New Acquaintances

The journey has been arduous, more so the events that followed.

…

Alfir decided to retreat to a desolate cave he prepared as his base to wait for the next 4 months until the enrollment for Heromaker Academy.

"Just four months, I will wait for four months peacefully here, recover, and lie low. That is my current priority."

Alfir has long made preparations for the past month. To be precise, the fruits of his labor during his vacation days will be harvested now at this instant.

The cave he is staying in currently is just but of the few results of his hard work back when he was just a Zantury grunt. Moving his assets undetected is super difficult, but with Alfir's careful scheming, he managed to safely tuck his possessions hidden, and if the need arises, he'll find uses for them.

Never underestimate a minion's savings. Moreover, Alfir still has copies of the video of the duel between Gavin and the Immortal King. That's another card in his sleeves.

Since coming into this world and barely a month two months have passed, Alfir has achieved lots of things. He successfully advanced his mutation, distributed his assets, collected hard data from Zentury, and even managed to kill a strong opponent.

Alfir is joyous of his victory, but it is not time yet for him to be complacent. He is weak, and this is a fact. Defeating Palnes was merely a stroke of luck on his side.

"I am a low percenter. By a soldier's standard, I am a useful soldier thanks to my mutation, but to elites, I am just cannon fodder."

Thus, "I have to get stronger." He promised himself.

However, that would be impossible for the current Alfir. Fighting Palnes didn't gain Alfir anything. He only had losses. The most glaring of this loses his 'potential' being damaged.

Most of all, the method he used to awaken his mutation is quite unorthodox. It is painfully obvious that side effects will inevitably arise. In fact, the Soul Method left quite the sequelae to Alfir.

It's thanks to his mutation having affinity to the mind, Alfir hears 'voices' more strongly than ever.

'You look badly wounded... I pity you kid.'

It is the voice of a wizened old man.

"Shut up."

Alfir's internal injuries are not just bad. It's horrendous. The pain is nerve-wracking.

Even the smallest movement causes him severe pain.

'Do not rush, darling~'

Then this time, it's a feminine seductive voice.

"Shut up."

Alfir has consistently said SHUT UP to these voices. Outrightly ignoring them causes these voices to be angry and crazy, so he can't do the silent treatment to them. These voices don't like being ignored, and for them, me saying 'SHUT UP' is better than me being silent.

"These voices are crazy," Alfir the one who hears voices thought to himself, oblivious that the one who is really crazy is him.

Maybe because of his precipitant state of near-death exhaustion, this happened. Or maybe, it's because of the Soul Method. Or maybe, it's an entirely different reason at all.

Through peeling the skin of your soul and laying it bare, Alfir is able to awaken his mutation at the cost of his sanity. This is only a hypothesis, but it explains otherwise the trade-off. There is no free lunch in this world after all.

Even if Alfir knew of this cost beforehand, he believes that he will still continue with the Soul Method. After all, physical harm weighs more than mental harm.

"This world after all is a very physical one, in which, the norms of society that I know are of no use here. It is a fucking survival of the fittest in the most primal sense."

In this world, where death is actively seeking its victim, power is necessary. Alfir prefered being insane rather than dead. But just this recently, he felt that he might be regretting that decision now.

...

(FLASHBACK AS TO ALFIR'S SOUL METHOD.)

Alfir sat cross-legged as he tries to cultiva— no, that is inappropriate.

Alfir lies in his bed as he prepares himself for the Soul Method.

How is the Soul Method done?

It's very simple— exploring the mind!

This world's physics works very differently compared to his old world. In this world, the soul has weight. It's just so minuscule, it can't be seen. Lighter than light particles, they say.

This soul can be stimulated by exploring the mind, specifically by breaking it first. In Zentury, they use electric shocks, torture, shaming, and so on. Mental shocks so inhumane, they'd definitely be the scorn of humanity.

That's an evil organization for you.

Closing his eyes, Alfir sank deep into his sea of consciousness.

Alfir had severe depression issues and a factitious disorder he scarcely recovered from when he was in middle school. After a lot of therapy and opportunities to socialize, it was almost gone.

Now, he is going to seek it and own it, actively and without hesitations.

Factitious disorder is a serious mental health disorder in which a person appears sick or produces physical or mental illness. People with factitious disorders deliberately produce symptoms of an illness for the purpose of receiving care and attention in a medical setting. The symptoms aren't intended to get the practical benefits— the gain is believed to be mainly psychological.

