Ch18. Modern Crop Cycles (Patreon)

After proposing to grant me land in exchange for a political marriage, King Redfield turned to me. "What will you do?"

I met his gaze squarely. "I'm a rational person, not averse to any solution. However, I was promised a monopoly on my technology, yet I see waterwheels all around this castle. I was told I could manufacture soap, and yet seven years passed before I could. And then, once you finally granted what you had promised, the kingdom thrust me into a deadly land. Forgive me for being skeptical about your trustworthiness."

King Redfield smirked and released his magical pressure, which far exceeded anything I had experienced before. Everyone in the room, including us, fell to our knees. Some choked, but we remained relatively functional. "What?" he asked. "Do you consider me weak after centuries of ruling?"

I chuckled. "Are you saying you're willing to gamble with my power, King Redfield? Or did you deck out these knights and don that magic-infused armor merely for show?"

His eyes widened. "How do you know that?"

I smirked inwardly. If the man had outfitted his knights with concealed armor, it only made sense that he would also wear it beneath his own attire. He was no fool.

"You know the answer—you simply refuse to accept it," I smiled. "Here's my question, King Redfield. What do you suppose would happen if I applied my power to this floor?"

'Quartz, feldspar, mica, orthoclase, cellulose,' I mentally intoned, composing the formula for granite. Naturally, having spent many years in the castle, I came prepared.

King Redfield looked down in horror, realizing I was in contact with the floor and speaking normally. He fell into my trap. Now, if he chose to attack, the floor would give way, potentially killing the dignitaries and allowing us to escape. "You can't silent-cast."

I raised my hand, and the candles on the side wall extinguished, leaving him gasping in shock. Once I did that, I mentally recited the structure of wood and granite again.

"You're tangling with a force you don't comprehend, King Redfield," I shouted. "Make an attempt on my life, and everyone will perish. That's on you for inviting us to this 'hero's reception,' while planning our execution!"

He gritted his teeth in anger. "What do you desire?" he demanded. "What form of trust are you seeking?"

"Three years," I replied. "Grant me my father's territory, and trust me not to attack you. Once we're on equal ground—then I'll consider your offer. Reject my proposal, and prepare for war when I take it by force."

King Redfield scoffed and released even more pressure. However, I acted as if it didn't affect me, successfully insinuating that we had only dropped to the floor as a ploy to touch it. In reality, it was choking me; I had seriously underestimated his power. Still, he remained oblivious.

"Leave this place now," King Redfield ordered. "I won't let allies perish due to your petulance."

"Do you anticipate me to reveal whether I can move or not," I scoffed, referring to the fact that he was still applying pressure on everyone in the room.

He looked away in contempt, the veins on his neck bulging before he finally released us.

"Now, would you be so kind as to instruct your forces downstairs to cease waiting for my arrival?" I mocked. "It's rather challenging to exit this building when there are mages above us, below us, and in the hallway. Take note, esteemed dignitaries and nobles—this is King Redfield's idea of a 'hero's welcome.'"

"Enough!" King Redfield roared, turning to a guard. "Issue the orders to everyone. I presume this young man will know when everyone has abandoned their posts. Make haste!" He pointed to another guard and gestured upward.

The guards scurried out of the room while the dignitaries drew sharp breaths, acutely aware that they remained in the midst of a hostage crisis.

When everyone had left, I didn't wait for confirmation. I merely left them with these simple words: "Remember, I was invited here as a 'hero.'" Adding wool to my rapid spell, the floor and carpet surrounding us dissolved, allowing us to fall through the floor. Rather than stopping, I checked the magical pressure beneath the floor and instantaneously dissolved the second level. After hitting the base floor, we dissolved two walls to reach the courtyard.

“GYARRRRRRRRRAAAAH!”

All the guards who confronted us immediately lost their will to fight when Zenith's dress ripped apart, revealing a blue dragon head as she sprouted massive wings. Even before she had finished transforming, Thea and I jumped onto Zenith's back, and we soared into the air, leaving the citizens of Verdanthall screaming in terror.

We were flexing.

As we flew back, we stayed close to the ground, gliding over every serf and letting Zenith spew blue flames that those beneath could physically feel. We allowed people to shoot arrows at Zenith just to demonstrate the futility of their efforts, as nobody could harm her. The same was true for the low-skilled mages.

