Blood Spilled: The Dragon

It's been a month since I've had the time to write in this log—routine nearly consumed me.

I decided to settle down in these lands for a few months, at least until I reached high-class status in terms of magical energy. Now, the same routine of setting traps and building a new base? Yeah, but this time, I plan to automate the process using a couple of basic golems I found in the Human Magic book. Nothing particularly notable—just machines powered by runes, thought algorithms that poorly imitated AI. And not because they were simple—no, they were complex as hell. That was precisely the issue: they were inefficient as beings, requiring pre-programmed tasks or learning at a snail's pace like any artificial intelligence.

Anyway, I didn't plan to alter their design just yet—I didn't have time for that. I simply created them, inscribed some alchemical circles with very specific instructions on how, where, and when to act. In a matter of days, the entire area—around twenty-five kilometers—was surrounded by alchemical traps, constantly maintained by the golems. That meant I no longer had to hunt for food or sacrifices for alchemy myself.

So, what do I do with my free time now, besides absorbing magic? Truth be told—spell development. Look, the only thing I've truly developed myself was the ability to permanently transfer external magic from one being to another, which was already a huge achievement for someone who isn't a genius. The rest of what I'd done were just modifications of existing spells—already efficient spells, mind you.

But I realized that, while I've been very successful with dark alchemy, the next spell I tried to improve could be considered... not a success at all.

First, a bit of context. What I wanted to do was modify the mental division spell to prevent the dissolution of the "self" after the sixteenth partition. Why even try this? The answer is simple: utility. That spell is incredibly useful. You wouldn't know unless you tried it yourself. Having over a dozen minds working in harmony to sustain a single individual is amazing. I could study magic while fighting, develop a new spell, or philosophize if I was in the mood—and the fact that each "me" could give feedback to the others helped eliminate redundant thinking by discarding already processed conclusions.

And that was with just sixteen minds. Imagine what sixty-four could do—or more! What about an exponential mind? That would basically turn you into a self-contained hive mind or a supercomputer with no efficiency loss. Hell, if you had enough minds, you could predict the future through sheer calculation, like Laplace's demon suggests.

That said, I'm a failure—because I found out that modifying the mental division spell would require working from its esoteric foundations. Hell, the modification was far too risky, so I had to start from scratch—at least in terms of the final result. Thankfully, having that original spell gave me a framework to work with.

But damn it—I didn't even have a prototype to test, which was frustrating. I had fifteen of my consciousnesses trying to piece together a beta version, while the sixteenth was designing the theoretical blueprint for an industrial factory that would automate the acquisition of sacrifices. This facility would keep subjects suspended in nutrient vats while their limbs were harvested, leaving only the head, torso, and reproductive organs intact—combined with selective breeding under the supervision of golems, also created by that same mind. Needless to say, the blueprints were nearly done, and in just a few weeks, the first prototype of this factory would be functional. The first golems for management were already operational, so I didn't have to worry about that.

As for the blatant industrialization of suffering for thousands of beings just to gain more power? Nothing to say. I honestly didn't care enough to consider it a problem.

"What do you think, Amistad?" I asked that time.

Amistad didn't answer right away, but her silence said more than a thousand words.

"Of course, this way, you could have more friends," I added before she nodded and Caricias trembled.

"You want more friends too, don't you, little girl?" I said as I gently cleaned them with a white cloth.

The loving touch they transmitted through their soft runic hums comforted me deeply.

…

Another half year has passed in this area—making it a year and a half since I arrived in this world. I felt alive, thanks to my recent achievements.

The first was the factory—it was completed within the first three months of this second year here. Roughly two kilometers in area, with a peak height of around five hundred meters—one of the most colossal structures I'd ever created in terms of surface. The first test subjects were already inside. The first batch of offspring was obtained by the fifth month—so, practically no time at all.

As for the mental division spell, by the fourth month, I managed to produce a better beta version—though it had a hard cap of one hundred twenty-eight minds in total. That meant I now had over a hundred minds working as one. It was like upgrading a computer with more RAM or CPU cores. I planned to keep improving the spell, but it was no longer a top priority.

Having so many minds is incredibly useful, as I've said. Now, casting spells was almost instantaneous—not just fractions of a second, but "almost" in physical terms.

Was I more intelligent with all these minds? Honestly, not really. I was far more logical than the average person in terms of thought process, sure—but I hadn't become more intelligent per se. That's because I could no longer be compared to a single being. I was more of a collective, a group of minds working in perfect sync. So yes, I was "smarter" than a "person" only because I could do more than "one," being composed of "many." Individually? No, not smarter. But in totality? Hell yes—a lot smarter.

As for magic—congratulations to me. I became a high-tier mage by the fifth month. From now on, tracking my magic growth would be difficult, if not impossible, due to how immeasurable it became.

I'd also assigned nearly all of my minds to make progress on dragon magic and—by all that is sacred—I got a clear result, though not the one I expected.

The first step was to confirm if Vritra's Book was made from dragon hide. Look, I know it was just lizard leather, and yes, it was written by a dragon—let me dream. Okay, that didn't happen. But the book did have a tiny spell woven into its structure that kept it fairly safe from environmental damage.

And now you might ask—what use is that?

Remember who—or what—wrote it? If we're talking about a dragon, then even a minuscule spell like that counts as dragon magic—experimental energyto work with.

That day, my smile stretched so wide it worried my companions. But who could blame me?

I had an idea.

A beautifully twisted one.