Demiurge's tail flicked as he completed his report. "I believe that is everything you need to know regarding Operation Gehenna and our future prospects."

The golden princess nodded thoughtfully as she sat politely in the little tea room. "Hmm, yes… Ah, so what did you do with Blue Rose then?"

The demon adjusted his glasses and continued. "Of course. We resurrected them and extracted all the information we could from their bodies, though, all we learned was a little bit about his personal weaponry and nothing more."

"That's unfortunate, might I know where they are now?"

"Certainly," Demiurge chuckled, "Quality, female human stock is rare. It would've been a waste to let them go free so they are currently participating in an experiment of mine. I'm afraid you will likely not be seeing them again."

"Is that so..." Her statement held only an obligatory amount of sorrow. She had already accepted as much.

Demiurge gave her a thin smile. "The vampire did escape. I have people looking for her, but she has likely already made it out of the kingdom where our intelligence network is spread thin."

Renner nodded with indifference and Demiurge continued. "According to the rest of the information we gathered from the Eight-Fingers, the leak about your raid came from Raeven. Do your sources agree?"

"Without a doubt."

The demon frowned. "Should action be taken against him then? He could have information on Rhamnusia."

Renner shook her head. "After speaking with his wife, It was disclosed to me that their son had been stricken with illness. Rhamnusia likely exploited this and offered healing in exchange for information."

The girl chuckled. "I know the Raeven's loyalties and motivations inside and out, this was most likely a one time deal, he is still loyal to me. We will also still need him for later, so I believe It would be best to let him be for now."

Demiurge thought it over for a little while and simply nodded. "Very well then, we'll let the Marquis keep his peace for now."

Renner smiled in response and said nothing more, creating a lull in the conversation.

Demiurge began to cast a spell seeing that they had both finished everything they wanted to talk about. "I guess I shall leave it at that then. I will be seeing you again— "

Renner suddenly stood, "—Ahh, actually, could you hold on for a second, I just remembered something."

The demon paused his casting and cocked his head. "Hmm? What is it?"

"Oh, well, it's just mainly out of curiosity, but what did you do to Wesley-san that night? He hasn't shown up in the palace since."

"Yes, the madman with the dagger." Demiurge said. "We stole everything his company had in the warehouse district, so it is unlikely Wesley Steel Works will be growing anytime soon. And as for the man himself, I just gave him a good scare."

Renner politely covered her mouth and produced an inane giggle. "Will he be back?"

"Hmm…" Demiurge mulled it over. "Possibly. I could discern from our short meeting that he's ambitious and vindictive to the point of insanity. If he does indeed end up coming back, I'd suggest taking action quickly. Though, I doubt you needed me to tell you that."

Renner smiled playfully. "Well, either way, he's already signed away his own fate. He'll be ruined before the rebellion even starts. See?"

She revealed a rolled up parchment from the shelf in her room and presented it to the demon. "Read the fine print."

Demiurge took it in his hands and scanned it over. "What's this? Agreement for Crop Rotations and—" Demiurge suddenly stopped and laughed lightly. "—That's quite devilish of you, using Ainz-sama's plan like that."

"Wesley-san is smart, but sometimes it feels like he doesn't even know how to read." Renner giggled. "In any case, it'd be best to keep his business still somewhat alive. I have no doubt that he will prove himself a valuable asset when it eventually comes time to construct a competitive economy."

"After he has sworn loyalty to Ainz-sama of course."

"Assuredly."

Demiurge nodded and handed the contract back to the princess. He turned to the gate that had appeared behind him and began to undo the warding on the room.

"And just one more thing before I leave, though this is just obligatory. After receiving information about Rhamnusia's personal weaponry, Ainz-sama issued an additional warning to everyone operating outside of Nazarick. Until we know for sure who it was that brainwashed Shalltear, we are to now operate with absolute caution. That is to say, we are not allowed to engage in any hostilities whatsoever should we encounter him or the sniper. That is all."

Renner nodded in affirmative and bowed. Her shadow warped and motioned to do the same.

Demiurge said nothing more and soundlessly left the room.

Renner sat in silent thought for only a little while more.

She then corrected her face and turned to the door.

"Climb! Thank you for guarding the door! You can come in now!"

...

Niven squinted in the dim light of the bunker and made a mark in his journal, "We've gotten roughly 17000 liters of nitric acid from the sodium nitrate we've processed so far."

Stockwell looked at the massive steel drum blankly as he did some mental calculations. "How much sodium nitrate do we have left?"

The boy flipped a page in his journal. "Only a few tons left in Moot, but we still have 36 tons in one of the warehouses in E-Pespel."

Stockwell nodded slowly. "You did well to produce this much in only a matter of months." His voice was detached, still working through calculations in his mind.

"I didn't really do anything." Niven smiled boyishly and rubbed the back of his head. "It's really Miss Vera's skeletons that deserve the praise. We've got at least 30 of them working here in Moot now. I'm sure controlling all of them and keeping them alive at the same time is taking its toll on her."

Stockwell let off an amused grunt. "That's what I thought at first too, but apparently she isn't consciously controlling them, and that they're just carrying out the basic orders given to them. What's more, they don't crumble away after a certain length of time as long as she uses an actual body for the summoning."

Niven raised an eyebrow. "Where did she get all the bodies then?"

"They were victims of the demonic disturbance. No one claimed their bodies so Vera took them when we left the capital." Stockwell paused to make sure he got the story right. "Well, that's what she told me at least, I wasn't exactly conscious during the trip back to E-Pespel and Moot."

Niven appeared as though he wanted to ask another question, but he didn't press any further. Seeing this, Stockwell continued. "So how much sulfuric acid did we end up having to use for this?"

Niven flipped through his journal once more and stopped on a different page. "We were able to get pretty close to the 2:1 mol ratio of nitric to sulfuric acid, but the temperature started to get out of hand at one point so we had to back off a little. If I had to guess, we ended up using around 10,000 liters."

Stockwell nodded in understanding. "How much sulfuric acid do we have left then?"

Niven closed his journal and smiled. "Plenty. Moot's not running out of sulfur anytime soon."

"Then go ahead and siphon off a thousand or so liters of nitric and sulfuric acid and meet me on the east end of the lake. Oh, and we're going to need something basic as well, get a large tub of sodium hydroxide. Take a few skeletons to help you."

"Yes sir."

"And remember to place another shipment of steel from E-Pesel sometime later today, I'm sure our dear friend Mr. Faber is running low."

"Yes sir."

And with a final glance, Stockwell ascended the stairs leaving Niven to work quietly in the underground bunker.

…

Niven approached the scientist with several skeletons in tow. Held on stretchers between their boney arms were steel drums filled with sloshing liquid.

In front of Stockwell were five great metal vats suspended above the water of the lake by a cacophony of rivets and struts. Behind him on the ground was another enclosed metal cylinder that reeked of ammonia. He motioned to Niven to partition the sulfuric and nitric acids on either side of him, where several tubes extended from the vats.

