Evelyn pulled back from the embrace, her expression shifting from emotional little sister back to a focused Luminous Knight as she wiped the last of her glowing tears.
"Yes, big sister Elicia. We actually need to head to the Knights Bureau as soon as possible. The official reports are already claiming that Branch 1 left absolutely no survivors at the northern border. But seeing the two of you standing here alive... Chief Roman is definitely going to want a word with you."
I leaned against the doorframe, a sharp glint in my mismatched eyes.
"You hear that, Elicia? We need to get dressed. There is still enough time to control the narrative before Elias or the Bureau panics further."
Evelyn nodded quickly, checking the gold-rimmed pocket watch at her hip.
"Yes, and apart from that, I'm going to be late for work if we don't hurry. You know I have a perfect attendance record to maintain."
Elicia let out a soft, melodic laugh, the heavy grief from moments before completely evaporating as she looked at both of us.
"A perfect attendance record amidst all this chaos? Look at my two younger sisters. Alright, let's get going. I'll get dressed and ready, just wait for me outside the room, will you?"
"Big sister, There are some spare dresses in that drawer. Don't wear those fur-lined traveling robes of yours. It'll look filthy if you walk into the Bureau headquarters looking like you just dragged yourself through a blizzard." I said, gesturing toward the heavy oak dresser across the room while keeping myself firmly out of the morning sunbeam.
"Understood, little stylist," Elicia teased, already walking over to the dresser.
Evelyn turned away from the bed and approached me at the doorway, her scarlet-and-white armor gleaming.
"Let's get going, Eirene. Let's let her change."
"Right behind you," I murmured. We stepped out into the hallway, pulling the bedroom door shut to give Elicia her privacy, ready to face the bureaucratic storm brewing at the heart of the capital.
We made our way back downstairs into the dim warmth of the ground floor. Even though the sun was rising outside, the heavy curtains kept the interior securely dark, which was exactly how I needed it.
Evelyn and I stood by the dining room table. The scene was an absolute testament to my dual life: one half of the table was covered in spherical glass flasks of freshly synthesized tear gas, while the other half held our breakfast spread.
I held out the remaining slice of my strawberry-jam-and-pickle toast to Evelyn, offering her a share.
She took one look at the sour green pickles glistening against the sweet red jam and violently shook her head.
"No thanks, Eirene. Jam and toast paired with pickles is a massive no for me. That's a terrifying combination."
"Suit yourself," I muttered.
But what she did next was arguably just as bizarre. Evelyn reached past the bread entirely, grabbed the heavy glass jar of strawberry jam, dipped a massive metal spoon directly into it, and began eating the pure jam straight out of the jar like it was a scoop of vanilla ice cream.
I stared at her, my mismatched jade and crimson eyes blinking in utter bewilderment.
"Evelyn... you're eating pure sugar with a spoon. That's weird, even by my standards."
Evelyn just giggled, completely unfazed as she took another spoonful. I had to remind myself that she wasn't a normal human. As a half-human, half-slime hybrid, her amorphous biological anatomy could instantly dissolve, process, and absorb organic compounds at a cellular level. She was fundamentally immune to diabetes, high blood sugar, or any of the dietary constraints that plagued ordinary mortals. Her body just craved raw energy.
While she happily devoured the jam, I looked down at the dark inventory ring resting on my index finger. I tapped into its spatial matrix and realized it was completely full, crammed to the brim with high-tier loot, modern firearms, and the recently acquired Demon Valkyrie Longsword. I needed to clear up some inventory space immediately.
With a swift flick of my wrist, I purged a massive batch of heavy cargo from the ring.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Roughly eight kilograms of concentrated, military-grade tear gas canisters materialized out of thin air, settling heavily onto the dining room table. The new rows of glass bottles and metallic canisters overflowed, adding a thick, chemical layer of hazardous weaponry right next to my makeshift meth lab.
"More crowd control," I murmured, checking the seals on the new bottles. The house was starting to look less like a home and more like an underground insurgent depot, but with the Knights Bureau calling for us, you could never be too prepared.
