The Growing Flock
“Long time no see.”
As I opened Campbell’s front door and stepped inside, he greeted me without the slightest trace of surprise.
“You knew I was coming?”
“I heard about the chaos in West Teron. I figured you would show up sooner or later.”
He gestured toward the stack of documents piled on the table.
“Everything you asked for is here.”
I leafed through the papers. Maps marking mine locations, troop deployments, and detailed notes on how to process phantom ore. Cross-referencing them, I uncovered the truth East Bali had been hiding all along.
Phantom ore was just bait.
At first glance, it looked like an incredibly valuable resource. East Bali had promoted it aggressively, even staging grand parades with the Stormblade Division to flaunt its power. But the documents revealed the truth: phantom ore was merely raw material. The real treasure was the processing method—alchemy.
Alchemy was a technique that forced transmutation within the bounds of equivalent exchange. It required an alchemical circle and a lengthy preparation process, which was why I had dismissed it as combat-ineffective. Yet East Bali’s industrial revolution had been built entirely on alchemy. They had deliberately credited all progress to phantom ore, concealing alchemy’s true value. Unless someone cross-checked the records like I was doing now, phantom ore would appear to be the sole source of their power.
Alchemy… It really does seem useful when you look at it this way.
I ran the numbers in my head. Would stealing alchemy be worth it? The situation differed from the chimera industry. With chimeras, I had Boots—an overwhelming technological advantage. That let me recruit West Teron’s researchers while keeping them firmly under control. Alchemy offered no such edge. I had no master alchemists, no facilities, no foundational knowledge. Tracking down the alchemists themselves would also take considerable time.
And there’s no powerful external force to distract them…
If I tried to abduct the alchemists anyway, I would have to prepare for all-out war with East Bali. I wouldn’t lose, of course, but was alchemy valuable enough to justify the cost? A nation’s strength was no small thing—its resources, technology, and manpower. Starting a war over mere compensation was the act of a fool.
Just then, a voice rose from the jar. Not Patel’s. It belonged to the Prophet, currently serving as Vice President of Item Manufacturing.
Chairman, may I examine this alchemy in greater detail? It appears we may be able to make use of it.
I was sharing my vision with the jar, so every executive at the vice-president level and above was seeing the same information I was. I opened the section the Prophet had mentioned.
As I suspected… the application method shares a structure extremely similar to the runes we use. If I can grasp the underlying principle a little more clearly, we may be able to research it independently.
Runes and alchemy…
I had tried embedding runes into items multiple times, but every attempt had failed. More precisely, the crafting itself succeeded, yet once the rune was consumed, the item reverted to an ordinary object. Alchemy, however, might grant semi-permanent effects even if it couldn’t match a rune’s full power. Even if the experiment failed, I could still extract useful techniques from alchemy and apply them to item manufacturing.
Good. Decision made.
There was nothing left to consider. What the Prophet wanted wasn’t the alchemists themselves—it was alchemical knowledge. The difficulty of kidnapping people versus copying books was the difference between heaven and earth. Fortunately, many active agents had returned. Using them, I could access high-grade materials with ease.
This is an unexpected windfall.
The risk had dropped while the reward had grown. All that remained was to thoroughly strip East Bali bare.
I gathered everyone who had been promised immigration in an empty lot. Their number exceeded a thousand. The sudden increase was Campbell’s doing. Originally, the group had consisted only of East Bali’s secret police and their families or close associates. But upon my return, I discovered Campbell had founded a religion. His wife’s resurrection had been witnessed by those around him, and they had hailed it as a miracle. Seeing an opportunity, Campbell established a church and recruited capable individuals he had long considered promising, rapidly expanding his influence.
Thanks to him, I could handle various tasks quickly and efficiently. In particular, the information I needed regarding alchemy had filled five entire desks in just two days. Yet every advantage came with a drawback. As our forces grew, East Bali began a full-scale investigation into the cult. Without realizing it, I had become a false god. Among the thousand people gathered here, a significant number were almost certainly East Bali spies.
That was why I had assembled them. Before accepting the immigrants in earnest, it was time to root out the infiltrators.
“Looks like we’re ready, doesn’t it?”
Campbell glanced around, clicked his tongue, and gave a bitter smile. Even he could see the secret police lurking nearby. Word of our event had already spread.
“I filtered as best I could…”
“When the numbers grow this large, it can’t be helped.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No need. If anything, it saves us time.”