In essence, it's something like a disease of a closed-door attention whore…

Factitious disorder is considered a mental illness. It's associated with severe emotional difficulties and patients' likelihood of harming themselves by continuing to produce more symptoms, resulting in getting themselves unnecessary procedures and surgeries.

Alfir is amazing in so many wrong ways. Who in the right mind can return to being mentally ill with a simple change of mindset?

'Hey kid, how is your transmigration lifestyle going?'

That's how he first heard the 'voices' in his head.

"Wow... Now, that's new~ Well, for a tortured protagonist genre though..."

...

(PRESENT DAY.)

At first, he tried to ignore them and suppressed them, but it wasn't a permanent solution. Even after recovering his health to perfection, the voices remained.

'Aw! It hurts!'

'Big bwudar, can I go out?'

'Fuck, let me have your body!"

"Shut up."

After hours of excruciating journey, Alfir finally made it to his hideout, a cave he stumbled upon throughout the duration of his vacation. By his side is Minion#11111, a subordinate of an executive Alfir made a deal with.

"This is your base? It looks dull." It was 11111's voice that Alfir last heard when he directly fainted because of exhaustion.

…

When Alfir woke up, he felt so much better now. He moved his limbs with comfort. The inside of the cave remained the same, just like how he left it.

*swoosh swoosh~ fwssshh~

It was the sound of flames cooking something good. The smell reached Alfir, causing his stomach to growl. By the kitchen side, Alfir watched 11111 cook dinner. It was some rice and stuff… Slightly irritated that 11111 looked relatively handsome and is actually quite capable, Alfir decided to just remain in his bed and be comfy.

'I don't want to help, he can just cook for the both of us.'

Alfir discovered his healing factor in his idle rest saving him from consuming money-hungry potions. He recalled the murderous, masked, and mysterious executive that he met at the outpost. Fortunately, the executive believed his lies.

"The escape route that Palnes prepared was through an executive's small detachment just north of Venahama Lake. Palnes is quite capable, huh? But that masked executive? Just who is she?"

Sadly, Alfir has no idea who is that executive. The executive might even not have appeared in the novel. Alfir cannot ascertain it though given that the executive in question is wearing a mask.

"That masked woman is definitely suspecting me. After all, I was the only survivor of my squad." Alfir was pretty sure his lies would be seen through, but luckily, it worked out just fine. It seems that the masked executive has no interest in him with regard to what he did, or what he will be doing from now on.

"The executive's interest though might lie somewhere else, it is certain that she won't shy on using me. That must be why she decided to cut a deal with me."

That aside, the fact she sent Alfir her own minion speaks of just how little the trust is between them. Still, "why me?"

Maintaining his connection with the organization will certainly net him some gains in the future, so Alfir decided to get along with the executive at that time. It's not a bad deal.

...

Minion#11111 finished his cooking. He sat at the table, preparing the garnishes and all… that is when Alfir realized…

"Hey, where's mine?"

"…"

"I want to eat too."

"I am neither your babysitter nor attendant. I am the 'spy', that will watch over you. You may have fooled her lordship, but you won't fool me."

"*Ahem! Chillax, we are on the same team, of the same age range maybe… we can technically be buddies, you know?"

"Don't get cozy with me."

"…"

With an awkward face, Alfir retreated to the kitchen, finding stuff he wants to cook. He secretly observed 11111. He has dark blonde hair, scarred skin, and a pretty face. The guy is on the shorter side, but Alfir is quite sure, this guy must be strong.

Especially with the stakes involved in his deal with the executive, it is almost certain that Alfir is valued greatly… like an expensive pawn.

"Wait, the stuff you cooked your dinner with. It was mine, right? The ingredients, the charcoal, the spices, and the cooking utensils!" Alfir complained, honest to his needs.

11111 gave Alfir an annoyed look. Being a 'slightly' petty person, Alfir just can't pass up this opportunity.

"Hey, if you are going to use my ingredients, you should ask for my permission first, okay? Or maybe, you could've shared food, right? Ugh, you are so ungrateful."

"Do you want me to feed you?"

"Yes, of course! After all, your boss values me greatly."

"Sure, come here, pawn. Eat. I cooked plenty."

Alfir thought for a moment that 11111 will blow her top off. It looks like 11111 is a better person than he thought.

~tsss… kss… SPAT!!

11111 spat on the food, the rice, the dish, and even the homemade freshly extracted orange juice wasn't spared. 11111 then directed a smug look to Alfir as the fucking frigging minion continued to eat the food made of other people's ingredients.

…

"You know what? Fuck you."