— — — — — —
The doll's voice was crisp and sweet, bright and clear—exactly like a lively girl.
"Hold on for now. Once your sisters wake up, I'll sort everything out together."
"Yes, Master," the doll answered brightly. Then she curiously flexed her arms and legs, moving with smooth coordination as she traced magical circuits through the air.
Tom watched her movements and nodded, satisfied.
The dolls had different levels of innate "spirit quality," meaning that even if every alchemical creature shared the same dream environment, their adaptation varied.
The fact that this doll woke up first proved her talent was the best among the batch. And whoever wakes up last is the dumb one.
...
Another half hour passed. The final doll—vacant-eyed and slow—finally opened her eyes.
A whole crowd of dolls immediately flocked around Tom, chirping, "Maaaster~!"
"Quiet. Quiet. Let me give you names first."
The dolls went still at once, staring up at him with eager little faces, waiting to hear what kind of names they'd get.
Tom rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You're the founding members of the Alchemy Division… so let's go with Luban. Luban No. 1 onward, in the order you woke up. Sound good?"
"Luban?" The dolls blinked in confusion, then nodded. The first one to awaken raised her hand proudly. "I'm Luban One!"
"I'm Luban Two!"
"I'm Luban Three!"
"...…"
"I'm Luban Seven!"
Hearing the last one, Tom glanced at the slow little runt and couldn't help laughing. Luban seven? Honestly, fitting—just with two extra arms.
(Ref to the mobile game, Honor of Kings)
Being the baby of the family came with perks. Tom found himself especially fond of this silly one. He rubbed No. 7's head as the others looked on with envy.
The mimicry tech he'd gotten from Nico really was impressive—they felt almost indistinguishable from real people.
"Alright. Remember your names. Time for your first exam."
He lifted his hands. The ground rumbled, and seven rectangular stone worktables rose up. Then he dumped out piles of assorted materials—some useful, some completely pointless—into a messy heap.
"Make whatever you're best at. No asking for help. Got it?"
"Got it!" x7
At the command, the Lubans got to work. Tom had deliberately mixed the materials to test their ability to tell things apart.
Luban One chose the hardest option: a guardian necklace. No 2 and No 3 both chose to make the Codex. The rest picked various inventions of Tom's—things they'd seen in their shared dream.
Only Luban No. 7 picked the simplest tasks: an anti-curse cloak and an anti-disarm bracelet.
All seven climbed directly onto the worktables, their four arms moving rapidly. Tom had briefly considered adding even more limbs, but tests in the study space had shown that extra arms overwhelmed an alchemical creature's mental control. More of a hindrance than a help.
Four was perfect—two primary, two auxiliary.
Because her project was the easiest, Luban Seven finished first. She held her items up like treasured gifts and looked up at Tom expectantly.
"Master, did I do well?"
"Not bad. Your first attempt turned out pretty good." Tom nodded. He didn't bring up the difficulty gap and instead praised her appropriately. Luban Seven's smile grew even brighter.
"Keep working hard. You should learn to make more things like your sisters, understand?"
"Mhm! I will, Master!"
Seeing No. 7 praised, the others grew anxious and sped up, soon turning in their work as well.
They had all chosen the items they were most confident in, so none had any major flaws. Everything was good enough to sell. Tom praised them one by one, then instructed everyone to learn the guardian necklace from Luban One.
This was the frightening part of alchemical creatures—their out-of-factory skill level was only their baseline. They could learn. They could improve.
They were a bit like future AI—able to expand their database and self-study. But unlike AI, they possessed actual spirit, giving them far more varied potential, even if their learning speed wasn't as extreme.
---
"How do they feel? Anything that needs improvement?" Tom asked.
While the Lubans hustled off to the basement—basically crunching like game devs under a deadline—Tom consulted Ravenclaw. And yes, he was showing off a little.
The project that even a legendary witch thought was difficult? A third-year student cracked it. Ignore how many cheats I used. Just admit I'm impressive.
Ravenclaw could feel the smugness radiating off him. She smiled lightly, not bothered at all.
