Transmigrated as a Peasant: I Conquered Magic With Science

Chapter 6

Arthur took the jar of animal fat he had found earlier and mixed the glowing Ley-crystal dust into it, creating a thick, glowing purple paste. He dipped his finger into the paste and began to draw on the thick wooden handle of the pitchfork. 

The original Arthur knew that the Sorcerer-Knights of the Kingdom used "Runes" to do magic. They drew complicated, beautiful pictures of dragons, stars, and ancient gods to make their weapons strong or sharp. It took years to learn, and they believed the magic came from the gods. 

The Earth Arthur knew that was garbage. 

“Magic isn't a prayer,” Arthur thought, his eyes narrowed in absolute focus. “It’s a program. A set of instructions. You don't need a picture of a dragon to create force. You just need the right equation.”

He didn't draw mystical symbols. He drew geometry. He drew straight, intersecting lines and perfect circles. And in the center of the geometric shapes, he used the glowing paste to write out simple physics equations. 

[F = ma. Force equals mass times acceleration.] 

He drew an arrow pointing from the base of the handle toward the iron prongs, commanding the energy to flow only in one direction. He created a closed loop, ensuring the energy wouldn't leak out and burn the user's hands. 

When he finished, he placed both hands over the wood. He connected his newly formed Aetheric Core to the glowing paste. 

"Activate," Arthur whispered. 

The purple paste flashed violently, sinking directly into the wood. The geometric lines and the equation burned themselves into the grain of the handle, glowing with a bright, steady white light. The rusted iron prongs of the pitchfork began to hum loudly, vibrating at a high frequency. 

Arthur picked it up. It felt completely different. It wasn't just a heavy piece of wood and iron anymore. It felt like it was pulling forward, eager to move. If he channeled his mana into it, the kinetic runes would instantly accelerate the iron forward with explosive force. 

He had created a kinetic lance. 

He turned to grab another piece of wood, intending to make a shield, but a loud, frantic knocking on the cellar doors above stopped him. 

"Arthur! Arthur Flores! Open this door!" 

It was an old, desperate voice. 

Arthur gripped his modified pitchfork tightly and signaled for his mother and sister to stay quiet. He slowly climbed the wooden ladder and unlocked the heavy iron latch. He pushed the door open just a few inches. 

Standing in the fog above was Elder Thomas Moore. The old man was shaking violently, his face pale and wet with tears. 

"Elder Moore," Arthur said, keeping the pitchfork hidden below the edge of the doors. "What are you doing out there? The soldiers are surrounding the village."

"I know, I know!" Elder Moore cried softly, looking over his shoulder into the thick gray fog. "The Commander... he sent a message through the line. He said if we surrender you and your sister right now, he will spare the rest of the village. He said the Blood Tithe will be fulfilled."

Arthur stared at the old man coldly. "And you believe him? After he murdered that guard in the square? He wants the Ley-crystal under this town. The tithe was just an excuse to kill us all."

"You don't understand!" the Elder pleaded, dropping to his knees in the cold mud. "They are going to kill everyone! Please, Arthur. You are a good boy. Your father was a good man. Save us. Give them the girl. It is one life for a hundred!"

"I will not sacrifice my sister for a coward's peace," Arthur said, his voice flat and dangerous. 

"You selfish fool!" Elder Moore suddenly screamed, his fear turning into anger. "Do you think you can fight them? They are knights! We are dirt! They will burn—"

The Elder’s words were cut off by a sound that made Arthur’s blood run completely cold. 

It was a howl. But it wasn't a wolf. It sounded like tearing metal mixed with the scream of a dying man. The sound echoed through the dense fog, vibrating in Arthur’s chest. 

Elder Moore froze, his eyes wide with absolute terror. "No... the stories are true. The Baron’s pets..."

"What is that?" Arthur demanded. 

"Grave-Hounds," the Elder whispered, his voice trembling so hard he could barely speak. "The soldiers aren't waiting for sunrise. They unleashed the hounds into the fog to hunt us in the dark. They are undead beasts... magic cannot kill them... steel cannot kill them..."

Before the Elder could say another word, a massive, shadowy shape exploded out of the thick fog behind him. 

It was a nightmare of bone and rotting flesh. It was the size of a bear, walking on four massive, clawed feet. Its ribs were exposed, glowing with a sickly green magic, and its eyes burned like green fire in the dark. 

The beast didn't even slow down. It opened a mouth full of razor-sharp iron teeth and clamped its jaws completely over Elder Moore’s head. 

With a sickening crunch of bone, the Elder was silenced instantly. The massive beast tossed the old man's lifeless body aside like a ragdoll. 

The Grave-Hound turned its burning green eyes directly toward the open cellar door. It sniffed the air, smelling the fresh blood of Clara, and the fear of Eliana. 

It let out a deafening roar and lunged forward, diving headfirst through the wooden doors. The heavy wood shattered into splinters. The massive beast crashed down the ladder, landing heavily on the dirt floor of the cellar. 

Clara screamed. Eliana scrambled backward against the stone wall, trapped. 

The beast raised its massive head, its iron jaws snapping open, aimed directly at the little girl. 

It was three feet away. Arthur was above it on the broken ladder. There was no time to think. There was no time to aim.