Prologue

While Raidou—also known as Makoto Misumi—was meeting with the Demon King in the demon lands, the Kuzunoha Company’s Rotsgard branch was drowning in chaos.

The reason was simple: they were short-staffed.

One of Makoto’s followers, Shiki, who also served as the de facto manager of the shop, was away accompanying his master. To make matters worse, Lime Latte, the jack-of-all-trades who handled errands, deliveries, and even customer service, had been dispatched on a secret mission.

The store itself had grown larger, and its reputation had only improved. Yet, as their clientele multiplied, the number of hands available to serve them hadn’t kept up.

Of course, the company had anticipated temporary shortages during major trade meetings or important gatherings, arranging extra help in advance. But even so, their daily operations now hovered on the razor’s edge between barely functional and complete collapse.

“J-just a little longer until closing. But I can’t take it anymore. I think I’m leaving early.”

“Stop muttering nonsense, Eris. If anything, multiply yourself again. The customers keep coming like it’s the final rush!”

The sun was dipping below the horizon. Inside the bustling Kuzunoha storefront, two dark-skinned forest ogres darted between customers with movements so swift and synchronized it almost seemed like they were in two places at once.

Aqua, the tall one, gritted her teeth, determined to hold out until the end. Eris, the shorter of the two, looked ready to collapse from despair at the thought of how much time remained. Both were on their last legs.

“Hahaha, Aqua, I’m already done for. I feel like a dry, wrung-out rag. Even if you squeeze me, nothing’ll come out. If I have to keep practicing the sacred arts of customer service any longer, my very cosmos will dry up.”

“Hey, your regular’s here. Smile, Eris, smile!”

“Ah—welcome, welcome!!! Wait, damn it! I’ve been conditioned!”

Their only saving grace was the daily sales limit set by their employer, Raidou.

That limit was their lighthouse in the storm—the only thing that told them where the end lay.

If they had been allowed to sell without restriction, keeping the doors open until closing time every single day, the two of them would likely have collapsed from exhaustion long ago.

Raidou might not have been the most perceptive of merchants, but by pure coincidence, the quota he’d established before leaving to meet the Demon King struck a perfect balance. It pushed his employees to the brink of their endurance. Just far enough to keep them standing, but no further.

“In another hour, we’ll be out of stock,” Aqua said, forcing a grin through her fatigue. “Hold on a little longer, Eris. Even if you’re wrung dry, squeeze out the last drop! Then we drink. We’ll all drink together.”

“If only Lime were here,” Eris groaned.

“He’s under Tomoe-sama’s orders. Probably in the Lorel Union by now. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’ve decided. Tonight, I’m having a Lime’s Banana Bliss.”

“That cocktail he came up with, huh? It’s surprising what that man can do. Though, to be fair, it was Young Master who named it. Maybe there’s some origin behind it.”

“I’m having it by the jug.”

“I’m not carrying you home, got it? But I’ll join you for the first round. We’ll drink in the Demiplane tonight. Yeah, come on, hang in there.”

“The Sixth Form won’t awaken like this. I’ll have to reach the ultimate cos—”

“I told you to stop mumbling nonsense! Ah, welcome! Yes, that’s right, it’s still a bit early for your usual order. How about this item instead?”

“Liiiime! You’d better bring us back something expensive!”

Even as they muttered complaints under their breath, the two forest ogre girls moved with trained precision, serving customer after customer without pause.

Though the sun had only just set, the shelves were nearly empty—and that alone was proof of the Kuzunoha Company’s booming success.

※※※

“Achoo!”

“Oh my, Lime. Catching a cold?”

“Nah. Probably just someone talkin’ about me somewhere.”

“I hope it’s just gossip. With the way you’ve been lately, I wouldn’t be surprised if some woman decides to stab you one of these nights.”

“When I go out, I make sure to do it separately from the Hero’s party. I don’t cause trouble.”

Two people strolled side by side through a town that looked Japanese at first glance—tiled roofs, plaster-walled storehouses, narrow streets—but the style was subtly off, as if someone had reconstructed Japan from memory and imagination.

The man was none other than Lime Latte, and the woman beside him was Hibiki Otonashi, the Hero of the Limia Kingdom, hailed across the continent as hyumanity’s hope in the war against the demons.

In Japan, Hibiki had been an upperclassman to Makoto, owner of the Kuzunoha Company.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t fool around,” Hibiki said lightly. “If you can keep it smart and discreet, I really don’t care.”

