Salt king

Zane fitted the mana core into the carved holder within the stick, his movements precise as if he'd rehearsed this moment a hundred times in his head. The carved runes along the stick seemed to hum in anticipation as he pressed down on the core, connecting it to the intricate rune lines he had so painstakingly engraved.

Then it happened.

A flame ignited at the top of the stick, steady and strong. It wasn't an ordinary fire—it burned evenly, bright but controlled, as if the very laws of nature had decided to cooperate just this once. Zane stared at the flame, his face lighting up with the wonder of someone who had just discovered the secrets of the universe.

"Fire," Zane whispered, awe in his voice. He held the stick up triumphantly, marveling at his creation. For a moment, he felt a strange kinship with those early humans who had stumbled upon fire for the first time, staring at it with a mix of fear and reverence.

This was the culmination of his sleepless night, his feverish work, and his brilliant mind. By using the mana core as a battery of sorts, Zane had managed to power his rune—a concept that now seemed so simple, yet revolutionary.

If it was just about creating fire, he could have finished hours ago. After all, fire was just the result of combustion—a chemical reaction between fuel and oxygen that produces heat, light, and energy. Zane had applied this principle to his rune, programming it to mimic the natural laws of combustion.

But, of course, Zane couldn't leave it at just fire.

He'd gone further, painstakingly fine-tuning the runes and mana consumption. By carefully programming the setup, he could adjust the strength of the fire based on how much mana the core supplied.

With additional attachments, he could potentially increase its power even more, creating a flame that burned hotter or longer without wasting precious mana. According to Vista's simulation, this prototype consumed one mana point every ten minutes at maximum output and only one point per hour at its current strength.

This wasn't just fire. This was Zane-made fire—customizable, efficient, and utterly brilliant.

But Zane wasn't done testing. Grinning like a mad scientist who had just brought their Frankenstein to life, he turned to Vista. The invention was already saved in the folder marked Inventions under the name "Torch," alongside its required mana cost for duplication: ten mana points.

"Well, let's see if you work," Zane muttered to himself, his fingers flying across Vista's interface. As he used the mana points from the mana core onto it, and now it was about to make his genius shine even brighter. He transferred the required ten mana points into Vista.

And just like that, it happened.

A soft glow formed in the air before him, shimmering like heat waves rising from a summer road. Slowly, the materialized object took shape. A second torch appeared, identical to the first—every rune, every detail, perfectly replicated. The only thing missing was the mana core.

Zane grabbed the new torch, turning it over in his hands to inspect it. It was flawless. He had done it. He had successfully created a method to replicate his inventions using mana, a system that could potentially revolutionize the way this world used magic.

His heart raced with excitement as he turned to Sylphie, holding the torches in both hands like trophies. "Sylphie! Did you see that? Look! I—"

Zane froze mid-sentence. Sylphie stood there, completely motionless, her wide blue eyes fixed on the torches. Her mouth hung open in shock, as if she had just witnessed a dragon do a tap dance.

"Uh, Sylphie?" Zane called, waving one of the torches in front of her face. "Hello? Anyone home?"

Still no response. Zane squinted at her, his brow furrowing in confusion. He snapped his fingers in front of her, then leaned closer, studying her frozen expression. "Oh no," he said dramatically, stepping back and gasping. "I broke her! She's stuck in awe mode!"

Finally, Sylphie blinked, snapping out of her daze. "M-Master… what… what did you just do?" she stammered, her voice trembling.

"What did I do?" Zane repeated, grinning ear to ear. "Oh, nothing much. Just bent the laws of nature and magic to my will, created an efficient and portable energy system, and proved that I'm the smartest person alive in any world. No big deal."

Sylphie stared at him, clearly unsure whether to be impressed or terrified. "But… Master, you just… made fire. And then you made another one! Out of nothing!"

"Not nothing," Zane corrected, holding up a mana stone. "Out of this. This little beauty right here. And a lot of genius, obviously."

Sylphie's gaze darted between the torches, the mana stone, and her eccentric master. "Master," she said hesitantly, "you… you might be a genius."

Zane smirked, striking a dramatic pose with the torch. "Might be? Sylphie, I'm the genius. And this," he said, gesturing to his creation, "is just the beginning."

-------------------------------

Zane stepped out of his makeshift bath, his crimson red hair still damp and messy, his porcelain-like skin glowing faintly in the morning light. Staring at his reflection in the cracked mirror, he posed with exaggerated flair, flexing his arms like a scrawny hero in a low-budget action film.

"Look at this face," he muttered, tilting his head to the side and giving himself a wink. "Porcelain skin, hair as red as fire, and golden eyes that scream 'royalty.' No wonder they kicked me out—probably couldn't handle the competition."

He struck another pose, grinning smugly. "Finally, I've joined the handsome club. Take that, high school bullies!"

Humming the Star Wars theme, he threw on some clothes, his tune turning into an off-key yet passionate orchestral march. By the time he reached the table, Sylphie was already waiting, setting down a plate of fried rabbit and a tough-looking loaf of bread.

