“It doesn’t look like much,” I commented, looking at the Bakery. It was almost identical to the normal houses, but featured an extensive interior kitchen and had a windowsill upon which it seemed that freshly-baked goods would appear.

“It’s not a factory, just a bakery,” Imu retorted, as though his argument made any sense.

“What’s a factory?”

He waved his hands in frustration. “Get to it, chop-chop! Your minions aren’t going to evolve themselves!”

I was once again back in my essence form, which was the most comfortable way for me to exist, as I found occupying the Mayor’s body to be like voluntarily burying myself in the ground. Not to mention, the lack of several key senses, like taste and touch, made it quite a dull existence. Strangely though, I had my sense of smell, regardless of whether I stayed in Essence Form or possessed the Mayor.

Just like with the Breeder, there was no requirement for who could be evolved into a Baker, so I simply picked the most-recently-spawned minion, who had replaced the most recent minion that was inevitably torn to shreds by the increasingly-powerful Goose2 during its offering ritual.

I fed the minion a fifth of my essence after he entered the Bakery, and when that didn’t fully complete the process, I gave him another dose, which resulted in a glow shooting out through the windowsill, followed by a shower of sparks and smoke. Moments later, the newly-birthed Baker emerged victoriously from the house, his entire set of yarn-spun clothes turned into a single white apron that was wrapped tightly around his body, but somehow still managed to not really cover anything.

“Deathheim give me strength,” Imu muttered upon seeing the exposed mammary-glands of the smooth Baker.

“Aww, he also didn’t get a hat…”

“Set him to work, so I don’t have to burn my eyes on his visage any more than necessary.”

Baker, get to baking!

The Baker tilted its head and then started twisting its nipples.

“I don’t know what that means,” I told Imu.

“I… erm… unholy divine… I think he’s confused?”

“Don’t they normally scratch their heads when they’re confused?”

“I don’t know! Just find out what he needs and make him stop! This is incredibly upsetting!”

I then realised what the problem was. He didn’t have any wheat flour to work with! I quickly sent for my idle Farmers to carry the processed flour over to the Bakery, and told them to henceforth leave the excess processed wheat there, rather than store it in our barn.

Congratulations! For setting a Rule for your minions to follow, you have gained the [Mind-reader] perk! Minion-management made easy!

[Mind-reader] – Enables you to hear what your minions feel and desire.

“Our System Lady is back to normal!”

“Let’s see how long it lasts…” Imu replied ominously.

“I’m gonna try it out.”

I focused on the Baker, who was still busy twisting his mammary glands, as two Farmers came running with a sack of flour.

I wish someone would twist my nipples for me.

“Did you hear that too?” I asked Imu.

“…Unfortunately, yes.”

Deciding that my Baker was probably just an outlier, I focused instead on one of the two Farmers who was approaching:

I have watched forty-seven of my identical twins brutally die to dehydration and predation from a monstrous goose. Life is an endless cycle of suffering. I am not long for this world, perhaps it would be better if I took the easy way out and—

“I don’t think I’m gonna use this ability much,” I decided, cutting off my insight into the Farmer’s mind.

“Probably for the best,” Imu advised sagely.

“Removing the ones we’ve already completed, here are the remaining tasks:”

[Evolution Requirements]

Hamlet => Village

- Build 1 Butchershop, evolve a minion into a Butcher, and make food from cattle -

- Slaughter 2 cattle -

“At last, a Butcher,” I commented. “I have been looking forward to this, since seeing that our cattle are frogs.”

“Should I be worried?”

[Crafting List]

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

>Structures>Agriculture

—Butchershop (Workbench)—

Unlocks the ability to evolve a minion into a Butcher to slaughter cattle

Required Materials: Stone, Timber, & Wrought Iron

Since we already had enough iron stockpiled, thanks to my diligent Gatherers and tireless Smith, I immediately began construction on the Butchershop.

“The System doesn’t mention anything about it, but… don’t you think it’s rather cruel to put the Butcher right next to the Animal Pen?”

“No.”

“…Alright.”

Construction of the building did not take long, as now three of my eight Builders were armed with Iron Hammers. The rest would receive theirs in turn, but, for the moment, iron was yet a scarce resource that was better served to help me evolve.

As it finished, a shack-like building with a small storefront attached to the side stood proudly next to the cattle enclosure. To my joy, the cattle frogs all collectively moved away from the side of their enclosure nearest the building.

I picked one of the recently-returned Gatherers to be evolved, and the man threw away his pickaxe in a heartbeat and came skipping over merrily.

“I feel an ominous sense of dread about this,” Imu commented.

“He’s just glad to have been chosen,” I argued.

I used Mind-reader to confirm this:

KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL—

“Okay, maybe that’s a bad sign.”

After the former Gatherer entered the murder-shack, I immediately filled it with my essence, and that familiar light shone out the cracks in the wooden panelling and from under the wide doors. Halfway through the process, it turned crimson and there followed a sadistic laughter from within, immediately supervened with the newly-evolved Butcher flinging wide the door to his shop and revealing himself amidst a deluge of dense mist and smoke.

Imu and I both stared at him for a moment before either of us spoke.

“He’s red,” I commented. “And, hey, he has a hat... kind of.”

“He looks like Santa Claus.”

“Who’s that?”

“The Grim Reaper for Imps, basically.”