Lime chuckled, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “For someone your age, you’re awfully understanding. Not that I’ve seen your party’s guys letting loose much.”

“Woody’s a family man, head over heels for his wife. And Belda, he’s just not interested. Judging by how he acts, I don’t think he’s even had any experience yet. But it’s not my place to push him into it.”

“That’s not the whole story with Belda, is it?”

“So, you noticed too, huh?” Hibiki sighed softly, her expression briefly clouding. “Yeah, he seems to like me. It’s flattering, really, but I don’t plan to return his feelings.”

“Cold and clear-cut, huh. Well, sometimes telling a guy straight is the kindest thing you can do.”

“If he confesses, I’ll tell him properly. But guessing his feelings and rejecting him before he even says it? That just feels cruel. It’s better for both of us if he recognizes it himself, says it out loud, and ends it cleanly. Don’t you think that’s how men work?”

“Can’t tell if that’s kind or cruel,” Lime said with a lazy grin, tilting his head back and stretching his arms toward the sky. “Well, not my business anyway. I brought it up, but you do whatever you want.”

“I will. And sorry for dragging you around today.”

“Don’t worry about it. With those two laid out from the colds they picked up, someone had to keep you company.”

“Poor Woody and Belda. Either they’ve got the worst luck. Or you’ve got the best.”

“Oh, I’m definitely the lucky one. That’s why I’m still alive—and why I’ve got a job with the Kuzunoha Company.”

“Yeah, can I ask about that part?”

“Sure. Not that there’s much I can tell you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she said, laughing uneasily. “Seriously, why are you Kuzunoha people all the way out here? I know you usually do business in Rotsgard and Tsige.”

Before them stretched a long flight of stone steps, divided down the middle by a simple handrail. At the top stood a grand, deep-blue temple.

“Well,” Lime began breezily, “the boss got invited by some bigwig from the Lorel Union. Said they’d love it if we opened a branch here, too. The guy was persistent, so we couldn’t just blow him off. I’m here to check things out in person. Running into your group? Pure coincidence.”

Of course, that was only half the truth.

Lime’s real purpose was to keep tabs on Hibiki and her movements.

Fortunately, he’d long since learned how to weave perfect cover stories—ones that even someone as sharp as the Hero herself couldn’t easily pierce.

“A bigwig, huh?” Hibiki asked, narrowing her eyes. “And this person’s name?”

“Whoa, sounds like an interrogation,” Lime teased with a crooked grin. “Name’s Sairitsu. You can ask around if you want, but keep my name out of it, yeah? If word gets back that I’m doing a site check, my boss’ll get flooded with telepathic calls and letters again. You’re his senpai, right? Cut the poor guy some slack.”

“Sairitsu… Huh. All right, I won’t mention you.”

“Appreciate it.”

Hibiki gave him a sidelong glance, her voice softening. “If we’re talking about senpai and kouhai… maybe I should be the one asking for my junior’s help once in a while.”

“That’s the spirit. But take it easy on him, yeah? The boss has his hands full as it is… and he’s suffering, in his own way.”

“Honestly, that kouhai of mine is a real handful.”

The two continued their slow ascent, step by step, up the broad stone staircase.

Streams of people flowed past them constantly. One glance at the crowd was enough to see just how revered this temple ahead truly was.

“Still,” Hibiki murmured, “the Lorel Union’s faith in spirits continues to amaze me. This temple’s dedicated to the spirit of water, isn’t it? They obviously think a lot more of her than of the Goddess herself.”

Lime nodded. “That’s not so strange. The high-ranking spirits have a lot more presence in people’s lives. They show up more often, and you can see the power they wield. For common folk, that’s more than enough to inspire faith. Besides, technically speaking, all spirits serve the Goddess anyway. So, it’s still a form of Goddess worship.”

“Well, well. You’re surprisingly well-informed.”

“Oh? Did I just earn some points in your book? Then here’s another fun fact. When the demons launched their great invasion years back, it was the Earth and Fire Spirits who helped them. Because of that, people started calling them sub-spirits. These days, hardly anyone worships them anymore—not hyumans, not demi-humans. The dwarves are an exception. They still cling to their Earth Spirit, but given their legendary smithing skills, the Goddess tends to overlook it.”

“Knowing that much isn’t something just anyone does. Is that the kind of knowledge you need to work for the Kuzunoha Company? Even for a regular employee?”