This was the kingdom's fault. By monopolizing magic and turning it into a strength-based art form, they consolidated power, ensuring they could deal with any internal issues. Moreover, all countries did the same, so it seemed reasonable. However, now that a real threat loomed over them, the kingdom realized the problem with having only a dozen wizards and a single archwizard in the entire kingdom.

We wouldn't have that problem—given enough time. Returning and building our society as swiftly as possible was imperative.

Once we returned, we flew over Silverbrook, which had already witnessed Zenith's transformation. Upon our arrival, the place erupted into cheers as I pumped my fists. From atop Zenith, I delivered a rallying cry for war as the people continued their work, setting up cannons, ballistas, and mortars. We also had mages and knights in full soul mana-reinforced armor standing guard at the gates.

We were prepared for war.

After we jumped down:

"You agreed to hear them out!" Lyssa snapped, her heart still racing as people raced toward me, seeking orders.

I turned to her. "I told you I'd hear them out, not allow them to lie in the presence of dignitaries that could malign our reputation and prevent alliances."

"I heard everything! What did you think would happen when you allowed Zenith to speak for you as a member of Nightshade Forest?" she seethed.

I blinked twice. “I assumed they’d try to take us into custody. What else were they planning when they summoned all of these dignitaries in my honor? Thank me as a hero?”

Lyssa shot me a stern look. “You entered believing that, and so it occurred exactly as you envisioned. You guaranteed that outcome.”

Knights approached and knelt before me as I raised my hand. Then I turned back to her. "Have you forgotten King Redfield condemning us to a barren plot of land in a deadly forest encased by clay? That event never loses its power."

She pursed her lips.

"I get that you're the voice of reason," I began, "but I defy reason. That's why King Redfield banished me to a death forest at twelve, and why you must accept he won't change. If he desires a political marriage, he'll arrange it with my country."

"So you did plan this," Lyssa chuckled.

I glanced at the kneeling knights, then back at her. "I prepared for it. Now, I will shoulder the consequences."

With those words, I turned to the guards. "Status report."

"Yes, My Liege," one of the knights said. "King Redfield's forces in Crimsonwood Forest have been detained."

"How many were there?" I asked.

"A thousand. They arrived from the south in Ironfall's territory."

"Interesting that they'd have such a force near Silverbrook while we visited the capital," I remarked, glancing at Lyssa. "Also, that they would risk a conflict with Ironfall to ambush us. I'm sure they were just here to chat."

With a sardonic chuckle, I walked away, leaving her brooding behind me.

Lyssa wasn't wrong. I was disregarding norms, trading independently, and disrupting the kingdom's economy. Of course, they were unhappy. However, I had an excellent reason. While no one understood yet, I was here to save the world, not to amass power, wealth, or respect. I was aiding others but refused to do so by playing by others' rules. I was here to instigate change, and politics was too slow. Therefore, I was starting my own country where I could do what was needed. I'd consider a political marriage in three years—assuming Valeria’s still standing.

***

I walked through the ranks, checking their status. We had forces stationed strategically in the forest and along Ironfall's border. My people had also built sentry towers using what they considered "revolutionary" architectural techniques. As a result, we would be alerted of any approaching enemy army by land for ten miles and by air for thirty.

Our walls now had rebar-reinforced concrete around the perimeter. "I wonder if I should invest in soul reinforcement. There's enough soul meat to replenish my strength."

I could fortify anything with soul mana, providing a powerful protective layer. However, that process depletes soul mana, much like draining a battery. While I've undergone many permanent changes to my body due to consuming soul mana, my shielding would weaken if I used it. That said, I could consume more soul mana to recharge it. Or...

"Let's teach everyone soul harvesting," I grinned. "I'll turn them into an army of immortal soldiers that grow stronger with every kill."

King Redfield was right: the government should always hold the most power. However, power is situational; the most influential people on Earth—for nearly a century—have been frail, elderly men living in a white house. Despite that, their political power allowed them to control vast armies.

If they could do it, King Redfield sure as hell could! The power differential between him and his subjects was so stark that even if he taught all the citizens of Verdanthall basic offensive magic—and they all attacked him—he'd massacre them!