A little pride was normal. When you wield creation-level power, if that isn't worth bragging about, nothing in the world is.
"But…" She praised him a few times, then suddenly shifted the direction of the conversation.
Tom perked up. The important part was always hidden after the "but."
"Tom… now that your Lubans have spirit and cognition—by the way, that name is really awkward to say…"
She paused just to snark before her expression turned uncharacteristically serious again.
"But thought and memory are also the root of desire. Have you considered what you'll do if the Lubans… or any future alchemical construct you make… doesn't develop the way you expect?"
She held his gaze. "Or worse… if they ever chose to betray their creator?"
The easy smile on Tom's face slowly faded. He turned toward the basement. The Lubans' cheerful voices drifted faintly up to the first floor.
"I thought about that before I created them," he said. "I gave them life. Right now they're naturally loyal to me, but in the future… honestly, I can't be certain."
"If I twisted their minds too hard, forced obedience directly into their core, they'd stop growing. They'd stagnate forever. That wouldn't be any different from regular puppets, would it?"
"So I just prepared a few contingencies." His voice softened. "If one of them really did betray me, I can make them self-destruct at any time. But I won't limit their growth."
Ravenclaw nodded slightly. "As long as you're mentally prepared. Creation must always come with the awareness it can turn on you."
"Relax," Tom said with a grin. "I'm not trying to create people the way you did. I'm not that reckless."
Ravenclaw rolled her eyes in a way only she could pull off and swayed away.
A little brat daring to make jokes with her… neither Gryffindor nor Slytherin ever had the guts. Gryffindor was terrified she'd slip something weird into his drinks. Slytherin lived in fear she'd bury traps all over his lab.
Only the founders and maybe Helena, her own daughter, truly understood how terrifying Ravenclaw could be.
Everyone else… simply wasn't worth the emotional reaction.
...
The next day, Tom was smiling the whole way to the airport.
After a full night of observation, he had a clear picture of the Lubans' production efficiency. The necklace, the hardest item to make, took all seven of them combined to barely equal twice his own speed. The Codex notebooks were simpler; they worked at three to four times his rate.
The basic products were even faster. Those relied less on skill and more on raw output.
Plus, little Lubans were still learning.
As long as he had enough raw materials, they'd finish the Ministry's combined orders by the end of next month.
So... For the first time, Tom felt completely free. He was finally done being his own overworked laborer.
A huge pile of research topics waited for him. The trial mission was still not finished.
Ariana and Andros had been dropping hints left and right, practically vibrating with impatience to be revived, but Tom kept pretending not to notice.
Their situation wasn't like Grindelwald's. Creating a body perfectly suited for their soul required countless considerations. The notes left behind by "Professor K" might not even apply in this world; everything needed to be adapted.
And surprisingly… the best blueprint to reference was the dark ritual Voldemort used for his own resurrection.
Judging from that spell, Voldemort had walked far deeper down the path of dark magic than Grindelwald ever had. Grindelwald studied broadly; anything useful, he'd learn. Voldemort wasn't like that. Even when a simpler method existed, he refused it. It had to be dark magic. He was a pure obsessive.
...
"Old G."
On the boarding ramp, Tom pulled Grindelwald into the study space.
"What's wrong?" Grindelwald knew Tom wouldn't summon him in a rush unless something needed doing. He got straight to the point.
Tom ordered, "Voldemort is in the forests of Albania. Go find him, please. If you can capture him, great. If not, bring back Nagini."
"Nagini…" Grindelwald froze for a moment.
She was an old acquaintance of his too.
"You're telling me Nagini is traveling with Voldemort?"
"You know what happens to blood-curse maledictus victims." Tom settled into his first-class seat as the flight attendant smiled politely. "She's long since lost her rational mind."
"I'll find her." Grindelwald accepted the task, left the space, summoned Rosier to make arrangements, and then quietly slipped out of Berlin without alerting a single soul.
He was sure Dumbledore had spies in his territory. The last thing he wanted was to come home and find his entire stronghold looted.
.
.
.