I Can Summon Subordinates?

I could summon subordinates?

I abandoned any thought of escaping and decided to raid the goblins' warehouse first.

They knew full well how valuable potions were, so they'd stockpiled a mountain of materials.

"PA-03. Paper Carrier, sortie."

At my command, a gate slightly larger than a watermelon opened above my head, and a transport craft emerged.

It was a helicopter-type aircraft, with side wings, a tail wing, and four propellers mounted atop the main body.

Units 01 and 02 were fighters — no hovering capability, sleek streamlined frames. But 03 was a transport, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠so hovering was essential, which explained the helicopter design.

Unlike the other two planes, which had been about the size of paper airplanes folded from A4 sheets, 03 was roughly the size of a small helmet, a watermelon, or a backpack.

It extended four ropes from its underside, drove them into the floor of the goblin warehouse, scooped up the medicinal herbs still in their storage bundles, and flew them straight into my gate.

Thirty kilos of herbs in a single load.

Not bad at all.

"Zero-Three. What's the maximum weight you can lift at once?"

"If the object is stationary, approximately 500 kg presents no difficulty, Mother."

"What? For real?"

This was a helicopter the size of a watermelon at best. I'd have been impressed if it could manage fifty kilos.

Five hundred? What kind of physics was this thing running on?

Then again, in a world that ran entirely on mana, quibbling about the laws of physics felt a little uncool. Better to just accept that my transport craft was genuinely useful.

"That goblin warehouse we found earlier is pretty far. Can you carry me there?"

"It is possible, Mother."

At my new order, four more ropes dropped from the helicopter's underside and generated a magical platform. It felt exactly like riding a swing suspended in midair.

An aircraft carrier being ferried around by a single transport craft. How ironic is that?

Unfortunately, I had no one to share my premium-grade humor with. My subordinates would force a laugh no matter what, which made them terrible joke audiences.

"The inside of the Tower's got more scenery than I expected."

Traveling through the forest interior meant fighting every branch and leaf along the way, so I rode the transport above the treetops instead. Soaring over the canopy on a sky-swing was a strangely moving experience.

The Tower was supposedly an indoor space, and yet a wide blue sky stretched overhead.

"Being able to share such a magnificent view with you, Mother, is a joy."

"Don't butter me up."

I grumbled, but I didn't mind the flattery one bit.

And so I swept across the second floor, gathering herbs in bulk.

"Good. Fire up the Production Room. Make Red Potions — as many as you can."

"Mother, doing so would deplete the Production Room's mana mid-process and halt the operation. I recommend manufacturing Blue Potions first to secure a mana surplus, then producing the Red Potions afterward."

"I was just checking whether you had the basic concepts down."

"As expected of you, Mother."

Truth was, I hadn't realized it at all. I'd never once run the risk of mana depletion. I'd half-assumed my mana was infinite — apparently not.

Were the goblins sitting on raw herbs because they didn't have enough mana to process them into potions? Or because they had no alchemists?

Having the technique but leaving the materials unprocessed was strange either way. But I'd already wiped out every goblin on the second floor, so it wasn't like I could resurrect one and ask. Maybe I'd try talking to someone on the third floor.

Either way, the Production Room finally spun up.

"I will manufacture ten Blue ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Potions first, followed by thirty Red Potions. Estimated time required: twenty hours."

"Yeah. Get to work."

Being alone somehow still felt like military service. Except I was the commanding officer.

Was this what military life was like for a four-star general? Probably not, but whatever.

I collected the point rewards for the second floor and stepped out through the gate. Then I got online and started checking the market price for Red Potions.

Red Potions couldn't cure diseases modern medicine had given up on. But they offered instant recovery — territory modern medicine still hadn't reached. Inside the Tower, a minor wound could become a fatal mistake, so demand for potions never dried up.

A phenomenon that only happened when demand massively outstripped supply: buyers offering premiums for bulk purchases.

Normally the seller was the one in the weaker position and the buyer held the power, so buying more meant getting a discount. With potions, the seller was king and the buyer was begging — so the reverse was true.

