Chapter 236

Third World.

After transferring vehicles like a bajillion times, I finally made it to the capital. Took days both ways—going there and coming back. Luckily, though, no big dangers popped up while traveling. I did worry about roads getting blocked by snowstorms since it’s winter, but this country barely sees snowy days even in the dead of winter. Compared to Faded Memory, it’s just kinda chilly here, which is basically their version of “freezing cold.” Pretty livable place, honestly.

That said, the journey wasn’t all smooth sailing. More than half the villages I passed were pretty much destroyed, unable to function as proper towns anymore. So, for safety reasons, I had to take a detour through cities with military presence, which added extra time.

The capital itself seems relatively stable, but that doesn’t mean the whole country is out of the woods yet. It’ll probably take years before things settle down completely. And guess what? There’s been an interesting development—there are more foreigners around now. Not tourists exactly; more like refugees fleeing here because their homelands became unlivable.

In short, illegal immigrants. Most of them end up in the slums, especially the Brightshin slum area, where the influx of foreign arrivals has noticeably increased. Meanwhile, Harvesting Systems still dominate life in those parts. But not every city follows this pattern. Bern City, for example, remains isolated somehow—maybe due to its closed-off nature or maybe because it looks like a lost cause already—but anyway, there aren’t any outsiders there.

On the flip side, Nantes Port—or rather, Nantes City, since it’s growing fast—is seeing a massive rise in foreigners arriving by ship. Roughly speaking, it makes sense: whatever disaster happened here recently—or is still happening—is also affecting other countries. Specifically, the three corporations messing with national security. Even though these technologies have been banned officially, plenty of places still use them openly, like Atlan Fortress City. This isn’t just about industrial levels—it’s foundational tech holding entire civilizations together. Fixing it won’t be easy.

Some places will adapt properly, others will compromise… Either way, it’s gonna be fun watching how everything unfolds. The replacement tech already exists—you’ve got Daegon Method and Primordial Heavenly Sovereign Method. Since some groundwork has already been laid, adoption should move quickly. Take Bern City, for instance—it’s booming thanks to Primordial Heavenly Sovereign tech.

While keeping tabs on global trends like that, I found myself standing outside my accommodation near Royal Academy without realizing it. A butler greeted me at the door, so I gave him the usual “I’ve returned” speech and walked inside. After exchanging pleasantries with familiar faces, I retreated to my room to rest.

***

Meanwhile, in Fourth World, I don’t really do much. Just wait for stimuli, then recite contract documents when prompted. Wizards poked and prodded me trying to figure out if I had human-like cognitive abilities, but they eventually concluded I didn’t. Pretty hasty judgment, if you ask me. Instead, they focused on exploiting byproducts from me—namely, Harvesting Systems.

Yep. Harvesters.

About once a day, they strap me in tight, immobilizing my neck so I can’t look away, then lower my head. Once my vision is restricted, they remove my blindfold. When I open my eyes, there’s always someone trembling in front of me, destined to become another harvester. I recite the contract document, and voilà—another harvester joins the ranks. Then they blindfold me again, reset my posture, and pump pleasure into my brain. My body reflexively shakes, and through the harvesters’ connection, I observe the wizard’s expression. He looks satisfied, delighted that his technology works perfectly… though it’s all based on delusions.

If we compare this to Faded Memory, he probably sees me as some lovesick idiot with hearts in my eyes, succumbing to pleasure. Maybe demons and gods really did fall apart like that—succumbing to their own corrupted vessels. Haha, ironic, right?

Anyway, the wizards keep experimenting. For example, they try making harvesters out of dismembered limbs or organs, or bring pre-made harvesters over to see how I react. Of course, once someone becomes a harvester, they can’t become one again. No matter how many times I chant the contract, nothing changes—they’re already full of light. The wizards eventually realized this after subjecting me to pain and pleasure repeatedly. Took ’em long enough.

Conveniently, they figured it out themselves, saving me the trouble of explaining. Also, I pulled a little prank on them involving clones—women who look identical but aren’t actually infused with me yet. To keep them from noticing the difference, I treated them the same as everyone else, inserting myself only into the clones directly in front of me. Through this, I could observe the wizard via the harvesters’ perspectives.

All non-clone harvesters get shredded and recycled after experiments, but the clone harvesters remain untouched. Obvious, isn’t it? The wizard doesn’t trust regular people—he only trusts his creations. Too bad he’s overly optimistic about them, which turned out to be his downfall. Initially, he kept the clone harvesters confined to the research area, but once he made more, he started bringing them into his living quarters. His perspective broadened, allowing me to see more.

The wizard lives in a massive mansion. The lab was located in the basement. Through the harvesters, I saw young girls running toward the wizard, calling him “Dad.” They weren’t ordinary kids—some had devil horns and tails, others had halos above their heads. Figures. Extracting power from babies wasn’t entirely false advertising. Smart guy—he probably possessed pregnant women to birth children with specific traits. Though judging by the absence of visible cloning vessels, the hosts might’ve died during the process.

None of these kids noticed my presence. Don’t know if it’s because they’re too young to develop that awareness or if they never will. Seeing multiple kids with identical external features suggests they came from the same source. Calling the wizard “Dad” feels kinda funny, but creating parental bonds with your creations is a surprisingly efficient method. Sure, individuality grows and rebellion kicks in eventually, but conditioning them early prevents most issues.

Also, none of the kids call the clones “Mom.” Instead, they treat them like obedient maids following orders. Interesting parallel to memories from the harvesters—slave traders, orphan collectors, lots of people in similar professions existed back in the day. Adolescence as a concept didn’t exist until modern times. Before that, there were only two categories: kids and adults. Eight-year-olds working chimneys during the Industrial Revolution wasn’t considered unusually cruel—they’d already been working at home doing small tasks since earlier ages. By eight, they were legitimate laborers. Concepts like protecting kids from dirty or dangerous jobs came much later.

So yeah, the wizard let himself form unhealthy attachment relationships with the young hybrids. He lives in a very isolated world, surrounded only by things he believes in or loves. That leaves him vulnerable. You can practically feel his unstable mental state. Between handling toxic chemicals and whatever innate instability he had, his face is swollen, his gait distorted—both mind and body are fragile. Ironically, this highlights the appeal of harvesters: regeneration and enhancement. At this rate, he’ll probably ask to turn himself into one eventually.

Hehe.

This setup is convenient. No need for complex strategies—I just spout the same lines mindlessly, increasing the number of harvesters automatically while gaining knowledge about summoning rituals. If I showed personality, he’d grow suspicious and might catch onto my tricks. But since he views me as a simple tool, he doesn’t question anything. People tend to cling stubbornly to conclusions they’ve drawn themselves, refusing to admit mistakes and believing themselves infallible. That mindset makes manipulation easier. Once someone decides something, rethinking it becomes difficult.

Geniuses are rare precisely because they constantly doubt even their own established knowledge. And let’s be honest—the wizard ain’t no genius. Plus, his self-created comfort zone lacks anyone willing to challenge him harshly. Thus, he has no choice but to spiral downward. Hanging suspended in the middle of the lab, I relax and wait patiently. An apple magically appears in my mouth whenever I open it. Tasty.