“Hard to say. Our boss values talent more than trivia. You don’t need to be a scholar; just have one standout skill, and you’ll fit right in.”

“Hmm. In that case, maybe I should apply,” Hibiki said, her tone hovering somewhere between a joke and a challenge. “I could use Makoto-kun’s connections.”

Lime laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Connections don’t count as a ‘standout skill,’ you know. Don’t tell me being a Hero’s got you thinking of changing careers already?”

“It’s a total black company. Horrible hours, hostile work environment, impossible expectations. And yet it’s too rewarding to quit. Maybe I’ll just take a side job. I’m confident I could turn a profit for the shop.”

“Sorry. We’ve got a strict no-side-job policy.”

“Oh, what a shame.” She exhaled with disgust, resting her hands on her hips as they finally reached the top step. “Phew. About time. These stairs are ridiculous. Anyway, speaking of ridiculous, what do you think about Chiya-chan’s training? She said she’s almost finished.”

“If a climb like that leaves you winded, you’ve still got a long way to go in your training,” Lime teased. “And that’s hard to say. I don’t even know what that little shrine maiden of yours is doing here. I’m just tagging along because you asked.”

“You really don’t know what she’s been up to?”

“No, not a clue.”

“Then let’s just say that’s the case.”

“Guess I’m not earning much trust here.”

“Fufu.”

The two continued their playful banter as they stepped inside the temple.

After a brief check of their credentials and a light physical inspection, they were escorted to a waiting chamber.

The purpose of Hibiki’s visit today was to welcome back Chiya, the young Lorel shrine maiden who served as one of her party members. The girl’s spiritual training was set to conclude this very day, and Hibiki had come personally to bring her home.

Normally, her other companions, Woody and Belda, would have come along, but both were bedridden with illness.

So instead, Hibiki had invited Lime, the employee from the Kuzunoha Company whom she’d met during her stay in Lorel.

She couldn’t clearly explain to herself why she’d asked him to come. Perhaps it was instinct—a feeling that going alone would be dangerous.

Obviously, Lime had shown no hesitation. To be seen accompanying the Hero of Limia was the perfect cover, and it put him in ideal proximity for the mission Tomoe had entrusted to him: to observe Hibiki’s movements firsthand.

“So?” he asked. “What’s this training of hers supposed to do? How’s a shrine maiden get stronger from that?”

“That’s a secret,” Hibiki replied.

“Well, I just hope whatever it is helps her protect herself. That’d be… convenient.”

“Convenient? What’s that supposed to—?!”

Hibiki’s words cut off sharply as she turned toward him, a puzzled frown forming—only for her expression to shift in an instant. Her muscles tensed.

“You noticed, huh?” Lime murmured.

“Something’s… off.”

“Off, indeed. If you’re saying that on instinct alone, that’s impressive. Draw your weapon.”

His hand was already on the hilt at his waist, his stance loose yet perfectly balanced. He gave a flick of his chin, indicating the sword strapped to Hibiki’s back.

“Enemies? But Lorel’s never been attacked by demons. Not once in its entire—”

“Yeah, I don’t know if it’s demons,” Lime cut in, scanning the air. “But one thing’s certain—space itself just got separated. We’re in another realm now. A different dimension.”

“Space separated… You mean a barrier was activated?”

“Exactly. And a big one, too. This isn’t a defense system built into the temple. It feels like something that’s been planted here, set up long ago and waiting to trigger.”

His tone was surprisingly calm and analytical for such circumstances. But that was Lime’s strength. As one of the Kuzunoha Company’s scouts, he’d been trained to read chaos without flinching. While most people would still be blinking in confusion, he was already dissecting the situation, step by step.

“Then—Chiya-chan!”

“Yeah,” he replied grimly. “If she’s still in this temple, chances are she’s caught up in this, too. That’s why I asked what kind of power she was supposed to gain.”

“Don’t just ask! Help me! We have to move, now!”

“I’ll lend a hand, sure. But remember that word, yeah?”

“Fine. Think of it as a loan if you like. I’ll pay it back.”

“Nah, don’t make it sound so heavy. Just tell me what kind of power the shrine maiden’s supposed to have. Once I get curious about something, I can’t let it go.”

“Then I’ll explain as we go. You’re front line, right?”

She’d already sized him up: the stance, the weapon, the way he carried his weight. Definitely a fighter.

“Yeah,” Lime confirmed. “Whether I’m covering your flank or your back, I’ll pull my—”

He was cut short by a resounding crack as Hibiki kicked the heavy wooden door off its hinges.

