Mind Game (3)

So far, a total of five fixed-handle users had asked me for Orichalcum.

Let's Grow Trees, Princess Chaeng-gu, GonnaBeADuke, Passing Dwarf, and KingLeor.

If they had each requested different items, I wouldn't have thought twice about it. But when every single one of them lined up demanding Orichalcum, suspicion naturally crept in. Wondering if the metal possessed some hidden properties I was unaware of, I scoured the Gallery from top to bottom, but turned up empty-handed. There was literally nothing useful—just a handful of pointless shitposts.

Hoo boy... I really have no clue.

I couldn't help feeling baffled. The timing was far too uncanny to dismiss as mere coincidence. It wasn't just one or two people, but five whole users. Even setting the dwarf aside, that still left four. Yet despite having ample suspicion, I lacked concrete proof. For now, I decided to focus on the immediate task at hand: the trade with KingLeor. I had asked him to wait a moment while I browsed the forum.

Bizarrely enough, it was the exact same item Princess Chaeng-gu had just handed me. Did every demon household possess one of those? Since they claimed magic was woven into their daily lives, it wasn't impossible. Still, I had no intention of acquiring duplicate gear. I needed something else.

My initial confusion at the mention of a gas mask quickly dissolved as I realized just how critical such a tool could be. My own body had adapted to withstand most venoms and toxins, but the rest of my companions had no such protection. If it were up to me, I would have hunted down more Golden Poison Frogs to commission pills from Allfather, but for reasons unknown, the golden frogs had ceased spawning entirely.

A gas mask should cover that gap, right?

First, I needed to ascertain what kind of gas mask this was. Performance varied wildly between military and civilian models, and given how haphazard scientific progress was across different dimensions, there was no telling how effective it would truly be.

Now that is incredible. KingLeor's explanation left me genuinely impressed. Just like during our previous trade, he was offering something immensely practical. There was zero reason to refuse. Before finalizing, however, I had a burning question.

I deliberately refrained from mentioning that multiple other users had contacted me hunting for the same metal. Revealing that risked sparking unnecessary misunderstandings, and after all, it might still turn out to be nothing more than my own overactive imagination.

Just like how the dwarf slapped it onto his brewing machine. I swallowed those words back down.

Upon hearing that animal variants existed, I turned my head to tally up our members. Those requiring standard humanoid gas masks were myself, Ludwig, Fast Tree Sloth, Ggobongi, and finally Wonmo. Only Tyrano and Largo, who had comparatively elongated snouts, would need the specialized animal masks.

And Cain? Cain was a stone statue who had no lungs to speak of. Worst case, I could just shove him into the subdimensional backpack.

"Who, me? Never."

"I was just checking the Gallery."

Brushing off Cain and his uncanny perceptiveness, I resumed my conversation with KingLeor. Fortunately, he was able to provide the exact quantity of gas masks I needed. In return, I gifted him a substantial bounty of Orichalcum: five full ingots, each roughly the size of a clenched fist.

Faced with such an absurd declaration, he simply laughed it off and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠finalized the transfer. Once the trade concluded, I eagerly inspected the delivery.

To my surprise, the standard gas masks weren't much different from the ones I knew back home: a canister screwed into the mouth section, and an airtight hood encompassing the entire head. What's more, the eye pieces were fitted with reinforced tempered glass. I had no idea their craftsmanship possessed this level of engineering.

Of course, that was just the standard model. As for the elongated animal masks...

Wait, isn't this straight-up a plague doctor beak mask?

It was practically identical to the iconic beak masks worn by historical plague doctors, where the elongated beak itself functioned as the filter canister. I couldn't help feeling a bit apprehensive about whether Tyrano could comfortably wear such a thing.

"Krrk?"

"Does it feel uncomfortable?"

"Ppiii!"

Thankfully, he showed no signs of discomfort.

"Kkyuaaaak!"

Instead, it was Wonmo who let out a terrified screech and scrambled away in sheer panic. Well, fair enough—plague doctor masks were objectively terrifying. In any case, I distributed the remaining masks to the rest of the crew and walked them through how to strap them on. While these particular fantasy-made masks were new to me, their operational mechanics were fundamentally identical to modern Earth gear, making the training process smooth and effortless.

"#$%%#. #%%$?"

"I traded for them on the Gallery."

Hearing that they came from the Gallery, Ludwig raised an eyebrow in utter disbelief. Reading the bewildered skepticism plain across his face, I asked quietly, "Is there a problem?"

"There is. This is... military issue." Having picked up the fundamentals of basic speech, Ludwig was now able to stitch together simple responses. Seeing the gravity on his face, I tilted my head, wondering why military equipment was such a big deal. Ludwig paused to ponder for a second before muttering under his breath, "Sold... on the Gallery...?"

