I stood over the kitchen counter, ready to begin the chemical synthesis. Before I ignited the alchemical burners, I looked down at the nineteen remaining rings scattered across the table. They were far too valuable to risk losing in a cluttered workspace, or worse, having a stray droplet of corrosive acid ruin their mana stones.
Activating the spatial tether on my right index finger, I channeled a precise thread of mana. A soft, localized vacuum expanded from the golden band, cleanly sucking the remaining jewelry into the suspended spatial void. I checked the internal registry of the ring's limitless domain. The localized data grid updated instantly:
[ CURRENT STORAGE CAPACITY: 25kg ]
Death Chant Shotgun
Death Chant Tommy gun
[6x]Magic Enhancement Rings (Lvl 1)
[5x] Healing Enhancement Rings (Lvl 1)
[9x] Mana Pool Rings (Lvl 1)
With my assets completely secure and out of harm's way, I turned my full attention to the wooden crate of alchemical precursors.
Memories of the arms trafficking guild flashed behind my Leech's Hollow Mask. Just six days ago, before I brutally executed Maine inside his own compound, the chemist had desperately tried to give me manufacturing advice. He had warned me that to brew these specific high-tier chemical compounds, I would need to construct a fully sealed, isolated meth lab with an industrial ventilation network. He had practically begged me to be careful, emphasizing that the volatile, toxic fumes bleeding off the boiling liquids would cause instant asphyxiation and liquefy a normal human's lungs within minutes.
A cold, mocking chuckle vibrated in my chest.
Maine didn't understand the monstrous nature of a sixth-evolution demon. Thanks to my corrupted biology, I possessed a passive, flawless immunity to all known poisons, toxins, and environmental hazards. The deadly fumes that could wipe out an entire squad of Capital Knights wouldn't even make my single jade-green eye water. I didn't need a sealed lab, and I didn't need a gas mask. The open air of my closed kitchen would do just fine.
Moving with meticulous, practiced geometry, I lined up the ten thick glass titration flasks I had purchased from the medical supplies market this morning along the counter. Ten flasks meant exactly ten canisters of high-potency, weaponized tactical tear gas.
I flattened the crumpled recipe sheet onto the counter with my right hand, my analytical eye scanning the compound ratios and the necessary heat thresholds. The precursors… the sulfurous salts, the refined acid concentrates, and the dense binding agents… were laid out beside the glass.
I struck a match and tossed it into the small charcoal stove beneath the iron tripod, the embers catching with a dull, orange glow that cast long shadows across the dark kitchen. With the curtains tightly drawn, the heat in the room began to rise, turning the air thick and heavy.
I meticulously arranged the glass apparati according to Maine's precise engineering sheet. One by one, the ten 250 mL Erlenmeyer flasks were lined up like a glass vanguard across the counter. I secured the 50mL graduated burette to its heavy stand, positioning the glass thermometer perfectly to monitor the thermal shifts.
Moving with a steady, unhurried hand, I began measuring out the high-purity aliphatic monocarboxylic acid matrix, combining it with the anhydrous sodium hydroxide pellets and distilled water. As the alkaline solution dissolved, the thermometer rapidly climbed toward the 60-degree Celsius threshold. The liquid swirled violently, releasing a dense, translucent white vapor that began to billow off the lip of the flasks, pooling heavily along the ceiling before cascading down the walls.
Because of my absolute, sixth-evolution immunity to all toxins, the chemical cloud didn't faze me in the slightest. To my corrupted senses, the weaponized gas didn't feel like a lethal asphyxiant; it merely carried a sharp, pungent aroma that smelled distinctly like a volatile mixture of crushed onions and concentrated black pepper. My single jade-green eye remained wide open, unbothered and completely un-irritated as I systematically dropped the phenolphthalein indicator into the acidic matrix, watching the liquid shift from a clear void to a permanent, vibrant pink hue.
I was just about to initiate the final, controlled evaporation over the steady charcoal flame to isolate the crystalline residue when the heavy iron latches of the front door suddenly clicked.
The door swung open, and the light footsteps of my newly discovered slime-hybrid sister echoed through the foyer.
"I'm home, big sis… " Evelyn's cheerful, melodic voice rang out through the house, but it was cut off instantly with a violent, ragged gasp.
The heavy, onion-and-pepper-scented chemical fog had traveled out of the kitchen, completely saturating the main hallway. The moment the weaponized gas hit Evelyn's lungs, her eyes widened in absolute shock. She immediately slammed both of her hands over her face, hacking and coughing violently as her knees buckled slightly against the floorboards.
