Unable to repay my student loans, I had no choice but to work part-time as a demon hunter.

Sinclair laid it flat on the table and examined it carefully.

"This appears to be a simple, custom-made model, designed to handle some kind of spiritually imbued, soft substance?" Sinclair observed.

"Yes, we now dump in a large amount of river mud at once, along with sediment and precipitate, and then let this thing slowly pat and rotate, which is very inefficient."

"There is a lot of room for improvement," Sinclair observed.

Gordon recalled the academy's spiritual reaction vessel and reflected on why it was so effective.

He especially remembered the characteristics of the mud he created that day: the heavy mud sank, the light mud floated, and the spirituality formed a thin band of light in the middle... It was truly beautiful beyond compare.

Gordon picked up Sinclair's pencil and tried to redraw the device.

"That's how the reactors at the Royal Academy of Sciences are made. I think my plant needs a similar structure, to first separate the contents into layers, and to change the feeding from a rough one-time input to batch feeding. More importantly, it's about properly controlling the temperature and allowing the stirring to form a stable spiral flow." Gordon sketched the appearance and structure of the reactor on paper.

Sinclair stared at the blueprints, his eyes gradually brightening.

"I could give it a try. I've visited some factories that use mechanical equipment." He had an idea. "...layered propeller blades, multi-point feed, spiral guide vanes, jacketed water bath, multiple temperature measurement points..."

Gordon and he worked together on research for a while, and a reactor that was clearly more suitable for mass production took shape on the drawing.

That's really serious.

Gordon felt that this would at least improve the quality of the mass-produced water-phase spiritual crystals from gray-green crystals to silver-green crystals.

That would be what makes it a true industry, and the plan to recoup the investment in the first year would be entirely possible.

"It can be manufactured," Sinclair concluded. "The prototype will likely cost approximately..."

"Wait, report it directly to Montfort Spiritual Industries and go through the company account. Let's keep things strictly business; I don't want to see a bill that stings my eyes." Gordon cherished the 107 gold pounds he had.

"Okay." Sinclair was used to Gordon. "Oh, and this..."

Sinclair led Gordon to the deepest part of the workshop, past a long table piled with dragon lizard scales.

The unfinished dragon scale armor lay quietly, already half-finished.

Each scale was individually cleaned, the fat removed, and the edges neatly cut. The spiritual connection between the scales was smooth and tight, clearly making it a fine piece of protective gear, somewhat like a bulletproof vest.

"You asked for both protection and concealment, and I've done both. I might even be able to withstand small-caliber artillery fire. It'll just take another two weeks." Sinclair was proud of his abilities.

"Good quality." Gordon was very satisfied. With it, the chances of surviving the Wild Hunt's feast would increase even further.

Then, he took the opportunity to use Sinclair's fumigation equipment to make a new living water compass, which he later gave to Mouse Stick.

Holding the Blackthorn Lee cane, Gordon was still curious about the spiritual pathways.

"...Is the spiritual circuit the secret of processing source matter into instruments? Can my cane still be fitted with source matter?"

"Of course, the source material provides a tendency, imagery, and characteristic, while the circuit is responsible for transforming it. If there is a source material that is particularly suitable for this cane, I can also equip it for you."

"The source material suitable for the Blackthorn Plum Staff... I'll keep an eye out for it." Gordon said, then thought of the secret the shoemaker had mentioned, "So, I've heard that Midas Industries uses source material to power certain complex computational engineering projects. Are you familiar with that?"

“Yes, it’s practically divine. I was fortunate enough to witness it once. Gears, punch cards, mechanical input devices, and difference engines—they could do things with machinery and steam that ordinary craftsmen couldn’t.” Sinclair’s eyes lit up, but he immediately became wary. “However, Imperial law prohibits the use of source matter to deduce and calculate things.”

"Why is that?"

"You're the investigator, you should know more than I do."

"I really don't understand."

"I'm not entirely sure either." Sinclair sighed after confirming that Gordon wasn't feigning ignorance. "If we let the Source Matter calculate the laws of human civilization, what conclusion would it eventually reach? Would it calculate itself? And wouldn't the act of large-scale calculation itself cause new Source Matter to emerge, attracting something even more terrifying... Nobody wants to take that risk, probably."

Gordon fell into deep thought.

Midas Industries may already know how to utilize source materials to serve industrial production.

Some sources emit heat, some provide cold, and some can be deduced and calculated.

Skilled super-industry would obviously utilize every source substance, embedding it into their production processes. What Gordon needs is probably among them. He might even be able to learn a trick or two from it.

……

Gordon put aside his trivial matters in the city and went to the hunter school to continue his training.

The school is surrounded by high red brick walls, with cannons pointing towards the open fields. The school motto, "Restraint, Confidence, Humility," is still printed at the bridgehead.

