“Curses!” The umpteenth shockwave smoothed the high grass stalks further, ripped the dead bark from nearby trees here and there, and sent the freshly arranged pile of ingredients and their unsatisfied caretaker flying.

After suffering in silence from a rough landing, the latter raced back to the beaten, smoky kettle that was one of the precious few he’d yet to blow to pieces.

Patting, wiping and dusting off random smears in an attempt to test the waters, a certain troublemaker alchemist eyed the good piece with clinical suspicion.

‘Is there a way to find out who made this thing? Our experiments require durability, and the material strengthens that.’ ‘And who should I bother? Azariah? Using [Bloodoscope]–––if that is what you have in mind–––lets us only ask polar questions.

Without this damnable limitation, it ought to have warned us about the Big Boss' impending abuse too! We had used one charge right before the water torture...’ ‘Oh, c’mon. I am glad it isn’t prophetic riddles this skill offers us.

By the way, I’m damn sure I wasn’t talking about [Bloodoscope], so why mention it? How about allowing me to express my thanks in peaceful silence for once?

Stonekins are long since extinct, I know that at least as much as you do. With no other settlement to exploit or trade with, their superbly crude craftsmanship is inaccessible to us.

Even the hivemind has only vague information about them. As such, this was but a rhetorical question all along. Got it?’ ‘Good you see there’s no use digging.

Literally, that is. Hach~. No need to worry, after all.’ The agent shook off the persistent dizziness that engulfed Linlin’s head, massaged his temples and lit a cigar.

‘Stupid, you buffoon!! Think I’d insist on taking another look at that ravaged village on the verge of disappearing forever underground? One terrible fall reducing us to literal meat patty lasts a lifetime, won't you agree?’

‘Well, that could’ve been a possibility given it’s you we’re speaking abo–’ ‘beat it. Better use that basic brainpower of yours and help me understand why the attempt failed!’

‘Sometimes I wonder if I’m slow because someone hoards all the brainpower? After all, we only have one brain.’ ‘... you are slowly but surely becoming a philosopher. Like that? I’ve notice that the hivemind seems to slip your mind easily.’

‘God forbid, hell no! You have pinned that responsibility on me for but one reason. You’re such a lazy think-tanker! Besides, you and I both know that the hivemind might be really helpful, but cannot replace brainpower.’

‘Sigh. Was worth a try.’ The agent suddenly lost interest in the beaten kettle and found himself an empty spot where he hoped to pass time smoking undisturbed for the time being.

‘Please, you have to help me here! I’m lost...’ The agent didn’t buy it. ‘No means no. I’m more of an assistant anyway.’ ‘Credible if you weren’t there with me going through endless stacks of books. Who’s lazy now?’

‘Aha… the one reading only one mountain out of what? Ten? Before passing out you mean? I am most knowledgeable about proportion, concentration, quality, reduction, and absorption. The theory is clear, but I don’t know how to do it.’

‘Can you believe it? This totally passed me!’ Pansy’s sarcasm was so cutting Linlin unconsciously frowned even more. ‘Neither do I, Stupid, neither do I.

My dear simpleton, we’re doing all these experiments for this very reason.’ ‘Your understanding depends on your mood. Isn’t that right, Pansy?

Your hobby takes a lot of effort to better grasp. As I told you just now and you deliberately blocked out, my knowledge is incomplete. That alone is reason enough to play the role of an aide at most.’ ‘But you have me here, basically storing what you missed out on.

Don’t be a dick and go touch that gargantuan file, you oaf! It’s only purpose in floating randomly in the mindscape is to wait for you. Took me ages to compile, by the way.’ ‘Tsk!’ ‘Don’t tsk me if I’m essentially the only one committed to the job!’

‘All fine and dandy, Pansy. But lemme get this straight: You’re passionate about alchemy, while I’m merely somewhat interested in it. Furthermore, why should I limit myself to your damn awful circular logic? We already talked this through.’

The agent’s final words were sufficient to shut up the Master Strategist for a while. He then took full control over the body to make the most of the remaining time. Chances are he wouldn’t get any quality training time today if he didn’t act now.