I had publicly announced that I would take the selected individuals to the Equator today. The faithful had gathered to witness the miracle. The East Bali agents had come to monitor what they believed was a cult holding a suspicious mass event.
“Begin.”
At my signal, Campbell pulled away the cloth, revealing the jar to the crowd. Then he shouted loud enough for everyone to hear.
“We will now begin the migration! Once you cross over, returning will be difficult, so please make sure you haven’t left anything behind!”
The hidden police sneered at Campbell. To them, he sounded like a madman. But their expressions changed the moment the event started. The first ten people were swallowed by mist and vanished into the jar. Nothing remained where they had stood.
The crowd split into two reactions. The faithful leaned forward, eager to experience the miracle. The spies stepped backward, desperate to avoid being caught up in it. The difference was glaringly obvious.
Campbell’s face hardened instantly. He had recognized some of the spies.
“Patel, increase the speed.”
At my command, the mist spread faster. It swallowed people in groups of ten, twenty, thirty. At the same time, the secret police regained their senses, blew their whistles, and rushed forward. When the East Bali agents appeared, the spies abandoned all pretense and sprinted toward them. The mist surged over them as well—only this time it was a different kind of ghostly energy, not the one guiding people into the jar.
“Y-you bastard! Stop right there!”
The sounds of shattering glass, snapping joints, burning flesh, and boiling phlegm filled the air. When the chaos finally subsided, the corpses of the false faithful lay scattered across the lot. The ghostly energy faded, leaving the empty lot empty once more. I had already stored the jar and was now high in the sky.
I had collected every reward worth taking. Now it was time for the final task—witnessing the story’s conclusion. Though it might not have seemed so, I had been acting with that goal in mind all along.
Let us return to the original premise. The designated protagonists were the twins, Fenil and Benil. I had accepted them as the main characters. Once the protagonists were decided, the story would reach its ending as the assigned conflicts were resolved.
The twins’ conflict.
Do you remember the opening line?
Knock. Knock.
Is anyone there?
Here. There are people here.
What the twins had wanted from the very beginning was simple: they wanted to become human. Born poor orphans, they had roamed the streets. Turned into test subjects and used for chimera research. Taken hostage and used as political tools. They had never once lived as proper human beings.
The target of their conflict? To the twins, this world itself was evil incarnate. Someone might have tried to grant them happiness. But that was not my direction. If this world had made our children unhappy, then I would make everyone in it unhappy as well.
The twins had said the chimera researchers were wicked. So I kidnapped them and made them slaves. The twins had said they hated Lura yet were grateful to her. So she paid for her crimes and received a position. The twins had said being born in West Teron was their misfortune. So I led the entire nation to ruin.
The sinners had been punished. Now that I had removed every element that made the children unhappy, it was time for them to find happiness. Healing without removing the cause would only lead to recurrence.
When I asked Fenil and Benil what they wanted, the girls said they wanted a family. Of course, Baengnae and I would become their family. But we were outsiders. For a proper conclusion, they needed a place to belong within the story itself.
West Teron had fallen. East Bali had become an enemy. Even so, I had chosen the southern plain tribes as the twins’ family candidates. The twins were from the south. I had never seen their parents, but the girls physically resembled the warriors of the plains. Perhaps their ability to reach Stage 3 also stemmed from the high chimera compatibility found in the minority tribes.
Yet the current situation in the south was far from good—entirely because of me. Immediately after returning to East Bali, I had leaked information about the grand unification to the military as planned. A punitive force had been assembled. The act had not been entirely meaningless. Even after suddenly becoming a false god, I had avoided suspicion and enjoyed every benefit available to a third-rank attendant. The ease with which I had acquired alchemical knowledge was also thanks to East Bali’s leaders not being overly wary of me after I brought them credit. That was why, even after gathering a thousand people in the lot, only police—not soldiers—had appeared in the end. East Bali’s leadership had been unable to decide whether to treat me as an enemy or an ally.
Perhaps my sudden disappearance had greatly weakened the Prime Minister’s position. But did it matter? Once I left this world, the story would once again be discarded on the cold floor of an underground sewer.
Time for the final chapter.
Regardless, I was once again flying toward the southern plains. The latest reports said East Bali’s army was massacring the warriors. I could not afford to be too late. If I delayed, Fenil and Benil might end up with nothing but older sisters and aunts.