Reincarnator Returns: Second Shot

Dr. Reid returned to his room after leaving half an hour ago.

”I’m going to test your talent with this,” she said.

Behind her was a washing machine-sized contraption with ten light bulbs attached to the top lid.

It seemed heavy. It took two burly hospital staffmen lugging it around with great difficulty before they positioned it near his bed.

”To put it simply: Psion is magic. The more Psions you have, the more powerful your magic will be. What kind of power you’ll have is a topic for another conversation.

This is a machine that measures the natural Psions in the human body. It’s called the Psionic Talent Assessor, but that’s not entirely accurate. It only counts how many Psions you have before any practice or modification. It does not indicate how powerful you’ll be in the future, just how easy you’ll have it compared to others.”

This was the first innovative technology Eren saw in this new world. But it wasn’t unfamiliar.

Back home, there were techniques in measuring someone’s Ræzoň. It was primitive, using leaves on water, but it did give a measure on someone’s talent based on how many ripples appeared on the bowl.

The more Ræzoň you had, the better. But quantity was not the be-all-end-all of cultivation. Technique was what differentiated the good from the great, the great from the pinnacle.

”See these lightbulbs at the top of the machine? They measure your talent from one to ten stars.

One to two stars means you’re a normal human. The Psions you have in your body are extremely limited, only coming from the world around you. No innate storage.

Three to four stars means below average talent. People who have this aptitude will have a hard time becoming Awakened.

Five to six stars is average. The majority of Awakeners have this kind of talent. Their success will largely rely on effort and luck.

Seven to eight is exceptional. They’re destined to become top prospects in Awakener organizations.

Nine stars is supreme. We call them superstars. They have the highest chances of becoming global superheroes.”

Dr. Reid began calibrating the machine. Punching buttons, changing sliders.

”And ten stars?” Eren finally asked.

”Ten is unheard of.” She took a second before continuing, ”well, at least in the current generation.”

She nodded to the hospital staff guarding the contraption. They took out something from the back: white wires with circular patches at the ends.

”These are electrodes,” she said, taking the patches and attaching them to various parts on his chest and shoulders. ”It will measure the potential of your Upper body.”

A switch flicked open. The light bulbs atop the contraption began to light up from left to right.

One, two, three...up until the fifth light bulb.

Dr. Reid waited for a good moment, but still, the sixth lightbulb remained unlit. ”Five stars. Average talent,” she remarked. ”I wouldn’t get discouraged by this. It’s a good starting point.”

But Eren didn’t consider this as a disappointment. The last time his talent was assessed, his parents abandoned him. Having any talent at all was a blessing.

Besides, there were multiple ways to increase capacity for Ræzoň.

”Next, I’ll measure your Psionic talent in the Lower Body.”

They measured aptitude in separate parts? ”Why is it different?” Eren asked.

Dr. Reid transferred the patches on his legs, knees, and feet while she answered his question.

”Generally, an abundance of Psions in the Upper Body corresponds to the talent in using offensive Ascension Arts, while the Lower Body corresponds to movement-based Arts.

There are exceptions. Like if someone was talented in taekwondo, their talent in the Lower Body will be doubly important, and their Upper Body talent will go largely unused.”

That made sense, albeit a little bit primitive. Millenia of history and innovation allowed cultivators to leverage offense, defense, and movement using different parts of the body—or everything altogether.

Separating talents based on body parts was simply too reductive. It neglected to take into account a person’s unique strengths, or the creativity and freedom when it came to Ræzoň.

The contraption lit up once more as Eren ruminated. It stopped at the fifth lightbulb, with the sixth one not even emitting a twinge of brightness.

”Average talent in the Lower Body,” she muttered. ”Both at 5-stars, that’s not bad at all. It entitles you to a 5-star Ascension Art sponsored by the United Governments.”

She took out a cylinder case made out of pure porcelain from a chest behind her. It had a scene of a volcanic eruption glazed on its surface like an ancient artifact.

With a pop, she twisted the lid off and revealed a weathered scroll inside.

She took it out and began unfurling it.

”Let me first explain the purpose of an Ascension Art. It’s a piece of knowledge that teaches you how to properly absorb and store the Psions in your body. It shows you how to turn your body from a mortal, into something supernatural.

There are many types of Ascension Arts, some focusing on attack or defense, but this one in particular focuses on basic Psion Gathering. It shows you how to store Psions in your body and leverage it to produce tremendous power.

It can be used for offense, defense, and movement. It doesn’t excel in anything, but it also doesn’t lack in anything. It’ll just build a solid foundation.”

She turned the scroll over towards him. His eyes widened.

”What...”

”You can’t read it like a normal scroll,” she explained, mistaking his surprise for confusion. ”You have to absorb it by staring at the scroll for a minute straight and it will automatically enter your mind. It’s name is the—”

Art of the Volcanic Mantra.

”Art of the Volcanic Mantra,” she revealed.

That was their Ascension Art. Their language. Their Ræzoň.