I was in a similar position. The difference is that I care only about relative power. Naturally, I'll only teach ranked spells to those I trust. However, I would teach everyone intermediate magic and loyalists advanced magic. Even after doing that, it shouldn't be easy for people to kill me, even if they revolted. And if I can't remain in control with a constant influx of A-rank soul mana meat and A-rank spells—I deserve to fall. That's my perspective.

Like Alexander the Great, I would personally stand with the strongest people as I governed this nation and—if necessary—conquer this world.

I'd prefer to do it through commerce.

But an immortal army was an excellent backup plan.

***

The next day, I announced the training and led my soldiers to a courtyard where a feast of A-ranked soul mana meat sat on the table.

"Today, I'm teaching you soul harvesting," I announced. "You will practice this in shifts within Elderthorn starting tomorrow. For now, this meat contains enough soul mana to help you establish your core. Do not eat it; we're extracting its essence."

A collective groan echoed from the excited soldiers. However, their minor disappointment was overshadowed by their anticipation of the technique.

The technique I taught them was the primer for the intermediate technique, "Soul Migration." It was the first step of my advanced technique, which I wouldn't teach them, called Divine Transfiguration.

To do it, I first forced open their soul gates by injecting soul mana directly into them, a process usually done with a catalyst or by consuming enough soul meat. This allowed my soldiers to sense the soul mana in the meat.

After that, the Soul Migration primer requires a chant that helps to draw the soul mana around a person's soul gate to guard it against directly consuming souls. Mages call this "soul core creation," which acts as a housing and shield for soul mana. If they don't perform it correctly, their own soul will rot under the pressure of others.

Finally, soul techniques consist of a harvesting technique and a cleansing technique. Harvesting techniques pull the soul mana into the soul core, and the cleansing technique processes it and syncs it to a person's natural soul rhythm. Once incorporated, the person can use the soul mana in their soul core for magic.

While most people would struggle to accumulate enough soul mana to create a core, everyone here had A-rank soul mana meat!

'These people are about to become gods among mortals,' I thought with a grin. Then I paused. 'Would that make me a god of gods?'

This train of thought left me feeling uneasily excited.

'If Aphrodite sent "samurai, Daoist martial artists, business tycoons, and military generals" here, surely they'd have felt the same...' I reflected. 'If there is immortality, and they received tailor-made magic, at least one of them must still be alive. I find it hard to believe that warriors couldn't.'

Then a realization hit me.

'Maybe that's what Aphrodite meant by choosing the "purest" candidate,' I thought with a chuckle. 'If these people are alive, I doubt they'd be interested in saving the world. They're probably balls-deep in a 125-woman harem, sipping wine from breasts out of sheer boredom.'

The moment someone becomes the most powerful by a mile, world conquest becomes a chore. It's just a guaranteed outcome where the only reward is constant headaches. Therefore, they'd likely consolidate a territory that was easy to control and enjoy their power. After all, there would be no reason to become more powerful, so they'd develop a god complex and stagnate.

Therefore, Aphrodite found someone who only cared about survival and would help society progress, even if they stopped.

For some reason, that line of thought left me feeling a bit thrilled and full of questions. How would I fare against them? How would they react to facing Earthian technology? Most importantly: Science vs. God-like Magic—which would win?

I'd immediately slaughter transmigrators with both, of course. It's still a fun thought experiment, though.

"I-I did it!" a soldier exclaimed, breaking me out of my musings and the others' concentration.

"Don't get excited!" I snapped. "Just because you're better than the others right now doesn't mean anything other than that they're relatively bad at learning."

Groans echoed through the soldiers like a wave, and everyone began working twice as hard. That's what I wanted; no, that's what we needed. Even if there weren't any surviving transmigrators, I refused to leave my life to chance. If anyone were there, I would confront them head-on and defeat them.

Modern technology also wouldn’t be enough. Experimenting with magical rocks, flora, fauna, and other magical artifacts was necessary. Cracking that code would make us unstoppable.

It would also push me past the threshold for my next level up. There was a lot to gain.

King Redfield and I weren't that different, and I didn't blame him for being rational. The difference between us is that I would be better. I'd make sure of it.

***

A full week went by as we prepared for war. The troops trained in developing their soul cores in the morning and learned offensive magic in the evenings. They practiced wind magic in the forest by cutting down trees. Meanwhile, the laborers ate soul mana meat, then carried the wood back to Silverbrook to further expand the city's base.