"Well, technically bartered from another user."

"At least... high nobility. %%#."

A Marquis. If I recalled correctly, that was the tier directly below a Duke. Indeed, procuring military-grade gas masks—and in this quantity, at a moment's notice—was anything but normal. The supplier had to be a high-ranking military officer, likely supreme commander tier or holding equivalent authority. In human terms, someone had just committed massive military embezzlement.

Is this really okay to flaunt?

Just to be safe, I opened the Gallery's auction hall to check if comparable gas masks were listed. Fortunately, a few were up for sale, though the asking prices were astronomical. If they were already circulating on the market, showing them off on the forum shouldn't raise any major red flags. Without further hesitation, I whipped up a new post.

"Orichalcum again?!"

I let out an empty, exasperated chuckle. Still, unlike the others, she ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had stated an explicit and reasonable purpose, much like the dwarf had. There was no real ground to suspect any malice—it just felt like a staggering chain of coincidences. Besides, Starlight Princess was someone whose aid was invaluable to my survival, so I gladly agreed to the exchange.

With Starlight Princess's support secured, all that remained was preparing for tomorrow's expedition. Since our entire entourage would be moving together as a single pack, foolproof preparations were mandatory. And among all the potential variables, the biggest wildcards were undoubtedly the youngsters.

"Wonmo. Tyrano."

"Kkyu?"

"Ppi?"

The moment I called their names, two pairs of round, innocent eyes turned toward me. Just looking at them made my heart melt, but stern discipline was non-negotiable today. If even one of them went missing in the wild, it would be an emergency; if both disappeared at once? That would instantly become the greatest catastrophe of my life. Thorough training was paramount.

"Tomorrow, we're going on a very important expedition. That means your behavior is going to be crucial."

"Kkyuuu?"

"Ppiii?"

The two tilted their heads, looking at me as if to say, What's that got to do with us?

How on earth could I phrase this so they would actually understand? As I pondered, a brilliant pedagogical idea struck me.

"Listen closely. Tomorrow... we might not be ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠able to eat as much food."

"KKYUUUUU?!"

"PPIIIIIIIK?!"

The horrific realization that meal portions might shrink sent both of them into absolute panic. Seizing the golden opportunity, I broke it down step by step.

"That's why you two have to listen to me obediently. Let's say you're hungry tomorrow, but we don't have any food left. And then, suddenly, you catch a delicious smell from somewhere. What should you do?"

"Kkyuuuu!"

"Ppiiiik!"

Their eyes sparkled with unbridled joy. They were undoubtedly shouting: Charge straight toward it! No, it wasn't just a guess; that was literally what they had just yelled.

"NO! You can't run over there! What if it's a trap?!"

"Kkyuuu..."

"Ppiii..."

"Alright, let's try again. If you're hungry and smell something delicious, what do you do?"

"Kkyuuu!"

"Ppiik!"

"I said DON'T go, you little menaces!"

We still had a very, very long way to go.

Around the same time Grylls was struggling through obedience training with his beastly children, Mephisto was in the throes of establishing a high-stakes espionage operation. An infiltration squad needed to be dispatched to Alfheim in the near future, creating a whirlwind of tension.

However, an extremely minor hitch had cropped up in their logistical preparations.

"Keirin. Have you seen the enchanted purification canteen by any chance?"

"The purification canteen? No, I haven't."

Since ancient times, captured spies had been treated with zero mercy. Even if an infiltrated nation subjected them to brutal interrogation followed by immediate summary execution, the home country had no legal right to object. Consequently, infiltrators required meticulous, exhaustive preparation, alongside a variety of survival gear. The purification canteen had been slated as part of that kit, intended for crossing treacherous, poisoned borderlands.

"Strange. I could have sworn it was in the armory just yesterday."

"You must have miscounted, Father."

Keirin maintained an unyielding poker face. After all, that very canteen had already been handed over to Grylls. Fortunately, her father, Asmode, merely tilted his head in mild perplexity without suspecting foul play.

"Speaking of which, Father... when I reviewed today's military logistics ledger, I noticed that the inventory of gas masks was noticeably deficient."

"Hmm? Gas masks?"

"Yes. Do you happen to know the reason?"

Caught off guard by Keirin's sudden question, Asmode blinked rapidly before offering a steady reply. "I have no idea."

"Is that so?"

"Indeed."

Father and daughter stared each other down, both feigning complete and utter ignorance. Yet neither could entirely conceal the subtle, nervous twitching in their eyes.

"It would seem prudent to conduct a thorough audit of our stockpiles and item counts."

"A splendid idea, Father."

A silent, high-stakes game of reading the room—on multiple fronts—had officially begun.