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Winter has slipped away in the Third World.

As winter fades, I notice there are fewer attackers spotted by the harvesting machines roaming the country.

And this isn’t because the situation has improved; it means those who chose the path of crime to survive are dying off.

Thus, relative safety is slowly improving.

As a result, more people are returning to transportation jobs. While things aren’t completely back to normal, society has recovered quite a bit.

However, the people of this country are now facing a new problem.

It’s the influx of those escaping from other countries for a chance at survival.

The harvesting machines also need to eat and drink, which brings them to restaurants and bars. Naturally, they end up eavesdropping on the stories flowing through the world.

Apparently, there are now many who have crossed over from other nations and struggle to communicate.

Considering we hardly have enough food, with job opportunities dwindling, there are complaints about them taking up space.

Or there’s the story of them banding together to form new violent groups.

Problems that existed in the faded memories of the world are resurfacing.

The more interconnected society becomes, the more a single country’s instability shakes the whole world. For now, this world isn’t interconnected enough for one nation’s tremors to cause significant havoc…

The three major corporations are multinational entities spanning several countries.

While I can’t predict the future, I can analyze the current situation. Approaching it with the premise that my analysis may be wrong at any moment makes it merely a game to me.

So until the harvesting machines send warmth my way, this is just a way to pass the time.

*

The Fourth World is currently experiencing spring.

In other words, a considerable amount of time has passed since I arrived here.

Yet, my situation hasn’t changed much.

Occasionally, my blindfold is removed, and I turn the experimental humans in front of me into harvesting machines. Once that’s done, I’m steeped in pleasure.

It’s exceedingly monotonous.

And I find myself questioning whether this is really how a demon has fallen.

Haven’t they suffered something else instead?

Mocking a senior who came in before me, having gone bad, I recall the complaints that have arisen lately.

Fewer harvesting machines are being created.

When it comes to making harvesting machines, it’s fine if you quickly experiment and discard them.

But the supply of experimental subjects to convert into harvesting machines is dwindling.

What is the wizard thinking?

The wizard.

I’ve been in the Fourth World for about a month now.

In that time, I’ve managed to learn a few things about the wizard.

His name is Jeber ibn something.

The reason I don’t know the rest is that he was interrupted while saying it. Apparently, there’s talk of some wizard clan.

While in the First or Third World, wizards seemed like mere experts, in the Fourth World, there’s a belief that only nobles can wield magic.

No wonder he seemingly gathers experimental subjects so easily.

The wizards were a privileged class.

And those I thought were clones weren’t simply replicated humans; they were artificially created beings.

No wonder Bardrol didn’t react when she looked at their faces.

They truly weren’t her own face.

But it seems she was indeed used as a material. That’s why the contracts continued.

By the way, Bardrol was originally a warrior. She was a warrior skilled in handling blades, but due to her ignorance of politics, she was framed for a crime she didn’t commit and became a slave.

Not just any labor force, but rather a toy.

Recall the history of faded memories where the queen did this to the concubine.

She had turned into a horrific sight, staring death in the face, and thus, fell close to the surface. Thankfully, she coincidentally met me at a fortunate time. So instead of exploding, she became a harvesting machine.

Perhaps it was because she had been in a state of mental breakdown for a long time that she absorbed much of the memory of Yasle I gave her. Based on that, she became a wizard and sought revenge.

Just as she was basking in the joy of completing her revenge, she was abruptly murdered and vanished, leaving me warmth.

This wasn’t in another city of the same country but rather in an entirely different nation, making it difficult to recognize her world despite having her memories.

And the one connected to her death is likely that wizard named Jeber.

He looked into my memories, stating that they weren’t recorded in my brain.

In other words, it means there’s technology for memory extraction. I suspect the metal needle lodged in my head serves that purpose.

And it could have been done to Bardrol as well.

Thus, he was able to use Yasle’s magic and recognize me.

By the way, he also presumably used that body thoroughly to create a woman he calls a clone.

That seems to be the reason the contracts with the clones were completed.

Furthermore, I’ve learned a lot about this clone as well. Or should I call her a chimera since she isn’t a complete version of herself?

In any case, there are various types of chimeras.

First, there are those that perform menial tasks. They wear brass necklaces and have an estimated operational lifespan of about seven years.

Their intelligence isn’t very high, and they can’t use magic at all.

Jeber treats them as mere consumables.

Then, there are the entities that take care of children.

There are three in total, each with a name. They wear silver necklaces, know how to use magic, and possess quite high intelligence, most notably having personality, unlike the consumables.

By the way, these ‘children’ aren’t ordinary kids but rather ones created through experiments. Hybrids of demons or gods. Not only that, but there are also young chimeras.

I don’t know if they are merely control groups or intended for the same purpose as the named chimeras, but they have personalities much like teaching entities.

Next, there are those that work in laboratories.