After Linlin consumed his cigar, he bent down and stretched his limbs carefully as if to ingrain every millimetre of his body, every physical limit of his movements into muscle memory. It was something the agent excelled at.

At the same time, it was also something he’d desired to do since forever. Between eating as much as he could, getting new skills, hiding from predators, murdering some ignorants, researching alchemy and levelling up his repertoire, fine-tuning definitively came short.

Keeping up with this routine wasn’t healthy. After all, if this persisted, there would be a marked difference between what Linlin could do and what his body was capable of.

It could also be said that Linlin’s muscle memory resembled a wartorn veteran lacking limbs, just in reverse. He could choose the number of joints he wanted in each finger, among other things.

Cool, no? But he didn’t care since he wasn’t sure what to do with more than three joints. Most of the time they were only in the way!

Response time, coordination, and adaptation were even worse than what he was used to with his baseline hand. In theory, it was true that he could play many specialised stunts.

However, the learning curve of a mutated limb was so steep that his muscle memory simply struggled to accommodate. Linlin had mastered the altered field of vision only through constant exposure and training. So the agent took this as his cue.

With enough practice, he should be able to develop the other skills as well. There was also the hardening ability of [Apocaliptic Hide Of The Devourer] he’d yet to completely master.

‘See, Pansy? By combining all skills that are not in conflict, training time will be more effective and less wasteful.’ ‘Heh, and the energy consumption? Stupid, your idea is utterly foolish.

If I can’t stand straight after you’re done, what is there left for me to do? Twiddle my thumbs?’ ‘That must be the selfish reason why you’re constantly cutting my training time.

Any excuse will do...’ The agent felt the Master Strategist violently squirming in their mindscape. ‘O-of course not! What do you think of me...?’ Not much of the duo’s initial agreement concerning the schedule saw realisation.

The agent’s promised training time had always been cut short whenever Pansy had a so-called brilliant idea, which happened roughly twice an hour.

Essentially, the agent could only suck it up as long as he was awake. But as the bottleneck keeping them from becoming an intermediate alchemist only grew more stubborn with each successive attempt, there was no reasonable refusal the Master Strategist could make.

Therefore, the agent was happy to wrestle away command and train. Stretching and slow movements during this current session were essential to understanding the changes and coping with the obvious mismatch that newfound power imposed on microcontrol.

Constant repetition only emphasised how justified the agent’s fears were. ‘I swear, I’m not levelling up anything before securing full mastery.

Whenever we do, the body gets messed up pretty badly as well. We’ll have the greatest skills one fine day, but won’t know how to apply them effectively. This won’t do.’

With repeated strain on his quadriceps, Linlin was able to reach his shanks with his front head much more easily than he remembered.

This little bit was not enough to convince him that his time was spent properly. Intersecting his mutated fingers and toes to the point where no air could pass through put his endurance to the test.

Then, as if that weren’t enough, he actively changed the number of joints in his fingers and covered various body parts with a green sheen of tiny phantom scales. Sweat poured down like a waterfall. There was a reason why the agent was so stubborn.

One day, the State might not be at his beck and call, which would spell their doom. Even without him stupidly slacking off, guaranteeing survival as a loner was already difficult if not straight impossible.

‘We really do need to become intermediate alchemists. My head is filled with a thousand ideas I can’t implement because we’re simply lacking. Goddamnit all! We are stalled by missing or barely working tools.

That means you don’t have to take lessons anytime soon, Stupid.’ ‘Shaddup while I’m training. It’s very distracting to have someone constantly talking about random stuff.’

‘I found out what we can do in the meantime.’ ‘Which is?’ ‘First, talking to each other while you flay your bones puts additional strain on you. This is another form of training! It increases our psychic reservoir.’

‘...why does this sound so awfully strange coming from you? Is this your excuse for excessively talking shop? Keep it down...’ ‘No. I should have a much higher standing than that by right. As for what we can do afterwards, that is... It’s working as a group.

