Technique: [Scythe and Eclipse]

"Starting a new job..."

Pulling out the credentials he had just received, Horn, who had successfully landed a government position even in this strange world, felt a sense of inexplicable sentimentality.

On the cover, a pattern of three flowers—black, white, and red—was superimposed over a shield-shaped emblem. Beside it was the motto, "ALIIS SI LICET TIBI NON LICET (If it is permitted for others, it is not permitted for you)," which seemed to radiate a unique aura. The paper inside was supple and pale, possessing a creamy, smooth texture to the touch.

According to Emma, the ink used for the document's anti-counterfeiting measures was a creation of the Ink of Containment, granting the credentials a cold tactile sensation and an aura of authority that made ordinary people feel intimidated. It was already considered a low-level wonder—that is, an object that possessed long-lasting supernatural power.

The shelf life of the document's properties was approximately ten years, but most agents of the Prevention and Suppression Bureau would either upgrade to a higher-level credential or be dismissed from the Bureau before that time, so there was little need to worry about it expiring.

One credential passed down through three generations; the person may be gone, but the credential remains.

--"And precisely because of this, if it is lost or damaged, the procedures to replace it are extremely troublesome, and a large fee must be paid. Do not lose it, do not forget it; keep this firmly in mind."

Emma's warning still echoed in his ears. Confirming that his name was resting quietly in the name field beneath his ID photo, Horn put it away with satisfaction. A faint flame flashed and vanished, causing a card with a black cover to appear on the desktop within his consciousness.

[Prevention and Suppression Bureau Credentials: The motto of the Prevention and Suppression Bureau has always been "ALIIS SI LICET TIBI NON LICET (If it is permitted for others, it is not permitted for you)." Now, you stand on the side that is permitted. Be careful, do not slide toward the other side.]

[Aspect—Object: A gentleman uses objects; a petty person is used by objects.]

[Aspect—Silence 1: Mourn it, remember it, but never speak of it.]

[Aspect—Attraction 1: "The compass rose that guides all things." The sevenfold guidance leading to the starry sky. Exploration, enlightenment, hope?]

According to Emma, Attraction was a secondary principle, overlapping to a certain degree with Candle and Key. In past eras, this principle was also known as Star, carrying the meaning of guidance and direction.

--Waving goodbye to Emma for the time being and stepping back onto the bustling streets of Birmingham, Horn heard the twelve melodious tolls of the great clock from the spherical dome of St. Paul's Church in the distance, and he felt a momentary sense of trance.

It was as if everything that had happened in the boundary had been erased along with the fall of Saliba, and the world had returned to its "proper track" on its own. Only the collapsed hospital bore witness to the destruction of the conspiracy that had once shrouded Birmingham.

It was as absurd as a phantom dream, yet as fated as destiny.

Shaking the inexplicable sense of déjà vu from his head, Horn stopped before the gates of the Alchemy Academy. Watching the hurried alchemy apprentices, he stepped toward the alchemy workshop belonging to Professor Borlaug.

No matter how bizarre and strange the world of the supernatural was, his status as an alchemy apprentice would not change. Furthermore, in terms of making money, the rewards for risking his life on missions for the Prevention and Suppression Bureau were truly not as high as being a legitimate alchemist with a license from the Endeavor Society.

Moreover, after passing the initial transparent stage, the Flame of Destiny, which had turned pitch black, was very picky. It wasn't that Horn hadn't fed it his own spirituality, but even after exhausting his efforts, he could only make the potential upgrade progress bar rise by an insignificant distance.

If one were to make an analogy, it would be like downloading a huge compressed file using the slow connection of some unscrupulous cloud storage service. Not only did the numbers after the decimal point move only after a long time, but even the pitiful amount of progress already downloaded was precarious, always fearing the sudden pop-up of a [Download Terminated, All Failed] notification.

What Horn regretted was that a spirituality pack as large, satisfying, and high-quality as Saliba would not respawn for a short time—no, it should be a very long time. Thus, the experience feedback from alchemy became the reason for grinding levels.

It had been a long time since he had fired up the alchemy furnace; the last time was when he crafted the Apprentice's Explosive, and he had thoroughly enjoyed the thrill of blowing things up. At the mere thought of returning to the alchemy bench, the blood in his body surged joyfully, its temperature gradually rising. The First Seal, Blood Scorcher, craved the fulfillment of the Heavenly Mandate.

"Alchemy, alchemy, I love alchemy, alchemy makes me happy~"

Humming an off-key melody, Horn pushed open the workshop door, only to lock eyes with Professor Olive Borlaug, who was standing on her tiptoes, clutching a mass of unidentified scarlet flesh in one hand while reaching for a reagent bottle with the other.

"Squeak----"

A sharp, piercing screech erupted suddenly, tearing through the awkward silence, though it did not come from either the master or the apprentice.

The mass of flesh held in Olive's hand woke from its slumber the moment Horn appeared. Its three arms and three legs splayed out, it writhed and split open a large mouth, waving the tentacles that had just sprouted. Its form began to blur and flicker like smoke, attempting to escape Olive's grasp.

Responding to the restless meatball were slender fingers carrying a cold chill.

Skill: [Scythe and Eclipse]!

A light gray color, carrying a sense of reprimand, spilled from her fingertips like a glove, covering her entire palm and coating it in a layer of sand-like armor. Then, shimmering mercury snaked out from her sleeves and clung to her palm. The two qualitatively different substances mixed, achieving a balance at a subtle level.

[Salt and silver have reached equilibrium; necessity and censure pass through here unimpeded.]

And so, all the counterattacks brewed by the meatball fell apart at the touch of her fingers. The wide-open mouth was supported by her fingers before it could even bite down, and it was pinched—one could almost call it gently—into a thin, shallow scar, as if that organ had never existed at all.

"Wuwuwu--"

The sharp screech turned into a faint whimper, and the meatball, seemingly having lost all strength and means, went limp and listless.

No trash talk, already behaved.jpg

It was truly a sight that would make the listener sad and the onlooker weep; Horn stifled his laughter.

Wait, no, was his mentor conducting some kind of biochemical experiment? Did he come at the wrong time?

"Um, please continue, I didn't see anything."

Amidst the eerie background noise, Olive looked up gloomily at Horn, who was already halfway through closing the door he had pushed open. She scanned him casually at first, then widened her eyes, her usually calm tone shifting.

"Wait, don't go."

"Sure, okay, no problem, Professor. Is there anything else you need? Do you want me to help you get that bottle of Bitter Black Salt on the shelf?"

Feeling the familiar aura radiating from the mass of meat, which possessed a pressure even greater than that of the mutated Belloc, and looking at his petite professor who didn't care at all about the meat's struggle and had suppressed it with a backhand, Horn was about to break into a cold sweat.

Olive Borlaug, an alchemy master of the Endeavor Society who possessed a baby face and, despite being nearly forty, looked even younger than Horn, and who inherited the Silver Salt Alchemy, looked at the apprentice she had thought died outside. She didn't show any particular expression, just silently pointed to the Tartar Emetic next to the Bitter Black Salt and spoke calmly.

"This, help me get this."