Chapter 36: Allen, Setting the House Rules
[Dismantling successful, skill proficiency +1, profession experience +1]
[Experience sufficient, current Alchemist level: Lv1]
[Skill unlocked: Alchemist's Heart]
[Alchemist's Heart Lv1: Enhances skills through knowledge accumulation, providing a bonus effect for creation and manufacturing-related abilities.]
…
Allen watched as a scrap blueprint in his hand crumbled into dust.
He picked up another piece of waste paper, and in less than a second, it too turned to powder.
"I get how alchemy works now. Time to unlock a new persona—here comes the demolition tyrant, reporting for duty!"
With that, Allen dived into the garbage pile, using his dismantling skill with both hands as a barrage of system notifications flooded his mind.
Within an hour, he had manually broken down all the trash.
Sweeping the paper scraps into a pile, he struck a match.
"Done. Job's finished."
Allen walked over to a nearby bench, sat down, and watched the flames burn out. Stroking his chin, he mused, "I should lay low for a while, level up first before heading out. The outside world is too dangerous right now."
And so, Allen settled down at the Weapons Development Bureau.
Free food, free lodging, and a paycheck—life was just too good.
In his spare time, he caught up with old acquaintances, like Wilson, the expert in personal combat gear.
"Arson, do you understand quantum mechanics?" Allen asked, feigning depth.
"I'm a mechanical engineer. I don't deal with the microscopic world," Wilson replied without even lifting his eyes from his blueprints.
He was the poor guy who ate a gecko last time.
Since that was Allen's way of making friends, he naturally had to visit often—to freeload some food and drinks.
"At this point, I won't hide it from you anymore. I'm actually an expert in quantum physics," Allen declared, taking a sip of coffee—only to immediately grimace and stick out his tongue. "Ugh… fresh."
Black coffee. What part of it is fresh?
Wilson finally put down his work and looked at Allen, curious to hear his supposed expertise in quantum mechanics.
Even though it wasn't his field, if Allen could convince him, it would at least prove that before losing his mind, he was quite the talent.
Of course, it never occurred to Wilson that Allen was already insane.
Allen cleared his throat and solemnly began, "As the saying goes: When in doubt, quantum mechanics. When colors don't match, cyberpunk. When things don't make sense, time travel. When imagination falls short, parallel universes. The ones who talk about it don't understand it, and the ones who listen don't get it either. So ultimately, the meaning of 'overestimating oneself' is trying to self-study quantum mechanics."
"…"
Wilson silently lowered his head and resumed his work, throwing in a casual, "Take out the trash for me."
"I was already eyeing your used paper."
Allen picked up a discarded blueprint, held it to his nose, and inhaled deeply, sighing in satisfaction. "Ah, the scent of knowledge."
Wilson had already built a mental immunity to Allen's antics, completely ignoring him.
Before leaving, Allen downed the black coffee in one gulp—
And immediately retched.
The cup was still nearly full, almost overflowing.
Watching Allen suffer, Wilson felt both amused and annoyed.
Annoyed because Allen freeloaded his coffee every day. Amused because he only drank black coffee, while Allen couldn't handle the bitterness. Yet every time before leaving, Allen would insist on downing it all in one go—only to spit it right back into the cup before it even reached his throat.
Collected office waste was piled up in the incinerator room.
Allen spread out a piece of paper.
His eyes gleamed.
"The taste of knowledge."
Greedily, he absorbed the contents of the blueprint.
[Alchemist's Heart proficiency +1]
A system notification popped up. Allen dismantled the blueprint and commented, "Not pure enough. Karpov's work needs improvement."
He picked up another.
[Alchemist's Heart proficiency +7]
"Now that's pure! Wilson never lets me down."
And so, Allen spent his days at the Weapons Development Bureau in a simple yet fulfilling routine.
Day after day, the cycle repeated. Three months passed in a flash.
During that time, Allen silently grew.
Of course, "silently" only applied to his progress—his mouth was never idle.
Not only did he absorb knowledge from various scientists, but he also spent his free time reading fundamental texts.
"Dao Master, I've ascended!"
Standing atop a bench beside the incinerator, Allen shouted at the top of his lungs.
A passing woman gave him a puzzled look.
"Black Widow!"
Allen rushed over excitedly. "I'm ready to make my grand return. Want to see what I can do?"
"Oh? What can you do?" Natasha asked indifferently.
"Now, that I can't tell you," Allen boasted smugly. "But let me put it this way—I'll punch America's Einstein, kick Britain's Newton, debate Germany's little Gauss, roast France's Descartes, solve Riemann's Hypothesis with my bare hands, crush Fermat's Last Theorem between my legs, hold my phone in one hand while watching risqué videos, and subdue Goldbach's Conjecture with a single arm. Basically, I'm like a cow riding a motorcycle—unstoppably awesome!"
"…"
Natasha remained unfazed. "I have things to do. I'll be going now."
"Mm, okay."
As Natasha walked away without looking back, Allen burst into song:
"Arise, ye prisoners of starvation! Arise, ye wretched of the earth! The blood which bound us into slavery is now boiling for revolution!"
Singing The Internationale at this moment, as if marching into battle, made Natasha pick up her pace in embarrassment.
When the song ended, Allen sighed in satisfaction.
Then, his hands suddenly lifted on their own. His expression changed instantly.
"Lefty, Righty! It's not what you think! I'm a traditional and devoted man—I only like eighteen-year-old girls! Natasha is clearly a mature woman, not even in my consideration!"
Allen leaned left, resting his face against his left hand. "Righty, don't you understand? Men always say one thing and do another."
Then he leaned right, pressing his face against his right hand. "Lefty, what should I do? I love him so much!"
Straightening up, Allen gazed affectionately at his right hand and murmured, "Righty, you're so cute. How could I ever lie to you? Come here, let's have a kiss."
Smack!
His left hand slapped him across the face.
Allen glared at it furiously.
"You dare hit my beloved? I'll fight you to the death!"
And so, his hands started slapping each other.
"Stop fighting! Too much slapping causes breast hyperplasia!"
Allen snapped, scolding his hands, "Stop this instant! You're both my precious darlings!"
But his hands ignored him, continuing to smack his own face.
"If I don't teach you two a lesson, you'll tear the house down!"
Furious, he momentarily… got angry.
Soon, the love triangle settled.
Allen ended up in a twisted pose, using his legs to pin down both arms.
"Allen, what are you doing?"
Wilson stared at the self-restrained Allen with a strange look.
"Arson, I'm disciplining my two disobedient wives," Allen replied earnestly.
Wives?
Where would a lunatic like you get wives?
Wilson seemed to catch on to a deeper meaning but chose to respond politely. "I won't meddle in your family affairs. See you."
On his way to the office, Wilson occasionally heard Allen's ranting:
"Don't slap my face, Lefty! I rely on this face to eat, you know?"
"Righty, don't stoop to her level. She's just an unreasonable shrew."
Glancing back, Wilson sighed.
"His condition is getting worse."
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