In previous experiments, Ronan had discovered that he could pay extra mana to overcharge his summons. It was dangerous, and at the time, for safety reasons, he had set the idea aside.

  However, due to the activity of different species near the goblin village, he decided to resume that project.

  It was afternoon. His classes had ended, but that day, instead of training, he chose to take a walk through the lands near the academy.

  Using his ability to detect dead creatures, along with Bob and Tom’s help, they began collecting remains: small birds, rodents, and eventually a dog that had been buried carefully near the road. In cases like that, Ronan usually left graves undisturbed, both out of respect for the deceased and for the people who had taken the time to give them a proper burial. This time, however, the animal’s crying was loud enough that Ronan could not bring himself to walk away.

  To any passerby, he would have looked like a normal teenager crouched beside a small grave. The only odd detail would have been that he was talking to it, accompanied by two skeletons carrying a sack full of dead vermin.

  He looked at his friends. Without a word, they stepped forward. Careful not to disturb the grave more than necessary, they opened a small hole. Tom reached in and gently pulled out a small bony paw, severed it cleanly with his dagger, and handed it to Ronan.

  Ronan took it delicately, continuing to speak to the rest of the body as if it were still listening.

  Tom returned the disturbed earth to the hole, pressing the damp soil back into place. Then Bob left a small bouquet of flowers he had picked nearby.

  Ronan watched them, puzzled. He never understood why killing plants helped people feel better. To him, it was simply another form of accelerated decay: flowers withering slowly until they became earth. The difference was that plants were born, lived, reproduced, and died without complication, enjoying the freedom of their existence. They didn’t complain; either because he couldn’t hear them or because they had accepted both life and death.

  “My lord, are you thinking strange things again?” Bob asked, worried.

  His skeleton friend knew silence was normal for Ronan, but that particular look usually meant trouble—or a great deal of work.

  “No, but…” Ronan looked at the small paw in his hand. “Decided.”

  If Bob had a face, the expression would have been memorable.

  “Tell me what happened to you, and why you are sad, little one.”

  There was no audible response. No shift of energy, no use of mana. Tom and Bob never tired of witnessing it. They had once existed in that same state, something they remembered clearly despite having been nothing at the time: the infinite solitude from which Ronan had pulled them.

  “I understand. You were not strong enough, and you lost against those thieves.”

  Ronan sat down on the ground to continue the conversation.

  “At least you protected your family.”

  “Poor boy…” Experiment 212 crossed his mind. “Maybe I can help you.”

  He stood up, thinking.

  “I still have plenty of mana. If you want, we can try. If it fails, it will not hurt you, but it may be very unpleasant.”

  “Do not worry. Do not be afraid. I can always bring you back. If you want.”

  “Good. That is the spirit. You are starting a new life here, so I need to give you a name.”

  Ronan began the summoning while holding the paw. It wasn’t necessary, but it helped him focus.

  From what he could tell, the dog had belonged to a farming family. At night, as usual, he slept with the livestock for warmth and company. A neighbor and his son had come to steal cattle, and the dog had stopped them. He took several stab wounds to the side, and that ended his life. His former owners had buried him properly and said a few words before leaving.

  Ronan made his decision. Helping a sad friend mattered.

  “We will need several attempts, but I am sure it will work.”

  On the first try, he raised him as a zombie. He was stronger and more resistant than before.

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  Ronan tried channeling additional mana into the body, distributing it evenly, but something was wrong. He had only tripled the amount, and the flesh was already overheating.

  The dog grew nervous and began running in circles around him. Everything seemed fine, until he collapsed.

  “Mike, are you all right?”

  As Ronan picked him up, he felt it immediately. The mana was circulating too fast, failing to settle. He tried redirecting it to the bones, but it was too late.

  “Run,” Ronan ordered.

  Mike bolted at full speed. Moments later, an explosion shook the trees. Wood creaked, and trunks toppled.

  “Well. Third time is the charm.”

  He repeated the process, this time using double the mana and distributing it carefully. Being a reconstruction, it was easier. Still, after a few minutes, Mike ran toward the forest and detonated again.

  Ronan didn’t stop. He felt close. He summoned him repeatedly, analyzing each distribution, feeling how bone, muscle, and tendon formed. Something was still wrong.

  After the last explosion, he understood: muscle density. It couldn’t retain the mana charge.

  “I am sorry. We will need to try something else.”

  He raised Mike as a skeleton dog, using three times the usual mana. The result was unstable. Some bones glowed while fine fractures appeared elsewhere. The effect traveled through his body without settling.

  Mike was frustrated. He had died more than eight times that day. When he considered asking Ronan to stop, he saw his gaze. Curious, exhausted, unsettling… and hopeful.

