Benjamin Crenshaw sat at his wide stone desk, absentmindedly tapping a pen against his lips. An array of papers lay before him, covered in his thoughts and notes on the apocalypse. He shook his head, eyeing the mess of papers. He put his pen down, exactly flush with the edge of the table, and began sorting the pages. Theory notes on the left, diagrams to the side. His diary of events front and center. And finally, his catalogue to the right. This was by far the largest stack of papers, as he was constantly adding to the pile, and revising old assertions.

He smiled, looking at the top page. So much had changed.

He’d always been the reedy, bookish boy growing up. He’d rather have his nose in a book than speak to others. He’d had the importance of good grades drilled into his head since he could read, to the point of excluding all else. He still felt his heart swell with pride remembering the looks on his mother’s face when he brought home his first science fair award. He’d been hooked on it ever since. His singular focus on science and studies had made him a loaner, all his life. Even in college, he’d neglected to make any real friends, and that suited him just fine.

People were just tools, really.

His bookish looks lent him a sort of innocence, a boyish charm. It put others at ease, which was all too useful. He’d gotten a job at a pharmaceutical lab straight out of college, running drug trials. He loved the exact, methodical nature of the work, and it brought out the best in his skillset. He ran his thumb along a small scar across the back of his hand. His work demanded perfection, and any mistake could be costly.

It was exactly this mindset that had allowed him to thrive now that the world as humanity knew it ended. Everything in the world existed in a set of rules. Whether they be unknown or discovered, the fact remained that there were always a set of governing laws. So it was simply the next step then, when he’d discovered magic. He recalled it perfectly, so clear was the epiphany.

Burville was being overrun. Beasts out of nightmare were tearing neighbors from their homes, loved ones from each other’s arms. Benjamin had barricaded himself in his garage, feeling a sort of separated, vague panic, but focused moving his deep freeze in front of the interior door, careful not to open it. He didn’t want anything to spoil in case the electricity cut out. He’d locked the garage door, and wedged some wooden blocks in the rails to stop it from sliding.

Then he’d calmly sat on the floor, cold concrete numbing his legs, and read. He’d already read the information the obelisks had distributed, of course. He’d been one of the first to grab one of the small slivers of crystal. He’d been skeptical of the claims put forth by the obelisks and their smaller counterparts, but it seemed at least they were speaking the truth about testing humanity. But that was not why he reread it now, as the screaming and sirens continued outside. No, he would need to test this mana, and its properties. The obelisk was a bit vague on how to use it, so he began experimenting.

He’d begun with attempting to feel the mana within himself, and while it was an exhausting mental exercise, he eventually succeeded, finding a small pocket of consciousness that seemed to buzz against within his mind. After that, it was simply a matter of testing what it could do. Of course, he was familiar with myths and some pop culture fantasies, so he tried to create fire first.

He failed miserably, with absolutely no results. So he reevaluated his notions, and instead of trying to create, tried manipulating existing matter. And lying beneath him, separating his rear from dirt, was a wide swath of relatively homogenous material. His first attempts had been crude, just carving lines, or creating small hills out of the material.

But he was far more creative than simple carvings.

He’d reinforced the garage door almost immediately, forming a solid defense. Then he’d bored small holes through it, and the metal beyond it, watching. He didn’t succeed the first day, but by the third day in his barricaded fortress, he had it down to, quite literally, a science.

He smoothed the paper, making sure to align the edges with the stack. The young man stood, limbering up his back as he pushed his chair in, perfectly centered. He knew from experience that standing hunched over all evening would really hurt him in the morning, unless he stretched first. And any good medical journal would recommend stretching before physical activity. So he went through his stretches, making sure to relax his stringy muscles.

He straightened, smoothing his shirt as he donned a lab coat, covering it with a thick, dark apron. He washed his hands thoroughly, making sure to scrub in each crevice of skin, until his skin was ruddy in the dim light of the room. Donning a fresh pair of gloves and a surgical mask, he walked into the next room.

Feeding mana into the stone floor through the soles of his feet, he brought the kennel forward, stone flowing like water as his moved. The creature inside hissed and smashed against the grating, legs clicking as it twisted, trying to find any way out. With an exertion of will, the cage shifted, widening and flattening as the creature hissed more frantically, rapidly running out of room. The inside of the cage molded itself to the creature's dimensions, only stopping once it was forced flat against the ground, legs splayed, completely immobilized. A hole opened in the stone across the beast’s back, as the young man prepared his tools. Beneath his mask, Benjamin smiled. This one’s thorax was 14% longer compared to its shoulder height. Perhaps a larger digestive tract? Or even an additional organ type?

Only one way to find out. He picked up the scalpel, inspecting it for any sign of contamination. Depending on what he found today, he’d have to update his catalogue again. He might even be up all night revising his notes. He moved a small box built into the side of one of the cages. A series of tubes ran out of the top, arching over the top of the cage in bunches. Each one ended in a needle, currently buried in the flesh of a massive creature chained to the wall. Reaching up, he pulled on a large lever rapidly to prime the pump. A soft whimper whispered through the bars of the cage. A steady drip of purple liquid flowed through the tubes, mixing in the boxe’s receptacle before filling a small vial below.

Grabbing the vial, he held it up to the firelight. It was slightly more viscous than usual, he’d need a replacement soon. No matter. The mayor would provide a new one, and in return he would continue to provide solutions to the town’s many problems. The thought reminded him of the missing rangers, and the strange grey imposter. His smile widened, eyes dilating at the thought. He hoped they found it soon, he couldn’t wait to discover all it’s secrets. Spirits high, he returned to the creature he would be researching tonight. He’d designated this species as ‘Arachnape’, due to its spider like webbing, and eight long legs ending in disturbingly primate-like hands. He prepared the injection site, shaving the creature’s back before disinfecting it’s thick hide. He did some quick calculations for the injection based on the previous subject’s reaction before quickly filling the syringe and plunging it into the beast. This was meant to be an experiment, after all. The creature struggled and shrieked, limbs unable to thrash within the cage. It gradually quieted, going still. He noted the time it took for the sedative to take effect, then grabbed the scalpel.

Before he began cutting, he stepped on the switch to close the vents leading to the house above, unsealing his small laboratory. As the remaining citizens of Burville went about their evening, barring windows, eating small meals and hoping for salvation, they heard nothing from Mr. Crenshaw’s small home. His magical research had saved all their lives, so they did not begrudge him his privacy.