Contract Worker (Seeking Follow-up Reads)

Slender, delicate gray threads were woven into the mist, formless and shifting. Even a gentle breeze could shatter them like ash, yet new threads constantly sprouted from the ground, maintaining a dynamic equilibrium.

At this moment, the seagull's messy feathers were tangled in a dense web of these threads. Even when old ones were brushed away, new ones climbed up, causing its wingbeats to grow increasingly sluggish until it finally plummeted toward the ground like a lead weight.

It fell into an even deeper web.

As if a switch had been flipped, the silent, deep-gray mass of mist suddenly came to life. It climbed upward along the threads that permeated the fog, scrambling to open structures that could perhaps be called "mouths," welcoming the meal that had fallen from the sky.

"Snap."

The first lucky mist spider was crushed to pieces by the falling seagull. Countless smaller spiders escaped from its disintegrating body, only to be cannibalized by the nearby mist spiders. Then, a second spider pounced on the still-struggling seagull, followed by a third, a fourth...

The gray mass, so dense that even Hohenheim could not see through it, writhed and tightly enveloped the unfortunate seagull. The panicked squawking grew loud, then quickly faded, drowned out by the rustling sounds of feeding.

A moment later, the satiated spiders dispersed, hiding behind the thick gray curtain and leaving the ground clean. The mist returned to the silence it had held at the start.

It was a silence that made Hohenheim's skin crawl.

Feeling somewhat fatigued, he cut off his spiritual vision. Hohenheim subconsciously lowered his voice and asked Veronica, who was waiting beside him:

"What is this? Is this the kind of freakish thing the Prevention and Suppression Bureau usually has to deal with?"

Cultists at least had human forms; they bled when shot and scattered when hit by alchemical explosives. Most of the fear they inspired came from a lack of firepower, and tangible enemies could be dealt with through tangible means.

But how were they supposed to kill a weather pattern, a phenomenon, or even an idea?

Veronica provided the answer.

"What you see before you is the Spiderweb Mist, which originated in Audley. It primarily feeds on small animals and isn't actually very dangerous to humans. It takes on various forms depending on the environment. What you see here is the most common gregarious mist variant, which dissipates rapidly under sunlight—or the hymns of an ordained priest of the Church of the Sun. In some low-lying countries, there are Ember-aspect variants that inhabit factory chimneys and breed in smoke and steam; they've actually caused quite a fright for the child laborers who clean the flues."

"Stanislav has been staying at the Captain's Monastery these past few days precisely because he is investigating the cause of this. According to him, the manifestation of the Spiderweb Mist 'is neither like a beehive, nor a nest, nor a cocoon,' but is related to the Void Realm invasion and even possesses, to a certain extent, artificial characteristics. Regardless, I don't understand what he's trying to express."

"But I do know what his recent research findings are."

Shrugging, Veronica reached her hand out past the invisible barrier that marked the gate. She flicked her fingers at the mist as if teasing it, and like unraveling a ball of yarn, she gently wound a pale gray thread—one that was almost dissolving into the wind—around her finger.

Rip—

The sound of tearing fabric rang out like a hallucination. A single, tiny thread was pulled away, leaving a negligible hole in the tightly woven giant web, not even drawing the notice of the spiders.

[Remove a single thread from the veil without damaging its essence; Ornithology chases that wandering thread.]

Then, Veronica raised her hand and, through that insignificant strand, grasped the essence of something hidden beneath the layers of the web.

With a forceful tug, she pulled!

The negligible hole was violently torn open, becoming a gruesome wound that spanned the web. The remaining threads vibrated and snapped back, reconverging into a massive form.

From Hohenheim's perspective, the mist seemed startled, shrinking rapidly inward and collapsing into a gray cocoon the size of a man. However, a hideous crack had bloomed on the surface of the cocoon, and billowing thick fog poured out like blood, leaving mottled black-and-white traces on the ground.

"Sss-ha—"

The underdeveloped Abomination opened eight bright red eyes in anger from the crack. Under its gaze, which was heavy with deep resentment, Hohenheim felt his body grow sluggish. Invisible threads wrapped around him, adding extra resistance to his every movement.

Gray text condensed on the light screen that popped up before his eyes.

Abomination: Mist Spider (Juvenile)
This spider, like almost all its kin, weaves webs—regardless of the material used.
Aspect—Beast: When it moves, it is neither wind nor man.
Aspect—Cocoon: Birth and death are the only two directions; we have found an intersection between them.
Aspect—Mist: "The door in the pupil comes before the Pitch-Black Flax," is the kind of thing Scholars say. Apprentices would say that mist is merely a particularly damp darkness.

The "Abomination," equivalent to the First Seal level and weaving webs out of mist, struggled to crawl out of the cocoon, emitting an angry hiss.

However, that was as far as it would go.

Before the Mist Spider could turn its gaze toward Veronica, its head and all eight eyes were pierced by a pebble, common to any beach, which exploded into a large mass of foul-smelling gray slime that splattered everywhere. It sent ripples through the barrier in front of the gate.

"See? You just handle the small ones like that. The big ones are much more troublesome; they run away, and they burst with so much juice—it's all sticky."

Stepping outside the now-clear gate, Veronica approached the remains of the Mist Spider, whose body had already mostly dissipated in the wind. She casually plucked the sac located at the end of its abdomen and tossed it to Hohenheim.

"Keep the materials; consider it a welcome gift. They'll be useful later."

"Why are you still standing there stunned? Do you think I'm a very cruel person?"

Catching the sac, Hohenheim ignored the data scrolling on the light screen and tucked it into his waist pouch. As he thanked her, he muttered to himself:

No, whether you're even human is still up for debate.

Stepping out of the barrier, Hohenheim poked at the half-severed spider leg that was still twitching by instinct. Feeling its fluffy yet slightly sticky texture, he resisted the urge to set it on fire to test its quality and asked:

"Is this the job description?"

"Yes, this is the job description. Congratulations, Mr. Hohenheim Lancaster. Thanks to the recommendation I, Veronica Cessno, consultant to the Prevention and Suppression Bureau, made on my own authority, you are now officially a contractor under my name."

"There are no mandatory obligations, and by the same token, you must secure your own benefits. I think, for someone who is an alchemist—oh, still an alchemist apprentice, I suppose—this is the best position. It won't delay your subsequent studies and advanced training."

While explaining this to Hohenheim, Veronica curled her right index finger and tapped the air where the mist was thinnest. Her thin lips parted, whispering the incantation of Agony to the threshold that existed there.

[Seek, and you shall find; knock, and the door shall be opened.]

At the boundary between land and sea, the blurred line was opened once more, forming a brief shortcut. Standing beside this temporary door, Veronica asked again:

"Adhering to the principle of voluntariness, Mr. Horn, are you willing to accept this identity?"

"As if you've left me any other choice."

Answering Veronica's question with a question that wasn't really a question, Horn vented the slight dissatisfaction he felt at being manipulated, yet his mood brightened nonetheless.

Stepping across the bizarre, kaleidoscopic cross-section of the doorway with a smile, a long-lost sense of excitement stirred within Horn's heart.

Starting today, I'm officially a contract worker!