Constantine remained motionless, his clothes and hair billowing in the draft. He aimed his bow at the ominous tunnel. The pounding of his heart echoed in his ears, his aim unsteady. The thought flashed through his mind, 'Is it the beast that slaughtered those wolves?'

He took a step back, his eyes catching a pair of ruby orbs glowing in the darkness, inching closer. Claws raked against the soil. Drawing the bowstring further back, he retreated once more. 'If this creature killed the wolves, my bow might be futile.' He knew it, though the weapon provided him at least a tiny bit of reassurance.

A low growl emanated from the burrow, the red eyes advancing. Staring into them, he blinked. Recognition dawned on him—those eyes were from the night. 'It's a shadenwolf. This must be their den.'

He exhaled, steadying his aim. In the daylight, he felt more assured that his bow would suffice to take down a single shadenwolves. 'Implant, activate the bow-aiming overlay.' The glowing trajectory projected into his vision. He drew the string further. Another low, dog-like whimper emerged. His eyes widened; the red orbs were low to the ground and dimmer than he was used to. 'It's not an adult.'

He hesitated, an idea forming. He shook his head, aligning his aim closer. 'It couldn’t work. Before me isn’t a wolf or a dog, but a monster.'

'Or could it?' He recalled all he knew about shadenwolves. They were pack animals, predators, and nocturnals. They could manipulate shadows, blending seamlessly, perhaps even more. Lowering his aim, he unfastened a piece of dried meat from his belt. His eyes never left the red points. He stepped forward, hands sweaty. Then he paused.

'Implant, provide information on taming wolves.' Text flashed before his eyes, and he read swiftly. He kept nodding until he reached the last line, concluding. 'Wolves aren’t dogs, and shadenwolves even less so.'

Wolves had strong predatory instincts. Though they might not attack their master or pack, they could easily turn aggressive towards strangers. They were smarter, stronger, and harder to control.

Constantine stood rooted, deep in thought. Eventually, he grinned. 'Is this a problem for me or an advantage?' He didn’t want a pet; he wanted a monster to fight for him. He wanted a creature capable of using mana to observe it. He didn’t want a pet to cuddle with; he wanted a predator for hunting.

He resumed his approach, intrigued. As he moved, he weighed the pros and cons. 'Killing it would be safe, yielding a core larger than any rabbit’s. But taming it could provide insight into a monster's power and a loyal companion.'

He nodded decisively. 'Taming it offers greater rewards than killing it.' Even his conscience agreed. Nostalgia flickered—he remembered the dog he once owned.

The information stated that taming a wild wolf depended largely on its personality. 'Until maturity, they aren’t that different from dogs. If needed, I can release it before it becomes unmanageable.'

He threw the dried meat towards the burrow and approached, bow ready. 'I was in contact with the dead wolf. If its scent is on me, it might help.'

A dark-furred head peeked out, crimson eyes darting between the meat and him. Furry ears twitched. Constantine watched as the beast sniffed the meat. A paw swiftly snatched it, dragging it into the tunnel’s darkness. Gathering his courage, Constantine inched closer. His breath stalled. Would it attack?

Constantine took another cautious step, eyes fixed on the tunnel's darkness. The young shadenwolf's eyes reappeared, watching him. He heard it chewing the meat.

'Stay calm, no sudden moves.' He reminded himself, inching closer. He put away his bow, grabbing his dagger and another piece of meat.

At the tunnel's edge, he turned his back, holding out the meat. “Here, come out. I won’t hurt you.” He whispered softly, even feeling a bit silly, knowing the beast couldn't comprehend his words.

The shadenwolf emerged, head low, sniffing the air. It took a tentative step, staying in shadow, then another, before snatching the meat from his hand. Constantine stayed still, muscles tense, ready to react.

'Good, that’s good.' He thought, feeling its warm breath before it retreated. He observed closely, noting its hesitation and wariness.

After finishing, the young shadenwolf looked up, red eyes gleaming. Constantine extended his hand, palm up, inviting it closer. Mana circled through his arm, ready to borrow him enough speed to withdraw it in time. It took hesitant steps, nose twitching as it sniffed his hand. The wolf growled, and it swiftly withdrew.

Progress was being made, but it would take time. 'At least it didn’t bite me,' he thought, 'so far, so good.'

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

He finally retreated, thinking, 'I’ll feed it tomorrow and see what happens.'

Turning away, he eyed the dead wolves. 'Sorry, little wolf, but I have to harvest your kin.' He threw his shirt over the entrance, unsure how the pup might react to him skinning its family.

Three hours later, as the sun set, Constantine saw the reddish light filtering through the leaves. He stood up, looking at the dark furs resting on a nearby branch. They still weren’t dry, but he couldn’t risk staying after sundown.

'Something terrible is here, and I don’t plan to meet it.' He thought, tossing the last piece of dried meat into the burrow. The small wolf snatched it, dragging it back into the darkness. Only its crimson eyes were visible.

A small smile crept onto his face, he found the little wolf fascinating and amusing. Trying to tame a monster was an interesting idea worthy of exploration.