The corridor beyond warped and shimmered like a heat haze, the walls slightly bent, the floor subtly swaying as if reality itself was unstable. Now they could both see it—they were inside a distorted space, sealed off from the normal world.

“Then keep up,” Hibiki ordered. “You’re covering my flank and my back.”

“Got it. Right or left first? You know where the shrine maiden is, don’t you, Hero-sama?”

“Left,” Hibiki said. “And call me Hibiki, okay? Being called ‘Hero-sama’ by people I’m fighting alongside feels weirdly ticklish. I’d rather not be addressed like that on the same battlefield.”

“Just Hibiki? All right, if that’s how you want it. Let’s move.”

“Right. Horn!”

At her command, the silver belt wrapped around her waist shimmered and unfurled into radiant threads of light. From them, a massive wolf materialized.

“Whoa, warn a guy before you do that!” Lime shouted.

“Oh, sorry. I don’t usually fight alongside temporary partners. I guess I forgot my manners.”

With a brief, respectful bow of her head, she turned to the wolf and spoke in a clear, steady voice. “We’re going to find Chiya-chan. If you sense anything strange, tell me.”

The beast dipped its head once, sharp and deliberate, a gesture full of understanding.

Then, without another word, the trio surged forward.

The deeper they went, the clearer it became that the temple had transformed into something unnatural. A labyrinth suspended in warped space. Corridors were no longer aligned with the building’s original structure. Doors that should have been open were sealed tight, while others opened onto impossible angles or corridors that looped back on themselves.

Then, even worse, creatures that had no business existing inside a holy site began to appear, lunging at the intruders.

“Quite composed for someone under attack!” Hibiki shouted. “You’re not just a company man, are you?!”

“Let’s just say I’ve been trusted with scouting foreign lands; that means I’ve picked up a trick or two. But you—hell, you live up to that ‘Hero’ title. Even your wolf’s got more composure than most knights I’ve seen!”

Their pace didn’t falter. In fact, the longer they fought, the faster they moved. Every enemy that appeared fell within a breath. Each strike from Hibiki or Lime was clean, efficient, precise, each anticipating the other’s rhythm without needing a word.

Lime’s eyes flicked toward her now and then, studying her movements as they cut through yet another swarm.

Hibiki noticed it. His timing’s perfect. He reads me like he’s fought in the same formation before.

For just a moment, a face flashed across her mind: her old comrade, Navarre, who once fought by her side in a desperate battle.

No, she thought, pushing the image away. Navarre’s gone. This isn’t her.

“Oh, looks like this is the place,” Lime noted as he and Hibiki came to a stop in front of the massive door.

Hibiki, still catching her breath, placed a hand on her chest and exhaled sharply.

He’s incredible. He’s barely winded. His composure, his sword work, his awareness… And the way he moves, always staying out of my reach, supporting me without ever getting in the way. He’s just like Navarre. No, he’s even better than she ever was.

“Want to take a quick break?” Lime asked lightly. “The shrine maiden’s probably fine. I can feel her energy still flickering beyond this door.”

Hibiki took a moment to steady her breathing, then silently shook her head.

It’s strange. I feel… stronger than I should be. Almost like he’s pulling my strength out, somehow. No, that’s impossible. There’s no way.

She forced the thought aside and lifted her gaze.

Lime’s back stood before her—broad, grounded, and strangely reassuring. In that moment, it seemed almost larger than life.

He spoke again, breaking the silence. “Still, gotta hand it to that little shrine maiden of yours. ‘Heart’s Eye,’ right? I’m impressed she’s lasted this long with just that kind of ability. Didn’t seem like much of a fighter to me.”

Hibiki hesitated. Heart’s Eye was the gift Chiya would gain from her training. It was also the secret she’d mentioned earlier. Or at least, part of it.

A vision beyond sight, one that perceived truth without ambiguity, no matter the disguise. A gift said to belong only to shrine maidens chosen by the spirits.

There was something she hadn’t told Lime. She couldn’t even now, with Lime’s steady gaze pressing gently for answers.

The Heart’s Eye wasn’t the true focus of Chiya’s ritual. It was merely a byproduct, a side effect of the real ceremony, one meant to dramatically strengthen her spiritual power as a whole.

“It’s, well—” she began, but quickly bit her lip and shook her head. “Never mind. Let’s move!”