They are similar to consumables but wear bronze necklaces. I hear their lifespan is about 30 years, longer than the ones that do menial jobs.

It’s mainly these that become harvesting machines.

However, when it comes to dissecting chimeras to study, they seem to be seen just as simple tools.

And lastly.

Jeber calls them assistants, and the chimeras in that category clearly receive special treatment from him. They wear necklaces adorned with gems.

It’s amusing how he creates a doll that only listens to him and then becomes attached to it.

The chimera he calls an assistant is superior in performance to the others. Just like the chimeras who teach children, they know how to use magic and possess high intelligence, along with a proper sense of self.

Of course, compared to an ordinary person, they are lacking, but that means they have actual emotions.

Consumables have very little emotional capacity.

While I was watching someone’s playground one day.

“Hey. Isn’t the Purple God’s abdomen shrinking?”

Even though Jeber came to the laboratory without bringing someone to turn into a harvesting machine, he spoke with a puzzled voice.

By the way, the Purple God is me.

I never knew they would name me by color.

But to say my abdomen is shrinking, could it have rotted?

I felt something cold and metallic touch my belly as footsteps drew near. Since it wasn’t in a place visible to the chimera harvesting machines, I couldn’t see what was happening. Moments later, something fell, and Jeber yelled out.

“Bring all the biomaterial since it was installed until now!”

The chimera inside was moving busily. And not long after that, it returned with a long piece of paper.

Then, smack.

The chimera who brought the paper was slapped by Jeber and fell to the ground.

“Since the moment it was summoned, there has only been one heartbeat, haven’t there? I told you to report immediately if anything seemed wrong! With such abnormalities happening, you didn’t report until now? You can’t even handle this simple task? You trash!”

He was yelling at the chimera furiously.

The chimera lay on the ground, unable to properly rise. It seemed like something broke when it was slapped just now as it struggled to get up but couldn’t.

After a while of shouting, Jeber stomped the trembling chimera on the ground, breaking its leg, and then said to a nearby chimera:

“Crush this one and bring me surgical tools. Right now.”

Then, the chimera left with the one lying on the ground. And another chimera harvesting machine approached Jeber with surgical tools.

Jeber took them and approached me, calling for his assistant. He spoke some commands to the assistant, who promptly began operating the machine.

Then, seeing something injected near the cervical vertebra, it seemed to be anesthesia.

Of course, since I don’t perceive sensations through my central nervous system, it has no effect on me.

Jeber, wearing gloves and a mask, manipulated my posture to bring my belly up.

Then, with a knife that seemed a bit too large to be merely a scalpel, he cut open my belly. I felt the pain of my gut splitting, as the cold steel opened it up.

After that, he inserted a knife into the insides where a baby lay, cutting it.

Splurt.

As my insides cracked open, the liquid inside splattered out. Amniotic fluid, perhaps?

Shiiiin

“Graah!”

As the liquid burst out and touched my skin, it emitted smoke and began to rise. Jeber screamed. Huh? Was the amniotic fluid always that corrosive?

His assistant hurried over to wipe Jeber’s cheek. After a moment of cursing, he replaced his gloves with thicker ones, approached again, and continued to cut open my insides.

“What is this?”

Even with the eyes of a chimera harvesting machine, I gazed into my own abdomen.

Inside was a thick liquid.

Jeber plunged his hand deep into the murky liquid and pulled out what seemed to be several white lumps resembling tangled tree roots. Then he spoke:

“Crazy monster bastard. Have you been digesting instead of nurturing the fetus all this time?”

He expressed disgust, as if confronted with something horrifying, pulling at the roots.

“This isn’t a placenta or an umbilical cord. It’s a digestive organ that grew to absorb nutrients.”

He examined the starting point of the root closely, then cut there. After inspecting the cross-section, he pulled out the lump within my belly.

He placed the tangled white stone-like roots onto a nearby tray. Then, he shoved his hand back into my insides.

He muttered some jargon, saying things like how it looked like the wall of the stomach instead of the uterine lining, that though its shape remained the same, its structure had changed.

Then he cleaned out my insides with a machine and stitched me back up.

Indeed.

To find that it was digestion and not rotting; the human body is fascinating. Or perhaps it’s because I’m inside, making it fascinating.

He loudly kept cursing while dissecting what I had previously referred to as roots. And from his muttering, I learned what the white stones entangled inside were.

They were partially melted bones.

Bits of skull and remnants of the shoulder blade, along with the debris of pelvic bones, Jeber grumbled his disgust.

While reabsorbing the baby inside me may seem somewhat grotesque, I know it’s a somewhat common occurrence in nature.

Many creatures choose to halt reproduction and opt for self-preservation when their mother is in danger.

Compared to that, isn’t Jeber, who arbitrarily creates hybrids, more horrifying and disgusting?

Yet instead of voicing that thought, I simply remained silent, as if I couldn’t think. I knew that would bring better results.