It was actually a fairly simple process. All Colby had to do was filter impurities out of the sludge, then get rid of as much water as possible to concentrate it. That was enough to give him a workable quality rennet—and right now, he was good with good enough.

  Colby retrieved the glass bottles of sludge from the door that connected to his Inventory. It was thick and goopy, just like Thornelis’s slobber, but it was mostly clear, unlike that sweet yellow saliva. Little specks of dark green floated about within the bottle, no doubt bits of the Myconet that he had inadvertently scraped off.

  First things first, filtration.

  And he had the perfect Core Construct for the job: Cheese-lander.

  Colby walked up to Stove—the usual congregation point for the mobile Core Constructs. The plastic colander was, as per usual, in a heated duel of Rock Paper Scissors with Cheese Bowl, while the others spectated, cheering them both on.

  “Cheese-lander, do you think you can help filter this gunk out?” Colby said, interrupting the match. He shook the bottle in his hand, the viscous liquid inside slowly swishing around.

  The Core Construct paused mid-throw. A noodle hand drifted towards the small openings along his bottom. After a second of deliberation, he shrugged.

  Those little specks might be a little too small for Cheese-lander to filter out.

  “Can you at least try?”

  Cheese-lander nodded, then turned to Cheese Bowl. They shared a glance, then nodded in unison. Together, they leaned toward each other, noodle-like limbs touching.

  A flash of light burst between them, and when it faded, the two had fused into the mighty Bowl-lander.

  They beckoned Colby closer with two of their hands, using the other two to point into their opening. Colby tilted the bottle, watching the viscous liquid ooze out in a slow, syrupy trail into Bowl-lander. It was a long and painfully dull process, where he and his Core Construct both stared as each thick drop crawled its way down, until it was mostly empty.

  Colby gave the bottle a couple of hard shakes, hoping to get as much of it out. It was for naught, as the last of it clung to the sides.

  That was annoying, but not the end of the world. What felt like the end of the world was the fact that he had to repeat this process a few more times.

  After the arduous process of pouring goopy sludge into Bowl-lander, they could finally start the filtration process.

  And hopefully, it would work out.

  The liquid slowly seeped through the multiple tiny holes in the plastic colander part of their body. At the bottom of the fused Core Construct, Colby watched the liquid come through. It was slightly clearer—or maybe a trick of light. But there were still little specks of green within the filtered product.

  Colby sighed.

  Bowl-lander paused the filtration, vicious liquid still in the top and bottom halves of their body. They looked at Colby and shrugged with all four of their plastic and glass hands.

  He had to somehow come up with a way to make the holes in Bowl-lander smaller, finer. It’s not like he could build a shrink ray—technically, he could, but it wouldn’t be worthy.

  This wasn’t as easy as Curd-Cutter. Somehow, cutting out concepts was more straightforward.

  Colby looked down at Bowl-lander, spitballing ideas.

  “What if I fine you? Like you start littering and I fine you, would that make your holes smaller?”

  They shrugged their hands.

  That wasn’t a no, so it was worth a shot.

  Digging their hand into themselves, Bowl-lander got a little goop of viscous liquid and flicked it to the ground, littering his Core.

  Colby gasped.

  “Littering! Pollution! There are rules that need to be respected here.” He pointed down at them, bellowing, “You are fined!”

  Nothing happened.

  Yeah, he had expected this too.

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

  New idea.

  What if Bowl-lander lost some weight? Maybe the holes in their body would become smaller.

  “Have you tried doing laps?”

  They tilted their body, looking up at him, the liquid within slowly sloshing to one side.

  The next thing Bowl-lander knew, they were running laps around the Core. Colby acted as their coach, shouting and whistling them to run faster. All of the other Core Constructs watched as Bowl-lander ran, cheering them on.

  As they ran their thirty-third round, they started to wipe away the sweat that coated their body.

  Good. Look at all of those calories being burned. Surely, this method would work.

  Actually, do Core Constructs even have the concept of calories? Wait, could Core Constructs even sweat?

  “Stop! Stop! Stop!” Colby yelled.

  Bowl-lander skidded to a halt, panting and placing all four of their noodle limbs against the side of his Core as they caught their breath—which now that he thought about it, shouldn’t be possible too.

  Colby ran over to Bowl-lander, inspecting the residue coating their body. Rubbing a finger along their side and bringing it close to his face, it was just as he had suspected. They had been sweating out the rennet enzyme. No idea how that happened, but what a waste of some perfectly good sludge.

