At least they're not fighting. That's good.
Besides, going out there right now wasn't an option, not with what was happening to her body. Specifically to the palms of her hands, to the silver circles embedded in her skin.
She recognized the sensation immediately, the same feeling she'd had when the circles first formed after hitting Level 3 and gaining Disassembly Field.
It's happening again. The circles are changing.
The three circles in each hand were changing. The ones on her left hand felt cold, temperature dropping rapidly, but she didn't feel the chill herself, only sensed it happening.
The circles on her right hand radiated heat, warm enough that it should have burned her skin, but again she felt nothing, just awareness that the temperature was climbing.
What is this? What's changing?
She moved carefully, putting more distance between herself and the boulder where everyone was gathered, slipping deeper into the trees until she was sure nobody could see her or hear what might happen next.
Far enough. They won't hear me from here.
She took a breath and felt herself relax slightly, the emotional storm from the evolution finally settling into something manageable. And honestly, despite everything, there was something exciting about this, about discovering what her body could do now and what new capabilities she'd gained.
Good, new abilities and more tools to survive.
"Tera, analyze everything you see. I need data."
Already monitoring, Tera responded.
"Napoleon, watch the perimeter. Let me know if anyone approaches, and don't let yourself be seen by that new group under any circumstances."
Napoleon jumped from her shoulder and took up a position in the undergrowth, his small form vanishing completely as he began monitoring the area around her.
"Everything clear?"
"They are gathered near the boulder. Talking. Nothing more, Operator."
Good. Let's see what this is.
She held out her left hand and watched the three silver circles embedded in her palm closely, paying attention to every detail.
The circles started glowing and vapor rose from them, cold mist that poured off her skin like she'd plunged her hand into liquid nitrogen. She could see her breath in the sudden chill that surrounded her hand, but the cold didn't touch her, just radiated outward into the air.
Thermal regulation. The circles are managing heat transfer independently from my nervous system.
She stopped mid-thought.
Wait. How do I know that? Thermal regulation? Neural systems?
The analysis had come automatically, like reading data from an instrument she'd used a thousand times before, and she didn't understand where the knowledge originated.
I'm analyzing this like I've done it before. Like I understand what I'm looking at.
A fourth circle appeared on her palm, larger than the other three, forming outside where the original circles sat. All four circles lifted off her skin at once, separating from her flesh and hovering maybe an inch above her palm.
Magnetic suspension. Or gravitational manipulation. They're responding to neural commands without physical contact.
There it is again. How do I KNOW these terms?
Napoleon was different. I had blueprints. Instructions.
This is me. Understanding things I've never seen before.
She thought about the memory fragments from the evolution, the images that had slammed into her consciousness. The room with monitors. Men in suits. Her hands bound with zip ties.
"Your portal technology will destroy shipping economies worldwide."
Portal technology. I built something. Something important.
Was I an engineer? A scientist? Is that why this analysis feels so natural?
The three original circles started changing, their solid metal turning liquid but maintaining perfect cohesion without falling or dripping. The silver flowed and shifted like mercury, beautiful and physically not possible.
Surface tension that strong shouldn't work with any metal. Not with standard materials.
Any metal I know?
She paused again.
Do I know metals? Did I work with materials engineering? Metallurgy?
She moved her hand and the liquid metal moved with it, tracking her movements with absolutely zero lag time.
Direct neural interface. Response time faster than voluntary muscle control.
The excitement was building now, mixed with confusion and something close to hope.
I'm not just guessing. I KNOW this. My brain understands what to look for, what questions to ask, how systems integrate.
Maybe the memories aren't completely gone.
She turned her attention to her right hand, the hot one, and focused on the three circles there.
The circles glowed immediately, heat radiating from them in waves she could sense but couldn't feel, and a fourth circle appeared just like it had on her left hand.
All four lifted off her skin and moved toward each other, merging together as the metal flowed and reshaped itself into something completely different.
A container formed, black metal with intricate silver lines running through it in geometric patterns. Approximately ten inches wide and 4 inches deep with thick walls that looked heavy but weighed absolutely nothing when it settled above her palm.
Fire erupted from the opening without warning.
Blue flames, bright and intense, dancing right in front of her face.
That should burn me. Should be scorching my eyebrows off right now.
She leaned closer deliberately, testing the limits, bringing her face near enough that she could feel the air moving from the heat but no actual burning sensation.
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Nothing. No heat and no pain.
Complete thermal immunity to my own output. The fire can't harm me because maybe it recognizes me as the source.
She noticed the spout at the bottom of the container, clearly designed for pouring something out.
Fire for melting. Pouring mechanism for molten material. Containment vessel.
This is a crucible. A compact forge.
She pulled back and looked at both hands, at the forge floating above her right palm and the liquid metal hovering above her left.
