VOLUME 15: CHAPTER 10

VOLUME 15: CHAPTER 10

Including the time spent mining the adamantite, it had taken nearly a year to prepare the synthetic bones and flesh for Lark’s body reconstruction.

Gorovir and Lark were currently inside the workshop. On the table before them lay the finished materials they would be using for the procedure.

From here, they could feel the heat of the forge to their left and hear the sound of hammers striking wood and iron outside. The occasional hollers of dwarven workers served as background noise.

“Finally, it’s done!”

Gorovir’s voice was filled with anticipation and excitement as he showed the adamantite bones and mithril muscles to Lark.

Numerous web-like veins were engraved on the adamantite bones, intricately forming mana channels and runes.

Although they couldn’t see it from the outside, even the interior of the adamantite bones was riddled with engraved pathways and tiny magic formations, turning the bones into magical conduits capable of hastening the formation of spells.

The artificial muscles, on the other hand, were created from hundreds of intermeshed mithril threads connected to the bones by flexible adamantite tendons.

“What do you think, Your Majesty?”

Although Gorovir was asking for Lark’s opinion, it was apparent the dwarf was quite proud of the final product he had created.

A part of him wanted to jump around in joy, to shout and tell everyone he had pulled off the impossible – that he’d managed to engrave such intricate mana networks on artificial adamantite bones.

Lark leaned closer, his eyes narrowing on a specific formation.

“Impressive,” said Lark sincerely. “This magic formation here... you managed to include it in the end, huh, Gorovir?”

As their creator, Gorovir was as familiar with the bones as the back of his hand. He immediately knew what Lark was referring to.

“Hmph! Of course, Your Majesty!” said Gorovir proudly. He struck his chest with his fist several times. “This much is nothing! You told me it was optional, but how could I, Gorovir, dare not include it?”

The magic formation they were referring to—something smaller than a person’s thumb—was skillfully engraved on the humerus’ pectoral ridge. It was designed to grant the adamantite bone the ability to repair itself after sustaining damage in battle. As long as the user supplied mana, the artificial bones would mend themselves over time.

Such a cheat-like feature naturally required a complex magic formation to activate. This was why Lark had told Gorovir the part was optional, in case it proved too difficult to inscribe.

Fortunately, Gorovir lived up to his name as the Dwarven Kingdom’s greatest blacksmith. He didn’t back down and fearlessly included the formation in the bones.

Lark smiled gratefully. “You’ve been spoiling me too much lately. First the adamantite ores, and now this. If this goes on, I might not be able to repay my debt to you in this lifetime, Gorovir.”

The blacksmith grinned. “What is Your Majesty talking about? Didn’t we make a deal? I’ll create anything you want for you! In exchange, you’ll let me live in the floating castle! Hahaha!”

The creation of the floating castle was the blacksmith’s greatest dream. For him, doing this much was nothing compared to the favor he was receiving from King Lark.

“Honestly, I don’t think this is enough to call us even,” said Gorovir. “Without Your Majesty’s wisdom, it would have been impossible to procure those millennia-old elven oaks. If you hadn’t appeared, I’d probably still be hammering away at my old workshop, creating scraps people sometimes mistook for masterpieces. How pathetic.”

Gorovir also recalled how he had planned on delving into the Poison Insect Paradise to obtain elven oaks, had Lark not appeared.
Chances were, he would never have returned to the Dwarven Kingdom alive.

In a way, Lark was the benefactor who had saved his life.

A bit embarrassed, Gorovir decided not to voice that part aloud.

Lark touched the bones fondly. After examining the mithril flesh, he said, “Gorovir, I will not stop you if you wish to live in the floating castle. It’s your dream, after all. But have you talked to your disciples about it?”

Gorovir remembered a past conversation he had with Lark.

According to Lark, although Gorovir wished to live in the floating castle, he shouldn’t force his disciples to tread the same path.

The floating castle would be used to transport troops during times of war. Naturally, it would become a target of the enemies, and those living in it would be in danger should an attack occur.

Of course, defensive measures would be implemented, but nothing in this world was absolutely certain.

Fate was unpredictable, and life was filled with uncertainties. It wouldn’t be surprising if Gorovir died within a year of living in the floating castle.

“I’ve talked to them about it already, Your Majesty,” said Gorovir, nodding. “They wish to come with me of their own volition.”

Lark looked straight at him, as though trying to ascertain whether that conversation involved coercion.

“Look, they’re also blacksmiths,” explained Gorovir. “As strange as it may sound to a human, my disciples also share my dream. Build! Fly in the sky! Roam the continent! Of course, they have other aspirations too, but they also want to help create the floating castle and live in it afterward.”