The reaction was instantly biological. The brilliant, jade-green bioluminescent tips of her brown hair… the very traits that defined her high-tier slime hybrid physiology… shuddered violently and began to fade, turning into a dull, opaque pitch-black as the localized tear gas severely disrupted her cellular energy and mana flow.
"Eirene! Cough!... what the hell are you cooking?!"
Evelyn shrieked, her voice muffled behind her hands as tears began to stream down her face from the intense chemical irritation. She staggered backward toward the open doorway, desperately trying to wave the pungent mist away from her nose.
"Are you literally just boiling an entire mountain of onions down here?! I am not eating whatever psychological weapon you are making for dinner!"
As Evelyn continued to wheeze and complain loudly at the edge of the kitchen, her eyes tearing up from the pungent, pepper-and-onion-scented cloud, I didn't waste a single breath trying to reassure her. My missing tongue made verbal communication impossible anyway, so I swiftly grabbed my notepad from the counter, tore off a fresh sheet, and scribbled a brief, authoritative command in dark ink.
I flicked my wrist, tossing the paper directly at her. It smacked against her arm before fluttering to the floorboards. The note read simply:
"Go to your room."
Evelyn looked down, her watery jade-green eyes tracking the text through her fingers. Still hacking violently as the chemical vapor turned the tips of her brown hair a deep, inactive black, she didn't argue further. Grabbing the hem of her immaculate ivory-and-scarlet Luminous Knight uniform to cover her nose, she turned on her heel and hurried straight up the stairs to escape the localized war zone I had created in the kitchen. From the upper floor, I could still hear the faint, muffled sounds of her grumbling and complaining about my supposed "onion addiction," completely oblivious to the fact that her older sister was actually synthesizing military-grade alchemical weapons.
Unbothered by her dramatic exit, I turned back to the charcoal stove to complete the final, delicate stage of the titration process.
Moving with practiced, methodical precision, I carefully monitored the evaporation of the neutralized solutions over the steady heat, isolating the dense, highly concentrated chemical liquid. One by one, I carefully funneled the volatile, pale pink fluid into ten sturdy, reinforced glass flasks. I sealed each container with a thick, air-tight cork, locking the pungent, blinding mist inside. The synthesis was an absolute success. Ten pristine canisters of high-potency tactical tear gas stood lined up on the counter, ready to neutralize Vanessa Katt's mercenary vanguard.
With the gear finalized, I held out my right hand and channeled a thread of dark mana into the golden band on my index finger. The air rippled slightly as the Inventory Ring activated, vacuuming all ten flasks smoothly into its suspended pocket dimension.
As a professional item appraiser, my mind automatically calculated the precise mathematical mass and structural layout currently occupying the ring's spatial matrix.
Every Level 1 Inventory Ring possessed a rigid, fundamental spatial threshold… it could strictly store up to 25 kilograms or 25,000 grams of total mass before its dimensional walls risked destabilization.
I systematically broke down the weight distribution of my current haul:
The Tear Gas Canisters weigh each individual glass flask weighed exactly 43 grams. With ten completed flasks in storage, the chemical payload totaled:
43 grams x 10 = 430 grams
The Firearms: My devastating god-tier Death Chant Shotgun possessed a heavy, reinforced chassis weighing exactly 4 kilograms or 4,000 grams, while my, dual-drum Tommy Gun carried a hefty steel frame weighing 5 kilograms or 5,000 grams. Together, the firearms contributed a massive 9 kilograms or 9,000 grams to the core matrix.
The Magical Rings are each of the remaining unmerged jewelry pieces carried a fine metallic weight of exactly 12 grams. With nineteen distinct rings safely tucked into the void, the accessory mass totaled:
12 grams x 19 = 228 grams
Summing up the entire tactical ledger inside the spatial void, the total weight of my stored items came to exactly:
430 grams + 9,000 grams + 228 grams = 9,658 grams or approximately 9.66 kg
Subtracting this from the artifact's baseline limitation:
25,000 grams - 9,658 grams = 15,342 grams
This meant my inventory ring still possessed 15,342 grams or 15.34 kg of entirely free, unburdened storage space. I had more than enough dimensional room to spare. Tomorrow, when I systematically executed my assault on the Lulu Mountains, I could effortlessly store Vanessa Katt's bound body, any valuable high-tier chests I plundered from her tents, and eventually, the severed, 10 gold bounty head of Commander Cameron Gal without ever hitting the ring's physical capacity limit.
I let out a slow, silent sigh of absolute satisfaction beneath my mask. My alchemical preparation was complete, my arsenal was perfectly weightless, and my math was flawless. Now, all that remained was to wait for the cover of dawn to bring the underworld down upon the Immoral Knights.