Well, closer than we already do. Me and you where it concerns alchemical gimmicks, Azariah and her flock as harvesters, the snake to keep the Big Boss calm and approachable, that woman to help us process what needs processing–––if she ain’t asinine, that is.’

‘Sigh. What is it about the word silence that you do not understand? Nevermind. And Chartres?’ ‘…to keep as a sandbag if things go less than desired? I believe it’s called community welfare.

The scaredy chap’s either useless for anything else or plain disgusting.’ Recalling how he made equipment, the agent could only agree. ‘Sounds good.

So what do you wanna synthesise next? Spill the beans already.’ ‘...was it this obvious?’ ‘Snort. If doing so didn’t benefit your dirty schemes, you wouldn’t refine my idea further.’

‘That’s all? I’m aggrieved. Ahh... Doesn’t matter. Grey base, abyssal branch, a lesser bomb with inherently different characteristics from the other one we created.

An item we can use in close combat.’ ‘You serious? Of all things, a bomb again?! And what’s the container this time? Is a bamboo tube meant to keep our lives safe?

...you really had this idea, no?! What if it leaks? You do realise the abyssal branch represents alchemy’s darker side, and I said no for seven days straight, right?

That’s like making poison! Argh, scrap that. It. Is. Poison.’ ‘Hah, too many baseless assumptions to account for. How about keeping things simple and realistic?

The other bomb we created does not belong to any branch, and will remain so as long as we can’t move past the bottleneck. Our many experiments on this cauldron have left enough residuals that we might as well draw from the misery lottery with each subsequent trial.’

A few times, Linlin slowly rolled his neck clockwise, then counterclockwise. Once it became warm, he knew he had finished the exercise, so he bent backwards in one fluid movement as he stretched his back muscles to the maximum, forming a bridge.

‘Therefore, it is only good enough for the abyssal branch–––is what you want to tell me.’ ‘Your words, Stupid, not mine. To this I’ve much to add! Sophistication is not your selling point and you know it.’ ‘Already feeling victorious? Hehe, knock yourself out then.

As always, the only one you want to convince is yourself.’ ‘...fresh Bluffrooms are unstable when combined with Serious Radish. If we consider further that only the tiny core of the bed-sized mushroom is useful, it is actually quite precious and should not be wasted.’

‘Eh, whatever. There he goes.’ ‘Rough surface covered in a bark-like shell emitting an irritating liquid... I’m feeling sorry for them.’ ‘Me too. But I’m more interested in mixing the highly flammable blood, not the explosive core.’

‘Pitch, you mean. An excellent idea, but it leaves us with a headache. Upon contact, it catches fire and randomly changes its properties, rendering it useless as there is no container available to keep it pristine and counteract its volatile properties.

In other words, we’ll live a real dangerous life with that one around. And that's true before, during and after synthesis!’ ‘And if we use the Bluffroom in its entirety?

Because they originate from the same source, they should counteract each other.’ ‘That bulky thing weighs tonnes! It’s seven times the size of this cauldron filled up to the brim.’

‘And we have the best workers in the world to literally cut down the size.’ ‘…might work. This ingredient's pitch is not easily spilt, after all. Let’s ask Azariah, then!’

‘Who’s gonna do it. As you learned the hard way last time, she’s not exactly bursting with happiness at this idea. Do I need to remind you that another promise will likely delay our plans for at least another month?’

On the other end, there was silence. The agent had just finished stretching for today and immediately began phantom close-quarter training without conceding much of a break.

Though he forgot not to grab a pot of fresh water and force down a gutted, still bloody fox on a stick that was supposed to do his grumbling stomach justice. He then complained a little bit about the ants’ amazing cooking skills.

The agent lit another cigar and started up his first set of ever-changing blows and kicks in incredibly harsh slow motion. Untrained eyes might not have noticed, but Linlin actively involved every muscle in his body with each push.

This generated enough stress for his tissues to scream in defiance as they almost tore apart. Almost, was the keyword here. There was also force accompanying each strike, as well as more sweat than before because the exercise was as highly demanding as it was risky, each misstep potentially severe.

Everyone else would’ve felt trepidation, but not Linlin. As far as he was concerned, strenuous exercise was the norm and nothing special.

