Transmigrated as a Peasant: I Conquered Magic With Science

Chapter 7

Time seemed to stop completely. 

To Clara and Eliana, the Grave-Hound was a blur of rotting flesh, glowing green eyes, and razor-sharp iron teeth. It was a monster from the darkest nightmares, descending upon them with impossible speed.

But to Arthur, everything moved in slow motion. 

The moment the beast crashed through the wooden doors, Arthur’s mind went to work. His newly formed Aetheric Core—the spinning ball of pure white energy in his chest—pumped highly condensed mana into his bloodstream. His brain processed the threat faster than any normal human could. He saw the angle of the beast’s descent. He calculated its weight, its speed, and its exact trajectory. 

Arthur did not panic. He let go of the broken wooden ladder and dropped down to the dirt floor, landing perfectly between his sister and the monster. 

He raised the rusted, modified pitchfork. He wrapped both of his hands tightly around the wooden handle, placing his fingers directly over the glowing purple geometric lines he had just drawn. 

“Force equals mass times acceleration,” Arthur thought, his eyes locked on the Hound’s open jaws. 

He didn't swing the weapon. He planted his feet firmly into the dirt, braced his shoulders, and thrust the pitchfork straight forward, aiming for the center of the beast’s rotting chest. 

As the rusted iron prongs moved forward, Arthur pushed a massive burst of clean mana from his heart directly into the weapon’s handle. 

The kinetic runes activated instantly. 

The physics equation carved into the wood glowed with blinding white light. The runes took the simple forward motion of Arthur’s arms and multiplied it by a thousand. The iron prongs did not just stab forward; they accelerated at the speed of a bullet leaving a rifle barrel. 

BOOM!

The sound of the impact was like a cannon firing inside the small cellar. The sheer kinetic force of the thrust hit the heavy, falling Grave-Hound in mid-air. 

The undead beast did not even have time to scream. The massive transfer of kinetic energy struck its chest, and the physical laws of the universe took over. The Hound’s body could not contain the force. It instantly exploded outward. 

Bones shattered into a million tiny pieces. Rotting flesh and black dust vaporized into the air, blown backward out of the cellar doors by the massive shockwave. 

Arthur groaned, sliding backward in the dirt. The recoil of the weapon was incredible. His arms shook violently, his muscles burning from the strain of holding the pitchfork, but the handle held together, protected by the magical loop he had designed. 

The cellar was suddenly completely silent, filled only with the smell of burnt ozone and dead dust. The monster was gone. 

Arthur looked up toward the shattered wooden doors. Lying at the edge of the hole, looking down into the cellar, was Elder Thomas Moore. 

The old man wasn't dead. The Grave-Hound’s massive jaws had missed his head in the thick fog, clamping down heavily on his shoulder instead, crushing his collarbone before tossing him aside. Elder Moore lay in the mud, holding his bleeding shoulder. His face was pale, his eyes wide as dinner plates. He stared down at Arthur in stunned, absolute silence. He had just watched a starving peasant boy vaporize an unkillable demon of the Abyss with a farming tool.

Arthur lowered the pitchfork. He turned to his mother and sister. Clara was holding Eliana tightly, both of them trembling but unharmed. 

"Stay here," Arthur said, his voice completely calm. "Stay close to the crystal. It will keep you warm. Do not come out until I call for you."

"Arthur, where are you going?" Clara whispered, tears streaming down her dirty face. "There are more out there..."

"I know," Arthur said. His eyes glowed with a faint, cold white light. "That is why I have to go."

Arthur climbed the broken ladder, stepping over the whimpering Elder Moore as he reached the surface. The village of Oakhaven was hidden beneath a thick, freezing gray fog. But Arthur could hear the sounds clearly. Men were screaming. Wood was breaking. The Grave-Hounds were hunting the villagers house by house. 

Arthur gripped his kinetic lance and walked into the fog. He didn't run. He walked with purpose, following the screams. 

Two streets down, in a narrow, muddy alley between two burning houses, a group of five villagers was backed into a corner. Standing in front of them was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a heavily scarred face. 

This was Victor Kelly. 

Victor was not a peasant. He was a mercenary, a deserter from the King’s royal army who had been hiding in Oakhaven for two years. He wore a dirty leather coat and held a high-quality steel broadsword in his hands. 

Victor was fighting for his life. Two massive Grave-Hounds were circling him in the alley. 

"Get back!" Victor roared at the cowering villagers behind him. He swung his heavy sword in a wide arc. The steel blade sliced cleanly into the neck of the first Hound. 

But Victor cursed out loud. The undead beast didn't bleed, and it didn't feel pain. The magic holding its rotting body together simply swallowed the blade. The Hound jerked its head, ripping the heavy sword right out of Victor’s hands. 

The second Hound lunged, its jaw snapping toward Victor’s throat. Victor raised his arms to protect his face, closing his eyes, waiting for the killing bite. 

It never came. 

A sharp, sudden drop in temperature hit the alley. The air grew so cold, so fast, that Victor’s breath turned to thick white steam. 

Victor opened his eyes. Standing at the entrance of the alley was the frail boy from the square—Arthur Flores. 

Arthur had one hand raised, pointing directly at the muddy ground beneath the charging Hounds. He wasn't using a kinetic rune this time. He was using his Aetheric Core to manipulate the environment. 

“Endothermic reaction,” Arthur commanded in his mind. 

He forcibly drew all the thermal energy, all the heat, out of the moisture in the air and the wet mud on the ground. He sucked the heat away so rapidly that the physical state of the water had to change instantly. 

A thick, perfectly smooth sheet of solid ice formed across the alley floor in the blink of an eye. 

The charging Hounds hit the ice slick. Because they were moving so fast, and because the ice was entirely frictionless, they instantly lost their footing. Their heavy legs scrambled uselessly. Their momentum carried them forward, out of control.