Morning in S-Town always began with cake.
Not because the townsfolk loved sweets— but because the air literally smelled like dessert.
Every day at 6 a.m., the construct-type baker released "Pastry Clouds," clusters of cream-scented magnetic fields drifting through the streets, like a dessert-themed weather forecast.
The first time Zhao Yang smelled it, he thought his blood mist had gone bad.
Hu Hao took a bite and confirmed it wasn't a hallucination.
"The cream's real."
Chen Mo glanced over.
"You're eating air?"
Hu Hao:
"I'm eating magnetic fields."
They lived in a small house on the edge of town. The courtyard wasn't large, but it was enough.
The crucible was covered with anti-magnetic cloth— just in case it decided to activate itself at midnight.
Every morning, Zhong Li squatted beside it, scribbling on his log board and muttering:
"Yesterday He Xuan's magnetic tremor was 2.3. Today it's 2.1. Is he slacking off?"
He Xuan sat in the courtyard, his time-slowing magnetic field making him look like he was sipping tea in slow motion.
"I'm not slacking. I'm extending the tea's aftertaste."
Zhong Li:
"You're extending my recording pain."
Lin Lan managed the weather membrane daily, making sure the courtyard didn't get hit by cake rain or sudden construct winds.
She was currently researching "magnetic fine-tuning," trying to make the membrane auto-adjust to emotional fluctuations.
"If you're in a bad mood, it'll switch to sunny."
Zhao Yang:
"Then Chen Mo's forecast is daily thunderstorms."
Chen Mo said nothing. He just kept warming up Phase Five of his Shattered-Time Fist.
He'd been training for seven days straight. The courtyard floor now had a crack. Zhong Li labeled it:
"Chen Mo's personal seismic zone."
Lu Ye was on the balcony, constructing particle men. He was experimenting with a fusion of construct-type and particle-type abilities— creating "emotional particle men" that would adjust based on team mood.
The first test produced a crying stick figure.
"Who's sad?" Lu Ye asked.
Hu Hao:
"I just finished a drama."
Zhao Yang:
"I just finished a cake."
Chen Mo:
"I just finished a punch."
Particle Man:
"I don't want to live."
Qin Hao handled crucible safety checks. He posted three warning signs:
No reaching in without permission
Unstable soul layers prohibited
If you've died once, stay away
He Xuan glanced over.
"This is targeting me."
Qin Hao:
"You're the only one who fits all three."
The townsfolk were getting used to them. Every day, someone dropped by— bringing cake, magnetic charts, or bizarre ability suggestions.
"Have you tried fusing the weather membrane with blood mist?" "Can you use the crucible to make a one-click brainwash?" "Have you considered opening an ability clinic?"
Hu Hao gave it some thought.
"Clinic's doable. But first we need to figure out who's the doctor."
Zhong Li:
"I can log patient records."
He Xuan:
"I can slow down symptoms."
Zhao Yang:
"I can rewind them to before they got sick."
Chen Mo:
"I can punch the illness."
Lu Ye:
"I can construct the illness."
Lin Lan:
"I can make it vanish in sunny weather."
Qin Hao:
"I can revive the patient."
They decided not to open a clinic—yet.
The townsfolk grew curious about the crucible. Some wanted to rent it. Some wanted to study it. Some wanted to worship it.
"Does it have a soul?" "Can it see us?" "Is it waiting for us to mess up?"
Zhong Li posted a sign:
"This furnace has no soul. Only pain."
Their daily rhythm settled in.
Morning: cake. Midday: ability training. Afternoon: magnetic research. Evening: chatting around the furnace.
Chen Mo trained punches. Zhao Yang refined blood mist. Hu Hao brewed tea. Lin Lan tuned the weather membrane. Lu Ye built particle men. Qin Hao checked the crucible. Zhong Li logged everyone's magnetic fluctuations.
One day, Zhong Li said:
"Your magnetic frequencies are starting to sync."
He Xuan:
"What does that mean?"
"You're starting to feel like a squad."
Zhao Yang:
"We've always been a squad."
"You used to just fight together. Now you live together."
They paused.
Then Hu Hao said:
"Can I apply for magnetic tea sharing?"
Zhao Yang:
"You can apply for magnetic cake sharing."
Chen Mo:
"You can share my fists."
The particle man yawned on the balcony. The weather membrane gently retracted. Blood mist drifted like curtains. The crucible lay silent in the corner— still digesting yesterday's experiments.
Afternoon sunlight in S-Town felt like it had been tuned by the weather membrane. It didn't burn skin— just warmed magnetic fields.
Lin Lan hung laundry in the courtyard. The membrane detected humidity, redirecting moisture into the air, forming a small cloud.
"These clothes dried faster than my mood," she said.
Zhong Li scribbled beside her:
"Lin Lan · Mood humidity · Morning: light rain · Noon: sunny with clouds."
Zhao Yang was adjusting blood mist on the other side of the yard, trying to turn it into a "sunblock layer."
Hu Hao:
"Is that a blood mist sunhat?"
