Chapter 3: The Stable Boy and the Secret Art
Location: The Royal Arken Stables.
Time: Three Days Later. Mid-day.
Current Status: Stable Boy (Lowest Rank).
The Stables of House Arken were not a barn; they were a fortress for beasts.
Built from grey stone and reinforced with iron beams, the structure housed over two hundred mounts. These were not simple farm horses. There were Destriers bred for heavy cavalry, swift Coursers for messengers, and—in the reinforced sector at the back—Mana-Beasts that required chains to keep them from eating the grooms.
Ren stood knee-deep in a pile of soiled hay, a heavy iron shovel in his hands.
His hands were blistered. The raw, red skin on his palms had peeled away and bled, only to scab over and tear again. His back ached with a dull, throbbing rhythm that matched his heartbeat.
"Move it, Null!"
A whip cracked the air, snapping inches from Ren's ear.
Ren didn't flinch. He didn't look up. He simply drove the shovel into the muck, lifted the heavy load, and tossed it into the wheelbarrow.
"I said move faster!" Gable shouted.
Gable was the Senior Groom. He was a man shaped like a barrel, with a red face and a belly full of cheap ale. He had taken Caelum's instructions to heart. For the last three days, he had assigned Ren the work of three men.
"I am moving, Sir Gable," Ren said, his voice level.
"Don't call me Sir! You're lower than the horse shit you're shoveling!" Gable laughed, kicking the wheelbarrow. It tipped slightly, spilling some of the filth back onto the floor Ren had just cleaned. "Oops. Looks like you missed a spot. Clean it up before lunch, or you don't eat."
Gable walked away, whistling, swinging his whip.
Ren paused. He looked at the spilled muck. He looked at Gable's retreating back.
A normal twelve-year-old would have cried. A normal boy would have thrown the shovel and screamed at the injustice.
Ren simply bent down and began to scoop the filth back up.
Anger is fuel, he thought calmly. But burning it now is wasteful. Store it.
As he worked, his mind was not in the stable. It was split.
One part of his brain monitored his body movements to maximize efficiency—lift with the legs, lock the core, rotate the hips.
The other part was deep inside the Bibliotheca of Infinity.
While his body shoveled manure, his mind was reading.
[ Currently Reading: 'Basic Mana Manipulation - Volume 1' ]
[ Progress: 84% ]
This was his secret. He could project his consciousness into the Archive while performing repetitive tasks. It was dangerous—if he lost focus, he would trip or fall—but it was the only way to learn.
Text from the Book:
"Mana is not water; it is blood. It does not flow where it wants; it flows where the heart pushes it. To control magic, one must first control the beat of their own spiritual heart. Visualize the Core. Spin it clockwise to gather. Counter-clockwise to expel."
Ren breathed in. Clockwise.
He imagined the small pool of blue light in his chest—the 50 units of mana he had stolen. He visualized it spinning.
It was sluggish. It felt like trying to stir cold honey.
Focus, he commanded himself.
He lifted a heavy shovel-load of wet hay. As his muscles strained, he mentally pushed the mana.
Spin.
The mana moved. A fraction of an inch.
[ Proficiency Gained: Mana Control +1 ]
Ren exhaled. He dumped the shovel.
He repeated the process. Lift. Strain. Spin. Dump.
He did this for four hours straight.
By the time the sun was high in the sky, signaling the lunch break, Ren was drenched in sweat. He smelled terrible. But his eyes were bright, burning with an intense focus.
He pushed the full wheelbarrow out to the compost pit, dumped it, and washed his hands in the freezing horse trough.
He walked to the servant's mess hall.
It was a long wooden table set up under a canopy outside. The other stable boys—sons of peasants and local farmers—were already eating. They were laughing, throwing crusts of bread at each other.
When Ren sat down at the far end of the table, the laughter died.
They scooted away from him.
"Don't sit near the Null," a boy named Miller whispered loud enough for everyone to hear. "Bad luck rubs off."
"I heard if you touch him, your mana dries up," another whispered.
Ren ignored them. He reached for the basket of bread.
It was empty.
He looked at the soup pot. The cook, a gruff woman who usually had a soft spot for kids, looked at him and shook her head. "Gable said no rations for you, boy. Said you spilled the cart."