"Thirty Red Potions is a regular office worker's annual salary?"

The chance of a scam looked low. Most bulk potion buyers were guilds, after all — their credit was solid enough. The problem was my credibility.

"I can't exactly meet Haneul looking like this."

I wanted clean money I could hand over to Haneul. But showing up as a white-haired foreign-looking girl stuffed into my little sister's stolen school uniform? Absolutely not.

"In that case, please entrust the matter to me — Alex."

"Entrust it how?"

"If Mother would summon me, I shall faithfully execute civilian-response operations."

Captain Alex's proposal was strange. He was a pilot the size of an A4 sheet of paper at best. If he had a physical body, wouldn't he be about the size of an ant?

"If you simply provide the mana, I can operate at the same scale as an Earth human."

As if he'd read my mind, Alex spoke up first. I summoned him to confirm.

"Captain Alex, summon."

"I receive your command!"

The man who popped into existence before me was roughly 180 cm tall, blond, and looked like a Westerner. His face belonged on a Hollywood star — and not just any star. An SSS-class actor.

I shouldn't have been worrying about how to make money. I should have been shipping Alex straight to Hollywood.

"I cannot speak English. Because Mother is not proficient in English."

"You've got to be kidding me!"

A face like that and he couldn't speak English? That was a genuine crime against humanity. Sure, I was a high-school graduate who couldn't free-talk in English, but still.

"Alex, drop and give me push-ups."

I issued a thoroughly unreasonable order, and Alex dropped without a word of protest.

"Front leaning rest, sleep."

Thud.

"Back sleep."

Up — thud.

"Roll left."

Ssslick.

"Roll right."

Ssslick.

"On your feet."

Up!

Alex's physique was solid, and he executed my hazing drill to perfection without so much as a hitch in his breathing.

This is infuriating!

That handsome face and that killer body should have been mine. One of us got gender-swapped into an aircraft carrier, and the other looked like a special-ops agent straight out of a movie — pure protagonist material. The pilot jumpsuit he wore suited him ridiculously well.

"Alex. You're the subordinate. I'm the superior. Always remember that."

"I am well aware. Loyalty!"

My own ability wasn't about ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to mutiny against me, but I still didn't like the guy.

"Lieutenant Simona. Fabricate a suitable foreign identity for this one. And register him as a Hunter."

Hunter registration was mandatory. Meaning I — an ascender who was hiding that fact — was technically a criminal. But there was no way I was explaining this bizarre situation of awakening and changing sex to a bunch of civil servants. If I needed a Hunter identity, I'd put Alex out front instead.

That settled it.

"Alex. Your first mission."

"I receive your command."

"Go to the supermarket and buy some pork belly and lettuce. And king oyster mushrooms while you're at it."

I never imagined I could pull a crew member out into the world at human size. Feeling just how versatile my ability really was, I decided to put it to thorough use.

"I shall return shortly!"

After sending my firstborn Alex off on an errand, I fired up the computer and launched Legend of League. Then I queued as jungler.

Which was something I should never have done.

A jungler has one body, and three lanes all want the jungler. Extremely high odds that all three lanes play like garbage, blame the jungler for their own failures, and start screaming for jungle help. Even if you make a perfect gank on one side, the other two lanes flame you anyway.

Such was the tragic fate of the jungler.

The top-laner suddenly crossed every line with a parental death insult.

How the hell did he know my parents were gone and I was an orphan?!

In the old days, all I could have done was smash my keyboard in helpless rage. But now I had Lieutenant Simona.

"Simona. Hack this guy's phone and send a mobile gift worth fifty thousand won plus a thank-you message to every single person in his contacts."

"I have sent gifts totaling 9.2 million won to 184 contacts."

"He's gonna have to bust his ass if he wants those refunded."

Sure enough, the guy suddenly stopped moving in-game and eventually got auto-flagged as a leaver.

Behold my godlike authority! The superpower I awakened in the Tower!

Who would dare stand against me?!