He only saw the advantage of drastically reducing his training time and experiencing the first positive results of such a dangerous training regime.

The repetitions became increasingly fluent with time. Furthermore, Linlin continually became more aware of his body and began to realise how much expertise lies beyond a simple System description.

Feeling the energy pulsing in his veins, the distinctive movement of his chest, the effect they both had on his body, as well as the lowering obstructions that his blood encountered, he came ever closer to his goal.

During the process, the agent grasped how to effectively tweak [Apocalyptic Hide of the Devourer] to get even better performance. At that moment, he knew he still had a chance to prevent heading down the deadly path of a glass cannon.

He also began to think about his benefactor as well. Maybe they should go check on that little reptile... There sure was much more to be explored.

But as grandmother Killthee used to say, haste makes waste–––before she grinningly checkmated an infuriating fly with her antique shotgun.

‘Done.’ Pansy’s interference pulled him out of his special state. ‘Done what?’ ‘Asking Azariah of course. In addition to consenting, there is no catch. We should get the Bluffroom cum helpers within at most four hours.’

‘Though she wanted as little to do with you as possible? You and your goddamn sorcery.’ ‘Diplomacy. It wasn’t easy...’ ‘Whatever, just don’t let her come running our way with skewers in her hands because I broke the promise I never knew I made and you totally forgot.’

‘This won’t happen. Well then, for how long do you plan to leave the stalker to her own devices? This isn’t like you at all.’ ‘True. Just that said stalker is that woman, that’s all.’ ‘And this gives her more allowance?’ Pansy would have raised an eyebrow if he could.

‘A promise is a promise, and Azariah warned us about fate and all that.’ ‘Karma. Ka-r-ma!’ ‘Whatever.’ Linlin shifted his weight from one leg to the other, raised his leg like a sturdy stick and whirled his body with all his fine-tuned might.

The move was bolstered by the recent enlightenment. As his greyish gauntlet covered in a sheen of tiny, green phantom scales shot out with increasing inertia, it accelerated even further.

The punch ripped through the lignified bush, barely pausing before the terrified freckle-face emerging behind the vegetation like a spooked goose.

Her dishevelled hair was blown back by the air pressure he generated. Kassmera slumped down, shivering. The agent then diverted the force downwards, where it tore a sizable hole in the grassland.

Bang!

“I don’t like surveillance.” Linlin’s apathetic voice reached Kassmera, causing a cold shudder to run down her spine. Now the little self-confidence she had gained by coming here had all evaporated in a flash, leaving her a paralysed wreck anxiously staring holes in the ground.

It was as if her soul had left her, departing for lands unknown our protagonist had no idea how to reach nor what to think of. As he looked at the hyperventilating, damaged puppet grovelling at his feet, it was not clear what nonsense both of them were concocting.

He did not take offence at her lack of response. Linlin hesitated for a moment before taking a step forward. Then he paused once more as if to carefully consider his options again.

Having come to a conclusion, he simply reached out with his hand–––a notion that caused the young woman to instinctively close her hazelnut eyes, dread gripping her quivering body as she silently awaited her punishment.

It didn’t take long for Linlin to... ruffle through her damp, brown hair. As if overwhelmed by the contrast between dark expectation and pleasant reality, Kassmera’s empty eyes darted around, while her posture, attitude and expression screamed out in hopeless confusion.

Since it didn’t fit her worldview, it almost made matters worse than an undue punishment would have. Except for a certain someone, men were creatures whose presence inflicted pain like no other. This was something she believed in her whole life.

Even with Linlin’s dark complexion, the dreaded hail of punches she’d become accustomed to remained absent. But the picture wasn't all that harmonious and positive either.

It appeared as if a brutal warlord had taken a sudden interest in an innocent woman, claiming her for himself without bothering to ask for her permission.

This was also her impression. However, instead of rebuffing the wayward advances of the opposite sex with indignation, Kassmera instinctively bowed to them as she had done so many times before. She failed to see the need to think about it.