Ren's hand hovered over the empty table. His stomach growled, a painful, hollow sound. He hadn't eaten since yesterday morning.
The other boys smirked. They had bread. They had soup with chunks of potato.
Ren slowly withdrew his hand.
"I understand," he said.
He stood up. He didn't beg. He didn't complain. He walked away from the table, heading back into the dark, cool interior of the stables.
If they wouldn't feed him, he would feed himself.
He went to his designated sleeping spot—a pile of hay in the loft above the tack room. He dug into his hidden stash.
He pulled out the Vitality Potion he had saved from the Rusty Chest.
I have half a potion left, he calculated. It restores health and provides nutrients. It is worth ten gold coins. A waste to use it for hunger.
He put it back.
Instead, he pulled out a small, dried piece of jerky he had swiped from the dog food bin earlier. It was tough, salty, and meant for hounds, but it was protein.
He chewed it slowly, letting the saliva soften the meat.
I need a new chest, he thought. The Free Draw resets tonight.
He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wooden post.
"System. Status."
[ Name: Ren Arken ]
[ Class: Novice Librarian ]
[ Level: 1 ]
[ Mana: 48 / 55 (Regenerating slowly) ]
[ SKILLS ]
Analytical Eye (Rank F)
Mana Control (Level 1): You can move mana within your body with extreme difficulty.
He had gained 5 points of max Mana just by practicing the cycling technique all morning. It was slow progress, but it was progress.
Suddenly, a loud clang echoed from the back of the stables.
Then a scream.
"Help! It's got him!"
Ren's eyes snapped open. That wasn't a stable boy playing around. That was genuine terror.
He slid down the ladder from the loft and ran toward the sound.
The commotion was coming from Sector 4—the High Security stalls.
A crowd of stable hands had gathered around Stall 44. They were holding pitchforks, looking terrified. Gable was there, his face pale, his whip hanging uselessly at his side.
"Get back!" Gable shouted. "Don't let it out!"
Ren pushed through the crowd. "What is happening?"
"The Beast," a young boy stammered, pointing at the stall. "New guy... Tom... he went in to feed it. He forgot the safety latch."
Ren looked into the stall.
The door was smashed open, hanging by one hinge. Inside, the shadows were deep.
Lying on the straw was a man, clutching his leg. Blood was pooling around him. He was sobbing, trying to crawl away.
Standing over him was a nightmare.
It was a horse, but only in the vaguest sense. It stood eighteen hands high at the shoulder. Its coat was blacker than coal, absorbing the light. Its mane wasn't hair; it looked like trailing smoke. Its hooves were split, like a goat's, and they sparked against the stone floor.
But the most terrifying part was its mouth. It had pulled its lips back to reveal rows of sharp, carnivorous teeth.
[ Monster: Abyssal Warhorse (Juvenile) ]
[ Name: Unnamed ]
[ Rank: D (High) ]
[ State: Berserk / Pain ]
[ Danger: Fatal ]
The horse reared up, its hooves flashing. It was going to stomp Tom's skull into paste.
"Do something!" a stable hand screamed at Gable.
"I... I can't!" Gable backed away. "That thing is a monster! Get the Knights!"
"There's no time!"
The horse brought its hooves down.
Whoosh.
Something small and grey darted into the stall.
It was Ren.
He didn't run at the horse. He slid on his knees through the muck, grabbing Tom by the collar of his tunic. With a grunt of exertion, Ren threw his weight backward, dragging the injured man two feet to the left.
CRACK.
The hooves smashed into the stone where Tom's head had been a second ago. The stone splintered.
The horse snorted, a sound like tearing metal. It turned its burning red eyes toward the new intruder.
Ren stood up. He stood between the bleeding man and the monster.
"Run," Ren said to Tom, not looking back. "Crawl out."
Tom didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled backward out of the stall, weeping.
Now, it was just Ren and the Beast.
The crowd outside went silent.
"He's dead," Gable whispered. "The Null is dead."
Ren looked at the horse. He felt the terrifying pressure of its aura. This was a D-Rank monster. It could kill a squad of soldiers.
But Ren saw something the others didn't.
[ Analytical Eye ]
[ Status: Berserk due to Agony. ]
[ Cause: Iron nail embedded in rear left frog (hoof). Infection spreading. ]
The horse wasn't evil. It was in excruciating pain. Every time it stepped, a nail drove into the soft nerve center of its hoof.
