The Unyielding Alchemist

The masked man had no time to even discern who had struck him, his mind only registering a fleeting thought:

‘What a swift elbow!’

Then, a fist, the size of a sandbag—no, a bean paste bun—shot forth from the assailant’s arm.

“Ah!”

He was sent sprawling several meters backward, crashing into countless objects with a clatter. His machete had shattered into pieces, and his shoulder throbbed with such agony that he could not move.

“A-ah, my arm… it’s broken!”

The commotion drew the attention of his accomplices. The tallest among them, a burly figure, stepped forward, cursing:

“Where in the hell did this brat come from?”

The others were somewhat stunned, having not expected a seemingly teenage girl to suddenly rush in.

Iordera gently rubbed her striking elbow and small fist, then glanced at the masked man writhing in agony on the ground, a newfound confidence settling within her.

‘This Joint Hammer, though lacking in flashy effects, certainly packs a punch.’

The leader of the masked men had subtly moved closer, holding his blade horizontally before him.

“Where did you come from, little girl?” he demanded sharply. “What do you want?”

Iordera offered no reply.

‘What a pointless question. You’re allowed to murder, commit arson, and rob, but others aren’t allowed to right a wrong when they see injustice?’

The masked leader hadn’t truly expected an answer. Seizing the moment of the young girl’s slight distraction, he suddenly stomped forward, charging directly at her. The blade’s glow intensified, and in an instant, the distance between them closed to the point of near contact.

Iordera’s eyelid twitched.

‘With the blade’s glow, his attack range is too long. If I were to counter with my elbow, my neck would be severed first.’

The battlefield shifted in an instant, and Iordera thrust her elbow directly into the air.

[Joint Hammer]

The initial strike missed, but immediately afterward, a fist, swifter than an elbow, sprang out like a coiled spring. At the same moment, the blade’s glow tore through the air, colliding precisely with her fist.

“A mere flesh-and-blood body dares to withstand a blade…”

Boom!

The impact exploded from their point of contact, sending the masked leader crashing into a corner, his body marked with several fine cuts. Moreover, his head inadvertently struck a clothing rack, leaving his mind reeling in a daze, unable to stand for a while.

Iordera, however, fared worse. Her petite body was flung directly out the window, the glass shattering with a resounding crash and scattering across her back.

Yet, the moment she landed, Iordera sprang up with a practiced carp spring-up, dusting the glass shards from her clothes. Amazingly, she bore no wounds, only a touch of grime. The fist that had clashed head-on with the blade bore only a faint white mark.

‘Heh, a mere flesh-and-blood body dares to withstand my alchemical body?’

Under the astonished gazes of the onlookers, the white-haired girl lifted her small foot, kicked open the large door, and strode confidently inside.

‘I’m utterly invincible!’

The masked gang had one member instantly incapacitated, and their leader lay on the ground, concussed. The remaining few were no longer a threat, cowering timidly around their fallen boss.

“Stop right there! What are you doing!”

The city’s patrol guards, alerted by the commotion, rushed into the clothing store, securing the individuals on both sides.

“Where did you come from? What have you done?” A guard eyed the injured masked man, then reprimanded Iordera sharply. “Was this your doing? Who told you to do it!”

Iordera looked bewildered:

“They were trying to murder and commit arson. I simply roared in indignation at the injustice.”

‘Is there a problem with that?’

Ever since arriving in Juneport, she had longed to do just that. Unfortunately, she had been powerless before, only able to hide and watch when trouble arose.

Now, armed with skills, she was determined to strike hard.

The guard, hearing her words, paused in surprise.

“This… this doesn’t concern you. We will handle them. Children shouldn’t wander around outside. It’s getting dark, hurry home!”

He spoke while pushing Iordera out of the clothing store.

“I’m going, I’m going, just don’t push me. I can walk on my own.”

Iordera stood outside the clothing store, puffing out her cheeks in displeasure:

‘I helped you fight crime, and not only do I not get a commendation banner, but I get criticized and lectured instead.’

‘It serves you right that you haven’t dealt with the witch’s minions all this time, hmph.’

‘They’re not even that strong!’

Out on the street, however, Iordera was met with a warm welcome from the gathered crowd.

“Little girl, you were incredible! Are you hurt?”

“Amazing, lass! With skills like that, you must be at least level thirty or forty!”

Iordera’s cheeks flushed slightly as she casually deflected their praises:

“It’s nothing, my body… isn’t that strong. I just made a small contribution… Oh, really, it’s nothing.”

An elderly woman carrying a basket of vegetables chimed in:

“Even though nothing bad happened, it’s still better not to be so reckless. The patrol guards will handle them.”

Iordera thought to herself, ‘By the time the guards arrive, the shop assistants in the clothing store would already be dead under their blades. What good would ‘handling’ them do then?’

But she kept her thoughts to herself; there was no need to argue with a shopping auntie about it.

“It’s getting late. I need to go home.”

With that, Iordera pushed through the crowd and hurried off, continuing her journey home.

Along the way, she opened her control chip panel to check—

[Combat Log (1): Engaged with a Level 25 Swordsman. Joint Hammer inflicted localized shattering damage, gaining 15% of their experience.]

[Reached Level 20]

“Oh, so that person was so many levels higher than me?”

Iordera was stunned, continuing to scroll down—

[Combat Log (2): Engaged with a Level 34 Swordsman. Joint Hammer inflicted minor damage, no experience gained.]

“Oh, wow,” Iordera was truly shocked this time. “That guy was twice my level.”

‘So it wasn’t that the enemy was weak; it was that I was truly tough!’

‘Enough talk, time to go home, triumphant!’

The white-haired girl’s steps became lighter, and she even began to hum a tune.

****

As dusk began to settle, Sir Olcott brought a handsome young man with him.

“Familiarize yourself with the route, clean the entrance, and then you may leave. Remember to come early tomorrow morning to deliver breakfast.”

“No problem, sir.”

The handsome youth was composed and calm, polite and proper. He appeared far more reliable than the previous girl, Sir Olcott thought to himself.

Tap, tap, tap.

Hecate heard an unfamiliar set of footsteps and her brows subtly furrowed.

When she saw who had arrived, a cold smile curved her lips.

“Olcott, you’ve grown bold.”

The handsome youth paused, bewildered:

“What did you say?”

“Nothing at all.”

“Oh, right, I’m the new jailer. I’m just here to get acquainted and do some cleaning today.”

As he spoke, he picked up the cleaning tools and began to sweep the floor.

Hecate’s faint voice drifted into his ear:

“What’s your name?”

“I apologize, the lord who assigned me said not to engage in casual conversation with you.”

The handsome youth was undoubtedly an obedient employee; he did whatever Sir Olcott instructed.

Hecate didn’t seem to mind, her words tumbling out at a rapid pace:

“Clark, Berkeley, Horner, Cole, Marcus…”

“Snow, Russell, Rodrick, Rambo, Dodd, Frank…”

The sweeper’s movements paused for a moment, the hand holding the broom unconsciously trembling.

“Oh, Frank, is it?”