Chapter 77

Chapter 77

From Cosmic Rascal to Professor.

Episode 77: The Guy Writing A Thesis In Prison (4).

[7:28 AM]

“Everything’s going to be okay. Nothing unusual will happen today…”

Prisoner No. 888887. Displays signs of severe anxiety and engages in self-reassurance.

At 7:30 AM, I decided to skip my usual morning run and left my cell a bit later than normal to head to the dining hall.

“Hm?”

Today, for the first time, I found myself sitting next to the girl from the adjacent cell. It seemed purely coincidental.

I seldom saw her during meal times, leading me to half-jokingly wonder if she had been abducted by some otherworldly entity. More likely, she just followed a different dining schedule or preferred to eat away from prying eyes.

“Please, there has to be a way out. I need to find it.”

Her muttering caught my attention. She appeared deeply troubled, but she wasn’t the only one in this place bearing heavy thoughts.

But my focus needed to be elsewhere—on my thesis.

I placed the printed document beside me, reading it intermittently as I stirred my soup. Today’s fare included beef bone soup, rice, and tofu pancakes—a surprisingly varied menu reflecting both Eastern and Western cuisines. This diversity allowed for some culinary exploration, even here.

Occasionally, the menu featured fried insects, a reminder of how broad—and sometimes unsettling—the food choices could be. As I stirred my spoon, memories of past meals surfaced, both intriguing and distasteful.

The soft hooting of an owl echoed outside as the girl beside me cautiously lifted her soup bowl. She blew gently across the surface to cool it, her fingers fumbling awkwardly with the spoon.

“Ah…!”

In that instant, I envisioned her beef bone soup performing an impromptu tap dance across the table.

Beef bone soup. Thesis. Beef bone soup. Thesis. Beef bone soup. Thesis.

With a swish and an imminent crash, the laws of motion, as penned by Newton, suggested a definite slide, rotation, and topple. Directly in its destructive path lay my thesis papers.

Damn it, no. Even at the risk of scalding my thigh, my thesis must remain unharmed.

What could I do?

Summoning the quick reflexes honed by Rustila and Instructor Isaac, I reached out with my spoon to stabilize the teetering bowl.

Pause.

Success. The looming disaster of my thesis drowning in soup was averted.

However, that relief was short-lived as another potentially disastrous situation began to unfold.

“What are you doing?” she asked, glaring at me.

Under normal circumstances, I would have apologized and exited the situation immediately. I consider myself a gentle, peace-loving individual.

The ‘God of Wisdom and Curiosity’ tilts its head.

However, this was an exception.

“My thesis almost got soaked,” I stated, my frustration evident.

The thought was unbearable. Printing restrictions were tight, and the prospect of not being able to review the only copy I had was infuriating.

“Stop being distracted and just eat your meal.”

“What are you talking about, you pervert?” she accused.

“Pervert…?” I echoed, confused. Had I heard her correctly? Did she really just call me a pervert?

“You tried to touch my food. Clearly, you were aiming for an indirect kiss. This is why I avoid uneducated men.”

“…Is she serious?”

I frowned, gathering my belongings decisively. Among them was my precious 74-page thesis, reviewed by Professor Feynman himself.

“Come on, thesis. This is hardly the refined environment I had in mind for reading you.”.

“…Is he serious?” she retorted.

Who was calling whom crazy? The irony made me chuckle.

Engaging further with someone who so readily threw around accusations seemed pointless.

I glanced around the crowded restaurant in search of another seat, but to my dismay, none were available. The place was bustling with slow eaters and individuals whose behavior bordered on the bizarre. Clearly, this was not an ideal spot for a prolonged stay.

With a sense of urgency, I hurriedly spooned up a few bites of tofu and beef bone soup, then carelessly pushed my tray onto the return rack.

That decision soon haunted me as hunger pangs returned with a vengeance.

Growl.

“Ah, I’m going to starve.”

Following the unsatisfactory meal, I headed to the computer room to work, but my empty stomach made concentrating on my thesis impossible.

In addition to my struggle with focus, I was tasked with monitoring any unusual behavior and reporting it to the guards. It was a day filled with overwhelming responsibilities.

“What’s with that guy again?”

A man in the cell nearby suddenly walked up to the wall, lifted the poster there, and lowered his pants to reveal a shallowly carved hole. In his hand was a piece of tofu, stashed away at some unknown time.

“Outer God.”

I rubbed my face in exasperation. Witnessing any more of this madness felt like it would cause permanent damage to my eyes. Without hesitation, I pressed the siren button.

Wheee-eee-eee-eee-eee-!

Fortunately, the guards quickly subdued the man.

The Darwin forces are notorious for driving people to extremes. They are the most ruthless and violent military faction. To counter the impending threat from the south, Rustila must survive; she alone can stem the tide of invaders.

I sighed.

They say that with freedom comes responsibility, but how much longer must I witness such horrors?

Reflecting on this, it’s no wonder the girl was hostile towards me earlier.

Guard Weisel, who had just finished violently assaulting a man, saluted me.

