‘Right. If we compare humans to spirit beasts, then the closest equivalent would be those who possess magic eyes.’
A constitution where mana is excessively condensed in a part of the body from birth, granting strange powers.
From magic eyes to word magic, even synesthetic mana perception.
Such constitutions could be considered closer to spirit beasts.
‘And they tried to create this deliberately?’
Compared to studying spellcraft later in life and learning magic, such beings would undoubtedly be stronger.
It wouldn’t be wrong to say this could truly bring about a drastic evolution of humanity.
“Brother. Just what kind of thing is written there, for you to be staring at it with such a grim face?”
Hans couldn’t hold back his curiosity and asked.
“This is a researcher’s journal. It seems the ancient people artificially created spirit beasts deep inside those ruins.”
“Huh. Then was that why this forest was crawling with spirit beasts?”
“Yes. And their ultimate goal was to evolve humanity itself into something like spirit beasts.”
“No, is that even possible? And that would be....”
“Essentially, human experimentation.”
And there were those who favored human experimentation the most.
Black mages.
“......If we’d let those bastards slip away here, it really would’ve been a disaster.”
“Indeed. Even if the detailed process isn’t written, merely opening up that possibility would have been tremendous help to black mages.”
In truth, the idea of forcibly evolving humanity into something stronger was still being pursued across the continent.
Among black mages, the more extreme ones had many who modified their own bodies, abandoning their humanity altogether.
‘Turning their bodies into insects, excessively reinforcing their physiques, or using World Tree cells to turn humans into chimeras.’
What was written in this journal was just one branch of such attempts.
Though, compared to other efforts, this one had produced particularly meaningful results and outcomes.
As Ludger continued turning the pages, he reached the final entry.
All preparations are complete. Creating spirit beasts has been a success. If we could only apply this to humans, we would gain far greater freedom. Of course, the data is still insufficient. Applying it to animals and to people are fundamentally different matters. To be honest, I doubt the human body can endure this. Part of me thinks it would be better to give up here. But we couldn’t. We received news that the followers of the gods had attacked our homeland. My mother and father were there. There’s no way to know what became of them. I—no, all of us—lost the home we could return to. This laboratory became our final bastion.
The data is still insufficient. Stability cannot be guaranteed. And applying it to humans is no easy task. Everyone in this laboratory is a researcher. Even so, to confirm the results, someone had to volunteer as the test subject. Whoever receives it will surely die. What kind of lunatic would do such a thing?
Yes. It seems I was that lunatic.
To be honest, I had the mindset of “whatever happens, happens.” For a researcher whose duty is to minimize error and instability and increase probability, to throw out such a gamble? But there was no other choice. The world doesn’t move according to our predictions. All elements of the world are far too complex and varied. Even accounting for all of them, glimpsing the future is no easy task. Especially when it comes to humans—there is no existence harder to predict. Because we don’t move purely by rationality. Sometimes, we throw away our lives foolishly, wagering everything on absurdly low odds. Why? Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe it’s just a careless belief that things will somehow work out.
This is the end of the journal. I volunteered for the experiment, and despite my colleagues’ attempts to stop me, I refused to yield. Someone had to do it. In fact, I felt a certain pride that I was the first. Making a self-sacrificial choice to confirm the experiment’s results—doesn’t that sound admirable? Hm. Thinking it over again, it does sound foolish. Still, so what. Since I’ve made my choice, I intend to carry it out without regret. If someone finds this, I hope you won’t throw it away. My friends. We’ll meet again someday. Just... I hope you don’t follow me too soon.
That was the end of the journal.
“It seems the researchers went beyond creating spirit beasts and attempted to turn humans into them.”
“Turning humans into spirit beasts... then what kind of result would that even produce?”
When a mute beast becomes a spirit beast, it gains intelligence, understands language, and can use magic.
Its racial traits are manifested to an extreme degree, granting power that’s practically akin to an ability.
Then what about humans?
If humans were to become beings similar to spirit beasts, what kind of result would emerge?
“We can’t know for sure. But there’s something we can vaguely infer.”
“And what’s that?”
“Even magic eyes are a constitution that occurs when a child of a mage bloodline is born with an excessive amount of mana concentrated in the eyes—a low-probability event. It’s a case where mana takes residence excessively in a specific part of the body.”
“But becoming a spirit beast would mean mana overflowing through the entire body, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes.”
Ludger thought of his own student, Mina.
She was born with an excessive amount of mana.
Because of that, it was nearly impossible for her to live a normal daily life.
‘Mina is one possible example of how a human might approach spirit beastification.’
Of course, even Mina couldn’t be compared to a true spirit beast.
She merely had a large amount of mana; she didn’t possess magic eyes or a ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) tongue for word magic.
“If this experiment truly succeeded, that human would possess unimaginable authority. Perhaps... they’d truly have to be called a god.”
“A god....”
Hans gasped in surprise, then tilted his head.
“......Is that really a threat?”
Hans asked that question because of Ludger himself.
A god is dangerous? When the person who communicates most smoothly with gods is standing right in front of him?
And not just one god—several of them were lining up, eager to bestow all kinds of benefits upon Ludger alone.
From Hans’s perspective, having watched that from the side, a god? Well... he couldn’t help but be skeptical.
“You haven’t experienced it firsthand, that’s why. It’s true they show me favor, but a god’s favor is something humans can’t reasonably bear.”
Imagine a child who likes ants pouring honey onto them.
The ants wouldn’t be able to eat it all—they’d drown.
A lollipop is the same. If you just shove it at an ant, the ant would be crushed to death before it could even lick it.
“It’s all a matter of degree.”
“Still, wouldn’t you be able to handle it just fine, brother?”
“That’s also true.”
Of course, that was only possible because Ludger himself had made the greatest effort to reach this point.
“For now, let’s go inside. Or are you still uneasy?”
At Ludger’s words, Hans seemed to recall something at last and spoke with a serious expression.
“Brother. Remember how I said I didn’t want to enter those ruins?”
“You did.”
“As you can see, my beastly instincts rejected it violently. Even the surrounding spirit beasts tried to avoid going near it.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I kept thinking about why. Why such rejection. Was there something dangerous inside? And then, by accident, I came into contact with the spirit beast factor and ended up going berserk. And that’s when I felt it.”
“Felt what?”
“There’s something inside those ruins.”
The first thing that came to Ludger’s mind was the artificial sun.
If it were a relic holding immense energy, it would be natural for Hans to fear it.
Beasts disliked fire, after all.
‘But that doesn’t quite fit. There were plenty of other animals living inside the artificial garden.’
And the artificial sun he had actually seen didn’t seem that dangerous.
Then why had Hans—and the surrounding spirit beasts—refused even to approach the ruins?
Ludger’s brow twitched.
“Don’t tell me....”
“If what you said earlier is right, brother. Then isn’t it inside there?”
Hans spoke, assuming the worst possible scenario.
“A human who has been spirit beastified.”