Though they were allies for the moment, Lime Latte was still a member of the Kuzunoha Company, an organization Hibiki viewed with deep suspicion. Instinct told her that revealing everything to one of its agents would be reckless.

“Got it.”

With a firm push, Lime swung open the heavy door—and the sight that met them froze the air in their lungs.

“!!!”

At the center of the chamber knelt Chiya, eyes closed, hands clasped in prayer. A shimmering barrier enveloped her body, its pale blue light pulsing like the surface of a lake.

Surrounding that barrier were three figures cloaked in a dark aura.

“Demons,” Lime muttered. “But this doesn’t feel like a planned assault. Too sloppy. Doesn’t fit their usual style at all.”

Even from where he stood, he could tell Chiya was the one maintaining the barrier, her spiritual energy burning hot and unstable. The corpses scattered around her—guards and attendants, likely her temple escorts—lay broken and bloodied, victims of the sudden ambush.

It was a mess. Too disorganized to be a proper strike.

Something went wrong here, Lime thought. The setup’s all wrong for a calculated hit. So, what triggered it?

“Wait a sec. Could it be… Heart’s Eye?” His gaze sharpened. “She must’ve seen something she shouldn’t have during the awakening. Spooked those three enough to act fast. If that’s the case, then all this chaos makes sense.”

In just a breath, he pieced together the likely chain of events. But he was the only one who remained composed.

“You!”

Lime snapped his head to the right at the furious voice. Hibiki’s silver-trimmed sash blazed with light, her whole body haloed by a sudden surge of power.

“Hibiki, wait!”

Too late.

The light flared, enveloping her entirely. For a heartbeat, Lime lost sight of her.

A chill raced down his spine.

Then—

“GYAAAH!!!”

The scream came from ahead.

Lime exhaled. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Hibiki was already standing beside Chiya’s shimmering barrier. At her feet lay three fallen demons.

None had reacted in time; only the third had managed a strangled scream, thanks to the sheer luck of his reflexive defense connecting by chance. The other two had been cleaved cleanly in half before they even knew what was happening.

Even the screamer was already as good as dead, his body bearing a fatal wound that only delayed the inevitable. A heartbeat later, he coughed up a flood of blood, and the last of the three joined his comrades in silence.

Stillness reclaimed the air.

Well, well. Normally you’d keep one alive to squeeze out some intel… but I guess that shrine maiden means something special to Hibiki, Lime thought. If that’s the case, I might be able to use her as leverage later. I wouldn’t even need to take a hostage—just hinting at it would slow her down.

Still, that speed. That’s not something you can react to. I’d be dead before I even realized it. Heh, glad I got to see it firsthand. And that incredible outfit she’s wearing is more than worth this cold sweat.

Lime’s eyes flicked across the room as he committed everything to memory—the shrine maiden’s presence, the powerful barrier she had erected, Hibiki’s every movement, and above all, that blinding burst of superhuman speed that might well be her trump card.

He also, of course, took careful note of the remarkably revealing outfit she had donned in the process.

“Are you all right, Chiya-chan?!” Hibiki shouted.

“Hibiki-oneechan! You came! You really came!”

At the sound of the girl’s cry, the barrier shimmered and crumbled away like glass under sunlight. Hibiki rushed forward, gathering Chiya into her arms.

“I’m so glad I made it in time. You’re safe now, it’s all right.”

“I was scared, but I knew help would come! So, I just kept the barrier up and waited!”

She seems so brave and composed for someone with such a small frame, Lime thought. By choosing to focus solely on defense rather than striking back, she minimized her chances of making a fatal mistake before help arrived.

Of course, that kind of decision came with risk. Without the means to repel her attackers, her life ultimately depended on how quickly rescue could reach her.

Chiya had gambled on that hope—and she had won brilliantly.

“Sorry to interrupt your touching reunion,” Lime said. “But how about we head back first, huh? A girl and a young lady hugging and crying in a blood-soaked shrine is not exactly a heartwarming sight.”

“Ugh, you’re right.” Hibiki gave a weary laugh, then smiled at him. “Still, Lime, you really helped us out this time. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. I got something worthwhile out of it, too, so let’s not get all sentimental. If you really feel like you owe me, you can buy dinner.” He tilted his head slightly. “Hm? What’s up, shrine maiden?”

“The great tree… that nurtures the forest… and… the dragon who brings merciful rain…”

Chiya’s voice came soft and distant, her gaze unfocused as she stared toward Lime.

“Huh?”

