"This... is a problem. I've never even heard of a mana beast with that kind of ability." Galven placed his hands on his hips, staring down at the wooden floor. As he began piecing together the snake's abilities—the monster they were up against—combat scenarios ran through his mind. It was second nature by now, something he'd honed as both a soldier and a knight. Yet every strategy he conjured ended the same way: with self-doubt. Could he take down a monster that size in a single strike? Probably. But then another thought crept in: what were the odds that it hadn’t already experienced the state of 'being stabbed'?

Every plan hit a wall thanks to that maddening loop.

"Mana beast? Hell, I don't think I've ever even heard of a mage with that kind of ability." Gerald scratched his head, his tone heavy with frustration.

"Even in those old stories about legendary mages, their magic seemed more... grounded than this."

"Magnus... I’m not doubting you, but are you sure that’s what its ability is?" Mia’s voice was calm but probing as she stood near Magnus's bed, her gaze sharp and expectant. It wasn’t skepticism—it was the need for absolute certainty. They had to know if this creature had only one ability or if more surprises lurked. Magnus met her eyes, his expression steady.

"Yes, I’m sure. I’ve used this spell multiple times on things and people, even stuff stronger than me. It’s never been wrong." A brief silence settled over the room before someone finally broke it. Everyone turned toward the speaker, and Magnus looked surprised to see it was Marcos.

"I believe him. What he described matches what we saw down there," Marcos said simply, his tone firm. Mia glanced at him, then gave a small nod, her expression growing contemplative again.

"Alright," Mia began, her voice decisive.

"We’ll come up with a plan that accounts for its ability. Our one advantage right now is knowing where its lair is. If we strike before it makes a move, we keep the initiative." Her words drew a round of nods from the group, but Lieutenant Hazel, who had been silently absorbing the discussion, raised a hand to interject.

"But what’s the actual plan?" he asked, glancing at Magnus as he spoke.

"You said this thing is impossible to beat. Originally, we were going to gather forces, storm its lair, and overwhelm it. We didn’t question whether we could kill it—just how we’d do it. But now..." Galven cut in, nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, that plan’s out. If we can’t find a safer entrance, taking men down into that lair is suicide. They’d just be cannon fodder against it's ability." As the room grew tense, Magnus spoke up, his tone clear and deliberate.

"I didn’t say it was completely impossible—just almost." His words drew every pair of eyes toward him, waiting for an explanation.

"What do you mean, kid?" Gerald asked from across the room.

Magnus glanced around before continuing.

"I mean, there’s still a lot we don’t know. My spell told me its abilities, but not the specifics. How quickly can it remove states from its body? How fast can it react? Its top speed, its strength... all of these factors are still unknown. If they work in our favor, maybe this thing isn’t as unbeatable as we think." His words hung in the air, prompting a round of uneasy glances between them. But no one spoke—not yet.

"And if they aren't favorable?" Marcos asked, voicing the concern already weighing on everyone's mind—including Magnus's.

"Then... I have a few attacks that might bypass its ability, but it's just a guess. I have no real certainty, and it'd be risky. I’d prefer to save them as a last resort." Magnus’s thoughts drifted to the Command Console as he spoke. From what he understood, glitches appeared omnipotent—but only to non-source code level phenomena like magic and aura. If mana sat at the peak of the world’s power hierarchy, capable of defying laws and manifesting seemingly impossible phenomena, source code operated on an entirely different plane outside of that hierarchy.

Source code-level abilities could trump one another. Just as the Knockout Brick seemed beyond the authority of the Command Console, the Command Console might outrank Codebreak-008. If that were true, the Command Console’s absolute effect might allow Magnus to bypass even the null state with even something as basic as [Self Body Puppetry]. After all, source code dictated what was possible and impossible, even within its own structure.

But there were no guarantees—just hopeful speculation on his part. That’s why it remained a last resort.

"Eh, not the best news," Galven remarked with a shrug.

"But it’s certainly not the worst," Gerald countered, earning a nod of agreement from Galven.

"So, what’s the plan, Captain?" Hazel asked, turning to Mia. All eyes followed, settling on the highest-ranking person in the room. Ultimately, the decision rested with her.

"Well," Mia began, pausing to gather her thoughts.

"I agree with Galven and Hazel. Our old plan won’t work. At best, it’ll just waste the lives of our soldiers. If we’re going to take this monster down, it has to be us—the people in this room. I propose that we each come up with our own ideas for handling it and meet again tomorrow morning. With everything we’ve learned, we’ll start forming a solid plan by combining ideas. Does that sound fair?" Her gaze swept across the room. One by one, each person nodded, voicing their agreement after a moment of thought.

"Good. In that case, if Magnus doesn’t have anything else to add..." Mia glanced at him, her expression expectant. Magnus shook his head lightly—he had already shared all he knew, and all they needed to know anyway

"Then we should wrap up. Magnus just woke up, and even with healing magic, we shouldn’t keep bothering him." With that, everyone began filing out of the room. Hazel left first, giving Magnus another respectful nod as he passed, followed by Marcos, who glanced at Magnus briefly but said nothing. Considering the weird state of their relationship, Magnus took that as a sign of progress.