Concrete makers worked tirelessly to produce rebar-reinforced concrete for the walls, while blacksmiths spent their time crafting swords, shields, and cannons.

Miners journeyed to areas with hot springs to mine for sulfur, saltpeter, limestone, coal, and other valuable minerals. They also searched for sources of nitric acid and natural sulfuric acid, which we would use to manufacture modern gunpowder. However, it wasn't as simple as mixing chemicals with cotton. We needed to create a "die," a machining tool to ensure the powder was the same size, providing consistent burn rates. This was crucial to prevent explosions in the chamber of a gun or pistol.

There were challenges on the horizon.

The captive soldiers only revealed they were ordered to attack if they saw a "sparkling dawn," which referred to a bird reflecting sunlight like a disco ball. Since we hadn't observed such a signal, it was reasonable to assume the kingdom didn't have immediate plans to attack us.

Hence, merchants continued trading with the Valerians, confirming our spies were correct about the kingdom covering up the event by claiming the wyvern showcased their strength. They had no choice but to avoid economic ruin. Merchants and farmers kept selling us crops daily, and I had a full division of canners, fermenters, and smokers preserving food non-stop. We would need it if we went to war.

Our farms were still operational and working around the clock, and that's what I focused on improving during this week.

"From now on, it's a legal requirement to rotate crops in the following format," I addressed a gathering of bailiffs and reeves overseeing the farms in the region. "First, you will plant corn annually, then plant soybeans."

The middle nobles furrowed their brows. "Our people always provide corn every year, and now you expect us to give it up every other year?" one of them asked, receiving agreement from the others.

"This rule applies to individual plots of land," I clarified. "If you have four plots, you can plant corn on two and soybeans on the other two. The important thing is to cycle the crops."

The room became noisy with objections until one person spoke up with determination. "Soybeans cost less, and that will hurt us. Are you trying to sabotage us?"

"Isn't it true that the quantity of corn and soybeans you produce yearly has been decreasing due to pests?" I asked.

A deafening silence followed my question. In feudal societies, producing less meant increased poverty, beatings, and worsened exploitation as aristocrats sought to maintain their wealth.

"If you plant soybeans in the corn fields and the soy farmers plant corn, the pests and weeds that rely on soy, and vice versa, will die," I explained. "After all, they need food to survive, and you're taking that away from them."

There were other factors as well. Soybeans are known for fixing atmospheric nitrogen through a symbiotic relationship with nitrogen-fixing bacteria in their roots. By rotating soybeans with other crops with higher nutrient demands, the overall nutrient utilization of the soil is optimized.

However, I left that “city boy speak” out of the conversation and focused on food—something simple that everyone understood.

A wave of whispers spread throughout the group until someone asked an excited question, "Are you sure?"

"I'm certain. My father entrusted me as the lord of this land, so I'll take responsibility for the outcome," I declared, causing shock among the crowd. "It's in your best interest to follow these rules because they will protect you from our wrath."

With that statement, their acceptance quickly changed.

I also clarified that they could rotate wheat and small grains instead of corn. Moreover, I introduced the wheat-legume rotation, where wheat is grown in one season, followed by peas, lentils, or chickpeas. These crops fix nitrogen content while wheat provides cover.

For specific farmers, I recommended the potato-barley, tomato-cucumber, barley-oat, sugar beet-winter wheat, cotton-corn, rye-vegetable, and fallow rotations, where nothing is planted.

Crop rotation not only helps with pest control, disease prevention, and fertility adjustment but also prevents soil erosion, increases yields, improves market stability, enhances biodiversity and ensures the health of worms, which aids in soil aeration, compost decomposition, and nutrient cycling.

I provided a detailed breakdown for each farmer in each region and asked them to send representatives for military training to protect their farms.

The bailiffs were astonished. I was giving them a cheat sheet to improve wealth and security!

In just one day, I gained the approval of countless bailiffs and reeves, and soon I would be beloved by all the farmers. It was an effective way to earn mass popularity across the vast Everwood Kingdom territory!

"Now, let's talk about fertilizers," I frowned. "If we can't find nitrate and potassium mines, it will be challenging without my magic. However, we can use leftover ash to make fertilizers."

The problem with creating artificial fertilizers lies in collecting the necessary materials. Modern fertilizers synthesize nitrogen and ammonia from natural gas, which contains methane. But we don't have the natural gas for the Haber-Bosch method, let alone the technology.