They work together. Heat source and molding system. Integrated fabrication unit.
The forge melts raw materials. The liquid metal forms precision molds to receive the output and shape it.
Custom manufacturing on demand. No workshop needed
She felt that click in her mind again, like a door opening just slightly.
I've designed systems before. Not this, but... integration. Making things work together efficiently.
The memory flashed again. The man's face she couldn't see clearly. His hand on her cheek.
"I love you more than coffee."
The scarlet portal opening behind him.
I built something important.
She pushed the thoughts away because she didn't have time.
Just like with Disassembly Field, she pulled her hands out from under the floating objects experimentally and they stayed exactly where she'd left them, suspended in the air.
Neural link maintained regardless of hand position. Good for manipulation.
She glanced toward Napoleon's hiding spot and he signaled everything was clear.
Test it properly. Verify functionality.
She thought about the daggers she'd examined earlier, visualizing their exact shape and dimensions, and the liquid metal responded instantly. It flowed and reformed itself into a mold that split into two halves with the dagger's shape pressed into the interior surfaces.
Precision molding based on mental visualization. Perfect detail replication.
How do I know it's that accurate?
Because I've done this kind of work before. I must have.
She pulled out one of the daggers from the hidden pocket in her jacket and held it near the forge.
Need to verify the thermal immunity extends to objects I heat, not just my body.
She brought her hand closer to the blue flames. Nothing. She pushed further, bringing her fingers within an inch.
Still nothing.
Only one way to know for sure.
She took a breath and put her hand directly into the blue fire, watching the flames wrap around her skin and dance across her palm.
She held it there for several seconds, moving her fingers through the fire, testing.
No damage. No pain. Complete immunity.
She pulled her hand out and examined it closely. Her skin looked exactly the same as before, no burns, no redness, nothing.
I can work with molten materials directly. That opens up significant possibilities.
She dropped the dagger into the forge and leaned over to watch it melt.
Nothing happened. The steel just sat there in the flames, not even warming up.
Base temperature insufficient for steel.
Steel melts at...
She stopped.
At 1370 degrees Celsius. How do I know that exact number?
She slid her right hand back under the forge and felt the connection strengthen, sensed the internal temperature like she was reading an instrument.
Currently around 800 Celsius based on flame color. Need almost double.
She focused and commanded the temperature to increase.
Vents opened along the sides of the forge immediately, circular openings maybe half an inch in diameter, and began pulling air from the surroundings with enough force that she felt the breeze against her face.
The vents are pulling massive amounts of air into the forge. More oxygen means higher temperatures.
I know combustion mechanics. Fuel, heat, oxygen. The triangle.
Who was I? What did I do before this?
The blue flames didn't grow larger but the heat inside intensified dramatically, and within seconds the dagger started glowing dull red, then bright red, then orange, then white before finally liquefying.
Perfect. Now I can process metals anywhere and...
Napoleon suddenly jumped onto her shoulder and tapped her frantically with one of his legs, the movement fast and insistent.
She yanked her hand out, left the forge active, and leaned around the tree.
Everyone was on the ground.
All of them.
The kids, Reth, the soldiers, the man in golden armor, every person near the boulder was on their hands and knees swaying on their feet, suddenly dizzy.
Oh god.
The vents. Something’s wrong with the air.
She froze.
Whatever this is, I’m causing it.
She shoved her hand back under the forge and deactivated everything immediately, killed the flames, shut down the vents, dumped the molten steel.
The liquid metal and forge dissolved back into circles and returned to her palms.
Air disruption over an area of approximately of a hundred feet. The forge is affecting the air around it.
But she didn't have time to process it.
Evidence. Hide everything.
She grabbed her old clothes and the cleaning cloths and started digging frantically, burying them under dirt and leaves and moss.
The molten steel was cooling on the ground. She kicked dirt over it.
"Napoleon, hide. Now."
He vanished.
She could see people standing up.
Need to look affected. Like I don't know what happened.
She stepped out from behind the trees while people were still getting to their feet, stumbling slightly and pressing a hand to her head.
Reth and the kids turned to look at her as they stood up, still catching their breath, and their expressions changed completely.
They stared at her like they were seeing her for the first time, and in a way they were. She was clean now, wearing the uniform. The grime and smell that had hidden everything was gone.
Reth stared at her for a long moment, his eyes moving from her face to the uniform to her hair. She could see him processing the transformation, realizing that the desperate filthy woman he'd been traveling with was actually someone completely different underneath all that grime.
One of the younger kids whispered something to the girl next to him and she caught part of it, something about how she looked now.
Don't think about that. Focus.
Everyone was standing now, still shaken.
The man in the ornate golden armor spoke, voice strained. "What was that? What just happened?"
One of his men stepped forward, young guy maybe mid-twenties in leather gear with a pistol. He scanned the area carefully, looking for explanations.
