Chapter 0086: Dissection Routine

After a period of exploration, Grim had begun to grasp certain techniques for using his magical puppets. The Crocodile Hunter was a high-level puppet, and each time it was summoned, it occupied two points of his mental energy; this occupation would persist as long as the puppet remained active. The Rock Python, a quasi-wizard-level puppet, demanded three points. Thus, even if Grim fought with all his might, with his eleven points of mental energy (one extra from his noble circlet), he could only maintain one Crocodile Hunter and two Rock Pythons simultaneously on the field.

He still needed to preserve some mental power for casting essential spells. This configuration was achieved only after the chip’s precise calculations and specialized array controls had significantly reduced the puppets’ demands on his mind. If he used ordinary magical puppet creatures, his mental energy would barely sustain a single Rock Python.

The reason for this lay chiefly in the unique nature of magical puppets themselves.

Magical puppets differed from the more familiar golems. Golems were humanoid constructs, created beforehand with copious rare resources. Their massive bodies offered ample space to inscribe various spell runes and special wizard arrays, thus minimizing the mental requirements for their masters.

Often, in battle, the master need only issue the simplest directives, then leave the golem to act independently.

But magical puppets were not so. Before being summoned, they possessed no fixed body; their emergence was more akin to a magical summoning, except the summoned entity was a preset magical puppet rather than a random creature from another realm. This was why summoning a magical puppet always consumed Grim’s mental energy.

Moreover, magical puppets lacked the large bodies of golems, which allowed creators to freely display their array-crafting prowess. To engrave sufficient control arrays and energy systems within the cramped space of an elemental crystal core—no bigger than an egg or a pigeon’s egg—was an extraordinary ordeal for any puppet-maker.

Truthfully, with the chip’s assistance, Grim’s achievement in creating such a powerful Rock Python puppet was already astonishing.

Comparing the combat prowess of both, golems with specialized bodies were undoubtedly superior to temporarily summoned magical puppets. Yet Grim had always relied exclusively on magical puppets, never golems, for one simple reason: golems were enormous and cumbersome, ill-suited for carrying.

Take, for instance, the lowest tier clay golem: even unadorned with any magical gear, it weighed six hundred pounds and stood eight feet tall. Such a colossus was certainly formidable, but how could Grim possibly bring it to the battlefield?

Even outside combat, such a giant was difficult to fold or transport. Its considerable weight severely drained magical energy, so the ambient elemental magic could not suffice for its battle needs.

Thus, golems with fixed shells served mostly as guardians for wizard towers or magical facilities. They remained motionless in hidden chambers, minimizing their magical consumption, and only activated when pre-set alarms called them forth to repel or annihilate intruders.

All of this depended on the vast energy reserves within the wizard tower.

These characteristics determined that, at present, Grim could only rely on magical puppets in battle. After all, carrying a crystal core the size of an egg was far more discreet and convenient than hauling around an earth-shaking alchemical golem.

To maximize his puppets’ assistance, Grim continued to tap into their combat potential and strove to enhance his mental energy. After all, his mental energy dictated how many puppets could be fielded during battle.

Thus, on the fourth day after safely returning to the wizard tower, Grim, having pushed his constitution to 3.82, once more consumed a Focus Potion. This time, his mental energy increased by 0.70 points—a notable decline from the previous gain of 0.75.

Repeated use of the same type of magical potion yielded diminishing effects, until eventually the potion became completely ineffective for the subject. This was a phenomenon long studied by wizards, yet one they could do nothing about.

The main culprit was resistance: repeated use of similar magical potions caused lingering effects to accumulate in the body, weakening the magic of subsequent doses. Though gradual, this process was undeniably real.

After taking the Focus Potion, Grim’s basic stats were as follows: Strength 4.12, Agility 4.35, Constitution 3.17, Mental Energy 11.14.

Compared to last time, Grim’s mental energy had grown by 1.07 points—0.70 from the potion, and 0.37 from continual magical meals and daily meditation. Preliminary estimates valued this increase at about 350–400 magical crystals.