Tens of dozens of cotton bales bound in twine decorated the shore like a flock of fluffy white sheep huddling up to get a drink from the water. Niven approached Stockwell while the skeletons arranged the acids. "I see you found the ammonia."

Stockwell chuckled lightly. "Hehe, yes, I went and grabbed some from your contraption now that we can finally fill this bad boy up." They both looked to the metal cylinder behind them. Ice crystals had already started to form along its sides. "Ammonia is definitely a better refrigerant when it comes to getting temperatures below 0C, so hopefully we can actually get some decent temperature control now."

"It's boiling point is -33, right?"

"Right you are my boy."

Niven smiled brightly then turned to the cotton bales along the shore. "Wow. That's a lot of cotton."

"And this is only a quarter of it, the rest of it is stored behind the lab. I ended up buying 17 platinums worth, all the trader had in stock." Stockwell chuckled underneath his breath. "It came all the way from a plantation in the Slane Theocracy. It was all hand picked by slaves; Dark Elves, or so I hear."

Stockwell chuckled sadly, prompting Niven to look up at him questioningly. "Master?"

Stockwell let out a final laugh and waved him off. "Think nothing of it my boy. I'm Just having a little laugh about something I heard in history class. Just a strange coincidence is all."

"Coincidence?"

"I'll tell you about it later, let's get down to business. We're about to get into some pretty delicate chemistry."

Niven straightened up. "Yes!"

Stockwell gave him a firm nod and continued. "You've dealt with black powder and acetylene so I'm sure that you think you have a pretty good handle on what it's like to deal with explosives, you're no doubt confident, yes?"

Niven nodded proudly. "Of course!"

"Then lay that confidence to rest right now."

"What?"

Stockwell's expression had suddenly turned very grim. "Niven, you're very smart, and because of that, I can push you to make some pretty complex stuff. However, what we're going to be doing isn't very complex compared to some of the other things I've had you do, which is why I'm worried."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want you to get over confident about this and end up getting yourself killed."

Niven stepped closer and concern flashed through his eyes. "Of course not! I'm super careful when it comes to dangerous things!"

Stockwell maintained his grim expression. "I was a lot like you when I was younger, so I know how powerful curiosity is and how easy it is to lose yourself in trying to perfect something."

He shook his head as if remembering something grim and continued. "Anyways, just be careful and let's go over the chemistry for now. What we're going to be doing here is nitrating the cellulose in the cotton to make nitrocellulose. I've already done this reaction several times before on a smaller scale. It's what Vera uses for her rifle. I'm sure you can already start to piece together what that chemical will look like."

Niven looked up and started to recall the structure of cellulose. Stockwell pulled his own journal out and turned to a bookmarked page, turning it towards Niven. "Here is a diagram of cellulose if you need a little reminder."

Niven nodded as he examined the multi-hexagonal figure splayed across the journal's page. Stockwell nodded and continued. "So, the main thing that we're going to be doing is mixing the cotton with equal parts sulfuric and nitric acid."

"What will that do?"

Stockwell gestured to the peripheries of the diagram. "You see these three hydroxyl groups hanging around the outside of each monomer? The hydrogens are hydrogen bonding across polymer chains, see?"

Niven nodded, "Mhm."

"Good, so hear me out then. The goal is to replace as much of those as possible with nitrate groups. The sulfuric acid works as a catalyst in the reaction with the nitric acid to produce the NO2+ nitronium ion. The nitronium will then go on to replace the hydrogen in the hydroxyl groups and bond to the freed oxygen to form the nitrate group." Stockwell flipped the page to another diagram.

"The ideal result would then be a monomer of trinitro cellulose, where all three hydroxyl groups are nitrated, though, in practice, many of the hydroxyl groups will inevitably remain, but I digress. So in total, the process can add up to 6 additional oxygen atoms and 3 unstable nitrogen atoms in every monomer."

Niven's face began to change into something in between giddiness in terror. Stockwell saw this and smirked. "I see you're already realizing what that means. Yes Niven, nitrocellulose burns very well, explosively so. No oxidizer needed."

Suddenly, Stockwell's expression became very grim once more. "And as you've no doubt surmised, this reaction is highly exothermic. It is relatively safe when mixing small amounts, like I do for Vera's rifle rounds, but in large vats like these, the temperature is no joke. High temperatures plus high explosives is not a recipe for a still intact person. Niven…" Stockwell clasped the boy's shoulders. "Even with some of the more dangerous stuff we've made, I've never really given you big lectures about safety because you have a good head on your shoulders. But without many of the modern apparatuses from my world, this reaction needs to be treated with the highest degree of respect. Do you understand?"

Niven gulped in his throat. He looked to his master and then around at the skeletons and the vat. He pieced together the entire process within his mind and humbled himself. "Hai!"

"Excellent. Then I can't wait to get my hands on a barrel full of smokeless powder." Stockwell nodded firmly. "Then I'm going to go ahead and discuss some things with Faber. Oh, and remember to really neutralize the acid still clinging to the cotton after it comes out of the vat and dry it out well. It'll make storing it much safer. We'll be doing the same thing with glycerol later."

Stockwell turned and began to walk towards Faber's workshop. "And one more thing. Once you have everything running smoothly here, why do you go and help Vera with her studies. She can't seem to get the hang of electron orbitals no matter how much I drill it into her."

Niven smiled proudly and gave Stockwell a final wave. "Okay!"

…

The blacksmith was all smiles. "Ah! Mr. Stockwell! Just in time, I wanted to show you this."

Stockwell closed the workshop door and approached the blacksmith who was happily sketching a diagram on a piece of parchment. "I was playing around with the 'side arm' idea you mentioned earlier. This is what I came up with."

"Oh?" Stockwell leaned over the blacksmith's shoulder and peered at the crude diagram shaped like an "L". He suddenly began to chuckle. "Are you trying to draw a 1911?"

Faber was taken aback. "A what-11?"

"Hehe, here, give me the paper."

The blacksmith shuffled to the side and Stockwell took up the pencil he had been using. He flipped the paper over and began to sketch a diagram on the back that was of markedly higher quality. "Your drawing was rather vague but I could tell your side arm design used a slide, am I right?"

"A slide?"

Stockwell continued to scribble. "Mhm, you drew a sliding uhhh… cover if you will, that holds the firing pin and extractor. It slides and serves as the bolt, right?"

Faber nodded eagerly. "Yeah! My thinking was that it could be convenient and help with recoil and what not. I also came up with an idea to have the magazine within the handle."

"Yes, yes, I saw." Stockwell laughed a little uncomfortably, removing his hands from the paper so the blacksmith could get a better look. "This is more or less what you were going for right?"

Faber gasped and stared at the paper. "That's amazing! You saw through my vision and improved it ten fold!"

"Well, you have Mr. John Browning to thank for that, he's the one who really developed this kind of pistol design. What you're looking at here is an M1911, well, one of mine specifically, I collected old war memorabilia back where I came from."