With eight kilograms of heavy chemical munitions purged onto the dining table, I felt the spatial tension inside my inventory ring instantly ease. Mentally scanning the ledger of its localized pocket dimension, I calculated the remaining weight. The storage matrix was now holding exactly fifteen kilograms of sheer, unadulterated lethality: my modern Earth-engineered Death Chant Shotgun weighing in at five kilograms, the relentless Death Chant Tommy Gun at six kilograms, and the newly harvested Demon Valkyrie Longsword sitting at a solid four kilograms. The mathematical reduction left my carrying capacity perfectly optimized and ready for rapid deployment.
I leaned against the edge of the dining table, my single jade-green eye locking onto the spectral, dark-violet sheen radiating from the sheathed Demon Valkyrie Longsword inside my mind's eye. The weapon was a terrifying anomaly of magical engineering. Its passive attribute, Lifeline, was an absolute death sentence for high-tier vanguard squads, fundamentally crippling world-class healers like Elicia by capping any incoming holy restoration or cellular regeneration at a pathetic, choked-down thirty percent efficiency. But it was the special attribute, Mist Blade, that made my blood run hot with strategic calculation. The ability to temporarily shift the blade's physical properties into a phased, spectral state meant it could effortlessly bypass reinforced tower shields, heavy plate armor, and solid physical defenses, solidifying the exact millisecond it cleared the barrier to guarantee a clean, deep laceration directly into the enemy's flesh. It was, by all operational standards, completely overpowered.
An ambitious, chaotic spark ignited within my tactical brain. I hadn't actively trained in traditional swordsmanship for months, having long since transitioned my entire combat doctrine to rely strictly on high-velocity, modern ranged firearms and my S-rank blood manipulation affinities. In a high-stakes firefight, pulling out a four-kilogram longsword for close-quarters combat was inefficient. But what if I didn't use it as a sword?
If I could somehow dismantle the apocalyptic demon blade and forge its alloy into a specialized tactical bayonet, I could permanently affix it to the under-barrel of my primary ranged arsenal. A Death Chant Shotgun or a Death Chant Tommy Gun firing infinite, hyper-amplified blood bullets was already a catastrophic threat. But a firearm equipped with a Mist Blade bayonet? If a Luminous Knight or a high-ranking bounty hunter successfully closed the distance to engage me in melee combat, thinking my ranged weapon was useless at close quarters, I could thrust the bayonet forward. The blade would phase seamlessly straight through their heavy armor, pierce their bare flesh, and instantly infect their bloodstream with a necrotic, anti-heal curse that rendered their squad healers utterly obsolete. It was a flawless design to handle future, apocalyptic threats.
My mind raced through the engineering parameters. I still possessed two extra bootleg Tommy guns hidden upstairs in the secret compartment of my bedroom… the exact mass-produced models from Don Anthony's arms syndicate that I had confiscated during my infiltration operations. If I utilized those extra firearms as experimental testing platforms, affixing them with prototype phased bayonets forged from the remnants of the Valkyrie steel, I wouldn't have to risk altering my main, soul-bound weapons right away. I could build an entire squad-wiping contingency kit.
"What, Eirene? Daydreaming already?"
Evelyn's cheerful, teasing voice abruptly shattered my deep mathematical calculations. She was standing by the table, a giant silver spoon still buried halfway into the jar of strawberry jam, her bioluminescent eyes blinking up at me with pure, sisterly amusement.
I snapped out of my trance, my expression instantly hardening into its usual cold, deadpan stare.
"Shut up."
Evelyn let out a dramatic, exaggerated sigh, spinning on her heel and pointing her jam-covered spoon at me playfully as she headed back toward the staircase.
"Wow, feeling grumpy today, are we? Honestly, hearing your voice for the first time in months is nice and all, but if you're going to be this snippy, I think I'm gonna stick to the mute Eirene I used to know."
She giggled, her half-slime core pulsing with a vibrant, happy glow as she bounded back upstairs to check on Elicia's progress, leaving me alone in the dark living room to finish designing a weapon that would soon terrify the entire capital.