In the silent, moonlit room, Naoko Rotschy sat in stillness, her silver eyes glinting faintly under the soft glow of enchanted lights. Her gaze lingered on the peaceful face of her son, Jin, who lay unconscious beside her on the grand, obsidian-framed bed. His breaths were steady, his chest rising and falling slowly, unaware of the intricate procedure that was about to commence.
Naoko spoke quietly, her voice as cold and smooth as moonlight brushing over glass. "Perhaps it is best to implant the new mana core now\... while you're asleep. There's no need to delay."
Her hand rose with elegance, fingers outstretched, and a swirl of mana spiraled from her palm—a mesmerizing fusion of white and green lunar mana. As the energies blended, they formed a glowing turquoise hue, ethereal and humming with potent life. She guided the mana gently toward Jin's body, and as it enveloped him, a subtle shift took place. His breathing began to slow. The rhythmic beat of his heart faltered. Then—it stopped.
Every biological function in Jin's body ceased in perfect silence. His body fell into a precise, calculated state of induced death.
Naoko rose from the edge of the bed, stepping away with regal grace. She lifted her hand again, forming a wide dome of purified mana around the bed—a protective barrier to isolate the space. The pale teal hue of the dome pulsed softly as she wove green lunar mana into the air, infusing the surroundings with constant sterilization. Within this pristine sanctuary, not even the slightest impurity could survive.
She turned her attention back to Jin. With a simple motion, she conjured clean, pressurized air from raw mana to sustain the perfect environment. Then, her silver eyes narrowed as she extended her right hand once more, forming a surgical scalpel from pure mana around her index finger.
With mechanical precision, she began to unfasten the buttons of Jin's shirt, revealing the contours of his lean, muscular torso. Her hands moved with the familiarity of a surgeon and the intimacy of a mother, but her expression remained cold, focused, and detached. She traced the scalpel down the center of his chest, parting skin and tissue without hesitation. There was no blood; the mana sealed vessels instantly as she worked.
Beneath layers of muscle and bone, nestled in the center of his being, pulsed the shimmering light of Jin's mana heart—his core. Naoko paused, examining it.
It glowed with a brilliance unmatched: red for the Crimson Moon, blue for the Azure Moon, green for the Verdant Moon, white for the Pure Moon. He had mastered all four.
"A beautiful core..." she murmured. "Too beautiful to remain ordinary."
Raising her left hand, she conjured a sigil of luminous runes, then gently placed it atop his mana heart. It was a sigil of nourishment—meant to sustain the surrounding channels during the extraction. With a flick of her wrist, the scalpel moved again, slicing the anchoring threads that bound the mana heart to Jin's internal web of mana veins.
One by one, she severed the threads. The core pulsed in protest, but Naoko's mana overpowered it, sedating its resistance. Finally, she lifted it from his chest. It floated above her palm, pulsating faintly, a kaleidoscope of moonlit colors.
She studied it briefly, admiring its complexity.
Turning her gaze back to her son, she activated a mana-vision spell with her eyes, sending silver light coursing through them. She scanned his vitals, ensuring the body remained stable through the enchantments she'd placed earlier.
Jin's body—though in stasis—was gradually restoring its mana channels. The enchantments, combined with her own mana signature flooding his veins, maintained his state.
She sat again.
This procedure had taken days of preparation. She had observed him, watched his fatigue grow. When she noticed him vulnerable and exhausted after training, she summoned him under the pretense of rest. She timed it perfectly.
She had planned everything.
Naoko stepped beyond the dome of energy, letting it ripple behind her like a curtain of silk. She glanced at her reflection in the long, polished mirror near her wardrobe. Her silken, black nightgown shimmered faintly—a delicate fabric that clung to her form, slightly translucent, slightly too short. She studied her appearance for a moment.
"Ridiculous," she said in a cold tone, and slipped the garment off her shoulders.
She discarded it into a magical rift with a flick of her hand and walked toward her wardrobe with calculated elegance. Unbothered by her own nudity, her flawless skin caught the dim light, her long silver hair trailing down her back, brushing against her form with every step.
Her body—ageless, divine, sculpted to perfection—moved with confidence. She selected fresh undergarments and a sleek, dark robe suitable for long work. Within moments, she was dressed again, her mana pulsing in a rhythmic, calm frequency.
Naoko returned to the dome and re-entered the sterile space. She sat in the armchair near the bed, exhaling silently. She extended her hand and drew a filament of mana from her own chest to Jin's, linking them.
The thread shimmered with black lunar mana—the mana of the Obsidian Moon: destructive, ancient, feared.
"Without a core, you cannot generate mana on your own," she murmured. "For now, I will be your source."
She began to channel darkness slowly into him—not as an injection, but as a gentle infusion. Droplets of corrupted lunar energy trickled through the connection, subtly merging into his cells. She was careful, methodical. The Obsidian Moon's power was volatile. Even her own body had nearly been torn apart by it in her youth.
Her goal was ambitious: to implant a Destruction Core into Jin.
Something no mortal had ever survived.
She tilted her head back, eyes closed, and allowed her body to rest—but her mind remained vigilant. The mana stream continued, steady, patient.
"Two months..." she whispered. "It will take at least that long. I must be gentle. His body is not ready. Not yet."
She reflected silently. "This is not like what I did with Rina. Her new core was compatible, derived from Drasiruth's essence. But Jin… I must craft the very source. There is no template."
Her thoughts drifted.
She had forged Rina's transformation by simply fusing her with an existing godcore. But Jin—her son, her heir, her greatest creation—required something far more dangerous.
Naoko stared at his face, relaxed in false sleep. His dark hair lay tousled against the pillow, his expression softened without the burdens of consciousness. How delicate he looked. How fragile. How unaware of the terrible, beautiful change that was coming.
She smiled faintly.
"You will become something the world has never seen. Not even the gods could create you. But I will. Because you're mine."
She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes at last, the mana thread still tethering them.
And so, the ritual began—a two-month journey of destruction and rebirth, of shadows and moons, of a mother crafting her legacy in the body of her sleeping son.
.............
Heat: Naoko smiles a little without realizing it, only when she is watching her son, who is unconscious or not noticing, especially because her instincts as a mother work without her realizing that she is working, only her body interacts with her son's body.