Stockwell's eyes suddenly seemed very distant. "Convergent evolution is truly fascinating and terrifying if you're already designing things from Earth… it's also still a complete mystery that this world's technology is so far behind given that you have access to magic… I need to talk with Galdur some more."

"Mr. Stockwell?"

"Hmm?" Stockwell turned to look back at the blacksmith. "Oh, don't mind me, just pondering. The 1911 is indeed a very good tool for murdering people, but it's not really what I'm looking for at the moment. I'll go ahead and draw up some lugers for you. Oh, and since it looks like we'll be getting our hands on some quality gunpowder soon, I'll also go ahead and draw up some rifle designs later."

Stockwell suddenly stopped and smacked his forehead. "—Ah! I got sidetracked. I came in here to check the progress on the mortars and to see how project dragonfly was coming along."

Faber's eyes lit up. "Of course. Follow me."

They turned and disappeared into the depths of the increasingly modernizing workshop.

…

Vera sat uncomfortably in the little hovel she had more or less decided to call home. She clutched her head in annoyance. "I just don't get it Niven, how can the electrons be in all three places, but also only in the middle place!? I just don't get it!"

"It's simple. The valence electrons are shared in covalent bonds so the electrons can truly be around the hydrogens and the oxygen at any one time. However, since the oxygen has a greater positive charge, the electrons are more likely to hang around it longer. But you also have to know the exact shape of the electron orbitals to truly get the whole picture of how it all works together and flows. Oh, and don't forget the hydrogen bonding between multiple molecules."

Vera looked desperately at the water molecule scribbled out on the paper in front of her. Also sitting across from her on the table was a glass of water.

Niven scratched his chin. "I guess this would be difficult for you. You're used to thinking about electrons as a flow of charges rather than individual particles in a molecule. That must be why you're decent when it comes to electromagnetism but not chemistry."

Vera planted her face into the table with a frustrated sigh. "Wesley said to be able to separate it into oxygen and hydrogen by the end of the week."

She lazily raised a finger 「Static」.

A small streak of white formed and struck the water glass. Unlike normal tiered spells revolving around lightning, Vera's spell manipulated electrons in the surrounding air to produce a current. Not only did it require much less mana than spells that make lightning-like phenomenon from scratch, it also struck at nearly the speed of light. Though, it wasn't very powerful at small scales.

The glass of water fizzed a little before immediately cooling back down. Niven crossed his arms and pondered. "See, you already know how to mess with the electrons bound up in molecules. It's just a matter now of doing that precisely. A water molecule already has 18 electrons so theoretically you shouldn't have to add any more to separate it into H2 and O2 as long as you can use magic to just move them around."

"But you don't understand Niven. I'm not actually messing with the electrons directly, I'm just using magic to create fake positive and negative charges that don't even really exist in order to trick the electrons to move. There's nothing precise about it, I really can't choose how or where the electrons are being ripped from. All it's really good for is making artificial magnetic fields, creating currents, and orchestrating wanton destruction. I mean yes, it's useful I'll admit, but I just don't see myself being able to separate things in the way you two are asking me to."

Niven pouted and crossed his arms once more, deep in thought. "You said your ability was to use magic to create fake positive and negative charges, sort of like ghost charges, right?"

Vera nodded. "Right. It actually isn't that unique. Wesley and I discovered that all mages do something very similar when casting any kind of lightning spell. It's just a matter of knowing what you're doing on a scientific level which allows you to really focus on exactly what the feeling is."

She then immediately slammed her face back into the table. "But that's just it, you have to understand it. Electromagnetism is easy, THIS is not. Even the damn 'mathematics' Wesley has been showing me is starting to make more sense. I thought I knew what electrons were but I guess I'm wrong."

Niven continued to think. "It's still all the same fundamental force, so it shouldn't be impossible. Maybe we should just start trying to figure out ways to use the methods you already know to achieve electrolysis in addition to also just trying to increase your base of knowledge."

Vera sighed as Niven enthusiastically began to flip through his journal. "Well, I don't have any target practice planned for a while, so I guess we can just dig in and hope for the best."

…

Faber turned the tapered metal cylinder in his hands. "The shell fits flush in the tube, but that's only because there's no rifling in it, you said that's okay, right?"

Stockwell took it from him and examined it more closely. It would've been a shape hard to describe to the denizens of the new world. Being roughly half a meter in length, it bulged out at one end like a strange metal blimp and tapered into an array of metal fins at the other. The cylindrical piece of metal also contained within it an enclosed, hollow chamber and an opening at the bulging end.

"Indeed, the shell creates its own rotation in flight by virtue of its fins. It would need to otherwise it would just tumble randomly through the air. I'm surprised you asked that considering how well you already aligned all of the fins."

Stockwell ran his fingers around the hole at the bulging end. "I see you left the chamber for the payload open, well done. We'll need to come up with some kind of impact fuse and exploder. Or, considering the kind of payload we're likely going to be using, we may find it easier just to forgo having it explode on impact at all. How many have you made so far?"

"Roughly 40…" the blacksmith suddenly caught himself, glancing to the upper right corner of his field of vision to leaf through his memories "—Ah...er… actually I guess it would be around 60 as of this morning. The steam press we have isn't quite strong enough to form the casing on its own, so I have to help it along manually as well as form the taper. I can usually hammer out a dozen every hour or so, but after that I've been relying on one of Galdur's skeletons to weld the fins on. Here."

Faber revealed a pair of faceplates made of an opaque, black glass. Stockwell promptly put it on and began to follow the blacksmith around the corner. "You're already using the arc welder then? I thought you said you were going to wait until we got ahold of proper insulation; that you didn't want to try your luck at getting electrocuted?"

"Of course not, that's why I'm using that undead."

"Ah, of course. Silly me."

Around the corner was a spindly frame of bones clutching the handle of what could only be described to the new worlders as a "star on a stick", though looking at said star directly for any countable length of time would undoubtedly inflict acute visual damage. The skeleton was unfazed however, operating the arc welder without a mask or even any safety equipment, as it was unnecessary. It had no retinas of which the light of the arc could damage, no flesh of which the heat could sear, or nerves of which the electricity could seize.

The blacksmith let off a disgruntled 'harumph' and crossed his arms. "The damn bag of bones might as well just be considered one of the machines around here. It's as dumb as rocks and can't think for itself, but the work that it does hasn't the hint of human error. But that's about all it can do."

They looked on through their masks as the skeleton's boney hands moved slowly and unflinchingly along the base of a mortar shell, attaching to it just one of many fins. When its work was completed, even the finest welder of the 21st century would not have been able to tell where the weld stopped and started.

"So I see you finally got over your stigma about using the undead." Stockwell said.

"Well… What can I say, I've grown to trust Galdur and the lass lately, necromancy is just a tool I suppose. I think some of your… What did you call it again? Indu-something… it meant something similar to resourcefulness. It's rubbed off on me."

