Chapter 150: The First Edition
Arcane Legion Laboratory.
Skele-Avarice and Skele-Lust were currently staring in a stupor at a "nesting doll" beaker—a piece of accidental abstract art born from their failed spatial experiments. The entire lab was thick with the decadent, heavy atmosphere of academic defeat.
Just then, the doors were kicked open with a bang.
Kaito marched in with heroic flair, cradling an assembly of iron frames and wooden blocks. He radiated the smug energy of a man who had just reinvented the wheel. He completely failed to notice the soul-deep exhaustion etched into his two Lich subordinates.
"Behold! What do you make of this?!"
Kaito slammed the heavy iron frame onto the lab bench. The impact made the nesting beaker jump.
Lust leaned in curiously, poking the crooked wooden blocks within the frame with a dainty finger. "Master... is this some sort of new building-block toy for the children?"
Kaito wagged a bony finger, his voice taking on a mysterious, profound tone. "A toy? No, no, no!"
"This is the cornerstone of civilization! The vessel of thought! The very future of the Empire!"
Avarice stepped closer, scanning the crude contraption with a clinical eye. "Master, my analysis indicates these wooden blocks are of non-uniform size, the engravings vary in depth, and several edges possess jagged burrs. As a precision component, its margin of error exceeds seventy percent. Furthermore..."
Avarice picked up a block engraved with the character for 'I.'
"The script is reversed. It is backwards."
"It's supposed to be backwards!" Kaito snatched the block back as if it were a priceless relic. "This is Movable Type Printing! We arrange them, apply ink, press them onto parchment, and—"
Kaito launched into a spit-flying explanation of his grand vision. After he finished describing the utility of the printing press, Avarice looked genuinely perplexed.
"Master, while this device would certainly increase the speed of text replication, we undead can exchange vast amounts of data via the Soul Link. As for the other sapient races, the Academy's current scribes and woodblock printing satisfy the basic needs of knowledge dissemination. Why... why do we require a technology of this velocity?"
Kaito didn't hesitate. He looked Avarice dead in the eye sockets.
"Because I want it."
Five words. That was all it took. Every ounce of Avarice's doubt vanished instantly into the void. He offered a deep, reverent bow.
"I understand, My Lord."
Lust, still in her human girl avatar, shot Avarice a look of pure disdain. He doesn't even understand the basics of pleasing the Master. No wonder his research is stalled.
Suddenly, Kaito grabbed both Liches by the shoulders. "But! The efficiency is currently pathetic! I need you two to use your magic to give it a 'Next-Gen' upgrade! I want a fully automated system! I want to be able to send text through the Soul Link, have it auto-layout the blocks, and print by itself!"
Lust and Avarice shared a glance.
"By your command, Master," they replied in unison.
The reconstruction began. Lust's first attempt involved applying a "Mass Animation" hex to the plate. The moment the array activated, all the wooden blocks let out a collective hum and went airborne, flying out of the frame and buzzing around the lab like angry hornets, clattering into expensive instruments.
Eventually, after Avarice stabilized the energy flow—and accidentally printing the entire "Introduction to Necromancy" onto the lab ceiling—a brand-new magical machine was born. It looked like a massive obsidian box. Kaito gave it a resonant name: The Evernight Press.
The Imperial Ministry of Literature.
This was the newest department established in Iron Fortress, housed in a modest three-story stone building. When Kaito arrived hauling the Evernight Press, the "elite" staff of the ministry—a group of skeletons who had recently "graduated" from the Academy—were engaged in high-concept artistic pursuits.
One skeleton had detached its lower half and was lying on the floor, using its own spine as a ruler to attempt to draw a perfectly straight line. Another was hugging a boulder, frantically carving at it with a chisel while muttering poetry.
A group in the corner was engaged in a heated debate. The topic: Whether humans preferred their morning porridge sweet or savory. There were two bowls of porridge before them. They couldn't reach a consensus, so they took turns trying to "taste" it—which resulted in zero flavor feedback and oatmeal spilled all over the floor.
Kaito, having grown used to this, cleared his throat to draw their attention.
"Listen up! From today, this machine belongs to your department!"
Kaito installed the Evernight Press in the center of the room and loaded a stack of parchment into the feeder. Then, via the Soul Link, he transmitted the text of the first ten chapters.
HUMMM—
The machine let out a low, vibrating rumble. The skeletons swarmed the device, craning their necks to see inside. A series of rapid click-clacks and mechanical thuds echoed from the obsidian casing.
Suddenly, a sheet of parchment covered in neat, black script was spat out of the other side. Then another. And another.
The speed increased until the pages were a blur, piling up on the floor.
"Don't just stand there!" Kaito barked. "Collect the pages! Bind them into volumes!"
The skeletons snapped out of their trance and lunged for the paper with a chorus of "Gahs." Chaos ensued. It took Kaito personally stepping in to teach these "literary elites" how to distinguish the front of a page from the back. After using a bit of "Slime Mucus" magic to complete the binding, the first batch of finished products was ready.
They were thin, flimsy pamphlets with rough covers and slightly lopsided stitching. But Kaito didn't care. He picked one up, his soul filling with a sense of accomplishment.
He turned to the Head of the Ministry (a skeleton wearing a very large, unnecessary hat).
"Immediately! Distribute these to the public!"
"Make them free! And do NOT tell them who the author is!"
That afternoon, the residents of Iron Fortress witnessed a peculiar sight.
A group of skeletons hauled several large crates into the center of the busiest plaza and erected a makeshift stage. A Ghoul stood atop a crate, shouting at the top of his lungs.
"FREE BOOKS! READ ALL ABOUT IT! THE LATEST IN ENTERTAINMENT! ONE PER PERSON! NO COIN REQUIRED!"
Pedestrians stopped, casting suspicious and curious glances. Free?
A Dwarven miner, just finished with a grueling shift at the mountains, shoved through the crowd and snatched a pamphlet from the box. He flipped it open, and the first thing that hit him was the ridiculously long title.
The Dwarf's brow furrowed into a deep scowl. "What kind of gibberish is this?" he muttered, turning the book over to check for a price or a hidden curse. "Who has this much free time? Writing useless trash like this."
He curled his lip in disgust. "This paper is too stiff to use as toilet rags."
He balled the pamphlet up, preparing to toss it into a nearby waste bin. But as he did, his eye caught the first line of the crumpled page:
"I, Sato-kun... am just your average gamer shut-in."
The Dwarf froze.
"Shut-in? Gamer? What in the hells is that?"
He paused, a strange, inexplicable curiosity bubbling up. He pulled the crumpled ball back from the edge of the bin.
"Well... it's free. And the name sounds incredibly stupid. I might as well see how stupid it can get."
Muttering to himself, the Dwarf stuffed the pamphlet into his grimy pocket and turned toward the nearest tavern.
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