  It was back to the drawing board on how to filter out the rennet enzyme… and then did his brain finally catch up with his eyes.

  Colby dropped on all fours, crawling around the perimeter of his Core as he scrutinized the thin trail of liquid that Bowl-Lander had left behind. It was clear. There wasn’t a single trace of those green mold specks. Or at least, it was clear to the naked eye. But that was a pass in his eyes—naked or not.

  That was good because his last option—before he really started letting his creative juices really run wild—was constantly having a back-and-forth with Bowl-lander, asking how they were. In which they would respond with, “Fine.”

  “Bowl-lander,” Colby said, turning to the exhausted Core Construct. “You know what to do.”

  Now, on top of Stove, Bowl-lander had switched from running laps around the Core to jumping jacks right above Pottingham. Their four feet stood thumping along the pot’s rim with each jump.

  It had taken a lot of convincing—milk—for Pottingham to accept any other liquid inside of him, especially when it was essentially Core Construct sweat. But that was the only place Colby could reasonably collect the filtered product, unless you counted the floor.

  Plus, Pottingham was going to be used in the next step, saving him plenty of time and trouble.

  Congratulations! Cheese Bowl has reached Level 8!

  Congratulations! Cheese-lander has reached Level 8!

  “Congratulations on leveling up,” Colby said.

  Bowl-lander ignored him. They were too busy doing jumping jacks and sweating out the enzyme in the weirdest filtration method he had ever seen.

  Once all of the liquid had passed through Bowl-lander and Colby had verified that all of the green gross mold specks had been successfully filtered out, he went on to the next, and final, phase: concentrating the liquid.

  This step was infinitely easier. All he had to do was evaporate away whatever water there was. There were probably other ways to make sure it was super concentrated, just like the one his parents ordered, but this would be good enough. It’s not like he was impatient and just wanted to start making his cheese already.

  Colby flipped the dial on Stove. A small puff of flame erupted from his burner, warming Pottingham’s bottom. Now, he just had to make sure the liquid doesn’t boil. Or burn. And by him, Colby meant Temp-tation.

  The glass thermometer stroked Stove’s dials, coaxing out a slow burn from him.

  Now all Colby had to do was wait. And wait. And wait some more. And then wait even longer. It felt like it would take one whole day just to get most of the water out. But this was the fastest method he knew. And he was not going to waste energy on what was going to be a one-off event—hopefully.

  So, rather than waiting around doing nothing, he would perform the most brilliant of moves: he’d get to work.

  Colby was finally going to make that flavored cheese inspired by Ms. M., A combination his mother hadn’t come up with, and if everything went well, it’d be up for sale in the shop—something he hadn’t accomplished yet.

  According to the not-so-subtle hints Ms. M had dropped, the ginger she used for her candied ginger was Butterfly Ginger. Although Shell Ginger gave the mozzarella a unique, salty heat to its creaminess, enhancing the mild sweetness of the cheese, Colby was confident that Butterfly Ginger was the way to go. Its natural sweetness gave rise to the candied ginger Ms. M made—and as far as he could tell, she hadn’t added any additional sugar.

  It was that sweetness that made him strive towards this combination, but sweetness wasn’t the end of the story. The spiciness of the ginger would be mellowed out by the milky mozzarella, so rather than an explosion of heat, it would be a gentle warmth.

  Now, all he had to do was combine the elements.

  The simplest method would be to stuff some candied ginger into his mozzarella, make sure it was spread evenly throughout the cheese, and call it a day. The problem was that he had no idea how to make candied ginger.

  But that shouldn’t be necessary. All he had to do was match the notes that Ms. M’s candied ginger carried.

  Gingerness? Check.

  Sweetness? Check.

  Chewiness? Not checked.

  There was one last aspect that he hadn’t managed to translate yet: mouthfeel.

  The candied ginger was chewy. The Shell Ginger he had diced up—raw or not—was not. It was more of a fibrous crunch. And that chewiness was the final factor in the combination.

  Sadly, he wasn’t a Gingermancer; manipulating ginger was far out of his comfort zone, but… If ginger was now a part of his cheesemaking process, he could nudge that comfort zone slightly into ginger territory.

  It was time for the tried and true method of throwing everything at the wall and seeing what sticks.