Stockwell caught on. "Industriousness. Yes, definitely. You're no doubt an industrious man, Mr. Faber. You'd've made a fine engineer back on Earth."

The blacksmith took the compliment graciously and the two of them stood watching the skeleton work in silence for a long time as it completed several more shells. Stockwell's mind drifted back into its own world and the blacksmith continued to ponder the shells.

He eventually broke the silence. "Say, something's been bothering me."

"Hmm?" The scientist raised an eyebrow.

"I can't seem to figure out how you'll manage to actually fire things the distances you've been claiming. I mean, I think I know what black powder is capable of after working with it for so long, and it just seems to me like it doesn't have enough oomph. And not only that, you'd have to clean the tube out after each shot. It just doesn't seem like a very practical weapon to—" He stopped when he noticed the scientist's restrained laughter. "—what's so funny?"

Stockwell put his hands up apologetically. "Hehe, sorry, well first of all, Faber, you're claim about black powder cannons and mortars not being practical, well, that's immediately disproven by hundreds of years of history—"

A sudden flash of sadness and shame crossed Stockwell's face, but it passed in an instant.

"—Though I can see how you might come to that conclusion after looking over this particular mortar design." Stockwell continued "No, you see, we're not going to be using black powder, but something with quite a bit more, 'oomph' as you put it."

Faber's pupils dilated and his eyes grew wider with worry. "I doubt even you have something more potent than—"

KABOOOOOOOOM!

...

"Yes! Miss Vera! You're doing it! Keep at it!"

Bullets of sweat rushed from every pore allowable in her intense concentration. Vera forced her shaking hands to be firm.

Sitting waist high across from her trembling figure was a harmless glass of water, the water within it however was slowly disappearing, and in its place, a mildly visible layer of gas was forming. Visible in the sense that one could detect it with their eyes, though, its color was not immediately discernible, as it shifted in vortices of pale whites and silvery transparent sheens, to faint hints of violet and lavender. This was the result of a small portion of the gas being heavily ionized.

"C'mon Miss Vera! Focus! Keep orienting the polar ends upwards and separating out the differences!"

The gasses being formed by Vera's water separation spell of course were hydrogen and oxygen, both of which under normal circumstances would not be visible.

"Recycle more energy Miss Vera! You don't want the hydrogen igniting and forming back into water—"

"—Be quiet for a second I know!"

What the two of them had discovered is that they could align the water molecules based on their polarity and discriminate between the oxygen and hydrogen atoms based on the small discrepancy in distance from the caster, and thus the relative force of the 'ghost charges' between them. The translucent layers of gas being formed were as a result of small portions of rouge electrons exciting and reforming electrically neutral atoms and gasses within the electrically controlled area Vera was manipulating.

The technique got around the concept of the caster having to internalize the full orbital periods of every electron within a water molecule including the unpredictable hydrogen bonding, but it was still nonetheless taxing on the mind.

The water had all but disappeared and Vera released her hands. The layer of translucent gas dissipated in an instant and she crashed into the bosom of her seat. She wiped the sweat from her brow and stared pridefully at the empty glass.

"Yes...I did it…" She was mentally exhausted but her mana was still nearly full. "I just need some more practice."

Niven smiled devilishly. "Hehehe. Now lets see if you can do it with sulfur dioxide and then after that lets try something solid like sodium chloride. Oooh, and after that lets see if we can do silica! That should be a challenge!"

"Please...Niven, give me a break."

The boy laughed playfully. "Heehee, I know. Just joking around. But we should still totally—"

They were interrupted by a brief flash in the window, and then—

KABOOOOOOOOM!

The sound was loud. Immeasurably, painfully, loud. And after that, intense ringing. Like a triangle being played right behind the ears

"Niven! Niven what was that!? I can't hear!"

The walls cracked and the ground shook. Dust had dislodged from the rafters and was quivering in the vibrating air.

The two of them managed to collect themselves and fumbled outside. Standing out on the turf outside of the houses were dozens of other villagers who were struggling as well, shock and awe glued to their faces. Vera sensed that several of her skeletons had been destroyed.

"...what?"

On the far end of the lake, directly across from where the village was located, a massive white and brown plume was rising high into the sky. Metric tons of water, mud, and smoke had been flung up into the sky in what Vera and the villagers could only first comprehend must have been some kind of powerful spell.

What tier!? So much power! Is it 6th tier!? 7th!? Wait, no...it must have been...

"The nitrocellulose...how did...?" Niven stared in horror at the scene happening across the lake. And with the ringing dying from their ears, Vera snapped her head towards him.

"You know what that was!? What happened!?"

"It must have been the nitrocellulose all going off at once. But I don't know how that could've happened."

A harsh voice pierced through the crowd and they turned towards its source. "Where's Niven!? Niven, where are you?"

"Master!"

"Wesley! We're over here!"

Stockwell rounded the corner and flushed with relief when he saw Niven. The crowd moved out of his way and he joined up with them. He put his hands on Niven's shoulders and slumped his head. "Thank god you're alright my boy."

"Y-Yeah." Niven replied with a nervous nod.

A monotone voice called out from behind. "What's going on? What was that sound?" Galdur asked.

"Big explosion. I'll catch you up in a minute, Galdur." Stockwell said.

Stockwell then relinquished his grip on Niven and turned his attention across the lake. The plume of water had already begun to shrink back down. "The houses by the shore will probably get flooded by the wave, but other than that, everything should be fine. I'll talk to the chief in a minute to hopefully help calm everyone down."

The materials within the plume had separated and he turned his attention towards the smoke cloud drifting away. It was showing the faint remnants of a mushroom-like shape. "Christ…that's quite the mushroom...how much do you think that was?"

Niven suddenly appeared very sheepish, realizing that he was probably in an obscene amount of trouble. "U-Umm, I don't know. Maybe 10 tonnes?"

Stockwell rubbed his ear and grimminced. "10 tonnes? You sure? I would've guessed around 15 from that kind of blast…"

Niven did some quick mental calculations. "Y-Yeah, production has been going on for about 11 hours, so... Yeah, that would've been about 20% of our total supply of cotton. So about 10 tonnes."

"Hmm… you don't say." Stockwell continued to give smoke cloud questioning glances. "Still seems a bit too much for 10 tonnes. You didn't do anything special did you?"

Niven shook his head.

"Hmmm, I don't know then… I've seen quite a few accidental fusion hiccups in my time. I'm pretty good at spotting explosive yields…" Stockwell continued to stare off into the distance.

"M-Maybe we just got lucky with the reaction and got a super high amount of nitration." Niven timidly added. "And the explosion was really efficient in getting all of it to detonate within the vats and where the rest of it was drying nearby."

Stockwell allowed himself a small scoff. "Chemistry and the law of large numbers doesn't work like that, you know that Niven. When you're working with quadrillions of molecules, random chance wont change the nitration rate by anymore than a trillionth of a percent."

