"No iron, no combat power."

Calm and rational. Rational to the point of coldness.

"But Bella," Fro waved his hands passionately, "just because her sister fell in love with that fat pig’s son, did she deserve to be stoned to death? Bella was so young—did she deserve to sleep in a drafty woodshed on a pile of splintery logs just because she was born a lowly commoner? And just for bumping into me? Did she deserve that punishment?"

"It shouldn’t have happened," Aelina replied. "But Fro, you know why."

"Why?"

"Pain comes from anger. Anger comes from powerlessness. You’re furious you couldn’t save her, couldn’t change anything." Aelina patted his shoulder. "But I can. This is all part of my plan."

"Including the false accusations?"

"I hate to admit it," Aelina said, "but even I compromise when I’m powerless. Now get up. Justice will be served."

Fro turned his head. His eyes were slightly red, but his green eyes sparked with hope as he looked at Aelina. "Really?"

"Of course." Aelina lifted the chair and carried it to the carriage.

Watching the Silverhaired Maiden’s slender back and her slightly messy silver hair, Fro felt a pang of guilt. She was helpless too. But then he remembered Bella’s tear-streaked face. He silently bent down and picked up the black helmet.

*Hmph. Dealing with a Golden Ape is such a hassle,* Aelina thought, typing into her memo:

Time: 1504933200

Title: That Damn Golden Ape Offended Me Again.

Summary: This savage, ignorant Golden Ape—with a brain smaller than my Golden Fur’s tenth—got angry at me for not understanding my genius. He even forgot his promise to protect me and ignored another fat ape who deserved to be burned alive for freeloading.

Details: Today was the ...

She finished typing in 0.02 seconds. The memo size grew to 12.2M. Aelina planned to decide the Golden Ape’s fate from this log when building her harem. If his sister was cute, she’d reduce his sentence.

Fro, strapping his sword sheath to his belt, suddenly sneezed. "Weird. Who’s cursing me behind my back? Must be those despicable humans," he muttered.

"Fro, get in the carriage!" Aelina called from atop it.

"Coming!"

Fro jumped aboard. Aelina was attaching her "self-driving horse" device—a complex tangle of pulleys and ropes—to the pony’s reins. This let her steer from inside the carriage using mirrors while working. The spacious cabin had changed: glass jars once fixed to the floor table were now stored on wooden shelves along the walls. In their place lay precious Thundergrass.

Fro carefully sat in the armchair, studying the slightly wilted Thundergrass. It was translucent, with slender leaves like waterweed pulled from a pond. Aelina’s hands, tightly wrapped in brown leather gloves, held the Magic Wand. A soft blue glow enveloped the Thundergrass. Fro adored her focused expression—her starry eyes gleaming with wisdom, her molten-silver hair spilling over a pale bare arm, her slender, well-defined fingers. But this adoration brought him pain. He couldn’t stare too long. He’d glance away, fiddle with his sword, or whistle softly. Each time his fingers brushed the ring Xina had given him in his pocket, guilt washed over him.

*I love Xina. I should be faithful. How can I keep stealing glances at another girl?*

But after each wave of guilt, a voice inside him sneered: *"She’s Aelina. As beautiful as a star in the sky. You’ll never touch her. You can only gaze at her brilliance. So how is this betrayal? You don’t even have the chance."*

Time always flew during these moments.

Just as Fro was figuring out how to look at Aelina naturally, the carriage stopped. A faint, inexplicable sense of loss settled in his chest.

They’d halted on a hidden slope behind a withered forest.

"Alright, I’ll run tests here. Stay alert, Fro."

"Got it."

The Elf hopped down. Aelina first used the Molecular Reconstructor to break down iron. Silvery mist swirled around her as charcoal crumbled into powder, merging with the flowing vapor. Seeing the Golden Ape’s awestruck expression—as if witnessing the world’s most dazzling miracle—Aelina felt secretly pleased. Truthfully, synthesizing steel from iron and carbon didn’t require such flashy theatrics; it lowered efficiency. But it made her seem impressive. Like how a glowing sword technique looked stronger than a simple slash, or how loudly chanted spells felt more powerful.

The gray mist followed the fading blue light toward the Golden Ape. As the glow vanished, a heavy, solid feeling returned. Fro patted his chest plate, feeling safer. He looked down. Sure enough, a plump bee flashed him a bright, alluring smile. What a strange sense of humor.