“Alright. I believe you.”

Gorovir heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Your Majesty. So, now that all the materials are ready, when do you plan on undergoing body reconstruction?”

“Today.”

“E-Eh? Today?”

“Yes.”

Gorovir was startled. It was not a simple procedure that could be done on a whim. He had expected Lark to take several days to prepare.

“I’ve already talked with King Lerenon about it, and he’s given me permission to use the Medicine Hall of the Dwarven Royal Palace. The Master of the Medicine Hall and his disciples will also assist us.”

“I-I know that, but… aren’t you going to inspect the bones and flesh first? What if… I made some errors while making them?”

Lark smiled in assurance.

“I’ve already checked them, Gorovir. When I was touching them earlier, I was injecting minute amounts of mana to check if the channels were functioning properly.”

Gorovir’s eyes lit up.

“T-Then…”

“They’re perfect,” said Lark. “The Medicine Hall should be ready to begin at any time, so it’s senseless to delay any longer.”

After wrapping the bones and flesh in clean cloth and placing them inside a chest, Lark turned and made his way toward the exit.

“Kel’ Vual will also assist in the procedure,” he said. “As the bones’ creator, I’ll allow you to watch the reconstruction, Gorovir.”

Lark gazed at him, wordlessly asking if he wanted to come along.
Although he knew the procedure would be bloody and gruesome, Gorovir nodded and followed.

After waking up Kel’ Vual, who was still drunk from the night before, they made their way to the capital.

Upon entering the Dwarven Royal Palace, they headed to the Medicine Hall.

Finally, it was time to begin Lark’s body reconstruction.

***

[Medicine Hall]

The Medicine Hall had been cleared out for Lark’s exclusive use for the day.

Aside from the senior disciples and the Medicine Hall Master, only Gorovir, Kel’ Vual, and Lark were present.

The scent of herbs filled the room, and boiling water bubbled inside a nearby cauldron.

Numerous tools—some of which looked more suited for torture than for surgery—were neatly arranged on a table.

“Hehehe, ready to suffer excruciating pain, you damn bastard?” said Kel’ Vual.

Lark was currently lying on top of the operating table, fully naked, his lower half covered by a white cloth.

Lark teased, “Kel, this is your last chance. After this, you won’t be able to do anything to me during our spar. I told you before, didn’t I? You should have savored the sensation of pummeling me to the ground during our last battle.”

The dwarven healers looked bewilderedly at Lark. They understood the intricacies of this operation. Although groundbreaking and unprecedented, it was equally painful and dangerous. A single mistake could cause King Lark’s body to reject the artificial limb and collapse. They couldn’t understand how the king could nonchalantly chat with his friend at a time like this.

“The healers will cut my arm open, take out the muscles and bones one by one, and replace them with the synthetic ones,” Lark explained while lying on the table. “Since I can’t use mana during the procedure, Kel’ Vual will help numb my nerves as much as possible.”

“Fine.”

“Y-Yes!”

The healers, knowing that the human king was a precious guest of both the Dwarven Kingdom and the Ancient Fire Dragons, were clearly nervous.

“Kel, don’t mess things up,” said Lark. “I know you like to play pranks, but hold them off for now.”

“Tch. I know. You don’t have to remind me, damn bastard. What do you think I am?”

“If my body starts rejecting the adamantite and mithril, I’ll rely on you to prevent my mana from rampaging.”

Kel’ Vual frowned.

Although Lark didn’t say it outright, he knew that suppressing Lark’s rampaging mana during a transplant rejection was akin to grasping a continuously inflating water balloon.

Although Lark was stronger than most, he was still a mere human—and the risk of his mana channels exploding would be high.

“Got it,” said Kel’ Vual. “But listen, Evander. If I judge that the reconstruction is becoming too dangerous, I’ll personally cut off that damn artificial arm myself.”

Lark chuckled. “How sweet of you. We’ve brought some potions with us. Nothing too dangerous would happen. Stop being a worrywart, old man.”

“Who are you calling an old man?”

“Do you want to be called grandfather instead? Or maybe ‘Gramps’ is better?”

“I have this urge to punch you right now.”

“Hahahaha!”

Kel’ Vual palmed his face and sighed. “You better treat me to a drink after this. You’re making me do work that used to require the full cooperation of the Black Mages. Tch.”

“It’s because I trust you, Kel.”

Kel’ Vual faked a cough, embarrassed by the sincerity of the statement.

“Anyway, the dwarves have been giving us strange looks for a while now,” he said. “Let’s just start, Evander.”