"You did good, kid. Really good," Gerald said with a grin, stepping over to the bed. He gave Magnus a firm pat on the shoulder, casual in intent but forceful enough to make Magnus wince as the vibration jarred his body, tilting him to the side.

"Thanks..." Magnus muttered, managing a half-smile as Gerald left alongside Galven, who was already starting up a conversation. Soon, the room was quiet again, leaving only Magnus and Mia.

"Before I go, Magnus, do you need anything? Maybe an extra pillow?" Mia’s offer brought a soft chuckle from Magnus, though he resisted the urge to outright laugh.

"You know, Mia, every time I see you, I can’t help but think—you really do act like a mom."

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"What?" Her reaction made Magnus chuckle again, shaking his head.

"It’s not a bad thing," he reassured her.

"It’s just something I noticed. You’ve got that kind of energy about you. I felt it when you were taking me to Arlcliff City, even more when I saw how you handled Marcos and Gerald, or just how you look out for everyone. You’ve got a motherly vibe, you know?" Mia opened her mouth, then closed it again, clearly unsure how to respond.

Finally, she managed, "Well, I- I don’t try to come off that way."

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

Her words sounded more like a question than a statement, which only made Magnus smile.

"It’s a good thing, Mia. Mothers are great—they take care of you, make you feel safe, and are usually friendly and fun to talk to. Though, if you’re their kid, that friendliness can flip real fast." He grinned as he finished, prompting Mia to raise a brow and cross her arms.

"Oh? And who exactly is my 'child' in this scenario?" Magnus glanced toward the door, his expression playful.

"I mean, I don’t like talking about people behind their backs, but..." His teasing tone earned a laugh from Mia this time.

"I’m glad to see almost drowning didn’t ruin your sense of humor," she said with a smile, though her voice softened as she added, "It’s still strange seeing you like this. You’ve changed so much since Arlcliff City."

Magnus’s expression softened in turn. He shrugged lightly.

"Yeah, well, let’s just hope it’s for the better. Anyway, you asked if I needed anything, right? You just reminded me of something." Mia perked up slightly.

"Of course. What is it?"

"I’m feeling kind of grimy. Could you bring me an empty basin and a clean rag?" Mia blinked, pausing to process his request.

"An empty basin? Don’t you need water?" Her confusion drew a smirk from Magnus.

"You forget—I didn’t just change personality-wise. Elementrix magic is pretty handy for survival." Recognition flickered across her face, quickly followed by a sheepish smile as she tapped her forehead.

"Oh, right. You’re officially a mage now. That slipped my mind completely."

"See? Total mom energy," Magnus teased.

"Kids never grow up in their moms’ eyes." Mia shook her head, laughing softly.

"You’re impossible now," she muttered, heading toward the door with a small smile. Just before turning the corner and disappearing downstairs, she called back over her shoulder.

"I'll just say this: if you, Marcos, and Gerald were my kids, based on how you’re acting now, you and Gerald would definitely be close brothers." With that, Mia slipped away, not giving Magnus a chance to reply. The sound of her footsteps echoed against the stone stairs, carrying through the stairwell and into his room before fading into silence. Left alone, Magnus let out a small sigh and leaned back against the headboard. He didn’t really need to rest—he was fully healed already. But laziness won out, and he decided to stay put a little longer.

Anyway, Mia’s grabbing the basin. That means we can test this whole “not needing to breathe” thing. Are you up for it, Basker?

[Of course, Master. However, I recommend that if we succeed, you treat this process as a passive function in your brain, much like the [Library of Babel]. It would be extremely dangerous if you passed out over—or worse, in—water without anyone around to save you.]

I mean, I agree. But are you sure we can set up something like that? We’ve never run a passive ability affecting my body without constant monitoring.

[Based on our understanding of human anatomy, I believe the modifications required will be minor enough to run without direct oversight. To ensure safety, we can include a fail-safe that prevents the process from activating if your body is too injured for alterations. The magical artifice we use to monitor your condition can handle the detection.]

Hmm, alright, that sounds good.

One of the best things about the Command Console was how seamlessly it managed tasks within Magnus’s mind. Not only did it lighten the mental load by automating most of the work, but its flexibility in his mindscape gave him almost limitless freedom. He could design complex scripts, set checks and balances, and delegate processes without needing constant focus.

That freedom, however, had its limits when reality got involved. For example, if Magnus tried to write a script that made the Command Console kill anyone hostile toward him, it wouldn’t work. The system lacked a clear visualization of who "anyone" entailed or a way to detect hostility. On top of that, even if it could identify targets, the act of “killing” required a realistic method Magnus was familiar with and could visualize being applied to any individual. Of course, trying to use the Command Console to visualize a realistic version of something he'd never experienced violated the boundary between reality and fiction as well, severely restricting its utility.

For something like preventing drowning, though, Magnus already had the magical artifice to provide the necessary data and visualization.

