Morning sunlight poured across the land.
For once, the silver-haired half-elf remained sound asleep in bed.
To make sure she could rest more comfortably, Rikuto and Puck had worked together for a rare moment of collaboration, crafting a makeshift curtain from forest leaves and vines to block out the sunlight streaming into the room.
The process was simple: Rikuto used his ability, [Process Simplification], to handle the crafting, while Puck played the role of a busy little bee, fluttering around and gathering materials.
During this process, Rikuto also gained a deeper understanding of his ability.
Rikuto muttered to himself, "As I thought... it doesn't actually improve your skills."
He looked at the curtain now hanging over the window—its workmanship was crude, the patterns completely misaligned, and it was so haphazardly made that it would probably drive someone with OCD insane.
His previous tests had already confirmed it: [Process Simplification] was essentially like creating a temporary clone of himself.
That clone operated in a kind of frozen time, repeating the exact actions Rikuto had once performed, allowing him to skip the process and directly arrive at the result.
However, the clone's repetition was mechanical, completely lacking in creativity.
It was like a factory worker pressing a button on a machine—gears turning, parts being processed—but the worker themselves never learned a thing from it.
Just as a person wouldn't improve their craftsmanship by relying on machines, Rikuto wouldn't learn anything through the use of [Process Simplification].
Take this curtain as an example:
If Rikuto didn't go through the effort of personally learning how to sew a curtain, then even next time, the result would be just as ugly.
[Process Simplification] only skips steps—it doesn't optimize the outcome.
Rikuto added, "But tools do wear down during the process."
He glanced at the bone needle in his hand, now stained with sap from the vines.
Like an axe used to chop trees, the bone needle had dulled and suffered damage after repeated use.
Even though [Process Simplification] fast-forwards the task, it still causes real, physical wear to tools—as if they were used manually.
…
Floating beside him, Puck observed Rikuto's ability with his chin resting on his paw.
Puck mused, "If your ability works the way you described…"
"Couldn't you use it in combat by repeatedly striking the same spot on an enemy's body until it breaks down completely?"
The Beast of the End, Puck, was clearly proposing a combat application.
To simplify, he was suggesting that Rikuto could, in his frozen-time clone state, strike the same point on an enemy over and over, using sheer repetition to destroy them.
Rikuto replied, "Ah, I actually tried something like that—with you as the test subject."
He nodded with an air of seriousness.
Time-stopping powers always sound cool, and naturally, Rikuto had been eager to experiment.
"Yesterday afternoon, I wanted to test whether [Process Simplification] could be used to tap your shoulder."
"But as you might expect—it didn't work."
He shrugged at the spirit cat.
"It's like chopping trees. When the time-stop clone starts, it makes corrections for slight differences between trees based on my original strength and movement, which costs a bit of stamina."
"Chopping trees is something I can naturally do. The variations between trees are minor, so adjusting for those differences doesn't drain me too much."
"But something like tapping you? I can't even reach you normally. So to make the clone capable of touching you, the physical burden becomes… well, practically infinite."
"In short, this ability can only replicate what I'm capable of doing. No matter how hard something is—if I can do it once, it can repeat it."
"But if it's something I can't do at all, then the stamina required increases exponentially—to the point of near-infinity."
Rikuto carefully explained the limitations of his ability to Puck.
After all, this cheat ability wasn't the kind one could easily hide in daily life, and Rikuto had no real reason to keep it a secret.
Given how unfamiliar he still was with this world, there would surely come a time when he'd need Puck's advice. Being honest upfront would only make things smoother in the long run.
Puck tilted his head. "Is that so~?"
"It does seem like a pretty fascinating Divine Protection."
The small gray feline hovered mid-air, still resting his chin on his paw, his expression thoughtful as he considered Rikuto's explanation.
Then suddenly, he looked up and fixed Rikuto with an unusually serious expression.
The shift was subtle—but unmistakable.
Seeing that, Rikuto instinctively sat up straighter. When a smooth-talking veteran like Puck got serious, it usually meant something important was coming.
"Rikuto," Puck said with gravity.
"Yeah?" Rikuto replied earnestly.
"What exactly did you and Emilia do last night?"
Rikuto opened his mouth to answer instinctively—but halfway through, his expression froze. He looked up at Puck in midair with exasperation.
"Puck… is that really the question we should be focusing on right now?"
Puck stared back, unblinking. "Is there any issue more important than adorable little Emilia?"
That deadpan response silenced Rikuto.
For a moment, he was at a loss for words.
…An overprotective father really is terrifying.