Aelina used the Molecular Reconstructor to unload her workbench. Metal and wood dissolved into smoke. Gripping the device with both hands, she swirled the vapor. Her starry eyes glowed faintly—blueprints projected onto her retinas. In her vision, blue lines formed a workbench, iron clamps, wires. An instant later, reality matched the design. A brown square table appeared, its smooth surface holding Thundergrass, iron coils, magnets. Then stone walls rose, enclosing everything, building her lab.

Cautious Aelina didn’t want to reveal too many details of her abilities. Stepping inside felt like a queen approaching her throne. Every discovery here expanded humanity’s knowledge frontier. Each new fact was a brick in her grand palace.

And Thundergrass was the key. It would solve energy and storage problems. Then she wouldn’t need to rely on the Golden Ape’s muscle power anymore.

She shut the door and smiled at the Thundergrass.

"Let’s experiment on you properly, my dear."

The Molecular Reconstructor could only rearrange molecules, so Aelina couldn’t alter chemical properties. She understood Thundergrass’s structure but had many questions. Eagerly, she crushed a stalk, adding various reagents from ceramic jars—sourced from leaf litter, wormholes, underground. Firing ceramics was tedious, but for Aelina, it was simple: she just needed "ceramic," and the Molecular Reconstructor provided it.

She placed Thundergrass in an iron can, inserting copper on one side and iron on the other. She’d once filled it with potato and sour fruit mash to make a weak battery. Now she added sulfuric acid, scanning with the Molecular Reconstructor to check for current.

In the dark, tiny arcs jumped between the Tesla coils. Aelina focused intensely. For science, she even removed her gloves, gripping the iron wire bare-handed to measure current. Her body—crafted for pleasure—had no external I/O ports. She could only gauge voltage and current by the rise in sensitivity from electric shocks to erogenous zones. Ironically, the feature labeled "ideal for electrostimulation play" proved useful. She proceeded carefully, testing only thirteen milliliters of solution each time. If her desire value overflowed, her body would execute "fulfill desire immediately"—a disaster.

Still, Aelina felt honored, like the early giants who built science’s foundations. They’d tasted chemicals, injected themselves with pathogens…

"Eighty-first test: 3V, 1A… empirical formula updated."

"Ninety-first test: 10V, 0.6A, luminosity of Solution 10 decreased by 16 lumens…"

On the one hundred twelfth test, as she added her carefully mixed Solution 12, the Thundergrass solution suddenly boiled. Light flooded the pitch-black lab, announcing its birth. A powerful current surged through Aelina’s sensitive arm. An indescribable, intense tingling climbed her bones, piercing her entire body. She arched her back, head thrown high, golden eyes rolling up, mouth open in a cry of pain and pleasure. It felt like countless Poro creatures surrounded her, their soft pink tongues licking her all over. Her body went limp, collapsing to the floor. Tears welled in her eyes. Her legs splayed weakly, a sweet liquid moistening her thighs.

Forced to relinquish control, Aelina checked the system log. Predictably, high current to a sensitive zone had spiked her desire value by forty-eight points.

*Perfect. Now I can make high-energy batteries.*

Before she could celebrate, the door shook violently. Fro’s anxious voice called: "Aelina? Aelina! Are you okay?"

*Damn. I can’t speak. If that Golden Ape barges in…*

Aelina regained control, but her body was soft, craving pleasure. Waves of promised bliss clouded her mind. The door trembled, about to break.

*Thud!*

The sound of the door giving way.

Plan B activated.

*Bang!*

Just a rope-tied log swinging in a graceful arc to slam into Fro’s helmet.

Fro landed on his backside, ears ringing as if gongs clanged beside him. He straightened his helmet, peering through the visor slit at a white paper fluttering down. It read: "Do not enter without my permission. No matter what happens—Aelina." A sweet, blissful scent drifted to him, stirring his senses. In his daze, he glimpsed a paradise of ultimate male happiness, his heart racing.

But the red ink on the paper snapped him awake. He jumped up and turned away.

*Must be a magic experiment,* he reasoned. Some rituals couldn’t be disturbed—not even by a glance.

His lower body felt uncomfortably stiff. To avoid embarrassment, he decided to run in full armor.

Ten minutes later, Aelina recovered. She muttered to herself, "Good thing the Golden Ape is dumb enough."