"B-but what if it was a skill? Or like a martial art? I've been getting really good at chemistry lately. Maybe there is some kind of chemist skill that increases luck?"

The scientist raised a concerned eyebrow in the boy's direction. "What? You mean like magic? Don't be ridiculous my boy, it's just chemistry."

He suddenly turned to Vera who had been listening quietly. "Losing 20% of our stock stings a bit but there's nothing we can do about it. Let's just do some damage control for now and we can investigate what caused this mess tomorrow morning."

…

Galdur and Stockwell leaned intently over the surgical table. The air in the shack was kept dry, and the head of an incandescent lamp made the pair sweat beneath their garbs.

They were currently in the process of attaching a severed rat's head to the body of another living rat.

"Health points" were mysterious. They most certainly existed, the data showed as much. And a strange property that health points exhibited was the concept of "ownership". Of course, health points belong to the individual who owns whatever body the health points happen to exist in. However, the concept of an "individual" was a fluid one

They had begun to recreate something similar to Vladimir Demihkov's two headed dog experiment to see if they could get the health points of one creature to interact with the body of another.

They had begun by grafting rats together at the rump and connecting their blood vessels in an attempt to "link" their pools of health points. When merely grafting the rats at the rump had not been enough to demonstrate the migration of health points from one body to the injuries of the other, they began to progressively increase the level of connection between the two bodies.

Various other rats with grafted on body parts stirred in cages behind them.

Countless diagrams of dire rat anatomy, jumping leech anatomy, and other cross sections of organs and muscles lined the wooden walls of the shack so thick as to have become a defacto wallpaper.

Galdur had a spell called 「Gentle Repose」 which was normally used to prevent the natural decay of corpses. However, this spell also had the effect of preventing certain types of cell damage even in living tissues, so performing drastic surgery such as transplanting heads was a fair bit easier.

The research was yielding fascinating results.

So far, they had identified three different criteria that needed to be met for two rats to be able to share a health pool. The first was that at least 51% of one of the rat's maximum hp needed to be substituted by that of the other. A helpful discovery they had made in this regard was that the health point capacity of a creature can be artificially reduced by a proportional reduction in the creature's body weight. Meaning, if a rat normally had 2RHC of health points and weighed 10 kilograms, shaving off 2 kilograms of fat and muscle would reduce its health point capacity by 20% for a new total of 1.8 RHC. After which, a healing potion could be applied to regenerate the flesh.

The second criteria for connection health pools was that there needed to be a channel of "naturalized flesh" between the two subjects. "Naturalized flesh" was also an important concept.

Magical healing induced by potions and spells restored the body of an injured creature to the way it would've been had the injury not occurred in the first place. This is drastically different to how bodies heal naturally. When bodies heal naturally, they form all manner of scar tissue, and are often unable to restore missing pieces of the body.

If enough time passes after an injury, long enough for the body to begin the natural healing process of scarring, then magical healing after that point will only restore the scars. This fact also applied to more integral parts of the body as well, such as the brain.

For example, they had taught a group of rats how to solace a maze before cutting out certain parts of the brain. Rats that were immediately healed with positions and magic, regenerated their brains along with the memories of how to solve the maze, whole those who received healing over extended periods of time lost the memories.

Another important development was the experimentation with so-called "natural healing potions." These were healing potions that were considered "low-tier" by most alchemists from simple herbs, which supposedly only helped to stimulate the body's natural healing process. These potions when concentrated did as advertised but faster. When applied to an open wound, the natural healing potions would cause it to close and a scar to form within seconds.

This effect was very useful for creating channels of "naturalized flesh".

Wounds could be continually opened, pulled with a pair of pliers to stretch out the flesh, and then healed with concentrated healing potion to form scar tissue. The procedure was like building a tube of scar tissue similar to the way a continuous drip of water forms a stalagmite.

These tubes of flesh were considered the natural shape that the body of the rat takes, and so would heal with normal potions and spells.

Using these tubes it was possible to connect two rats' health pools together after thoroughly dismantling at least one of the beforehand to get its health point maximum to at least 49% of the other, and then healing them together with natural healing potion.

It was a brutal but effective method.

The two rats were considered one creature as far as the health points between them were concerned, while each rat maintained its own physical abilities.

Finally, there was one more method they had discovered concerning linking health points.

This was something they called a "leech loop"

When they forcefully attached the mouth of one jumping leech to the body of another and vice versa, the two leeches would begin constantly draining health points from the other. They would then heal the two leeches together via a graft of naturalized flesh.

All they then had to do was mortally wound one of the leeches and heal them up again with magic or potions. After that, they would be linked.

Stockwell wasn't sure exactly why this was the case.

His only hypothesis was that he was somehow confusing the health points that were in constant circulation as to which body they actually belonged to, double so because the leeches were connected via a graft.

Both of these experiments gave them crucial insight into the way health points functioned. However tangible use of this knowledge remained to be seen.

…

It was late afternoon of the next day by the time the Niven finally declared the explosion site completely safe and repaired to dozens of happy and exhausted villagers. After everyone cleared the area and Niven began to get right back to work on setting the nitrocellulose production line up again, Vera made her way to the laboratory. She was a little worried since Stockwell had not made an appearance the entire day.

The door was cracked open so she didn't bother knocking. "Wesley? I'm just here to—"

"A-A-A-A-A- Stop right there!"

She halted half-way through the door in response to the alarmed voice.

Stockwell was hunched over several enclosed flasks filled to the brim with some kind of red liquid. He was wearing a gasmask. "Gas mask Vera. Gas mask. On the hook there next to you. I'm dealing with dangerous stuff here."

"Oh…" She quickly adorned the gas mask hanging on the wall next to the doorway. After making sure it was on securely, she entered the lab. "I just came to say that Niven finished up cleaning the blast site and started working on the explosives again."

Stockwell seemed mildly saddened, "Yes, yes. Good. Niven's a good kid." Vera could tell that his mind was in a very distant place.

"Wesley?"

"Oh, um… Yeah?"

Vera frowned behind her gas mask and looked about the lab. Stockwell had stationed several skeletal workers throughout the area and had them working monotonous tasks. Two things caught her eye, one was two skeletons working a set of bellows that seemingly served no purpose other than to cycle air over hot coals. The other was a skeleton mindlessly exchanging tubes to a large metal cylinder in the corner of the room. "You seem busy, what are you working on at the moment?"

Stockwell glanced up from his work and briefly followed Vera's gaze before looking back down. "The two skeletons you see working the bellows are making sodium cyanide. They're pumping ammonia over hot coals and sodium to form sodium cyanide. I can convert that into hydrogen cyanide later. As for the skeleton in the corner, he's working a… chlorination chamber of sorts. He's cooking up some sulfur dichloride at the moment, which is what I'm working with right here." He took a step back to allow Vera to see the flasks of red liquid before quickly stepping back in and getting back to work. Something about him seemed rather lifeless.

Something is definitely wrong with him.