But what if the perceived desire was simply a misinterpretation of reality? ‘What’s she doing?’ ‘Duh, maybe a woman thingy?’ Kassmera’s ragged clothing easily fell to the ground, revealing an ample bosom covered in goosebumps and countless scars.

While some had already faded considerably, others had yet to follow. ‘Isn’t she cold like that? It is early morning, right?’ ‘It is, indeed. But it’s summer we’re talking about...

Anyway, remember what the old captain used to sing?’ ‘Why bring the bastard up? Don’t tell me you forgot he was our mother’s lapdog, always looking for an opportunity to kill us.’

‘Yet we were the first to find one. So, that catchphrase... how did it turn out again?’ ‘Women are a strange flock, always longing for a leading cock~?’ ‘Yes, that’s the one.’ ‘And you do know what vice-captain did in the end?’

Linlin winced as the agent remembered the iron-blooded buffoon with awards all over his pristine military attire, sobbing in the mud as he held his bloodied crotch.

During an ongoing press conference, while everyone stood there like idiots, the world was able to assist his plight. Of course, it didn’t last long before the transmission was cut, but the damage had already been done.

‘That was an accident, she said so too.’ ‘What devilish accident incites you to pull the trigger just when he comes manly prowling?’ ‘A… justified accident? Her words, no?’

Amidst the squabbles, Kassmera finally worked her way through to her last bit of dignity. She was about to undo that coarse rug when two powerful hands grabbed her quivering, cold arms.

They carried her to the hot cauldron and dropped her close enough that she could count the marks left by fruitless trials if she so desired.

Instead of getting added to the mysteriously bubbling grey something as Kassmera feared, the man walked past her. Linlin picked up an animal hide onto which many herbs had been spread evenly to sun-dry.

Once the stalks had been rolled into an unprofessional bundle, our protagonist dusted it off with enough force to hear the air’s resistance.

He caught her up in the quality hide that would make any merchant cry if he were to learn of the abuse it continued to receive. The piece was so colourful and professionally processed that it could be hung with confidence in a proud nobleman’s reception room.

But in his hands the piece was only good enough to serve as, first, a pad for fresh herbs and now as emergency clothing. Its purchaser should have basked in the many envious looks cast his way if the piece had been sold at auction outside of the Lost Woods.

Here, it merely warmed a benumbed Kassmera. Even after a while, the woman still didn’t comprehend what had happened, as her mind went blank as blank could be.

As she attempted to solve the puzzle little by little, she became increasingly lost. Throughout her frantic efforts, one thing remained unchanged: The piece warmed her up nicely. Both physically and emotionally.

Linlin ignored the struggle within her turbid hazelnut eyes as he shifted back to the herb rolls he carelessly threw around earlier. Our protagonist was sure he must have been possessed!

The heartache! As Linlin was planning to use the herbs in the near future, he had to tow them away quickly and professionally. After all, herbs find ruin in no time when bundled together carelessly.

Such an outcome would be totally unacceptable. Meanwhile, Pansy discovered that someone had implanted troublesome cues into the agent’s simple thinking process.

Although it certainly happened in good faith, the Master Strategist was still ill at ease about the invasion. But he could hardly annoy the agent with his discovery, couldn’t he? So Pansy concerned himself with the next best thing.

“Eat your fill,” Linlin indifferently exclaimed, pointing to a rack that threatened to topple under the weight of mistreated meat stacked high, while tossing the stinky garbs into the fire. “Then help me process the herbs exactly as I tell you to.

That’s how you earn your meals.” The words intended to be a cool reminder to behave only echoed like a heavenly trumpet in Kassmera’s already crack-riddled inner world.

She... was asked to do a dignified job that would reward her? Really? “Yes,” Kassmera replied with a newfound vigour that by far exceeded what she had previously exhibited, causing Linlin to unconsciously shake his head.

He didn’t understand what was so different between earlier when she was shaking like a leaf, and now. Kassmera’s slim body suddenly seemed so full of life and zest for action.

‘Women,’ the agent exasperatedly addressed Pansy, ‘are really of a different flock.’ ‘Told ya.’

End of Part III