Look, Mom. Grown-Ass Men Are Fighting Over Me. I’m Famous!

Chapter 17 - Look, Mom. Grown-Ass Men Are Fighting Over Me. I'm Famous!

"What the hell are they researching? Do they even realize that artificial Aether is flawed?" 

Carn smirked, amused at the ECD's misguided attempt to cultivate Aether. 

Real Aether was a pure source of energy. When it was used as an energy source for supernatural spells, it protected the caster from incurring a side effect, such as Carn's headache. 

Replicating Aether, however, came with severe drawbacks. Spells powered by this artificial version didn't just drain mana, but they demanded a portion of the caster's blood and fat to counteract nature's imbalance. 

This cost might be manageable for those with excess body mass. But for leaner spellcasters, it could be fatal as losing all fat in one's body could lead to shock and health complications. 

In addition, murdering these people wouldn't be beneficial either as Carn couldn't use the fake Aether. He would rather invest his time searching for hidden criminals or terrorists than farming useless energy.

Giving up on them, Carn returned his attention to the people around him. The spotlights no longer troubled his vision, and the haze was lighter the further in. 

The group reached another door, marked as "SECTION C". A cement shutter door rose, revealing a wide empty room with a tall ceiling. Observation decks behind black tinted glasses and bright LED light from the ceiling were the only noticeable objects here. 

Entering the room, the men ordered Carn.

"Stay in the center of the room."

The soldiers backed away from Carn while a team of scientists in orange hazmat suits approached, bringing a medical tray full of syringes and tools. 

A scientist drew Carn's blood, which he cooperated. After extracting five syringes worth of fluid, they quietly brought the samples away. Replacing the first team, another group pushed a mobile capsule inside. 

Again, the soldier around the room ordered, "Take off your clothes and enter the capsule. We will test your lung capacity!"

It was a lie. Han had already told him about this test, and Carn was ready to get submerged in strange water once more. 

Unlike the vertical test tube in the military warehouse, this one looked like a coffin. Carn stripped his clothes and slipped inside the tube. A scientist kept the lid open and plastered various scanners on his chest, arms, legs, and groin. 

Shutting the lid, the capsule sealed the air and poured green liquid inside. 

Without anything to cover his mouth and nose, some of the fluid burnt his nostrils. Carn almost choked because of the unfamiliar sensation. 

In seconds, Carn was fully submerged in green liquid. 

.

On the observation deck, three men in different uniforms watched the MC-SCAN capsule below. 

Around the capsule, a team of twenty scientists collaborated, collecting data on Carn and testing his blood. Two scientists studied the screen while soldiers with heavy machine guns stood by, prepared for any unforeseen incidents.

As the capsule hummed, its monitors displayed Carn's vitals. A scientist in a hazmat suit, wearing wireless earpieces, reported to the executives above, "Subject's vitals remain stable. Oxygen saturation is optimal. No signs of tissue abnormalities, foreign parasites, or illegal augmentation."

Another scientist handed a paper with the blood test results to the one on the microphone. He whispered, "Sir, his blood cells are over-saturated with mana. It's not 10% as in the previous report. The concentration levels are at least 30%."

The lead scientist muted the speaker and looked at his colleague in surprise. "Is the machine functioning properly? That's ten times the mana concentration of an average explorer. Isn't that biologically unstable?"

"That's what I thought. But his cells show no signs of degradation, almost as if his physiology is adapted to it. It seems… natural. Isn't his father a hunter?"

They exchanged a glance, each processing the implications. Finally, the lead scientist shrugged. "Possibly a genetic mutation from a second-generation mana carrier. Log the data and compare it with other second-generation subjects. Make sure it's all in the report."

"Yes, sir!"

The lead scientist sighed deeply, then turned on the microphone and reported to the military personnel, "Mana concentration is estimated to be over 30%, ten times that of a regular explorer."

.

As the message was delivered, the three men in the observation deck exchanged greedy grins and knowing glances. 

The lieutenant general of the ECD, standing out in his black uniform with three gleaming stars on his shoulders, smiled at his colleagues. "I'll be taking him in. Y'all stand down."

A man in a khaki uniform scoffed. "Not so fast, Lieutenant General. A new bill was passed last month. Second-generation mana carriers must first complete the mandatory conscription process. Whether he joins you or not is his decision."

An FBI deputy director, dressed in a suit, retorted. "I assume you haven't read the Legacy Exemption Clause. Under that clause, children of active or retired FBI agents who possess mana can join the FBI without standard entry protocols and enjoy all the privileges of an active hunter. Gentlemen, he'll be following in his father's footsteps. Thank you very much."

The ECD lieutenant general countered, "I doubt his family will settle for your lousy pay. He'll join me. I already talked to his father on the phone!"

The director frowned. "Lobbying again?! And why are you recruiting a mana carrier before the test results are even out?"

"Because you bureaucrats are too political!" the general snapped. "Look at how I treat my agents! $85,000 starting salary, free housing in a special zone, utilities covered, free healthcare, free college, and children's support until they're 18! What about you? Can you even take care of your employees?"

The army man rolled his eyes. "You just copied our benefits and sweetened the deal. We already do all that, but your budget's slightly higher. Without the rifts, your department wouldn't even exist."

"That's because we're more important than you! Now, let me have that boy, or I'm calling the White House!"

The others inwardly cursed the ECD lieutenant general and shook their heads, reluctantly giving up on competing with the upstart division.

.

Meanwhile, Carn silently observed the scientists. With nothing to occupy him, he counted the 148 silver scratch marks on his right arm and hand. 

These marks allowed him to cast up to 740 minor spells or activate sentry gargoyle mode 148 times. In an emergency, he could also use a long-range teleportation spell to travel a hundred miles instantly, though it would cost 10 silver marks instead of five.

Fortunately, no one could see his temporary tattoos or the gold mark on his left shoulder, or they'd be scrambling to investigate further. Calculating his next moves, Carn ran through various fake scenarios in his mind, getting ready to teleport out of the facility at a moment's notice.

*BEEP*

The capsule's beep, sounding like a microwave, interrupted his thoughts. The lid automatically slid open, and the machine began draining the green liquid. 

Carn was puzzled. He had expected to hold his breath for five minutes to prove his endurance, but less than two minutes had passed. He climbed out and looked around.

The lead scientist stepped forward, offering Carn a prepared set of clothes. He also instructed. 

"Follow us to the next room. We'll proceed with the final examination."