  “Let us try one more thing. If you do not like it, we can revert it.”

  Encouraged, Mike agreed. After all, he didn’t feel pain, just a strange sensation of cold and emptiness.

  This time, Ronan achieved something different. It was as if he could slow down the skeleton’s creation and manipulate it.

  In his mind, he visualized it bigger and more powerful, with thicker bones, dorsal spikes, a wider jaw, and longer teeth. It seemed truly beautiful to him: a bone hound over a meter tall and half that wide, emanating a sinister aura of bluish and dark tones. And best of all, it seemed stable.

  Both were euphoric, jumping with joy.

  “Test your strength,” Ronan said. “Let us see what you can do.”

  Mike approached a tree. Hesitant, he placed a paw against the trunk, glanced at Ronan distrustfully, took a deep breath instinctively, and looked forward again. Then pushed. The trunk didn’t move. He barely managed to dig his claws into the wood.

  Puzzled, he withdrew one claw and examined it closely. It was the first time he had enough strength to dig his nails into the wood—quite an achievement, even if it had been only a little.

  Then he struck it sideways, tearing wood loose and leaving four deep grooves. Next he moved closer and bit it with all his strength. At first, the teeth sank in without problems, but when he tried to close his jaw more, he heard creaking. He released immediately and stepped back. The trunk had deep marks on both sides, as if it had been crushed in the bite area. Excited, he lunged at the tree again, biting and ramming it with his chest.

  The hound began applying more and more force. The accumulated mana detached with each attack, leaving flaming remnants that consumed the wood for a few seconds. Bluish flames that caught Ronan’s attention.

  “Stop,” Ronan said sharply. “You have to stop, now!”

  Mike froze and stepped back. The trunk was destroyed, but he knew that wasn’t the problem. He felt heat, a lot of heat.

  “Thank you for stopping.”

  Ronan approached slowly, but Mike backed away, scared.

  “Do not back away, I am not going to hurt you.”

  He wasn’t backing away because of that. He felt he was dangerous to anyone who approached him.

  “I understand. Relax, lie down, and do not move.”

  The hound obeyed.

  “Mike, now you are very strong, too strong for your body. You have excess mana, and that could hurt you. If you concentrate, it will give you incredible strength and speed for a while, but then your body will start to degrade. Without that extra strength, you are already stronger than most creatures in this forest, but you will have to control yourself. If you use it carelessly, it will destroy you.”

  Mike was euphoric, but looking at the destroyed tree, he worried again.

  Ronan understood his thought and nodded.

  “Yes, with this strength you could protect whoever you wanted... but the way you are now, many children would run from you.”

  Mike lay down in submission, pleading. Ronan, aware of what he was asking and how unpleasant the experiment had been, responded:

  “I can try something, but it will be difficult, and I do not know how long it will take.”

  Mike perked up instantly, pressing his back to the ground and wagging his tail like a very dangerous whip.

  “For now, lie down and relax.”

  Ronan manipulated the mana in his body, but something failed. Mike began shrinking, becoming increasingly unstable. Recognizing that sensation, he ran off and detonated about thirty meters away. The tree, already badly damaged, fell to the ground.

  Exhausted, Ronan sat down blaming himself for his failure. He lay down looking at the sky, mentally reviewing the mana flow.

  More encouraged, he summoned him again. This time he used a bit less mana and manipulated his body again. Mike, aware, waited calmly.

  After half an hour, Ronan fell into a sitting position, soaked in sweat. He smiled seeing him. To an untrained eye, he looked like a normal dog, something he liked.

  “Friend, I think this is it, but we have to test it. Attack the fallen trunk.”

  Mike looked at him with fear. His size and strength were similar to when he was alive, though there was something latent inside him.

  “I am sure you have noticed it. Do it.”

  Mike concentrated and awakened that strength. His form changed, resembling the one from before. He lifted the trunk with his jaw but dropped it when he noticed his energy draining.

  “That is it. Control yourself. Your original form is similar to the one you had when you were alive, but to protect them well, you can use this other one. It will last as long as you have power. The more strength you use, the faster you will exhaust yourself and return to your normal form. If you abuse the hound form, you could degrade. Be careful.”

  Mike jumped on Ronan and, in midair, returned to his dog form, knocking him down anyway.

  After playing together for a while and testing a couple more things, Ronan was satisfied. He had achieved several successes: making Mike happy and manufacturing bomb squirrels and birds.

  Definitely a total success.

  As for Bob and Tom, they’d been watching everything very attentively. Those improvements on Mike seemed very interesting. Could Ronan apply them to them?

  Experiment No. 213. SuperMike? Yes.

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