"My lord Cairos, this doesn't appear to be an attack. Everyone suffered the same thing at once, including you and your guards. I don't know what caused it."
Cairos looked at Reth directly. "Is your group unharmed?"
"We're fine," Reth said carefully. "We don't understand what happened either. This place hasn't been entered in thousands of years. Could be anything."
Cairos started breathing harder suddenly, his hand going to his chest, and real panic entered his voice. "Something’s wrong, I feel..."
No. Please no.
His breathing became rapid and shallow, clearly struggling.
"Get this armor off me. I can't breathe with this weight."
The young man in leather moved fast. "My lord, your medicine."
He pulled a vial from his belt and handed it to Cairos who drank it in one swallow.
But his breathing only got worse instead of better, faster and more desperate, and everyone could see genuine terror in his eyes.
The soldiers moved quickly, removing the heavy armor piece by piece. The elaborate chest plate, the ornate shoulder guards, all the expensive metal that had made him look powerful.
Underneath was a thin man with almost no muscle, pale skin stretched over visible ribs.
He was sick. Really sick. Chronic respiratory condition.
The oxygen thing hit him so much harder than everyone else.
This is my fault. I did this to him.
Cairos grabbed the young man's hand, shaking. "Casimir, I can't... not here. I was supposed to evolve. Finally be useful."
His voice broke.
"More medicine."
Casimir pulled out another vial but Cairos couldn't coordinate enough to swallow it, couldn't breathe deeply enough.
He collapsed within seconds, his body going limp.
His mouth hung open. His eyes went wide with absolute terror, the look of someone who knows they're dying and can do nothing to stop it, and then he stopped moving.
The clearing went silent.
I killed him.
I activated the forge and something in the air collapsed him.
He came here to get stronger and I killed him.
Reth stepped forward slowly, voice carefully diplomatic. "We're deeply sorry for your loss. We don't understand what happened, but Prince Cairos appears to have been seriously ill before this event. Chronic respiratory condition from the look of it."
He paused.
"As I mentioned, my students and I were heading to the historical dungeons for training. We'll leave you to handle this tragedy—"
"No."
Casimir's voice cut through everything, cold and sharp.
He stood up from beside the prince's body and looked directly at Reth, his expression completely calm.
"The man who died was Prince Cairos Vorminia. Third in line to House Vorminia." He looked at Reth. "Not some soldier you can just walk away from."
"Your students need training, I understand that. But you're coming with us to the Vorminian camp."
His voice went cold.
"A prince died here. You were all present when it happened. That makes you witnesses, and witnesses don't leave until we understand what killed him and report it to his family."
While the soldiers began wrapping the prince's body in an expensive cloak, Napoleon jumped onto her shoulder so quietly she barely noticed, hiding in her hair and whispering.
"Observation, Operator. When subjects were recovering, Casimir made contact with Prince Cairos. Right side, between ribs. Object detected on ring finger. Retractable needle mechanism. Deployment time: 0.4 seconds."
She stayed completely still, her face showing nothing while her mind processed what Napoleon had just told her.
It wasn't me.
She felt lighter for maybe two seconds.
Casimir killed him. Saw the opportunity when everyone was disoriented and took it.
She watched him giving orders to the soldiers, completely calm.
Had the needle ready. Just needed the right moment.
I gave him that moment.
She looked at the group. Eight Veil students and their two "instructors."
They want us at the camp. A dead prince and convenient witnesses to blame.
Trained assassin students. Perfect scapegoats.
Stay quiet. Act like an instructor. Let them think we're cooperating.
A Transmigration Progression Fantasy
LitRPG Transmigration Progression Anti-Hero Lead Grimdark High Fantasy Local Protagonist Non-Human Lead
Death is a minor setback for the Night Lich.
Quill, commander of the Rotten Scourge and the most feared necromancer of the Westlands, is cornered by the Circle mages. In a final act of defiance, he casts a soul-transfer, only to awaken in the frail body of an elf orphan with his Black magic stripped away.
Yet fate grants him an ironic gift: a rare White Core fractured by Black. Creation is stained with death and decay, but when light meets darkness, it instead births something strange. Something unique. Something unstoppable.
Quill will claw his way back to power, forging a new army with centuries of forbidden knowledge. He’ll master reanimation along with creation–and this time, revenge will be absolute.
But dancing with death always comes at a price, and the Forgotten World doesn't take kindly to a missing soul.
- Steady Progression: Studying magic is hard.
- Crunchy Magic System: Raw and intimate spell theory.
- Army Building: Necromancer-turned-Golemancer.
- Morally Gray MC: Balancing morality with convenience.
- Competent MC: Wise and avid book reader protagonist.
- Lite-LitRPG: No +9999 notifications except for stat sheets.
- No Harem: Only one character at a time.