The horse bared its teeth and lunged, snapping its jaws at Ren's face.
Ren didn't flinch. He didn't step back.
He stepped forward.
He raised his right hand, palm open.
Mana Control. Maximum Output.
He didn't have a spell. He didn't have a shield. But he had the Manual of Basic Survival.
"Animals are sensitive to intent. Pure mana, unshaped by elements, feels like water to a thirsty soul. Project calm. Project safety."
Ren closed his eyes for a split second, visualizing his spinning core. He grabbed the 50 units of mana and pushed them all into his palm.
He didn't try to attack. He released the mana as a mist.
A wave of invisible, soothing pressure washed out of him.
"Easy," Ren said. His voice was not loud, but it was infused with mana. It vibrated in the air.
The horse froze. Its teeth were inches from Ren's face. It could smell the boy—he didn't smell like fear. He smelled like ozone and old books.
The mana mist washed over the horse. It felt cool. It felt like a numbing agent against the burning pain in its leg.
The horse blinked. The red in its eyes dimmed slightly.
Ren took another step. He placed his small hand directly on the horse's nose.
The crowd gasped.
"Lift," Ren commanded softly, looking down at the horse's back leg.
The horse trembled. It snorted, hot steam blasting Ren's face. But it understood. The small human knew where the pain was.
Slowly, hesitantly, the massive beast lifted its rear left leg.
Ren didn't hesitate. He dropped to a crouch, moving to the hoof. "Don't kick me, or we both die," he muttered.
He grabbed the massive hoof. He saw the rusty iron nail head buried deep in the frog.
He gripped the nail with his fingers. He didn't have pliers.
[ Strength: 4 ]
Not enough.
Ren gritted his teeth. Reinforce.
He channeled the last dregs of his mana into his fingers.
[ Skill: Mana Reinforcement (internal) triggered unconsciously. ]
His fingers glowed with a faint, almost invisible blue sheen.
He pulled.
Squelch.
The nail slid out. Dark pus followed it.
The horse let out a sound that was half-whinny, half-groan. It shuddered, its muscles relaxing as the sharp, stabbing pain vanished, replaced by a dull throb.
Ren stood up. He tossed the bloody nail to the ground.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the piece of dried jerky he had saved for himself.
He held it out flat on his palm.
The Abyssal Warhorse looked at the nail, then at the meat, then at the boy.
It lowered its massive head. It took the jerky gently, its velvet lips brushing Ren's palm.
Ren patted its neck. It felt like touching a storm cloud—crackling with energy.
"Good boy," Ren whispered.
He turned to the stall door.
The crowd was staring at him with slack jaws. Gable looked like he had swallowed a frog.
Ren walked out of the stall. He grabbed the iron latch and closed the door, locking it.
He looked at Gable.
"He has an infection in the left hoof," Ren said, wiping his bloody hands on his tunic. "He needs a healer, not a whip. And tell the farrier he does sloppy work."
Ren walked past them. He was exhausted. His mana was empty (0/55). His head was pounding. He was starving.
But as he walked away, a new notification chimed softly in his mind.
[ Hidden Quest Completed: Tame the Untameable. ]
[ Rating: S ]
[ Reward: The Abyssal Warhorse has marked you as 'Kin'. ]
[ Reward: 1 x Silver Pandora Chest. ]
Ren's step faltered for a fraction of a second.
Silver Chest?
That was a jump. Rusty, Wooden, Iron, Bronze... Silver was high.
He kept walking, his face impassive, but inside, his heart was racing faster than it had during the fight.
He headed straight for the loft. It was time to see what a Silver Chest held.
End of Chapter 3
Summary of Events:
Hardship: Ren endures grueling labor and starvation tactics from the staff.
Training: Ren practices Mana Control secretly while working, increasing his max mana.
The Incident: An Abyssal Warhorse goes berserk due to an injury.
The Intervention: Ren saves a stable hand and confronts the beast.
The Taming: Using Analytical Eye to find the cause and crude Mana Projection to soothe the beast, Ren removes the nail and feeds the horse his own lunch.
The Reward: He gains the respect (and fear) of the staff and receives a Silver Pandora Chest from the System.