Hibiki blinked. “Chiya-chan?”

Unaware of their confusion, the girl continued as if in a trance. “You feel… really safe…”

Lime scratched his cheek and let out a dry chuckle. “Hibiki, looks like the shrine maiden is about done in. Better file your report and get her some rest. She’s still just a kid, after all.”

“You’re right. I’ll do that,” Hibiki promised. “Can you stand, Chiya?”

“Mm-hmm, I’m okay. And Onee-chan’s still Onee-chan. You haven’t changed at all.”

“Huh? Really?”

“Yeah!”

Chiya’s innocent, delighted smile made Hibiki pause. Sharing a puzzled glance, Hibiki and Lime both gave faint smiles of their own before turning toward the exit.

The three of them left the altar—which was now restored to the normal world—and made their way to the waiting chamber.

“Welp,” Lime said as they neared the hallway, “me hanging around here’s only gonna make things complicated. I’ll take my leave.”

“Wait, you’re part of this too!” Hibiki protested.

“Lime-san!” Chiya called after him, but he only waved a hand.

“Pretend I wasn’t here and give the credit to you two. I’ll be expecting that dinner, though. I’ll be at the inn. Later, Hibiki. Shrine maiden.”

Before he finished his words, he was already dashing off down the corridor.

As he ran, he muttered under his breath, “So, that shrine maiden’s ‘clairvoyance’ can see things that bypass mental defense, huh? Gotta include that in the report… Damn, it’s already time for my check-in with Big Sis! Better find a quiet spot!”

In the Lorel Union, Lime’s path would gradually intertwine with Hibiki’s.

What he didn’t realize yet was that, through this incident, he’d taken the first step toward becoming far more deeply entangled in their lives than he ever intended.

Chapter 1

After finishing my visit to the demon lands, I, Makoto Misumi, went back to the Demiplane and spent the night there.

Last night, I had a strange dream, and when I woke up this morning, I was still in a bad mood.

Practicing some archery—my standard morning routine—helped for a while. The familiar tension in the string, the rhythm of drawing and releasing, it all grounded me. But once I stopped, that dull heaviness crept back in. Maybe it was the backlash from using too much mana the day before, but my head still felt a little foggy.

When I got back to the mansion, I found two of my followers, Tomoe and Shiki, waiting by the entrance. The third, Mio, was nowhere in sight.

“Morning,” I greeted them, rolling my shoulders and stretching my neck in a vain attempt to shake off the sluggishness.

“Good morning, Young Master,” Tomoe said with her usual amused smile. “Your complexion seems a touch pale.” Her grin widened just a bit as her eyes flicked to the bow in my hand. “But I see you took your medicine today.”

Shiki, ever the picture of tranquility and courtesy, just gave a slight bow. “Good morning, Young Master.”

“Medicine? More like… part of me,” I told Tomoe with a half-smile. “Besides, the gods told me I don’t need to overthink it anymore.”

“Shiki said you don’t have any lectures scheduled today,” Tomoe continued. “Were you planning on going anywhere?”

“Hmm? Not really. I thought I’d stop by the store for a bit, but that’s about it.”

“In that case, would you come with me later? It seems there’s been a small change here in the Demiplane.”

“What? Let me go get changed.”

Breakfast could wait. If something had happened to the Demiplane, I needed to know right away.

As we walked down the corridor toward our rooms, I turned to Tomoe. “So, where’s Mio now?”

“She was up unusually early today,” Tomoe said, chuckling. “She went to Eld’s kiln to look at some pottery.”

“Pottery… oh, for dishes. So, even ceramics have settled into the Demiplane’s culture now, huh? I honestly thought it would stay just a niche hobby for a few people. Guess I was wrong.”

It had been Tomoe’s idea, long ago, to have Eld, the leader of the elder dwarves, build a kiln and begin making pottery in the Demiplane.

At the time, it had seemed like nothing more than a whimsical project, something to occupy idle hours. Yet now, pottery had grown into one of the Demiplane’s defining cultural pursuits. It wasn’t just the ceramics themselves that had taken root, but the joy of creating them.

From highland orcs and misty lizardfolk to arachs, gorgons, and even the winged folk, every race had found its own enthusiasts.

Initially, most dishes had been made of metal or carved from wood. But lately, nearly every household dined with pottery. Handcrafted dishes had become a quiet expression of pride; it was simply natural for everyone to make their own.