'I’ll come back tomorrow.' He thought, hoping the pup and skins would still be there. He walked away, bait for his trap in hand, a single fur draped over his back. It wasn’t dried, but as it was only one, it was manageable. He paused his eyes, landing on one of the dead wolves, a smaller one. ‘I will take you. You will be a nice bait for my trap.'

The Next Morning:

Constantine awoke gradually, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he collected his thoughts. He rubbed his drowsy eyes and yawned deeply. Digging the trap and hiking had left him drained, but the memory of his experiment filled him with renewed energy. He leaped out of bed, eyes alight with anticipation.

‘Implant, please record liquid mana experiment number two: the first attempt to manipulate it.‘ He seized the two items beside his cot: the horn of a thunder-horned rabbit and its minuscule core. Taking a deep breath, he steadied his mind.

The rabbit’s ability to summon lightning from its horn and the shadenwolf’s talent for vanishing into shadows had inspired him. ‘The rabbit melts its core to extract liquid mana, emitting electricity from its horn. So, the transformation likely occurs in the horn,’ he pondered, reviewing his observations.’The question is whether it has to be its own mana and if there are any other processes before that.’

Channeling his mana into the core, he watched as it softened and began to melt. A surge of warmth coursed through him, nearly overwhelming his senses. Accustomed to the sensation, he bit his lip, grounding himself. Grasping the energy, he directed the fire through his body to his hand clutching the horn.

Lightning crackled, blue sparks dancing like tiny serpents. Eyes wide, he poured more mana into it. The horn glowed with an intense blue aura, lightning spiraling and pulsing around it in weird patterns. The sharp scent of ozone filled the air.

"It works!" Excitement fluttered in his chest, but he persevered. The electricity didn’t harm him, instead coiling around his hand and fingers. He lifted his palm, watching as the last mana droplet dissipated, leaving a cold void. The lightning vanished, and the room returned to daylight.

His heart raced. Not only had he transformed mana into electricity, but it behaved uniquely. Grinning, he muttered, "This confirms it. The horn converts mana into electricity."

It was a significant breakthrough. Now, he could begin reverse-engineering it. A frown replaced his smile—an inkling of worry. ‘If it’s at a cellular level or unobservable—’ He shook his head, dismissing the thought. ‘If locals observed it to create spiritual tools, it must be visible, at least superficially.’

Though he could use the horn and core as an improvised taser, he wasn’t satisfied. He aspired to wield it freely, creating his own effects—spells. He didn’t just want to know what it did; he sought to understand how and why.

‘I need more magic monster parts to determine commonalities.’ He mused, a plan forming in his mind. A busy day awaited. He needed to check the trap, feed the pup, and continue purifying his body.

Yet, he remained seated. Closing his eyes, his mana sense probed through his body. The warmth within him gently throbbed, more malleable than ever. The more he meditated and practiced with concentrated liquid mana, the easier it became to control. It was like learning to read and write—slow and cumbersome at first, but natural over time.

‘I should start considering where to place my core.’ Scratching his head, he pondered. It was an issue he had to address sooner or later. ‘Implant, show me the anatomical model of a male body.’ Darkness spread from the corners of his vision, shading his simple room. Like a bright star, the image of a human body projected into his vision, slowly rotating. It was as if he stood before a living human, every detail lifelike and precise.

‘Let’s assume a singular core for the start. Where to place you? Energy must be easily directed to any part of the body, ’ he questioned and considered his requirements, ‘that eliminates all the limbs and non-central placements. Implant, darken those parts.’

The image flashed, large portions graying out. ’More space for potential growth is preferred.’ The head and upper torso grayed out, leaving only the lower half illuminated. He had discovered that mana, the warmth he felt, moved most easily through veins. More parts greyed out as he thought of another requirement. ’Connection to major nerves and veins can be crucial.’

Only two areas remained lit: his lower stomach and the solar plexus beneath his ribcage. ’Solar plexus or navel,’ both places were viable, but he muttered, "Higher might be better, closer to the heart, brain, and arms."

’So, solar plexus it is, in the abdominal cavity, right behind my stomach, close to my spine.’ He chuckled. "I may have to eat less to avoid my stomach expanding too much and taking up precious space."

He stood, stretched, and nodded, content with the preliminary placement. The light returned, and the model vanished. Grabbing his bow, linen backpack, straw hat, and belt, he stepped out of the house. He marched toward the forest, a tiny smile creeping into his face.

Absent-mindedly, he wandered into the forest, his mind occupied with countless questions. ’If mana can be transformed into electricity, can it be reversed? Can I build a power plant harnessing mana from the world like cultivators?’ His mind buzzed with frenzy. There was an entirely new set of natural laws compared to his old life, creating endless possibilities.

He snapped back to reality as he approached his trap site. He sniffed, his brows furrowing at the peculiar smell. The odor of burnt wood and the metallic tang of blood filled the air. Scorch marks marred the surroundings of the pit as if a napalm bomb had exploded inside.