Gluttony Demon King with the Swampman ~A Man with No Magic Power Who Dreamed of Magic, Wielding Knowledge from His Past Life Through Steady Research and Hard Work to Become the Most Vicious Final Boss~

Chapter 51: Sprouts of Faith

Magical aptitude depends entirely on the individual’s own magic power.
Because the nature and shape of the magic power each person produces differ, no one can use magic that doesn’t match their own magic.

I had been researching that very thing for a long time.

Which means I can now use alchemy.
Because the petrified hero’s arm constantly generates the hero’s magic power whether I want it to or not.

That doesn’t mean I’ve gained omnipotent alchemy, of course; it just depends on how cleverly I use it.

“I see. The burn is shallow but covers a wide area. Let’s treat it right away.”

“Th-thank you so much!”

The patient is a tottering old lady. According to what I heard, she knocked over a pot of boiling water while making breakfast.
Her daughter does the talking for her while the old woman winces at the pain in her arm, and I start treatment at once.

“Ink, your turn.”

I stretch out the prosthetic. Ink multiplies and drips from the fingertips like liquid.
The drops crawl over the old lady’s arm, covering the entire burn, wriggling as they go.

When I first tried using alchemy, several problems came up.

First: I myself can’t control the magic power inside this arm.
It isn’t my magic power; it belongs to the hero, so naturally I can’t manipulate it.

Ink solved that for me.
Ink that multiplies using the hero’s magic power carries traces of that magic power for a short time after multiplying.

If that’s the case, I might be able to perform alchemy through the ink as a medium.

The next problem was that ink has no function for “releasing magic power outward.”

Slimes are excellent at “circulating magic power inside the body” and “controlling the body with magic power,” but they almost never “release magic power outside” or “cast spells.”

Under normal circumstances, ordinary alchemy would be impossible.
After all, the basic process of alchemy is “infusing an object with magic power and turning it into something else.”

Every textbook I devoured said the same thing.
I even sent a letter to Lord Witruwius asking about it and got the same answer back.

So I gave up on standard alchemy and decided to make the ink itself the base material for transmutation.

“It’s… incredible… Mom’s wound is disappearing…!”

Right in front of the daughter’s wide eyes, I heal the old lady’s arm.
More accurately, I don’t heal it—I fill the wound with ink.

The ink eats away at the damaged area, flows into the missing parts,
and then the ink becomes human flesh.

Ink is bad at releasing magic power outward.
So my solution was simple: turn the magic-charged ink itself into a different substance.

“O-oh… my arm… really…”

“How’s the pain? Any strange feelings?”

“Not a bit. As expected of Master Haro… You treated a cut on my finger before, too…”

“Oh, did I? Well then, please keep coming back.”

I don’t remember every single resident’s face, after all.
I keep records, so I can check later.

Anyway, the mother and daughter bow over and over before leaving.

“…Still don’t get how you pull off alchemy this precise. Haro, you really don’t want any money?”

Zaria sounds half-amazed, half-exasperated.

Well, sure—compared to transmuting inorganic stuff like silver or gold, transmuting organic matter or living tissue is insanely complex, so you almost never hear of alchemists who do it.

But I’m not creating it from nothing.
And if you asked whether I can transmute “life” itself, the answer would be no.

I simply wrote a single magical formula that says “make the same thing as whatever is next to it.”
If flesh is next to it, make flesh. If a blood vessel is next to it, make a blood vessel. If skin is next to it, make skin.

Give the ink that one simple rule, and it turns into exquisitely detailed living tissue.

I just tell it where to go and what shape to take each time… and honestly, even that isn’t much work.

“…Besides, this is unmistakably human experimentation.”

I could never bring myself to charge money.

Right now the wounds heal beautifully, and several generations of mouse tests showed no problems… but there’s still no guarantee something won’t go wrong inside their bodies later.

The risk they take as test subjects and the information they provide—
they’ve already paid me far more than any treatment fee.

Of course, what I’m doing is in no way proper medicine.
Still, I want to understand magic, so I keep doing this foolish thing.

“Maybe I’ll go for a walk after all. I’ll buy the milk and sugar.”

I need to steady my slightly shaken mind.

Zaria tilts her head with a “Really?” and nods reluctantly.

A little while after finishing the treatment, I head out into town.

Well, “I” is technically “we.” Except for Oz, who still has chores, Zaria, Noiche, and Egiy all come with me.

They’re a bit overprotective, but being this cherished isn’t a bad feeling.

Teranon is a quiet town.
Maybe because of the somewhat cold climate, the residents tend to be reserved, and even the market is full of taciturn, craftsman-like people.

Thanks to the small population, there’s plenty of land. Vast farms and pastures dot the inside of the outer walls, and freshly butchered meat from that very morning is the market’s pride.

The townspeople are a little shy around strangers—or rather, quite wary—
yet little by little they’ve started accepting what I do, and lately more and more of them call out to me.

“Ah, Master Haro! Good morning!”

“Master Haro! Thank you so much for healing Grandpa’s injury the other day!”

“Oh, Master Haro, out for a stroll? I just milked some fresh sheep’s milk—please take some for everyone!”

“Master Haro! Still surrounded by beauties as always, eh!”

“A high-ranking healer at that age? No wonder he’s popular. I heard at the guild he’s supposedly an A-rank adventurer too…”

“Hey, come on, that last one’s gotta be a joke, right?”

“Ah, Master Haro! So cute today as well!”

“How about it, Master Haro! Have you thought over the marriage proposal with my daughter?”

“Blessings upon blessings.”

“Master Haro, Master Haro, Master Haro, Master Haro…”

Being accepted this warmly by people who don’t even know where I’m really from should feel nice, I guess—

“…Haro, aren’t you way too popular?”