After stopping by my room to quickly change clothes, I rejoined Tomoe and Shiki. As we walked, Shiki brought up pottery again.

“Ceramics have proven quite valuable as gifts for business greetings and negotiations,” he said in his calm tone. “Since no similar products are circulating outside the Demiplane, I assume the outside world still clings to magical replication. This benefits us, of course—the rarity boosts their value. Still, it’s odd. We’ve never taught the method, true, but we’ve never hidden it either. Their stubbornness is… amusing.”

Shiki had recognized the value of pottery early on. He had begun offering hand-crafted dishes as gifts to important clients, and to his surprise, they had been met with enormous praise. Before long, pottery had become almost synonymous with the Kuzunoha Company itself.

Some pieces were even rumored to sell for extravagant sums on the black market.

At the store, select customers were gifted pottery personally crafted by the eldwars, the forest ogres, or Shiki himself.

Personally, I thought the eldwars’ craftsmanship was the best.

Yet, for some reason, the pieces made by Aqua, Eris, and Shiki were the most popular with customers. The competition had only stoked the eldwars’ pride, pushing them to refine their skills even further. Before long, their new works began earning high praise among collectors—a strange kind of positive feedback loop.

I still don’t really understand how it turned out that way.

Even so, as Shiki had said, we’d never made any effort to conceal the process. We just hadn’t explained it.

It really was strange that no one had managed to imitate our pottery yet.

“Well, maybe it’ll start circulating in the Kingdom or the Empire eventually,” I said. “They’ve got heroes from Japan there, too, just like me.”

After all, even Lorel had knowledge from our world, and some of it had already found practical use. So, pottery should have drawn attention long ago, right?

“Indeed,” Shiki replied smoothly. “Still, our style has already spread quite far. Even if others begin copying it now, it won’t cause any trouble for us.”

“That’s true,” I agreed, then turned to Tomoe. “Anyway—about that ‘change’ you mentioned?”

“Yes,” Tomoe said. “According to a report from the winged folk, there’s a massive lake visible in the northeast.”

“A lake?” I echoed.

So, the terrain had expanded? That didn’t make sense. Nothing in the Demiplane’s natural cycle should cause such a large change overnight. Even if a lake had somehow formed naturally, one day was far too short.

Then again, in the Demiplane, maybe it’s not impossible?

No. If they called it massive, it couldn’t be that simple.

“They said it was larger than anything they’ve seen before,” Tomoe went on. “They couldn’t see the other side—just water all the way to the horizon. And apparently, the wind carries a scent they’ve never encountered before. We won’t know the truth until we see it for ourselves.”

“Endless water, and a strange scent?” I murmured. “That sounds like…”

“Indeed,” Tomoe said, her eyes narrowing. “I thought the same, which is why I was just about to head there with Shiki. Right, Shiki?”

Shiki inclined his head. “Yes. I’ve recently been visiting the port town with Mio whenever I can spare the time, so I’ve grown accustomed to the sight of the sea.”

So, they’d both thought the same thing I had.

“The sea, huh.”

“It certainly sounds that way,” Tomoe replied. “When I asked the winged folk if it might be the sea, they said, ‘What’s that?’ It seems they don’t know the concept at all.”

“Still,” Shiki said, “if it truly is the sea, it’s hard to believe it just appeared on its own. You haven’t taken on any new followers recently, Young Master, and a mere expansion shouldn’t cause this kind of change. It could be… a sign of something.”

Shiki was right. Until now, the Demiplane had always expanded in proportion to my growing mana—but never before had it produced entirely new terrain.

Whenever something drastic had changed, it was because a new follower had joined me; someone like Mio or Shiki, whose contracts reshaped the Demiplane in their own way.

The biggest change lately was bringing back Sari, a former child of the Demon King, from the demon realm. True, she was the first demon to ever settle here, but she didn’t possess enough power to affect the entire Demiplane. Even when stronger demi-humans, monsters, or hyumans had entered the realm, it had remained completely stable.

“Either way, we need to see it for ourselves,” I said. “Tomoe, you know where it is, right?”

“Of course. I’ve already told everyone to stay clear of the area, just in case.”

“Good. Let’s go. Can you teleport us there?”

“Yes,” she replied immediately.

Tomoe raised her hand, summoning a familiar shimmer in the air—the Mist Gate. I doubted we’d run into anything dangerous, but this was still the first time something like this had happened. Better to stay cautious.

