Reincarnated with the Country System

Chapter 144 The Birth of Power

The Arcane Research Institute

It was here, far from the prying eyes of the public, that Emperor Alberto had authorized his most ambitious project: the creation of artificial mages. If this is successful, ordinary people will also be able to gain magical powers.

The doors to one of the more secure wings of the institute opened with a quiet hiss. Inside, a harsh fluorescent light illuminated the cold metal surfaces of workstations. A lab technician, glanced up from his monitor, nodding briefly to Circe, who entered, her heels echoing sharply in the silence.

"Is everything prepared?" Circe's voice was sharp and commanding as she surveyed the room.

"Everything is ready, Chief," replied the technician, his fingers hovering nervously over the keyboard. "We've secured twenty subjects for the experiment—slaves from Britannia, as you ordered. The most promising ones have been prepped and placed in the holding cells. The others are in varying stages of readiness." Enjoy new tales from My Virtual Library Empire

Circe's eyes flickered with approval. She stepped toward a large observation window that looked into a stark, clinical chamber, where a row of individuals were bound to metallic tables, their bodies restrained with thick leather straps. Among them were humans and demi-humans—beings with animalistic features such as sharp ears, elongated limbs, or fur-covered skin.

"Initiate the procedure on the first subject," Circe ordered.

The technician nodded. He activated a console, sending a pulse of arcane energy through the machines that connected to each subject's body. Monitors blinked to life, displaying heart rates, blood pressure, and mana levels—numbers that seemed meaningless, but to Circe, each was a vital sign in the ongoing process of creation.

The first subject, a human male, stirred slightly on the table. His eyes were wide with terror, his breathing shallow as he looked around, clearly disoriented. He had been stripped of his identity, a nameless piece of property bought from the slums of Britannia. He was a slave, chosen for his physical health, but more importantly, for his lack of anything that could resist the system.

The man croaked, his voice a faint whisper of panic. "What... what is happening?"

Circe's gaze softened, but only for a moment. Her empathy for the subjects had long since dissipated, replaced by a cold, clinical focus on results.

"We are enhancing you," Circe said flatly, "Granting you power beyond what you can imagine. You will survive this, or you will die. Either way, the experiment will proceed."

The man's eyes darted wildly around the room, his body trembling against the restraints. "Please... please don't—" His plea was cut off as the technician triggered the arcane pulse.@@@@

Within minutes, she was dead.

Circe's face remained impassive. "Begin the next subject," she ordered.

♦♦♦

Time passed, and several more subjects—humans and demi-humans alike—were subjected to the same process. Some screamed, some trembled, others lay silent, already resigned to their fate. The failures continued to pile up, their bodies discarded like so much refuse.

As the tests progressed, Circe began to notice a disturbing trend. The humans were more susceptible to the fatal effects of the magic. Their bodies were weaker, less able to withstand the arcane energy, and many of them died within moments. The demi-humans, on the other hand, fared slightly better. Their bodies seemed more resilient, capable of handling greater amounts of energy before breaking down. However, none of them survived the second stage, where an artificial mana core was implanted.

There was one, however, who had shown promise—a young human male. His body was more resistant than most, and while the process still caused excruciating pain, he did not immediately succumb to it.

Hours later, the room was quieter. The bodies of the failed experiments had been removed, leaving only the few survivors—those who had managed to survive the first stage. They were in critical condition, their bodies weak and burned, but they had not died.

Circe looked at them with a sense of cold satisfaction. They had survived where others had failed. The next phase would be even more difficult, but it was a step forward.

She turned to the technician. "Prepare them for the next stage. We begin constructing their mana cores."

The technician hesitated. "Chief, are you certain? The rejection rate—"

"Do it," Circe commanded, her tone unwavering.

The process must've continue. For the empire. For power.

For the future of artificial mages.