It wasn't just today, but yesterday and the day before too. Ever since the incident he had with Jaldabaoth, something seemed very off, very sad with him.

She tried to keep the conversation going. "What's it all for?"

The scientist began to bubble some kind of gas through the red liquid. "Well, we already have chlorine in our chemical arsenal at the moment but having some more variety can't hurt."

"Well, it can hurt, that's the point of a chemical weapon." Stockwell suddenly added. "Right now I'm just testing viable ways to produce some chemicals that can be expanded upon later industrially. The cyanide can be chlorinated to make cyanogen chloride and what I'm working with here is a way to make sulfur mustards… ah, er, mustard gas as it's commonly called. I'm bubbling ethylene through sulfur dichloride and examining the efficiency."

Vera nodded slowly in feigned understanding. She looked back at the two skeletons at the bellows. "Didn't you say they were making some dangerous gas? Sodium Cyanide or something? Is it safe to just have it out in the open like this?"

Stockwell replied without looking up from his work. "Sodium Cyanide, and no, we're fine, one of the bellows is sucking up any and all gasses in the area. I left the door cracked in the event a small amount manages to build up here, which is why we're also wearing gas masks. Oh and don't worry about that hurting the villagers either, if gas does escape it'll only be in small amounts at a time, perfectly harmless. I made sure we were downwind of everyone before I started doing this."

Vera nodded once more in feigned understanding. "Oh, okay."

"No, this stuff here is much more worrisome." Stockwell gestured to the flask of red liquid in his hand that had begun to change color as a result of the gas being introduced. "If this stuff gets on your skin you won't actually know until several hours later which makes it rather sinister. From what I understand the blisters that it causes last for weeks and burns hotter than brimstone. Though I can't vouch for that personally considering the last time this stuff was used was over 200 years ago."

"I see…" Vera simply nodded and the conversation went quiet.

For several minutes they sat there. Vera casually looked over the room, it seemed to change every time she entered.

The colorful jars adorning the shelves expanded and contracted as Niven and Stockwell used and updated their contents over the months. Across the roomlog workbench was glassware of all shapes and sizes, both old and new, discarded or broken over their brief lifetimes. So many new apparatuses have been added as well, large cylindrical tanks and coolers, furnaces and crucibles, massive steel drums and tubes for moving gasses around, it seemed to her that they had all been installed in haste, with emphasis on function over form. And splayed across the front wall was the periodic table she had looked at so many times before, so profuse were the scribblings in two different languages on it that she doubted anyone could realistically interpret the original diagram underneath, though, she doubted Niven or Stockwell truly ever needed to look at it in the first place.

She breathed quietly in half-mused familiarity, "...so much can change in a year…"

"Indeed." Stockwell seemed to have finished his work with the mustard gas and had begun to assort some different materials.

His sudden reply caught Vera by surprise however. "Oh, you were listening."

Stockwell nodded slowly. "Yes…" Vera noticed that he seemed to zone out again. "You know Vera, we more or less figured out what caused the explosion yesterday."

Vera perked up in response to the conversation's changing initiative. "Oh, what was it?"

"It was the cooling system. What likely happened was that I forgot to tighten a valve all the way when putting in the refrigerant. The skeletons wouldn't have noticed of course so naturally the temperature continued to rise until it was at critical temperature and something inevitably set it off. The moral of the story is that it was my fault."

Vera couldn't read the expression behind his mask. "Is that what's gotten you down?"

"Hah?"

Stockwell suddenly propped up and examined himself. He suddenly let out a tired laugh. "Oh, haha, I guess I looked rather down. No, I'm not necessarily down about that. Regretful, yes, concerned, probably, but depressed about it, not likely."

Stockwell chuckled once more and shook his head.

Vera moved in closer, "Then what is it then?"

Stockwell raised an eyebrow at Vera. "Are you trying to be my therapist?"

"Yes." Vera said. "Your performance affects me too, Wesley."

There was a sudden straightforwardness to Vera's voice. She had seemingly gone straight for the throat. "You took one look at Jaldabaoth and Momon and basically tried to commit suicide, yes?"

Stockwell was taken aback by the sudden accusation. "Vera… I."

"You know how risky that was for me? Flying into that horde to get you?"

"I'm sorry, Vera. I didn't know—"

"—Now I'm noticing these sudden flashes of lifelessness from you and this expression like you want to kill yourself, and now that you think you almost killed Niven you're like a husk." Vera continued. "Something is wrong."

Stockwell sat in silence while Vera stared at him.

After a while, Stockwell spoke. "You are not a very good therapist."

"No." Vera sighed. "I'm not. I grew up harvesting other peoples bodies and souls for the purpose of necromantic rituals. There's a lot I don't understand."

"Vera." Stockwell said. He had a serious expression on his face. "Look. I know what it is I need to do. I'm not about to kill myself, alright. It's just a little harder to stomach than I thought it would be now that everythings been put into perspective. I'll get over it soon."

"Alright then." Vera said with a nod. "Know that I'm here to help you any time."

"I thought our agreement was that you'd help me with my research and I share my knowledge with you? You don't have to be my therapist."

"That was indeed our agreement." Vera said. "But you can't fulfill your end of the bargain if you're dead."

"...I suppose that's true."

"Need me to get you anything?" Vera asked.

"No. I'm good for now." Stockwell said. "Thank you for your help. Continue your studies."

"Of course."

Stockwell watched as she hung her mask back up on the wall and left the lab.

…

Stockwell and Galdur walked out into the swamp.

This swap was about a day and half's travel south west of Moot into the boundary regions of the Abelion hills. They were here on an expedition to capture monsters known as "Mana Mosquitos".

They were large, mosquito-like monsters that could grow up to half a meter in length, and possessed the unique ability to directly absorb mana from creatures they attacked. Stockwell assumed that studying and experimenting with these creatures could lead to insight into the nature of what "mana" truly was.

The soft ground gave way to mud beneath their foot falls as they made their way further into thick banks of reeds. Normal sized mosquitoes buzzed around Galdur's face.

"May I have some of that substance you were using?" Galdur asked Stockwell who was trailing close behind.

"You mean bug spray? Sure."

Stockwell handed Galdur a small squirt bottle containing a foul smelling liquid. After a quick spritz on himself, the mosquitoes around Galdur seemed to back off a little.

As they traveled further into the swamp, they noticed a low pitched buzzing sound. It was lower and louder than the buzzing of the mosquitos orbiting them.

"That's it." Galdur muttered.

They stopped and scanned the reeds. Stockwell then noticed the form of a giant insect hovering a fair distance away above the reeds.

"I see one, Galdur." Stockwell pointed. "Over there."

Galdur followed Stockwell's gaze and nodded in confirmation. "That is a mana mosquito. We're in the right area."

"What do you suggest?" Stockwell asked. Galdur was more experienced in these kinds of things and referred to his expertise.

"They're attracted to the use of mana." Galdur said. "They'll begin to swarm if I start casting spells. Just ignore that one for now while we set up the trap. If it approaches us, you be the one to kill it."

