She wouldn’t do it.

  Not yet.

  Three reasons, really.

  First, redundancy. Elsa was already strong enough, loyal enough, and capable enough to handle the current situation. Adding another would be a waste of resources and could introduce an uncontrollable risk.

  Second, the four words ‘Equivalent Exchange’ were a constant reminder to Pandora.

  【Myriad Alchemy】 was not without its 【Price】.

  The Price of Alchemizing Elsa had been her blood and a spiritual link. Right now, it was a price she could still bear, even one she found herself… willing to pay.

  But to Alchemize an even more powerful existence? The Price would surely be greater. Without a “benevolent soul” as a buffer, without a clear target and template… to try it rashly would be inviting disaster.

  Third… and most importantly.

  Better to have a trump card you never play than to play one and lose.

  Pandora murmured the words, her gaze sweeping over the dust-laden, heavy tomes on the bookshelves.

  The System’s other function, 【Assisted Alchemy】, was one she had yet to use. What did that mean? Perhaps it was a more controllable product, one that better suited her own will. Infusing one’s own will was the true path of alchemy, not a simple, formulaic ‘equivalent exchange.’

  These resources were the foundation she would use to leverage the 【Assisted Alchemy】 function in the future. Every unit of Flesh, every grain of Salt-Gold, even that mysterious “Ether,” could be the key that made a difference at some critical future moment. It wasn't that she couldn't use them, but that they had to be used with a plan, one move leading to another…

  Hmm, her train of thought had gone off the rails.

  Her gaze fell back on the newly added line: 【Ether: 1 unit】.

  Curiosity was innate, and right now, it was stronger than ever.

  “Ether…”

  This scribe zombie, like the others, had contributed a stable 5 units of Flesh and 5 units of Salt-Gold. Flora was intermittent; 1 unit was the norm. Its source was clear.

  Only this “Ether” was a mystery.

  The corpse of a living person, like Elsa’s when she was still human, had yielded no Ether. Only a body that had undergone the “zombification” produced this mysterious 1 to 2 units of “Ether.”

  Was it the zombification process itself that created it?

  Or was it some more fundamental “rule” that had branded the “Ether” onto the transformed?

  Or perhaps… “Ether” itself was the “fuel” that allowed the silent “screening” to occur?

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  The more she knew, the more questions she had.

  Pandora shook her head, pushing the mystery, which had no answer for now, to the back of her mind. Time was short.

  She delayed no longer, her gaze scanning the tall oak bookshelves inch by inch. Dust motes danced in the air, the room filled with the strange, mixed scent of decaying paper and lingering ink.

  Pandora went to the bookshelf, her movements swift and silent. She pulled out the books one by one, quickly flipping through the title pages, tables of contents, and the illustrations and symbols of key chapters.

  Half an hour later, five heavy alchemy books with covers either gilded or hand-drawn with strange alchemical symbols were selected, stacked neatly in a corner of the desk.

  She wasn't actually certain if these were real alchemy texts. But this was all she could do.

  One of them was the very book the scribe zombie had been “immersed in reading” until its death. On some pages, you could still see its grey, blood-stained brain matter.

  Real or fake? What was their true worth? There was no way to judge now. But even if only one of them was genuine, this trip would have been worth it.

  After carefully tying the five books with a string from a drawer and slinging them onto her back, Pandora looked out the window. The lit window of the main town hall building was still bright. But in the distance, in the direction of the armory, all was silent.

  It should be time…

  She walked to the door and gently pulled it open a crack.

  Elsa’s figure stood like a statue in the shadows outside the door, silent, but reassuring.

  “Elsa.”

  “My Lady.”

  “It’s time for us to go,” Pandora whispered, her voice calm. “To the rendezvous point.”

  She took one last look at the study, with its air of forgotten knowledge and death, at the scribe slumped in his chair with his brains exposed. The moonlight seemed to cast a peaceful, blood-red glow over him.

  She retracted her gaze and stepped out.

  ………………

  The fire, at last, began to burn.

  Just as Pandora’s party of three horses and four riders quietly retreated along the same path, a sudden, brilliant red glow erupted behind them, tearing through the drowsy night sky.

  It wasn’t a single spark, but a roaring explosion!

  The armory’s wooden beams, the splashed oil, the piled-up leather and cotton… everything that could burn, fanned by the night wind, became a column of flames reaching for the sky.

  Thick smoke rolled and spiraled upward, almost obscuring the blood-red moon.

  Not far away, the window of the town hall that had been lit was suddenly thrown open from within!

  Arthur’s figure appeared at the window. At this hour, he was still wearing the armor that symbolized his status and power. His face no longer held the calm or authority of a “New King,” only shock, anger, and disbelief.

  Curses, roars, the frantic clang of metal… and, from further off, the rising and falling howls of the zombie horde, startled by the fire and the commotion!

  All the sounds wove together into a symphony of chaos.

  On this night, the town was destined for no sleep.

  Pandora reined in her horse, glancing back one last time.

  A faint smile touched her lips. She chuckled softly.

  “Success.”

  Her light laughter was swept away by the night wind, unheard by any.

  Arthur's foundation had been burned away by her own hand. A daughter of a “dead” Viscount, a small group from a manor whose very existence was in question… at this moment, they were probably the last thing on his mind, which was being scorched by the flames.

  And even if she was, she no longer needed to worry.

  “Go.”

  She didn’t look back. Elsa immediately clapped her legs lightly against the horse’s flanks.

  “Keep up.”

  Pandora’s voice was not loud.

  Ham and Lucien exchanged a look. The excitement in their eyes had not yet faded, but it was now joined by a solemn respect for the command.

  They sharply urged their horses, keeping close behind the figure ahead.

  The three horses and their four riders quickly melted into the night, vanishing into the forest path that led toward the abandoned hunter’s cabin.

  ………………

  The darkness ahead was thick as ink.

  Aurora felt like she was adrift in a scorching sea, her throat was parchment, every breath a knife slash. Her wounds throbbed with a dull pain, and the dizziness from her low-grade fever made her mind hazy.

  “…My Lady… Lady Pandora…”

  She mumbled unconsciously, her voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz. She longed for a trace of coolness, a sliver of comfort, a whiff of… that familiar, warm scent.

  Footsteps approached softly.

  A blurry figure wavered at the edge of her hazy vision.

  That silhouette… that posture… it was Lady Pandora!

  “My Lady…”