Zhao Yang:
"It's blood mist sunscreen."
Hu Hao:
"Can you stop using abilities for skincare?"
Zhao Yang:
"Can you stop using your consciousness layer for tea?"
Chen Mo finally completed Phase Five warm-up. He punched. Air trembled. The courtyard floor cracked deeper.
Zhong Li walked over and posted a new label:
"Chen Mo · Seismic rating · Today: 4.2 · Recommended distance: far."
The particle man sunbathed on the balcony. Lu Ye added an "emotion detection module." Now it would turn into a comfort cat when someone got too irritable.
Today, it became a fluffy blue cat, curling up beside He Xuan.
Zhao Yang:
"You're irritated?"
He Xuan:
"Not irritated. Just slowed down too long. My brain's buffering."
Zhong Li:
"He Xuan · Thought frame rate · Current: 0.7x · Recommend reboot."
Qin Hao found faint magnetic ripples near the crucible— like someone had reached for it in their sleep.
"Anyone been sleepwalking lately?"
Chen Mo:
"I train punches in my dreams."
Zhao Yang:
"I eat cake in mine."
Hu Hao:
"I brew tea."
Zhong Li:
"I log your sleepwalking."
Townsfolk brought more strange gifts.
A "magnetic stabilizer stone" to stop the crucible from glowing. An "ability cookbook" with three home-style construct recipes. A cat that could sense dangerous magnetic fields.
The cat wandered the courtyard, then jumped onto the particle man's head.
"Did it decide the particle man's the most dangerous?"
"Maybe it just likes high places."
"Maybe it just likes blue cats."
Zhong Li began logging townfolk behavior patterns.
Taste-type: samples air every morning. Construct-type: builds a mini house every noon. Emotion-resonance-type: cries once every evening.
"Their magnetic fields are like timers," he said.
Hu Hao:
"You mean they have routines?"
Zhong Li:
"I mean they're more stable than us."
The squad decided to build their own routine.
Lin Lan: weather membrane. Zhao Yang: blood mist cleaning. Chen Mo: courtyard floor repairs (mostly stop cracking it). Lu Ye: particle man emotional management. Qin Hao: crucible safety. Hu Hao: tea supply. Zhong Li: log everything.
They drafted an "Ability Usage Code":
No Shattered-Time Fist before meals
No blood mist in tea
No emotional provocation toward particle man
No fireworks under the weather membrane
No ghost stories near the crucible
Zhao Yang:
"Who added the fifth one?"
Zhong Li:
"Me. I'm afraid it might understand."
At night, the squad sat around the crucible. Not to use it— but because it radiated heat.
Zhong Li pulled out his log board.
"Today's most stable magnetic field: Qin Hao."
Qin Hao:
"I didn't do anything."
"Exactly. That's why you're the most stable."
"What about Chen Mo?"
"Chen Mo · Magnetic tremor · Today: 4.2 magnitude · New floor cracks: 3."
Chen Mo glanced at the ground.
"I'll train outside town tomorrow."
Hu Hao:
"You could train in your dreams."
Zhao Yang:
"You could train inside the furnace."
Zhong Li:
"You could train on my log board."
The particle man turned into a smiling balloon, drifting around the courtyard.
"It's in a happy state," Lu Ye said.
"Is it mocking us?"
"Maybe it's just windy."
The townsfolk began inviting them to events.
Taste-type: "Air Sampling Festival." Construct-type: "Magnetic Puzzle Tournament." Emotion-resonance-type: "Crying Mixer."
Zhao Yang:
"Are we going?"
Hu Hao:
"We can split up. I'll cry, you eat."
Chen Mo:
"I'll punch puzzles."
Zhong Li:
"I'll log your tears."
In the end, they only attended the Air Sampling Festival.
The taste-type released ten magnetic flavors into the plaza: cream, mint, chili, durian, coffee, post-rain soil…
Zhao Yang tasted them all.
"I think my blood mist changed flavor."
Hu Hao:
"My tea tastes spicy now."
Chen Mo:
"My fists want to eat someone."
Zhong Li logged:
"Zhao Yang · Taste-field response · Durian: alarm · Coffee: contemplation · Soil: nostalgia."
They returned to the courtyard and decided not to attend any more mixers.
Zhao Yang:
"It's not that we don't fit in."
Hu Hao:
"Our magnetic fields are just too complicated."
Chen Mo:
"We're just afraid of crying."
Zhong Li:
"We're just afraid of being logged."
Late at night, the weather membrane shifted into "sleep mode." Blood mist retracted. The particle man turned into a pillow. The crucible emitted faint magnetic ripples— like it was dreaming.
Zhong Li sat beside it, writing one last entry:
"Squad · Status: stable · Magnetic field: synchronized · Abilities: dormant · Mood: relaxed."
He closed the log board, stood up, and looked at his quiet teammates in the courtyard.
"I… think I've really stayed," he said softly.
No one replied. But the particle man drifted over and gently brushed against his shoulder.
Zhong Li smiled.