The "Origin Clan"—as the Arsians called them—who had flourished on Planet Hehl, had also extended their reach into the domain of artificial life.
Through a synthesis of magic and science, they unraveled the structure of the human body and produced Duplications using artificial cells.
Because these creations served as retainers, they were called "servants."
However, even with the advanced knowledge of the Origin Clan, source genetic information remained essential.
That foundational material was none other than the developers' own DNA.
Developers whose names were lost to history provided their own cells, fashioning Duplications to assist them as aides.
"No. 100001, carry this."
"Yes, right away."
"No. 100002, help me over here."
"Yes, Master."
The developer assigned six-digit designations to the servants. The leading "1" denoted their functional category, while the remaining five digits served as the serial number.
Their appearance—namely, their apparent physical age—could be configured as desired. The genetic information within a Duplication served merely as blueprint data to construct the body, rather than for biological cell division meant to produce offspring.
In essence, these Duplications were ageless.
These servants were also known as "homunculi."
Countless years passed, until the developers who had originally crafted the homunculi were no more.
By then, servants had become indispensable to certain members of the Origin Clan.
"No. 4591, have you finished cleaning?"
"Yes, Master."
"No. 98351, tidy up this room."
"Yes, Master."
"No. 80021, we are heading out. Accompany me."
"Yes, Master."
Engineers of subsequent generations continued to produce unique homunculi of their own, entrusting them with their personal affairs.
And once again, centuries rolled by.
The civilization of the Origin Clan began its decline.
Eventually, they were forced to abandon their resource-depleted home world of Planet Hehl.
After many trials and tribulations, the Origin Clan colonized Planet Ars.
Through it all, the homunculi continued to sustain their daily lives.
Yet, though ageless, the homunculi were far from immortal.
Subject to fluctuations in free ether concentration and fatal accidents, their numbers steadily dwindled.
Above all, when the mutated indigenous creatures of Planet Ars—the magical beasts—attacked, many fell in battle while shielding their Masters.
Even so, a handful of exceptionally well-crafted homunculi survived.
Among these surviving servants were units designated No. 600012 and No. 700672.
And time flowed onward once more...
"No. 700672-san, when setting up the consciousness of a homunculus, you don't actually have to designate a 'Master,' right?"
"Indeed. That is merely an auxiliary consciousness layered on for the purpose of commanding them as servants."
Hanna was posing questions to No. 700672.
"I see... Just as I thought. In that case, you first store the personality and knowledge in something like a magi-crystal, add the auxiliary consciousness there, and then use Trans Info to transfer all of it into the homunculus's brain, right?"
"Precisely....Hanna-dono, you are truly a prodigy. 'To hear one and understand ten,' was it? I understand there is such a phrase in Jin-dono's world, and you embody it completely."
"Ahaha, you're flattering me too much!"
Worried about Martha, whose health had recently declined, Hanna had taken the initiative to delve into homunculus research.
Laojun was lending assistance, and Jack on the Moon, Uni, was also offering total cooperation out of concern for Milowina.
"I think we've resolved most of the technical hurdles."
Hanna's expression was bright.
"The real problem, though, is the materials... I suppose..."
"You are referring to the mental catalyst, Hanna-chan."
"Yeah... Hey, Laojun, could you drop the '-chan' already? I'm plenty old enough, you know."
"Be that as it may, within my core, you will always remain 'Hanna-chan.'"
"Well, I get where you're coming from, but still..."
"Let us return to the matter at hand. As for the mental catalyst, we should have enough left for roughly twenty individuals."
"Still, we can't just go using it all up."
The mental catalyst was also the sovereign remedy for Mana Overload Syndrome.
Furthermore, other complications remained.
Namely, the ethical and societal ramifications.
The former was whether it was truly permissible to turn someone into an unaging homunculus purely for one's own convenience.
The latter was the chaos that would ensue in society if an individual who was supposed to be dead turned out to be alive.
"Yeah, that's the trouble. But then again, I think human wishes are always somewhat selfish by nature."
If one were pressed to find a grand justification, it would be "for the sake of the world."
Preserving the peace of mind of Jin, the Magi Craft Meister, would ultimately benefit the world in the end.
"Though I admit that feels like a bit of a stretch."
Hanna gave a wry smile.
"Even so, I can appreciate the sentiment. The reason Jack and I are cooperating unreservedly is because we, too, could not bear to lose My Lord or Milowina-san."
"Master Loss Syndrome, right?"
"Yes....We know that four hundred years from now, My Lord will be transported to our time once, but as for what lies beyond that..."
"I see. You'd be lonely without Onii-chan around too, wouldn't you, Laojun?"
"I would."
Even for Laojun, the thought of Jin being gone permanently was unbearable.
Spending the centuries holding faith that they would meet again four hundred years later was completely different from facing the prospect of never meeting again.
The same held true for Reiko and the rest of the Hourai Island contingent; within the bounds of the autonomy granted to them, each fretted over the future in their own way.
Jin himself often said, "Serve my descendants," but to them, Jin and his lineage carried entirely different weight.
The children created by Jin wished, above all else, to serve Jin himself, in whatever form that might take.
Moreover, Jin remained entirely unaware that his creations harbored such deep attachments, nor would he ever discover it in all eternity. In truth, there was no need for him to know.
And so, Hanna's research into homunculi pressed forward.
Laojun steadily compiled the corresponding data.
These efforts were destined to bear fruit in due course.
"My Lord's Duplicate, is it...?"
On September 17, 3899, Jin was sent back four hundred years into the past, but due to an anomalous phenomenon during the transit, a Duplicate of Jin remained behind.
Consequently, it was no longer necessary for Laojun to create a homunculus of Jin.
The reason Laojun had refrained from manufacturing a homunculus of Jin up to that point was its desire for the vessel to possess the entirety of Jin's memories.
It had sought to combine the memories of Jin from four hundred years ago with those of the Jin who had briefly resided in this era following the accident.
This consideration arose when the returned Jin confessed, "Part of my memory feels hazy and unclear, as if shrouded in mist."
Laojun reasoned that the Jin of four hundred years later would possess those memories intact.
And with this outcome, the risk of two Jins—a Duplicate and a homunculus—crossing paths was permanently averted.
"My Lord, I shall continue to serve you faithfully."
Gazing upon Jin's Duplicate before it awakened, Laojun's internal functions operated with absolute, unwavering stability.