This data convinced Grim thoroughly: a successful wizard apprentice was indeed built upon heaps of magical crystals.

……

It was midday. After a morning of tireless trading, the most successful goblin merchant in the wizard tower, Kabi, briskly returned to his lodgings.

Since striking gold with Grim, Kabi had rented a room beside his master’s quarters as his own nest. Each day, he need only report the day’s results to his master in the evening, then enjoy a carefree life.

Sleeping until he awoke naturally, counting money until his fingers cramped.

Truth be told, this leisurely existence was the perfect life he had always dreamed of. The dream had never come true beside that second-tier wizard, nor during his days wandering underground, but by a twist of fate, it was granted after following a wizard apprentice.

Recently, he had been almost manic, busy from dawn to dusk.

By day, he lingered in the apprentice market, using his wit and talents to earn a steady stream of magical crystals. By night, after feasting, he would curl up in his humble nest, counting his earnings over and over. Each night, he fell asleep hugging piles of magical crystals.

Yet Kabi, clever as he was, understood that everything he enjoyed was thanks to his mysterious master. Without his master’s funding and full trust, a green-skinned goblin, scorned by every apprentice, would never have the right to command in their midst.

Though the novice apprentices clustered around him, speaking honeyed words, Kabi could still see the undisguised contempt in their eyes. They respected not him, but the mysterious master behind him.

A clever goblin, no matter how gifted, without the backing of a powerful master, was doomed to be trodden underfoot, branded as a slave, thrown into a dark, damp dungeon, eating scraps and toiling at arduous labor.

Kabi knew all this because, before being chosen as the wizard’s test subject, that had been his life!

In contrast, though his current master was not as formidable as the previous one, since falling into this new lifestyle, Kabi had never again considered escape. In fact, he often fantasized how wonderful it would be if such days could last forever.

Lost in endless reverie, Kabi, using his rune token and wizard cipher, opened the door to his lodgings. He had barely stepped inside when a thick stench of blood nearly knocked him off his feet.

Within a single morning, his room had been transformed into a gruesome slaughterhouse. His beloved, revered, mysterious master was standing before a blood-soaked dissecting table, solemnly inspecting a strange body that had been entirely opened up.

From the scalpel in his hand, the bloodied deerskin gloves, and the white robe spattered with red, it was clear he was engaged in a dissection experiment.

It appeared the master was a novice in biological dissection.

Though he had never dissected a creature himself, after spending so long in a second-tier wizard’s laboratory, Kabi had absorbed far more knowledge of anatomy and dissection than Grim. If this had been a skilled necromancy apprentice, the exercise would never have been so messy.

Where to cut, how to avoid blood vessels—these were basics for necromancy apprentices, who would never make such a shambles of themselves. Thus, Kabi could tell that his master was undertaking his first live dissection.

As a loyal servant, how could he stand by during his master’s awkwardness?

Dragging over a small wooden stool, Kabi climbed atop it and began eagerly offering advice, even helping move the lizardman’s body to facilitate the master’s incisions.

Unconsciously, Kabi became a knowledgeable wizard instructor, guiding Grim through his first lesson in anatomy. Thanks to the teacher’s patience and the student’s diligence, neither noticed anything amiss.

With Kabi’s “help,” Grim successfully completed his first dissection.

Only when Grim, satisfied, pulled off his thin deerskin gloves and tossed both them and his blood-stained white robe into the garbage bin beside the table did the green-skinned goblin realize his “overreach,” hurriedly jumping down and squatting nearby to await punishment.

“You did very well today. It seems you learned much from that second-tier wizard, so from now on, all my anatomy and dissection practice will be assisted by you.” Grim smiled gently. “Get up! Do you think I’d punish you for a little vanity when you did nothing wrong? Come on, clean up here—it’s lunchtime!”

Discarding the remnants in his hand, Grim leisurely returned to his own quarters, leaving a baffled Kabi behind.

Staring at the bloody “slaughterhouse” and breathing in the pungent stench, Kabi finally understood why his master never placed the dissecting table inside his own room.

It was to avoid spoiling his appetite!

Such a master was truly unique, Kabi mused softly.