He rode his horse past the hunter recruits who were running around the field through the school gates to find Grey's whereabouts. He soon learned that Grey was in the meditation room in the basement of the Hall of Contemplation.

"Mr. Arthur Grey is settling in and integrating; he needs time. He hasn't done anything wrong, has he, sir?" The old caretaker led Gordon downstairs.

"He kept refusing to make me tea, clearly showing disrespect for the investigator's authority."

"Okay, I'll talk to him."

"Treat this as a serious matter."

The stairs leading to the basement grew colder and colder as you went down them.

Gordon wrapped his investigator's coat tighter around himself, finding it surprisingly comfortable for the first time.

The wall tiles were just damp at first, but frost began to form at the bottom of the stairs. Whale oil lamps hung on the walls, their flames curled up inside the glass, with one lamp every ten steps.

Gordon walked into the corridor, which was lined with iron doors on both sides. Each door had a food delivery slot, an observation window, and a brass nameplate. The old caretaker pointed in a direction, then pulled his coat tighter and walked back.

Gray was meditating in a room with a white frost covering the iron door. Behind the observation window, all that remained was a grayish-white expanse. Cold air seeped from the cracks in the door, freezing icicles that stretched like tree branches on the stone floor.

Gordon knocked on the door.

"Grey. Arthur. Arthur Grey. Uncle Grey."

"Speak," came Gray's lazy voice from inside the house.

"Do you know about 'The Feast of the Wild Hunt'?"

There was a few seconds of silence inside the door, then Gray sneezed.

"What? Who told you that?"

"A person who can't even shine shoes properly."

"You even found him?" Gray exclaimed in surprise. "I sat in that chair for ten minutes, and nobody paid any attention to me."

"I have a beautiful girl to guide me."

"Then she probably pointed you down a dead end. The Wild Hunt's feasts are no joke."

Footsteps sounded from behind the iron gate. Gray seemed to walk to the door, but did not open the window; he was simply trying to persuade Gordon.

"How so?" Gordon asked curiously.

"Everyone who participates is just like you, believing themselves to be the most powerful hunter, capable of killing prey, gaining fame, seizing source matter, or taking advantage of the chaos to kill their enemies. The Wild Hunt ensures that hunters and prey have a reason to fight each other, and then it gathers them together in the same arena."

"What's the reality?"

Gray sneezed again.

Gordon couldn't help but tap the ground with his cane, and a mental image of the surrounding events instantly appeared in his mind.

Gray stood behind the door wrapped in a trench coat, freezing like a grandson. His heartbeat was slow, almost like a living person's, with each beat occurring at a longer interval than normal.

The source matter was clearly settling and fusing within his body. The fusing itself wasn't a big problem, but this environment helped Gray perceive the imagery of death.

"Then," Gray wiped his nose, "you might be in a forest, a dungeon, or some large area set up by a high-ranking member of the Wild Hunt. Upon entering, you'll receive a mask and a mark. Simply kill other people or monsters and collect enough marks to leave."

"So you have to kill monsters, or kill other hunters... to collect the marks before you can leave," Gordon mused.

This rule encourages participants to kill each other, forcing those with insufficient markers to attack one another. It's practically a survival experiment.

"Yes, you can cooperate with others, but no matter what, in the end only 2 or 3 people may leave alive. Some people think it's more worthwhile to deceive first and then kill their companions."

"What about the organizers? Can they break the rules by challenging the Wild Hunt?"

"Yes, the challenger will die, and the Wild Hunt's reputation will be further enhanced. The Wild Hunt are the world's most skilled hunters in packs. If you kill one of them, their allies will soon ride monsters across the night sky to come and cause you trouble. It's better not to."

Thinking of this, Gordon couldn't help but ask again.

"You know so much? Have you participated in it?"

"yes."

"But you made it out alive."

"That's why I don't want you to go. You'll see your companions suddenly killed as you walk along, you'll see your partners betray you to save their own lives, everyone is setting traps for each other. That's not a place for humans." Gray's voice was low and somber.

Just as Gordon was about to express his agreement, a suppressed cough suddenly came from inside the door.

"No, who am I kidding?" Gray muttered to himself. "If we stay in Lundnium for too long, we'll quickly forget that this world follows the law of the jungle."

"You just said that humans shouldn't go there."

"Are we still human? Gordon! We haven't been human since day one..." A chill seeped from under the door as Gray muttered in a somewhat delirious manner.

"We are human!" Gordon slammed his hand on the door. "Grey! Did you hear me? We are human!"

"Stop making noise."

"The Source will change your body and affect your mind, but you are a human being, a genuine human being. Remember that! And get out of here as soon as possible." Gordon knocked heavily on the door.

Gray leaned against the door, arms crossed, looking at the coldness of the room. He didn't agree again, but he took a deep breath and exhaled, his hands clenching tighter and tighter.