"Got it. Should we set up right here?"

Galdur grunted in agreement.

Stockwell laid down their equipment in the mud and began erecting their trap

The trap resembled something akin to a large fetal frame of a tent, tall enough for Galdur and Stockwell to stand up in. Securely fastened between the bars of the frame was a thin, almost invisible network of spider silk.

Once the frame was fully erected around them and staked deep into the ground, they brushed a thick adhesive onto the strand of spider silk from a small bucket.

"We're good to go." Stockwell said.

"Understood."

Galdur emptied a large sack containing a loose set of human skeletal remains onto the mud. He took a deep breath and flourished his staff.

「Summon Skeleton Mage」

In response to the spell, the skeletal remains rose from the mud and assembled to form a complete humanoid skeleton. Pale points of purple light manifested in its eye sockets as a tattered cloak materialized over its body.

The skeleton outstretched its hand and a twisted wooden staff materialized in its grip.

It stood at attention.

Stockwell began to hear movement amongst the reeds. "I think they're coming."

"They sensed me using mana." Galdur said flatly. "Skeleton Mage. Your orders are to do nothing for now."

A breathless wheeze exited the skeleton mage's jaw in affirmative.

"Here they come, hopefully the threads hold!"

They suddenly saw the reeds around them break into a flurry of motion. A loud buzzing permeated the area as they caught the forms of dozens of giant mosquitoes taking to the sky on massive pairs of vibrating wings.

The mosquitos darted towards Galdur and Stockwell, oblivious to the thin layer of spider silk that separated them.

When the first mosquito made contact, the inertia of its body reverbated the frame of their trap, but the threads managed to remain intact. The mosquito beats its wings while emitting an inhuman, chitinous screech, but all its struggle did was entangle itself further in the webs.

Several mosquitos followed suit, impacting on different sides of the trap.

Stockwell withdrew a large, serrated knife and gazed at the dozens of wriggling insects suspended around him. "Is there any particular way to go about this?"

Galdur also withdrew a knife. "The only useful part of the mana mosquito is the proboscis. Just cut off the entire head and I can deal with the rest."

"Got it."

Stockwell reached towards one of the mosquitoes with a pair of armored hands. The mosquito tried to stab at him with its proboscis but it could not pierce his armor.

He grabbed ahold of its thorax and sawed off its head using the knife.

He then laid the head on a tarp that had been laid out between him and Gladur. Galdur did the same with another mosquito.

They then went about carefully untangling the motionless bodies of the decapitated mosquitos from the threads and applying adhesive.

They continued like this for some time until they noticed a decline in the number of mosquitos falling into the trap.

"Skeleton Mage." Galdur Said. "Cast 「negative boost」 on yourself once every five minutes until you are no longer able to, starting now."

The skeleton mage cast a buff spell on itself. In response, the rate of mosquitoes increased.

"We should be able to harvest for some time." Galdur said. "These parts are very useful in enchanting, we should make the most of this."

"I'll be sure to get a few live ones and some larva as well." Stockwell said. "I want to study their ability in action."

…

Galdur and Stockwell continued decapitating the mosquitos. A neat pile of mosquito heads steadily built up between them as the minutes passed.

They were striking up a conversation.

"Help me understand this, Galdur. Everyone has mana?" Stockwell asked. "Even people who can't cast spells?"

"Yes." Galdur replied matter of factly. "People who can cast spells simply have more mana. As with all forms of growth, the more you do something the better one becomes at it. People who use more mana regularly, such as magic casters, build up more mana reserves over time."

"So even I have mana?"

"I assume so. You wouldn't be able to use that ring of telekinesis without at least some mana. It consumes a negligible amount, but it still consumes some."

Stockwell thought for a moment. "...so I should be able to use magic then?"

"Theoretically." Galdur said. "But mana alone does not a spell make. Afterall, each of these mosquitoes possess mana yet they cannot use spells."

Galdur wiped the build up of blue hemolymph from his blade before resuming sawing off mosquito heads. "Casting spells requires an inborn awareness of one's own mana, and a level of intelligence to be able to control and form that mana into a functioning spell. Not everybody possesses that inborn awareness. In fact, only a small minority of humans have this capability."

"So because I can't sense my own mana, I can't ever learn to control it?"

"Correct. You will likely never be a magic caster." Galdur said unceremoniously. "It is as simple as that. Most people with the inborn aptitude to cast magic learn of their ability during their childhood."

Stockwell sawed off another mosquito head. "Is this trait— this ability to be aware of your mana, you say it's inborn. But is it hereditary?"

"Yes." Galdur said. "If your parents are magic casters, you are far more likely to be one as well."

"Hmm." Stockwell thought as he began untangling a mosquito body from the threads. "So it is genetic… somehow. It's a shame we don't have a way to sequence genes."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

"Genes are more or less the biological blueprints that instruct what you are, they're…" Stockwell waved his dagger around in a small circle as if trying to reel in the right words to explain the concept. "...Well, they're quite important to understanding everything, really. If magical and martial aptitude are hereditary, then there should be some clear indicators within the genomes."

"Fascinating."

"Yes, it really is." Stockwell said. "But genetics is so complex, that you need very advanced machines to be able to properly sequence and analyze genes. It's not something we have the capability of doing. At least not for a very, very long time."

"Hmph." Galdur grunted as the skeleton mage cast a buff spell on itself.

"Although, Stockwell." Galdur said. "It does surprise me that you in particular are unable to cast spells."

"Why is that?"

'As I said, the more you do something, the better you get at it. But many fields are also interrelated, and practicing one thing often strengthens your aptitude for another."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that you do things that are often typical of magic casters. Research, mostly. You're as committed to as much as anyone else I've seen."

"Research?"

"Yes." Galdur said. "You've read Aamon's notes just as much as I have. You should understand that everything one does builds up more skills. This was one of 'data's' proposed functions, Yes? The act of researching should be no exception."

"I'm not sure I follow you."

"Maybe there's something wrong with the auto-translation between us." Galdur pondered for a moment. "Skills. What I mean are skills. You don't use them, do you?"

Stockwell flinched, as if taken aback. "I have plenty of skills."

"No." Galdur scratched his head, trying to find the right words. "I think something is being lost in the translation. What I mean are skills. Like the blacksmith, Faber. He uses a skill called 「shape metal」."

Stockwell's eyes lit up. "Ah! That's what you meant. Yes, the magic he uses to shape metal. He does indeed call it one of his skills."

Galdur shook his head. "No, it's not magic. It is a skill."

Stockwell pondered. "Okay, I think I know where the translation isn't coming across now. From my point of view, anything supernatural, anything outside of the laws of physics, I call 'magic'."

Galdur nodded as if understanding dawned on him as well. "I see… I just assumed you were being reductive."

Stockwell laughed lightly. "It makes sense now, those martial arts manuals. When they're using the Estizian word 'skill' they're actually talking about a supernatural craft, and not just a build up of expertise."