“You’re quite adept at this, student. I’m genuinely impressed.”

“Thank you,” I replied, though the compliment felt hollow.

“It’s a shame about the delayed email from your girlfriend. She must be waiting anxiously. I’m sorry we couldn’t send it sooner.”

Weisel clapped me on the shoulder and chuckled.

“At this rate, you’ll be reintegrated into society in no time. Keep it up.”

“Ah, yes.”

Weisel’s cheerfulness was due to my diligence with the paperwork required by our superiors.

“I’d like to reward you. Is there anything you desire? Any improvements you’d suggest?”

Before I knew it, the dynamic had shifted; it wasn’t me flattering him, but rather him flattering me.

“Could I perhaps eat and stay here daily?”

“Why would you want that?” he asked.

“Commuting from the cell is too cumbersome.”

Moreover, the black-haired, black-eyed girl in the adjacent cell sobbed every night, disrupting my concentration. Even with the LED lamp illuminating my research notes, her cries pierced through.

Weisel scratched his head, considering.

“So, you want to eat, sleep, and work all in one place? Why not just eliminate the prison aspect altogether?”

“You’ve already entrusted me with the prison key. So, is there really any reason for me to remain behind bars? I’m not a criminal; I’m just an ordinary citizen.”

“That’s quite a reasonable argument.”

I returned his smile, sensing a shift in our roles.

I know it sounds like we’re dreaming different dreams in the same bed, but does it really matter? Weisel is relieved to be free from the crushing workload, and I’m thrilled to have unrestricted access to the computer in exchange for handling his chores.

It’s a win-win situation—a perfect symbiotic relationship.

Alright, time to check today’s emails…

Ding!

Alert: Outer God ‘Orchestra of Mud and Flesh’ detected. Location: Inside Alcatraz Prison.

What in the world?

“Kid, something intriguing has occurred. The individual who attacked you previously has voluntarily come here.”

I carefully listened as Cartesia continued.

This is Alcatraz, a planetary system situated in a peculiar zone of space where the Ether Belt is distorted. The dense concentration of Ether here allows Outer Gods to exit freely but prevents them from entering. Moreover, for humans, prolonged exposure here is akin to sipping radioactive tea daily.

“This makes no sense at all.”

“It’s likely that it has taken over another human’s mind. It seems it’s here to seek revenge on you. Perhaps it’s aiming for mutual destruction?”

I exhaled a heavy sigh.

Populus, infamously known as ‘The Orchestra of Mud and Flesh.’ Dying at his hands here, in Alcatraz, was out of the question. Ignoring the mastermind behind the Celestine incident would be equally reckless.

“Ah, I need to write my thesis.”

Since my arrival at Alcatraz, I had felt relatively safe, but I hadn’t anticipated encountering such a complicated situation.

“Kid… You have the trust of the guards. If you resort to violence here, it’ll complicate things for both you and me. Just this once, I’ll assist you without charge.”

The faint creak of someone rising from a chair resonated in my mind, followed by her voice.

“I’ll be back after I clean up, so do what you need to do.”

The ‘God of Wisdom and Curiosity’ has temporarily disconnected the channel with you.

“……”

Gone?

“Phew.”

The more I pieced together, the clearer the picture became. Cartesia wanted me to create a graviton bomb and seemed to have particularly strained relations with other Outer Gods. This friction appeared common even among the Descartes of the same faction.

After combining these facts, her objective became apparent.

Suicide.

The transcendent was searching for a way to end her existence.

Cartesia ventured into the mind of a girl seeking Populus.

She found herself in a realm of apparent nothingness, tinged with darkness. This void was deceptive; it wasn’t empty at all. It served as the main base for the Outer Gods and was a canvas for their expressions. The space bustled with activity, making the term ‘nothingness’ seem quite misplaced. Here, humans and true forms could coexist.

Indeed, it was a hive of activity.

At least twenty Outer Gods milled about. Some appeared as bizarre assemblies of electronic components, while others bore forms of dripping, rotten flesh. The former were part of Maxwell’s army, and the latter belonged to Darwin’s. There were also gods from the same faction as Cartesia, those of Descartes’ army. Most of her allies assumed shapes like clouds trapped in flasks.

‘This girl, what is she…’

For the first time in a long while, Cartesia found herself intrigued by a human other than Aidel. Her interest, however, was not driven by mere curiosity. This girl was a rarity, contracted by multiple Outer Gods, yet with a clear limit to her pron level. While unusual, it wasn’t beyond Cartesia’s comprehension.

Yet, her interest soon faded. Her primary target remained Populus, the one who had incensed her.

Thwack!

Suddenly, Cartesia was sent flying through the air.

“Who do we have here?”

A voice ominously chuckled as a figure resembling a TV screen emerged from the darkness.

“Isn’t it just the half-baked Outer God who can only assume the form of a mere mortal?”

“…Safaul, is it?”

Its head resembled a monitor, while its body, draped in cloth like a teru teru bozu—the traditional Japanese doll hung outside homes—seemed innocuous enough. However, the wires coiling around it like serpents added an eerie touch.

