Whether a Miracle Invoker's upper limits could allow them to craft a nuclear bomb was a fascinating new research topic.
"On the Integration of Mysticism and Science to Forge a New System," "Maximizing the Application of Miracle Invokers," "The Close Collaboration Between the Church of the God of Craftsmen and Miracle Invokers," "The Necessary Conditions for the Mystification of Technology..."
The cost wasn't high—just one Miracle Invoker would suffice.
Under the effect of the Golden Hammer, the iron box became indestructible once more.
The magician continued snapping his fingers, no longer adding gas in measured increments. The exponential increase in internal pressure wasn't just a test for the container—it was a trial for the magician himself.
And the more gas compressed into a fixed space, the greater the consumption of miracles.
"Just as I thought."
Don watched as fleshy tendrils began sprouting from the magician's face and silently sighed.
"The reason it doesn't provide mystical or spiritually charged magic props is that doing so would consume the most miracles."
"But even with mundane, non-mystical items, as the complexity and difficulty of the task increase, the required miracles multiply."
The steam engine had been proof of the former—complexity. Now, compressing gas into a confined space demonstrated the latter—difficulty.
Otherwise, a Miracle Invoker could simply wish for all the air in the world to vanish, and most people would be finished.
"So, 'grade' really is crucial."
A Miracle Invoker was only Sequence 2, not a true god. But if it were a god-tier wish… Well, he wasn't one anyway.
As the gas multiplied, the magician was forced to channel more miracles into the container.
The gases writhed like untamable prehistoric beasts, their reactions growing increasingly violent with each miracle.
The magician's face twitched, his grin splitting his cheeks open to reveal the flesh beneath. His body melted like a wax sculpture, dripping slowly.
His lifeless eyes fixed on Don, who shrugged nonchalantly.
"Seventeen minutes left. Hang in there."
The magician: "..."
Why did this guy feel even more shameless than that Traveler from before?
Was he just taking this for granted?
"Rules are rules," Don said, tapping the iron box with the Golden Hammer whenever it showed signs of deformation. At the same time, he quietly instructed the System:
'System, ready?'
He still had 8,815 knowledge fragments left.
[Affirmative, Host.]
["Artisan" module prepared. 500 knowledge fragments consumed. Warming up]
[Remaining fragments: 8,315.]
Ten minutes left.
Don stared at the sealed iron lump.
The substance inside had begun to change.
The once-transparent liquid now swirled with murky hues.
The magician's body stuttered, but he kept snapping his fingers.
Don struck the box again, reinforcing it.
Seven minutes left.
By now, the internal pressure had grown so intense that even the magician had to slow the rate of gas injection.
The water had turned completely turbid, shimmering faintly with a metallic sheen.
Five minutes left.
The metallic luster spread, saturating the entire interior.
Three minutes left.
A 'miracle' had already taken place.
The theater, recognizing this as a "miracle of creation," began to draw upon its own reserves to sustain the phenomenon.
Yet at this moment, Don turned his gaze to the magician, whose form had twisted further from the strain.
"What's the first rule of being a magician?"
The magician's lips split wider. "Never perform unprepared."
Don suddenly stepped back.
He stopped reinforcing the container. His left hand, now wrapped in dark iron chains, flickered with a faint crimson glow as spirituality seeped into the embedded ruby.
The magician, wholly focused on the metallic mass inside the box, barely registered the change—until the chains speared through his body.
Law of Reality Enhancement suppressed his existence in an instant.
Whether this was a marionette or a historical projection, the melting wax-figure magician slowly turned his head, grinning with rows of jagged teeth.
"Miracle… glorious—"
THUD.
Don's right hand swung the Golden Hammer down onto his chained left palm.
THUD.
THUD.
[500 knowledge fragments consumed. Current enhancement elevated to Demigod tier.]
'Duration: 60 seconds.'
The chains split at the ends, countless tendrils lashing around the magician's body while others shot outward—piercing invisible walls, shattering hidden barriers, tearing through the veiled space.
RIP—
RIP—
RIP—
The grand theater's curtains were shredded. Reinforced by semi-divine Reality Enhancement, the chains pinned down a corner of the stage!
To the theater, this was a mere scratch. But to Don?
A fatal flaw.
Time to show them what art really is.
"System. Ignite."
Under the gaze of countless marionettes, the unseen presence above, and the assembled Beyonders—
The compressed substance, subtly altered by the System, detonated.
[500 knowledge fragments consumed. Current enhancement elevated to demigod tier.]
Metallic hydrogen's explosive force surpassed TNT by thirty to forty times.
"Enhance!"
A semi-divine reinforcement of the iron box's physical properties.
This would be the greatest fireworks display of the century.
Don's blood roared in his veins.
Chains coiled around him, yanking him backward as shadows convulsed—swarming insects, stitched monstrosities, hollow-eyed marionettes, old and young, men and women, Beyonders and ordinary folk.
They stared silently at Don, wrapped in his protective bonds—
Then—
BOOM.
The box exploded.
In one-thousandth of a second, blistering heat and apocalyptic temperatures engulfed everything.
The shockwave was a ravenous beast from the darkest woods, igniting the world in its wake.
The earth trembled. The dome shuddered.
The theater, unable to lower its ruined curtains, writhed under the Law's grip—until the flames, erupting from one corner, consumed it whole.
In the northwest corner of Tingen, the ground quaked.
Owen whirled around. Olsen, who had Traveled to investigate, paled.
Together, they stared at the distant circus—
Where the sky burned, and the earth split apart.
(End of Chapter)