It wasn’t long before Mia returned, carrying a large wooden basin. She set it down at the foot of his bed with a clean rag draped over the side.

"Do you need anything else?" She asked. Magnus shook his head.

"I’m good. Thanks." With a small nod, she left the room, and Magnus found himself alone again. Stretching casually, he tossed the covers off and got out of bed. Walking over, he grabbed the basin and placed it in front of him.

Alright, let’s get started.

Magnus placed the wooden basin on the bed. The mattress was firm enough to keep it steady without any risk of tipping. With a quick application of water Elementrix magic, he began filling it. Mana condensed into flowing water, which poured smoothly into the basin, crystal clear and shimmering under the light coming through the nearby curtain. Though the water would eventually decompose back into mana, he could simply recreate it whenever needed—the perks of essentially infinite mana.

"Alright, first things first," Magnus muttered, gripping the edges of the basin as he stared at the water.

"I need to see the differences between my body when it has oxygen and when it doesn’t." Taking a deep breath, he plunged his head into the basin, submerging his face entirely. His magical artifice immediately picked up the change, logging data as his body began reacting to the lack of oxygen. The memory bank, accessible to him at all times, rapidly updated with every significant shift.

The first and most obvious reaction was the buildup of carbon dioxide, the byproduct of his body consuming oxygen. Normally expelled with every breath, the gas now remained trapped in his bloodstream. It was this accumulation that triggered the familiar, burning urge to breathe—the sensation of rising acidity in the blood as carbon levels increased.

Hmm... dealing with carbon dioxide directly isn’t possible yet. I can’t work at the molecular level or even perceive it. But... maybe I won’t have to.

The Command Console offered a unique advantage: it could simplify problems by filling in logical gaps. For example, when Magnus visualized flames, changing their color also adjusted their temperature—automatically accounting for properties he couldn’t consciously calculate. He wondered if he could follow a similar approach here.

Magnus focused on his blood. Using the magical artifice, he could observe its flow and see it darken as it deoxygenated—a deep, familiar red.

So, if I zoom out and focus only on the color... blocking out the details... just see the flow as uniform and simple...

He silenced his thoughts, narrowing his focus. Blocking out details was challenging for a mind constantly seeking them, but with Basker’s assistance, he managed. Bit by bit, he visualized his blood as a single, cohesive system. He tried to view the deoxygenated hue as no longer a complex biological reaction; but just a shift in color—something he could manipulate. Magnus lifted his head from the basin, taking deep breaths as he reviewed the changes.

Then, he submerged his face again, using the magical artifice to monitor each transformation. Over and over, he repeated the process: watching his body restore itself, memorizing the details, and then observing the shifts as his oxygen supply dropped. Hours passed unnoticed. The water in the basin frequently dissipated back into mana, forcing Magnus to refill it each time. Lost in the process, he didn’t pay attention to the growing dimness of the room. The sun had begun to set, casting long shadows through the closed curtains, but Magnus remained completely focused.

Finally, he leaned back, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips.

Sheesh, that took forever. Who knew trying to memorize the perfect color of your own blood while turning out any extra details in the way would be so hard? Not to mention keeping track of where it flows and fades out of view.

[Indeed, Master. This took longer than expected; however, I believe we’ve reached the benchmark needed for success.]

Magnus nodded, his hands still resting on the edges of the wooden basin, eyes fixed on the water. His reflection stared back at him, distorted by ripples. Letting out a short sigh, he steadied himself.

Alright, we’ll do this quickly. Focus on the area around my chest—that’s where the feeling of running out of air hits the hardest. If anything goes wrong, we immediately activate regeneration. Understood?

[Yes, Master.]

Good.

Without further hesitation, Magnus dipped his head beneath the water, closing his eyes to block out distractions. He directed all his attention to the sensations within his body and the constant stream of data from the magical artifice. The burning feeling started slowly, a creeping intensity radiating from his core outward. It grew sharper with every passing second, but Magnus didn’t let it reach its peak. Instead, he focused on the changes in his body, zeroing in on the blood flowing through his chest while deliberately avoiding his heart—just in case.

The visualization took hold, and the Command Console sprang into action. Lines of code, countless and incomprehensible to anyone but itself, executed in an instant. Magnus felt the results immediately: the burning sensation gripping his ribcage as if his lungs had been squeezed into a tight ball, began to fade. Not completely—he had only targeted a portion of his chest—but enough to make a difference.

It felt almost magical, as though his body had taken a micro-breath of its own accord, revitalizing the blood in his veins without him so much as raising his head or opening his mouth. He had done it. He had infused his blood with oxygen.

Basker, any issues?

[None that I’ve detected, Master. I recommend waiting to ensure no delayed side effects arise.]

Agreed. Especially since we’re dealing with my own blood.

[However, if no complications appear within the next hour, I believe congratulations are in order. You will have effectively surpassed the need to breathe—whether underwater or in any other oxygen-deprived environment.]

Magnus let out a mental laugh.

When you put it like that, it sounds a little weird, doesn’t it? I’ve basically made breathing optional.