While I could separate nitrogen and trace ammonia from the atmosphere, it wasn't scalable. We needed mining and food supply chains to win a war!

That left us with two options. The first was to find nitrate and potassium mines, which would provide saltpeter and nitrogen for nitrogen-based fertilizers. This would allow us to mass-produce nitric acid, which could then be used to create fertilizers and explosives. So, obviously, it was a top priority.

The other option was to implement a modern trash collection service for compost. We could obtain saltpeter and compost for soil improvement through this method. However, it was a challenging task to accomplish.

"This will be impossible," I muttered, walking through Silverbrook's narrow streets with a hood on. "The streets are too narrow, and we would need to create designated times for road closures and..."

I groaned into my hands. “There’s no reliable unit of time here. We'll just have to make it work with good ol' fashioned bells and propaganda.”

***

I walked into my new printing press guild and approached a woman whose hands were covered in ink. She wore a black shirt and pants to prevent dye pigments from ruining them, but her skin and hair were blotched from times when she had rubbed her face.

People were still getting used to the new technology.

"Hey, Riley," I greeted her with a slight smile, placing a piece of paper on her ink-splattered countertop and sliding it toward her.

"My Liege," she quickly responded, trying to kneel without getting ink everywhere.

"Please stay standing and take a look at this image," I instructed, tapping the sheet of paper.

"Yes, my Liege," she replied, making my eyebrow twitch at her obsequious behavior. I had more respect for King Redfield's patience. "Is this about food scraps?" she asked.

The image I gave her had the following progression:

The image I showed her depicted a progression: whole vegetables, vegetables turning into peelings, peelings in a bowl, and a person dumping them into a cart as the sun sets.

It was a simple message: we would collect food scraps, relieving people of the burden of disposing of them in the streets or rivers. The collection would happen at sunset, providing a clear schedule for everyone. People would appreciate the removal of scraps, so there would be no room for complaints.

"I've arranged for a fleet of wagons to collect the scraps," I explained. "Now, I just need 400 posters with this image printed so I can display them everywhere."

Riley shrugged. "I can have them ready in a few days."

The beauty of a printing press is that it only requires someone to carve the desired image into the wood, have a blacksmith create a metal version, and then repeatedly dip it in ink and press it down.

Riley's only challenge was carving the wood backward so that the metal mold produced the correct image. "Consider it done."

"Thank you, Riley," I expressed my gratitude, leaving before she could attempt to kneel and spill ink everywhere. The place was already chaotic.

Leaving the guild, I went to the miner's quarry and gathered a few dozen people.

"I'm providing each of you with basic maps of different mountains and regions and transportation," I announced. "Your goal is to collect as many different types of rocks as possible over the next two weeks and then return. Prioritize finding caves and mining near hot springs; if you come across these locations, your team will receive a bonus of one silver each. That is all."

With those instructions, I set all my current priorities into motion.

***

Two weeks flew by, during which I spent most of my time overseeing supply chains, moving scraps to compost operations, and then to farms. The bulk composting sites proved more efficient as the decomposition bacteria were already established there, making saltpeter collection much easier.

The posters proved effective in spreading awareness of the program. While some didn't fully grasp the concept, enough people understood and led by example. That was what mattered.

The program was well-received because it solved the lack of waste systems, preventing people from dumping scraps in the streets or rivers and polluting the water. People were grateful for Everwood Company's Garbage Disposal, funded by the kingdom. The brand value was crucial.

My miners returned with a wide array of rocks and minerals. They had collected gypsum, sulfur, and silica from the hot springs, enabling us to produce concrete, gunpowder, and glass. They found halite (common table salt), borax for detergents, phosphate rock, sodium, and potassium nitrate near the caves.

We discovered a dozen mines and outposts in total.

Additionally, we came across zinc, copper, iron, and coal, all essential for steel production and future plumbing systems, which we planned as a long-term project.

All of this led to one thing—

"I'm exhausted," I groaned.

—me being ridiculously tired.

Thea entered the room, bringing me a cup of terrible-tasting coffee. “Take a break,” she said, putting the cup onto my desk beside a windmill drawing.

"What does that word mean?" I chuckled, closing my eyes and tilting my head towards the ceiling, taking a deep breath. "I think I've heard it before, but I can't recall where." As I relaxed, Thea giggled, aware of my hyperthymesia, and then I felt her soft hands on mine. "Hmmm?"