"Ah, breakfast fit for a lord," Zane said, sitting down dramatically like a king taking his throne.

Sylphie giggled. "The villagers were so happy, Master. They wanted you to have the best of what we have!"

Zane picked up the rabbit meat with reverence, as though it were a rare delicacy served at a five-star restaurant. He took a hearty bite, chewing with exaggerated delight.

"The bread's a little... enthusiastic," he said, tugging at it like he was in a tug-of-war with a particularly stubborn shoe. "But the rabbit? Divine. I mean, it's not exactly Michelin-starred, but after what I've been eating, it might as well be ambrosia."

Sylphie's smile brightened. "I'm so glad you like it, Master!"

"Like it?" Zane took another dramatic bite, raising his hand like he was about to make a royal decree. "I love it! Sylphie, you've outdone yourself—this is at least a solid 4.5 out of 10."

Sylphie blinked. "Uh... thank you?"

He set the bread down with a loud thud, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Sylphie, would you be a darling and fetch me some salt? Just a pinch, to elevate this culinary masterpiece."

Sylphie froze, her cheerful expression faltering. "Oh, Master, you jest. We can't afford that."

Zane stopped mid-chew, his fork halfway to his mouth. "Wait, what?"

"Salt is very expensive, Master," she explained. "A half-kilo pouch costs a gold coin."

"..."

"A gold coin is a 100 silver coin."

"..."

"A gold coin is enough to sustain a family for a couple of months."

Zane nearly choked. "A gold coin?! For salt?! Are we seasoning food with treasure now?"

Sylphie tilted her head innocently. "Salt is rare, and it's very important. Only the wealthier families can afford it regularly."

Zane sat back, his eyes narrowing. "Let me get this straight. This world has magic—fireballs, flying broomsticks, probably dragons—and you're telling me salt is a luxury?"

Sylphie nodded enthusiastically, clearly missing his sarcasm. "Exactly, Master! Isn't it fascinating?"

"Oh, it's fascinating, all right," Zane muttered, leaning back in his chair. His mind was already racing. "Sylphie, according to the map we are very close to the ocean, aren't we?"

"It's about half a day's journey," she replied. "Why do you ask?"

Zane didn't answer immediately. Instead, he grabbed his knife, flipped it dramatically in his hand, and pointed it toward the ceiling. "Sylphie," he declared, his golden eyes sparkling with sudden inspiration, "how many mana cores do we have left?"

Sylphie thought for a moment. "After subjugating 132 rabbits, we have exactly 69 mana cores."

Zane raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't there be 132 mana cores if we killed 132 rabbits?"

Sylphie shook her head. "Not all of them had evolved enough to form mana cores, Master."

"Of course not," Zane muttered, rolling his eyes. "Can't even trust rabbits to be consistent."

He tapped his fingers on the table, doing quick calculations in his head. "Alright, a liter of ocean water contains roughly 35 grams of salt. If I can boil 50 liters of water in an hour using my current rune-powered fire setup, which consumes six mana points per hour, that's—"

He paused, his mind reeling. "That's 1.75 kilos of salt per hour. With one mana core lasting 300 minutes at full burn, I can boil about 250 liters of water per core."

Sylphie watched as Zane's eyes lit up like he'd just discovered a new continent. His lips twitched into a manic grin. "At that rate, I could extract nearly 8.75 kilos of salt per mana core. And at a hundred silver coins per half kilo…"

He slapped the table, startling Sylphie. "That's 1,750 silver coins per mana core! Holy hell, Sylphie, do you know what this means?"

Sylphie blinked, confused. "It means… we'll have a lot of salt?"

"It means we're going to be filthy rich!" Zane shouted, leaping to his feet and knocking over his chair. "Forget being a failed magician—Zane Ravencroft is about to become the Salt King of this world!"

Sylphie tilted her head. "Salt King?"

"Think about it!" Zane gestured wildly, pacing the room. "No more eating bland rabbit or chewing on rocks disguised as bread. No more scrimping and saving for basic necessities. With this plan, we'll revolutionize the economy, Sylphie! Salt for everyone—and a mountain of gold for us!"

Sylphie still looked lost, but she couldn't help smiling at his enthusiasm. "That sounds… wonderful, Master."

"Oh, it's more than wonderful, Sylphie," Zane said, rubbing his hands together. "It's genius. It's perfection. It's—"

He stopped mid-sentence, his face turning serious. "Wait. Do we have enough barrels for all the salt?"

Sylphie frowned. "Barrels?"

"Never mind, I'll figure it out," Zane muttered, waving her off as he began scribbling ideas furiously on a scrap of paper. "We're going to need a cart, some barrels, and maybe a catchy name for the brand. How about 'Ravencroft's Refined Salt'? No, too boring. 'Zane's Gold Dust'? Hmm…"

Sylphie sighed, shaking her head fondly as her master spiraled into yet another ambitious (and likely chaotic) plan. Whatever this "salt empire" was going to be, she had a feeling it was just the beginning of Zane's schemes.