Chapter 87

Ethan stared at the number, a pang of genuine disappointment echoing in his chest. Nine hundred and eighty-six psionic runes. It was so close, a stone's throw from perfection. Just fourteen short of being a true, supreme-grade piece of psionic gear. A work of art left tantalizingly unfinished.

Should I… should I try to carve them myself?

The thought, once it appeared in his mind, grew like opportunistic mushrooms after a heavy rain, utterly impossible to suppress. It was an audacious, perhaps even foolish, idea. He was no psionic smith. But in his Grey Matter form, he could see the intricate web of runes with perfect clarity. He could discern their logic, the flow of their energy, the mathematical precision of their design. With that level of super-intelligence, surely it wasn't impossible to simply… continue the pattern? To supplement the remaining runes himself?

He reverted to his human form and used his finger to trace the position of the psionic runes, examining them carefully. The patterns were breathtakingly complex, but there was a clear, underlying structure. As expected, after studying them for a few more minutes, he could see how some of the existing runes could be logically extended outwards, their lines flowing into new, more complex shapes. Although he had never studied the creation of psionic gear, nor was he clear on the precise theories of how psionic runes should be drawn, simply increasing the number based on the existing, masterful template… he was confident Grey Matter was capable of that.

He hurried out to the kitchen, his mind racing, and rummaged through the drawers, looking for a suitable tool. He took out a kitchen knife. After a moment's consideration, he shook his head; it was far too big and clumsy. A fruit knife? Still too big, the handle designed for a human hand. A box cutter? The blade was thin and fragile, liable to snap under the slightest pressure. He suddenly discovered that there were very few household tools suitable for the tiny, delicate hands of his Galvan form.

Just as he was starting to worry, his eyes fell upon a small, hooked piece of metal hanging by the counter. A nostalgic smile touched his lips. It was a walnut pick, something he had hammered into shape himself from a piece of scrap iron when he was a child. He had bent a straight piece of iron, formed a small circle at the bottom to hang it, and then painstakingly hammered the other end into a relatively sharp, durable point. He remembered the satisfaction of using it to pry open the tough green husks of freshly picked walnuts, revealing the crisp, sweet kernel inside.

The size of this makeshift walnut pick was just right for Grey Matter. Although it would still be a bit large relative to his tiny form, it was something he could grasp firmly and wield with precision.

Ethan took down the walnut pick and returned to his room. In a flash of green light, he transformed back into Grey Matter. He carefully observed the psionic runes on the Steel Shield with his large, analytical eyes, mapping out the additions in his mind. After confirming the pattern, he picked up the walnut pick, which now felt like a heavy crowbar in his tiny hands, and began to carefully, meticulously, carve on the inner wall of the wrist guard.

The work was incredibly difficult and required an almost impossible level of concentration. The metal of the psionic gear was unnaturally hard, and he had to channel a minuscule, precise amount of his own psionic energy into the tip of the pick to etch the new lines. The scale was microscopic. The slightest tremor, the barest slip of his hand, would ruin the entire piece. Just carving a single, new psionic rune—a line no thicker than a human hair—took him a full, painstaking minute of intense focus.

He rested for a bit after the first one, his tiny body trembling with the sheer effort of it, then continued to carve. For the next half an hour, the only sound in the room was the faint, high-pitched scratching of metal on metal. Finally, he finished carving the remaining thirteen runes. The moment Ethan etched the final, connecting stroke of the last rune, a profound change occurred. All one thousand psionic runes on the wrist guard suddenly ignited, emitting a dazzling, brilliant golden light that pulsed with a life of its own.

It has produced a special ability! Ethan thought, a wave of shock and elation washing over him. This shouldn't have been possible. Even if a piece of psionic gear reached the supreme-grade, the spontaneous generation of a new, special ability was a matter of extremely low probability. What's more, he had just crudely added to the existing runes. It was the equivalent of a smith simply hammering more metal onto a finished sword; it shouldn't have produced such a perfect, harmonious result.

He couldn't wait to test it. He reverted to his human form and slid the now-humming wrist guard onto his arm, injecting his psionic energy. The shield that sprang into existence looked even more solid and substantial than before, its metallic light deeper, more real. The defensive power had clearly increased by a lot, and he noticed that the consumption of his Aura to maintain it had also decreased. However, just looking at it, it seemed to be a simple improvement in quality. He couldn't see any other clues.

Curious, Ethan tried punching it with his left fist. Thud! A sharp, stinging pain shot up his arm from his knuckles, shocking him. He was so startled he didn't dare to hit it hard again. He carefully listened for any sounds from his parents' room, and only after confirming he hadn't disturbed them did he let out a sigh of relief. He then looked at his left hand, which was now red and throbbing. With his current enhanced physical quality, he could punch a concrete wall and barely feel it. But just now, he had felt real, sharp pain.

Looks like… the new ability is Thorns, he deduced with a grin. He was very satisfied with this. A damage-recoil ability like Thorns was a must-have for any defensive build. However, as good as this piece of gear was, Ethan felt he didn't particularly need it himself. With Heatblast for ranged power, Four Arms for brawling, and the colossal Way Big in his back pocket, a simple defensive shield felt a bit redundant.

When I go back to school, I'll see if Marcus or Seraphina need this. I'll sell it to them at a low price. After all, he thought with a grin, even blood brothers have to settle their accounts clearly.

He put away the newly upgraded wrist guard and turned his attention back to the Aura Pills. Compared to psionic gear, which was well-documented, information on Aura Pills was incredibly scarce on the public network. Gear could be studied and passed down; pills were consumable. Refining a new pill could take days, while eating one took only a second. They were true high-grade items, inaccessible to ordinary people and rarely obtained even by the major families in New Veridia. The only useful information he could find was that most pills were refined from precious Aura plants.

Aura plants… Ethan’s mind sparked. He transformed again. “Wildvine!”

As the plant-based alien, he used a pliant vine to gently wrap around one of the pills. He closed his eyes, extending his unique, plant-based senses into the pill. He found that the medicinal properties inside were powerful yet incredibly gentle. The energies within were numerous and diverse, but they were not chaotic. There was an invisible rule, a harmony, that bound them all together.

If I can grasp this rule, isn't it possible for me to refine Aura Pills myself someday? he thought, the idea of becoming an alchemist—a literal license to print credits—flashing in his mind.

He pushed the greedy thoughts aside for now and focused on sensing the medicinal properties. Though his knowledge of Aura plants was limited, he could sense that the ingredients inside were all gentle, incredibly rich in psionic energy, and, most importantly, non-toxic. He could feel that most of the properties were geared towards accelerating the circulation of psionic power, but one key component had a neutralizing and fusing effect, like a bridge connecting all the disparate ingredients into a stable, potent whole.

After confirming there was no poison, Ethan stopped. He had grasped the basic rules of its composition, but he was at a loss. His knowledge of alchemy and botany was nonexistent. Even if he understood the theory, he had no clue how to actually refine the pills.

I wonder if the university will teach this kind of knowledge, he mused. It should, right? When the time comes, I absolutely have to learn it.