Outer Gods typically assumed grotesque and incomprehensible forms, unlike the human-like appearance of Cartesia.

“It’s been a while.”

“I don’t have the time to entertain greetings from someone our own kind has abandoned.”

“I didn’t come here to see you either.”

Cartesia brushed off her clothes and rose gracefully.

“Where is Populus?”

“Are you referring to the new Outer God stirring up trouble in the southern part of your galaxy? How foolish, even for one of our own.”

At that moment, two other Outer Gods appeared, dragging something behind them. Its tentacles were severed in several places, its wires emitted a faint red glow, and black blood oozed out like thick oil. It was unmistakably Populus.

“We taught him a lesson for interfering with the exile.”

“Have you no shred of compassion for your own kind?”

“Compassion? Sorry, but that word isn’t found in our legion’s vocabulary.”

Swish! An arrow-tipped wire shot out from beneath Safaul’s cloak, piercing Populus as he charged forward. Mortally wounded, Populus collapsed, writhing on the ground in front of Cartesia.

“Take him away; he’s useless now. And you—leave.”

“…Hey, this is my territory.”

“Do you consider exile a territory? Ridiculous.”

“Leave my domain immediately. Otherwise…”

“Otherwise, what?”

Laughter echoed around them, sinister and mocking. Suddenly, the ground beneath them trembled as an earthquake shook the void space. From somewhere outside, the distressed cries of a girl pierced the air.

“If you’re weaker than me, then get lost. Don’t interfere with my fun.”

“Fun?”

“This girl is perfect for my games. There are no scraps left for the weak.”

Cartesia’s frown deepened as she dragged Populus by the collar, pulling him back into the confines of Aidel’s mind.

In this imaginary realm, Populus, roughly discarded, coughed up thick, viscous blood.

“Transcendents like us don’t die, right, Populus?” Cartesia’s voice was cold, almost mocking.

Populus could only manage a choked “Ugh, gah.”

“I’ve been considering something. If anyone dares to interfere with my plans or harm my vessel, what should be my course of action?”

“Please, stop. Stop… Gah!”

Cartesia’s eyes shimmered a chilling blue as she seized the tentacle. “You see, I’m currently low on Prone. I need to stay close to that human, Aidel, but the air here is too murky. It’s not conducive for synthesizing Prone.”

“W-what are you planning…!” Populus stammered.

“It’s quite simple,” Cartesia replied with a sinister giggle, tightening her grip on his tentacle.

“From now on, you’ll be my Prone tank.”

Omega-level Transformation:

The skill known as is one of the most revered abilities wielded by the Descartes faction’s Outer God. Its scope is immense, capable of altering any species, any notion. It is the embodiment of complete metamorphosis.

Now trapped by Cartesia, Populus could do nothing but writhe and emit heavy groans.

“First, I’ll reshape that body of yours. You need to clean the vessel well before filling it with water, don’t you?”

Under Cartesia’s influence, Populus’s body began to morph. His glossy tentacles slowly receded, replaced by sprouting limbs from his once bizarre, monolithic form.

Populus gazed in horror at his changing physique.

“I-I am becoming a lower life form…!”

“What gender should I choose for you? Yes, a female form would suit you.”

For the Outer Gods, gender was a nearly abstract concept. Still, Populus had always embodied a strong, masculine force akin to a human male. His nature was to dominate, to conquer, to destroy—traits he neither particularly favored nor despised.

Yet now, this formidable entity was transforming into what appeared to be a timid and fragile human girl.

“This is madness…! No! I don’t want this!”

500 Prons extorted.

The mechanical noise faded into the background, and the voice that emerged was softer, thinner.

Cartesia’s tentacles reshaped, forming breasts, while its wires intricately wove to sculpt the pelvis. The transformation was complete: the Outer God had become human.

“Ha ha, a masterpiece, isn’t it?”

“Don’t mock me! How dare you transform me into such an inferior species and a female at that…!”

500 Prons extorted.

Yes, become more flustered. The more you are, the more composed I become.

What shall I alter next?

“…Ah, yes. There’s something perfect for this.”

Omega-level Transformation:

The skill was previously used during the Celestine incident. Cartesia had always been curious about the effects it might have on Populus.

“No, please, not that! Anything but Binding!”

The girl, nearly depleted of her Outer God strength, pleaded desperately.

Yet, Cartesia was the Outer God of wisdom and curiosity.

“What would happen if I initiated a mental reformation with ?”

The question lingered.

“How about it? Aren’t you curious too?”

The resolution was inevitable.

“No, please! I’ll do anything! I’ll even call you master! Just spare me from Binding…!”

Populus’s cries marked the end of his resistance, and Cartesia found her peace of mind restored.

Successfully extorted 20,000 Prons.

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Cartesia gazed down upon the lower world.

“Heh, hehe. Uhihih.”

Aidel was rifling through theses, emitting an odd chuckle. He seemed ecstatic.

The sooner his desired weapon was completed, the better.

With this thought, Cartesia carefully adjusted the newly formed collar, a result of the effect.