"Precisely." Galdur said. "Faber acquired the skill 「Shape Metal」 because he dedicated himself to blacksmithing. He accumulated enough experience to where he earned the skill naturally."

"Why did you say 'earn', like that?" Stockwell asked.

Galdur sighed. "Because there is controversy about what the origin of skills are. Same as the origin of natural tier spells."

"Controversy?"

"About weather skills are 'earned' by one's efforts, or 'bestowed' by the gods in recognition, or convergently 'developed' in indicial manners between different individuals. But we're off track, I'll explain what I'm talking about in a minute."

Galdur finished extricating a mosquito body and began to brush adhesive back on a set of threads. "People naturally acquire skills related to their activities once a certain level of expertise is reached. For example, research."

Galdur continued. "All researchers naturally obtain a skill to appraise low tier magic items early on. Like this."

Galdur touched the necklace he was wearing. A small pulse of green light emitted from his palm. "My skill just informed me that this necklace is called a periapt of reflection, and that it has the ability to reflect the 「Magic Arrow」 spell once every hour. See? That's a skill that all researchers acquire at some point. Enchanters and artificers like myself also acquire this skill too. That is how basic a skill it is."

Stockwell stopped what he was doing and looked over the necklace in Galdur's grasp. "...Yeah. I can't that."

"Puzzling, right?" Galdur said.

"Why is that so puzzling?"

"Because you are a researcher, Stockwell. The best I've ever seen." Galdur spoke with a slightly raised voice, which due to Glaldur's normal method of speaking, indicated a high level of passion. "You clearly have many years of experience when it comes to organizing information. Additionally , this… 'science' as you call it. And the way you are able to discern truths from small discrepancies in wide amounts of information, this so-called 'data analysis' is remarkable."

"By all rights, you should have a multitude of skills." Galdur concluded.

"Hm." Stockwell pondered for a long time. "I am not from this world, Galdur."

"Yes, you aren't." Gauldr agreed. "Of course, that has something to do with it, but I don't know how or why."

"Well…" Stockwell thought. "Like you said, the ability to sense one's mana is inborn, so maybe the ability to sense your own skills is also inborn and it just so happens that everyone from this world has that trait."

Galdur paused in thought while his knife was halfway through sawing off the head of a mosquito. "An interesting theory. Maybe you do indeed have the skills, but your mind is so alien to this world that it can not grasp them…"

"It isn't clear how to test for that though…" Stockwell said. "And even if we could determine I had these skills, I still wouldn't be able to use them."

"Yes. I suppose you're right." Galdur continued to think. "...but if it is your alien mind that is unable to grasp the skills, does that apply to everything?"

"Everything?"

Galdur began to recall Aamon's research. "Not just the data derived phenomenon of the gods such as skills and tier magic, but wild magic derived phenomena as well."

"I think so?" Stockwell said. "I can't use tier magic, I can't use skills. I can't use martial arts. I don't possess any magical talents. And I'm not sure what wildmagic looks like."

"But you do exist in this world, yes?"

"Yes, unfortunately I do." Stockwell sighed. "I think, therefore I am. Is existence considered a wildmagic derived phenomenon?"

They both thought about it for a while, pooling on what they read from Aamon's research.

"At least it should've been at some point?" Galdur questioned openly. "Your perspective on this is likely better than that of mine. This world is all I've ever known."

"Rule blending." Stokwell said.

"Rule blending?"

"THats what Aamon wrote, right? Rule blending. Data, and the original framework of wild magic." Stockwell said. "Two conflicting sets of rules mixing together. It implies this reality is plastic. Perhaps that means it could even permit my existence, despite my coming from a very different reality."

Stockwell continued. "Aamon sought to explore how data was able to interfere with the workings of this reality. Perhaps he had inadvertently done something to this reality as well when he had brought me here from Earth."

Galdur's unparalyzed eye widened for a brief moment before returning to its normal apathetic appearance. "That's quite the theory— no, excuse me, —hypothesis."

Stockwell smirked tieredly. "Untestable at the moment. We should really find someone who knows more about wild magic and the original framework."

"You'd need someone more than 600 years old, a true dragon lord, and a player, to confirm them." Galdur said. "Going by that hypothesis, players should find it difficult to learn martial arts and wildmagic, and people older than 600 years should find it difficult to learn tier magic and skills, but… good luck finding such entities. They are not exactly common."

"Well, it's just one more thing to put on the to-do list." Stockwell said.

They continued collecting mosquito heads for some time.

"Going back to what I said earlier." Galdur said. "Not all skills require that one have awareness of them."

"What do you mean?"

"It's similar to your research into the strength of rats. But more so than just durability or physical strength, there are additional bonuses that practice in a craft can yield. For example, because of my dedication to artificing and enchanting, I can draw out more power from magical items than most without ever thinking about it."

"And you think that might apply to me?" Stockwell asked.

"Yes." Galdur said sharply. "You are a tool user, similar to myself. You rely on equipment both in battle and in research. You make weapons, you make traps, you make contraptions. It only stands to reason that you'd naturally acquired passive skills that increase the effectiveness of your tool use."

"Increase the effectiveness of my tool use…" Stockwell pondered. "But what would that actually look like? Tools are already designed to be as effective as possible for their given purposes."

Galdur shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe armor that you use is slightly more effective when worn by you than someone else. Maybe your gun is less prone to malfunctions. I don't know."

Stockwell scowled. "That doesn't make any sense though. If tools somehow became better in my hands, I would realize it. It would show up when calibrating things, it would be noticeable during testing and statistical analysis."

Galdur shrugged once more. "The purpose of a tool is dependent on the will of the user. I know this well. If your intention when using a device is to gather accurate information, then your increased effectiveness with tools would simply act as how you intend."

Stockwell suddenly looked at the serrated knife in his hand with puzzlement.

Galdur continued. "I've been putting some thought into this when you mentioned you thought that explosion was bigger than it should've been."

"You mean the nitrocellulose?"

"Yes. Perhaps because you, or maybe your apprentice who shares your same expertise, were the ones responsible for the explosive's creation, it was more powerful than what someone would consider 'normal'. It is similar to how a magic tool in my hands is better than someone else's without me even thinking about it. The bonus isn't much, but it is there."

Stockwell stood still for a very long time, thinking over the battles he waged and carefully considering the way in which his equipment performed. He ultimately decided that his mere memory was not ground for a concrete conclusion. This hypothesis would require extensive experimentation.

"I'm glad you're on the research team, Galdur." Stockwell said.

Galdur responded in his normal monotone voice. "As am I."

The hours passed and once it was clear that they had killed all the mosquitoes in the area, they disassembled the trap and returned to Moot.

Unfortunate as it was for Stockwell's mood, he needed to put a momentary pause on his research. It was nearing winter, and rumor had it that there would be a war with the Baharuth Empire once again this year, such a thing might be profitable for a prospecting steel trader.