“I see.”

Despite feeling very reluctant about it, I needed to know what he was thinking.

I wear red so my enemies can’t see me bleed!

“Are you regretting this now?” Imu asked. It was clear he was having reservations about having potentially just spawned a threat to modern society; a veritable serial murderer dressed as the Reaper of Imps…

Congratulations! For constructing your first Butchershop, you unlocked the ability to construct a Tannery and to craft both a Butcher’s Axe and Skinning Knife! You heartless bastard!

[Crafting List]

>Structures>Crafting

—Tannery (Workbench & Butchershop)—

Enables Tanning of harvested skin, but lowers minion motivation in nearby structures

Required Materials: Stone, Timber, & Wrought Iron

>Items>Tools

—Butcher’s Axe (Workbench & Anvil)—

Grants Butchery skill and increases minion Insanity Gain by 75% and Kill XP by 20%

Unlocks Serial Killer perk once the minion wielding it goes insane.

Required Materials: Wood & Iron

—Skinning Knife (Workbench & Anvil)—

Grants Skinning skill and increases minion Harvesting XP by 30%

Required Materials: Wood & Iron

“Serial Killer perk…” Imu noted. “Did the System invent this just to spite us?”

“We’ll need to keep an eye on him,” I replied. “What’s skinning good for?”

Imu consulted his tome. “It seems we can make upgraded versions of the minion clothes.”

Without needing any advice, I immediately plonked the Tannery blueprint down next to the Butchershop.

“We don’t have enough Wrought Iron,” Imu said. “Also, I do have to wonder where they’re finding all these iron deposits. We’re in the middle of a blessed forest, for Hell’s sake!”

“My minions are clever,” I simply replied.

As I waited for more Wrought Iron to be refined, I had a Builder use some Crude Iron to construct a Skinning Knife and Butcher’s Axe. Once these were complete and brought over to the Butcher, I commanded the Breeder to take one of his frog cattle to the Butchershop. After leaving the frightened giant frog with the unsettling Santa of Death, the doors to the murder-shack were shut and a loud laughter followed shortly thereafter.

“…Now we just need one more frog to be slaughtered, and then for food to be made from them.”

“What could we make from a frog?” I wondered.

“I hear frog legs are popular, but, in this case, it’d be like eating the entire leg of a bear…”

Imu jumped down from the stone dyke he’d been sitting on, before turning to look at where I floated above his shoulder.

“I need to ask you something.”

“What?”

“You just took the life of a creature, willingly.”

“And?”

“Don’t you feel any sense of… I can’t believe I’m saying this… remorse? Or guilt?”

“Why?”

“Why? What do you mean ‘Why’?? Do you not understand the concept of remorse!?”

“I understand what remorse means,” I replied. “But why would I feel remorse for a frog? They deserve to be exterminated from the face of this earth for their transgressions against Toadkind!”

“Okay, psycho… But, normally, this is where a human soul in a core would feel a tinge of guilt and become all philosophical about the meaning of life and ultimately reach the conclusion that they are doing this for the greater good.”

“That sounds very dumb and pointless. I’m a soul in a pebble. Why would I care about that?”

“Yeah… I guess it was always a bit of a killjoy, truth be told. I mean, as a servant of Deathheim I obviously love all sentient life or whatever, but, man, every core I’ve worked with thus far has had the same emo phase and it’s honestly a major bummer.”

Before I could reply, commotion from the other end of our Hamlet drew my attention.

“The weird whomens are back!”

I quickly zoomed over and possessed the Mayor, hopping over to where the Tax Collector, Monroe, stood before a horse-drawn wagon with three armoured men holding swords and shields.

“You’re back!” I announced, standing on all fours, with my cone hat pointing at them.

Imu quickly ran over, but then needed a minute to catch his breath.

After a courteous exchange between the two, the Myling turned to me and whispered,

“Have the two sacks of processed flour we set aside brought over and loaded onto their cart, as well as ten kilos of harvested wheat.”

“Isn’t that a lot?”

“Yes. That’s why it’s a tax,” he deadpanned. “It’s meant to hurt us, while benefitting them.”

“That seems counterintuitive.”

“Just play along for now. Soon, we’ll be the ones who tax.”

I complied and had my idle Farmers and Builders work together to haul the sacks and loose stacks of wheat to the Taxman’s cart.

While my minions carried out this task, I took a moment to consider the three armoured men accompanying Monroe. They looked like shiny beetles in their fancy attire.

“Why does he have those men with him?”

“Tax Collectors are hated, obviously, but also very often targeted by highwaymen and thieves, so they need protection.”

“Their weird heads don’t even fit in their metal bucket hats,” I replied. “One of them looks like he cannot even see, with how his forehead pouch is sagging over his eyes.”

“Better not to draw too much attention to it. They’re still a lot stronger than any of our minions,” he advised, looking at them with the bubble between his fingers.

“When do I get that ability?” I grumbled.

“As soon as you evolve,” he replied. “Although you’ll have to build it, and we need some bizarre stuff.”

Fifteen minutes passed before the required tax was completely loaded onto the cart, then the Taxman nodded his thanks and promised to be back again next month…

He left with his three men, getting atop the horse, as though it wasn’t already dragging many kilos of material behind itself and looking close to collapsing.

They had made it just past the border of my demesne, when disaster struck from the sky.