Moments later, I felt my hands being lifted and placed on her kitty ears. It was always a pleasant feeling, and as it had been a nightly tradition for over a decade, I began kneading her ears while she purred. "This is the best part of the day," I commented, imagining her face turning red. However, her slight shock led her to fall forward onto me.

"Are you… okay…?" I snapped my open to help her, and that's when I realized that my hands were on her ears from the front instead of the back as always, and her face was right next to mine.

Thea heated up like a thermometer, blushing to the tip of her ears. "I-I-I..."

Seeing her embarrassment, I gave her a playful smile that conveyed, 'What am I going to do with you?' before gently pushing her shoulders. However, as I did, our faces ended up inches apart. My heart skipped a beat as I gazed into her trembling eyes and flushed cheeks, an unfamiliar but strangely comfortable feeling. It was much like her burying her head into my chest when she was embarrassed instead of running away, but… it was different. It was like there was something more—something complex—that I didn't fully understand. Sure, it could be love or lust, but that didn't explain what the comfort was. There seemed to be no boundaries between us, and anything I did would be consensual and permissible.

"Let me help you up," I gently smiled, pulling her into a warm hug and standing up. Although I wouldn't allow myself to reciprocate her feelings, this compromise felt right.

"You know how..." Thea whispered, tightly embracing me instead of letting go.

"What do I know?" I inquired.

"Well, you always said that adults were eighteen to you," she gulped. "And now I'm eighteen, so..."

My heart felt like a metal bar had been thrown between moving cogs, screeching and groaning and howling in my chest, making it difficult to breathe.

She flushed bright red. “So I can—”

"But I'm not," I replied, squeezing her against my side as I turned. "Let's save such discussions for when I'm eighteen and focus on ear kneading for now." With those words, I released my arms and resumed kneading her ears, eliciting involuntary giggles from her as I hit the sensitive spots. "We'll be together forever. So there's no need to worry about it."

I was dead serious. I had spent every day of the last eleven years with Thea and planned to spend the rest of eternity with her. I adamantly opposed the idea of taking another partner. Even if I were to marry Princess Rema, I would have her choose a guard who resembled me, consummate the marriage, and have a child. She would have a man constantly by her side, and I would have Thea as my devoted servant. If a child were to be born, I would publicly assume the father's role, while the guard would dedicate every waking moment to being the best dad possible.

Do you know what's more psychologically fucked up than that? Marrying off your daughter as a political pawn against her will.

Politely forcing five-year-old boys to marry said daughter and providing a benefit package that includes lighting them on fire.

Sending twelve-year-olds to their deaths to prevent them from gaining too much power.

In a world of forced marriages, inbreeding, and institutionalized murder, giving a princess the choice of a husband and a child a full-time father is a dream come true.

People may call me a monster, but—

I refuse to marry off a daughter as a mere chess piece.

I refuse to treat Princess Rema like a concubine in a loveless love triangle as she awaits public humiliation.

I refuse to strangle Thea with her heartstrings.

Most of all, I refuse to relinquish the only happiness I have when I could easier just bitch slap that motherfucker into submission for attempting to kill me.

Even if King Redfield strikes now; even if he has the advantage in career mages, unlimited resources, and a massive standing army; even if he joins the battle personally with all his might and wins—I'll leave him with a Pyrrhic victory, so savage that he could close his eyes and throw darts at a map to determine which country could skull fuck his people once I'm finished with him.

Yeah, I like that.

No, I love that.

"Thea," I said, locking eyes with her. "Just let me pet your ears. That's the only 'relaxation' I need in my life right now, and only you can provide it to me."

Thea's eyes widened, and then she teared up before giving me a radiant smile. "Okay!"

As always, she sat on the floor before me and adjusted her position. I resumed kneading her ears, clearing my mind.

Two things could happen this week.

King Redfield could attack, seizing what he perceives as his only opportunity for victory, only to suffer defeat or catastrophic losses at the hands of my soldiers and modern weaponry.

Or, I could casually build a windmill and a mechanical reaper.

One of the two.

-

[A/N: You'll get an extra chapter (in addition to early Thea access) ASAP. So while you got two extra chapters today, you're actually getting three advanced chapters (with the bonus chapter). Everyone's a winner!]