A sharp hiss split through the silence.
Suhoo stirred. His eyelids felt heavy, his mind sluggish, the aftertaste of chemicals still numbing his veins. Every movement sent ripples through the thick fluid in the pod. He tried to steady his breathing, but each inhale scraped like glass.
And then—clinking. A scratch of quill on parchment. The clatter of vials and glass rods.
Someone's here.
He stilled, eyes half-closed, just enough to let a sliver of vision through. On the far side of the chamber, hunched over a cluttered desk, was a man muttering curses to himself.
"Damn them. Damn all of them," the voice croaked, thin and reedy but dripping venom. "Looking down on me—on my department! Half my funding gone this year, Oswald's smug face plastered across every council board—" A bottle clinked, liquid sloshed. "Alchemy, useless? Hah! I'll show them useless. I'll show them all!"
"Blasted fools, all of them!"
He scribbled feverishly, chalk scratching equations onto black slates, quill scratching through pages as he dipped into inkwells with a shaking hand. Runes crawled across the floor in half-finished circles. The air smelled of burnt herbs, iron, and formaldehyde.
"Once they see my masterpiece… my beloved creation… then, they will see that alchemy is not useless!" His laugh cracked, ugly and brittle. "That fool Oswald, the Academy, the world will bend the knee before the genius of I, Thomas The Significant!"
Suhoo's blood froze.
Thomas.
The name hit like a hammer. This wasn't some nightmare or elaborate hallucination. This was real. He was truly, truly in How To Save The World From 10 Evil Gods?
And that man — that bony, muttering figure — was none other than Professor Thomas, the 'hidden boss' and villain of Act I.
Suhoo wanted to scream. To thrash. To tear free from the tubes and glass. Instead, he forced stillness into his limbs. His empty Status Window flashed through his mind — no name, no stats, nothing. Just a title. [Interdimensional Wanderer].
That meant only one thing: he was in the mid development phase. A homunculus whose body had already been completed but without a core, without a name, and without any power.
If I show sentience now… he'll scrap me.
He knew because he'd written it that way. One pull of the lever beside the pod, and Thomas could drain the vat, flush the experiment, and reduce him to meat and glass shards, if he showed sentience at this stage in development since that was how he'd written Thomas.
A smart, hard-working professor consistenly crushed by his insecurities and deep superiority complex, who would rather flush him out than to be amazed by him gaining sentience at this early stage, all because he 'hadn't gone according to his plans'.
Goddammit, why did I write him like this? Suhoo cursed at his past self, sweat prickling despite the cold fluid. Why couldn't I have made him a normal eccentric professor instead of this insecure lunatic?
As if summoned by his thoughts, the man paused mid-scribble. Slowly, almost bonelessly, his head bent backwards.
Shit, what the fuck?! Suhoo's gut dropped.
Two sunken, beady eyes rolled up to meet his. Hollow pits in a skull-like face, ringed with dark shadows, staring directly into the pod.
Suhoo nearly pissed himself.
Every instinct screamed to panic. To claw. To break free. But he forced his eyes half-shut, let them flicker weakly — robotic, lifeless, like an unfinished doll. The way a homunculus was supposed to behave at this stage.
Thomas's grin stretched, too wide, teeth yellow and crooked.
"Yes… yes, you will awaken soon, my child. My, no, the world's first perfected homunculus. With you, I will silence them all."
"My beautiful child."
He shuffled closer, squat and scrawny, his lab coat hanging loose off a frame both fat and skeletal. Up close, Suhoo recognized his own writing given flesh — Professor Thomas looked like some fatter, hairier version of G*llum from L*rd of the R*ngs. Every feature ugly, every gesture twitchy.
Thomas pressed a hand to the pod, peering in with manic devotion.
"Very soon, you will walk."
"Very soon, you will crush the smug little brats of this academy beneath your aura. They'll see. They'll all see. The department of alchemy will reign supreme. And I—" He spread his arms dramatically, spit flying. "I will RULE THEM ALL!"
His laughter shrieked against the stone walls, echoing like a saw blade.
Inside the pod, Suhoo cringed so hard his soul twisted. Jesus Christ, is this what I wrote? He's like a cartoon villain who never got the memo to tone it down. It's one thing to write a villain, but to hear them actually speak like one is so fucking corny.
Right then and there, Suhoo swore that if he ever went the villain route in this world, he'd never showcase such cringy behaviour.
DING! DING! DING!
Before Thomas could rant further, a shrill chime rang from the device strapped to his wrist. He glanced down and snarled.
"Tch. Is it already time? These uneducated buffoons."
He spat the word like it was poison. "Students. Seriously, what was I thinking wasting my talents being a professor here? They waste my genius with their dull brains."
Straightening, he reached for a vial on his desk. A sickly green potion swirled inside. He uncorked it, gulped it down in one go, and shuddered as his body shifted.
Fat melted. Skin tightened. Hair darkened. In seconds, the wretched ghoul became taller, healthier — still gaunt, but presentable, even charming in a sickly way.
He shrugged on his professor's coat, tugged it straight, and plastered a gentle smile across his face.
"Professor Thomas, beloved mentor of youth, at your service," He chuckled, voice suddenly warm and smooth.
He cast one last glance at the pod. His eyes glimmered with greed.
"You'll be ready soon, my precious. My weapon. My vengeance."
And then he left.
The heavy door creaked shut. The locks clicked. Silence returned.
Only then did Suhoo let his chest heave. His eyes widened, his body twitching with restrained terror.
"Fuck. Fuck-fuck-fuck."
He wanted to panic, to thrash again, but the memory of that numbing injection kept him still. If the machine detected stress, it would pump him full of sleep until his brain melted.
So instead he clenched his teeth, forced his racing heart to slow, and began to think.