Lark agreed. “Medicine Hall Master, we can begin at any time.”

The Medicine Hall Master and his disciples exchanged looks.
Honestly, they were nervous—this was the first time they would be performing such a procedure. And not on a fellow dwarf, but on a human king.

The Medicine Hall Master steeled his resolve and took the scalpel. It took him half a minute before his trembling hands finally steadied.

An audible gulp was heard.

“L-Let’s start.”

With surgical precision, the dwarven healers began the body reconstruction.

It was a bloody process.

Skin and flesh were cut. Bones were removed and replaced with artificial ones. Mithril muscles were added, and veins were reattached.

And despite Kel’ Vual’s interference on his nerves, Lark could feel every cut and tear on his bones and flesh.

Still, despite the pain, Lark hardly let out a grunt.

Through the magic formations engraved on the adamantite bones, the artificial limb would integrate with the body over time, becoming a natural part of Lark’s physique.

Eventually, it would feel like real flesh—yet remain as strong as its synthetic components.

This wasn’t merely a transplant; it was the recreation of an arm, rebuilt from the ground up—far stronger and more durable than the original, capable of harnessing tremendous amounts of mana.

Thankfully, perhaps because Kel’ Vual was skilled in manipulating mana, or because the synthetic bones and flesh had been perfectly crafted, Lark hardly experienced any backlash.

It was painful, incredibly so, but the thing they had feared most—a full-blown body rejection—didn’t occur.

After a full day, Lark’s left arm reconstruction was finally complete.

“How do you feel?” said Kel’ Vual.

Nearby, Gorovir was gawking at Lark’s new arm. The dwarven healers, on the other hand, had collapsed to the ground. The stress and pressure, combined with the unprecedentedly long hours, had taken their toll. Even for seasoned healers like them, this was the longest continuous procedure they had ever performed.

“Feels a bit numb,” said Lark. He moved his artificial arm up and down. He opened and closed his palm.

“Didn’t those dwarves say you shouldn’t move that arm for at least two weeks? Wait for it to heal first or something.”

“I know. I’m just testing it to see if everything’s been attached properly.” Lark lowered his artificial arm and rested it on the bed. “Everything seems fine. You and the dwarven healers did a great job.”

“Great job, my ass. I didn’t do much since your body didn’t reject the artificial parts. Well, that’s a good thing, so I’m not complaining.”

Lark said softly, “Thank you, Kel.”

“Hmph!” said Kel’ Vual. “So, what’s next? Are you going to reconstruct your right arm? Your torso? Feet?”

“I’ll try to get used to my artificial arm first. With time, it’ll eventually become a natural part of me, but I doubt the demons will wait that long before invading this realm.”

Although Lark had reconstructed his body back when he was still Evander Alaester, that didn’t mean he would instantly adapt to this new limb.

His previous and current bodies were very different, and he needed to practice again to fully utilize this arm.

“Can’t you just drink a potion to speed up the healing, Evander?”

“My body might reject the transplanted bones and flesh if I do that, Kel.”

“Haah, what a waste of time.”

Silence fell. After pondering over some things, Lark spoke.

“I’ll probably visit either the Dukedom of Mauko or the Kingdom of Thornforge after I get used to my new arm.”

“They’re territories near the United Grakas Alliance, right?”

“Yes.”

Since the northern countries had already shown their stance by forming the Pendara Coalition, Lark decided it would be more prudent to visit the southern nations.

The demons now had the ability to relocate and duplicate the portal, and no one knew where it would appear next.

Recruiting the remaining nations and convincing them to join the Coalition would allow for better preparation against the demon invasion.

Two weeks passed.

Although numerous stitches were still visible on his artificial arm, the wounds had healed enough for Lark to finally test some spells.

He channeled mana into his arm. After a few quick tests, he was relieved to find that his body had indeed accepted it—for now.

“This body…” he muttered. “Although it’s inherently weaker compared to a pureblood Marcus, it seems well-suited for reconstruction.”

It was a wonderful revelation.

Although the limits of his body were far lower than those of Duke Drakus and Lui Marcus, its talent lay elsewhere—the ability to adapt to artificial changes.

With this discovery, Lark calculated the time needed to reconstruct his entire body.

“Two years,” he said. “If things go as smoothly as before, I could regain half of my previous power in just two years.”

He was still missing the artifacts and weapons he’d wielded as Evander Alaester, so half of his original power was the best he could hope for.

But in terms of his physical shell alone—if he managed to complete the reconstruction—he believed he wouldn’t be far off from his past self’s condition.