I stepped into the mist. Suddenly, the sound of waves was crashing against my ears. Zazaan. The air was filled with the rhythmic pulse of the sea.

Before us stretched a pure white beach, the sand glowing under the Demiplane’s gentle light. Waves rolled endlessly across the shore, breaking in foamy curls. Beyond them, only water: an unbroken expanse of blue reaching toward a distant horizon.

It looked like something straight out of a travel brochure for a tropical resort. A breathtaking, sunlit beach…

“…”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak.

This… this is the sea.

I’d never actually visited a real ocean before, but I was certain. The scent of salt, the shimmer of the water, the gentle roar of waves…

Without thinking, I walked right up to the water’s edge, crouched down, and dipped my hand in. Then I brought a few drops to my lips.

Poison didn’t affect me; at least, not in any meaningful way. So, even if it wasn’t drinkable, I’d be fine.

I tasted it carefully.

Yeah. Salty.

It was seawater.

Tomoe and Shiki had done the same thing—tasted it, nodded, and confirmed what I already knew.

“Yep, this is the sea all right.”

“Aye, the sea indeed,” Tomoe murmured, looking out over the gentle waves. “Though I must say, I’m surprised how calm it is.”

“No mistake,” Shiki added, his eyes bright with barely restrained excitement. He must have spent quite a bit of time at the nearest port town to Tsige lately, because he looked thrilled to be seeing the ocean again.

I activated Realm and began mapping the area: our position, the coastline, and how far the water extended.

A few small islands sat in the distance, and far, far ahead, I detected a faint wall of mist. It was too far to see with the naked eye, which meant the horizon was genuinely vast.

From Mirage City to here, how long would it take by carriage?

I did a quick mental calculation. Probably a month, maybe two if the road wasn’t good. If we were just moving people instead of cargo, it would be faster, especially for the winged folk. They could cut travel time drastically.

Still, the most practical solution would be to set up teleportation access. There were no enemies in the Demiplane, and nothing dangerous about the terrain. It would be simple enough to construct a teleportation array.

That reminded me: we had teleported directly onto the beach and I’d rushed straight for the waves, without checking how wide the shore actually was.

I turned around, glancing inland.

“—!”

Even though my Realm had already hinted at it, actually seeing the landscape froze me in place.

The white sand stretched far ahead before giving way to sparse patches of grass and scattered vegetation. For such a flawless, almost tropical beach, the land beyond looked surprisingly barren. It was so lifeless it was almost eerie.

Still, that wasn’t what shocked me.

There were two reasons my body went rigid.

First, there was something here that Realm couldn't read: a structure or object that gave no response at all.

Second, the trees.

Even though I’d only seen them once, on TV back in Japan, their shape was unforgettable.

Tomoe hadn’t noticed the trees yet; instead, she was staring straight at the strange object ahead.

“Hm. There’s something standing over there,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “A wooden sign? In the Demiplane?”

I followed her gaze, and there it was. A simple sign, about a meter wide and standing on a single post, clearly visible to the eye but giving off no response to Realm.

That alone made me tense.

I advanced step by careful step, spreading a thin layer of magical energy around me while reinforcing Realm’s detection field. The air shimmered faintly around my body as I prepared for anything unusual.

I stopped as soon as I was close enough to read the writing on the sign.

Before I could stop it, a stupid sound escaped my mouth. “Uh?”

Tomoe and Shiki came running up behind me, their footsteps crunching lightly against the soft sand. The sound felt almost comically out of place for the situation.

Then again, given what was written on the sign, there was really no need for tension at all.

“You’ve raised your mana quite a bit, Makoto. Consider this a gift from me. I even had my big brother Tsukuyomi lend a hand. You guessed it—it’s the sea!

By the way, this isn’t the end. There’s another gift coming soon from old Daikokuten. Keep up the good work.

Oh, and when you finish reading this sign, it’ll turn into a firework. No reason for it.

—Susanoo”

The moment I read the last word of the message, the whole sign burst into blinding flames and shot straight up into the sky.

I stared after it, blinking.

Seriously?

Well. This explained everything.

Now that I thought about it, when Susanoo, Athena, and Daikokuten had visited the Demiplane, they’d mentioned something about gifts.

What about those strange dreams I’d been having lately? They were probably tied to Daikokuten’s present. Which meant I was probably in for one more round of divine chaos before things settled down.

I still didn’t know what that last gift would be, but I could guess the pattern: once my mana grows enough to expand the Demiplane again, it’ll reveal itself.

Still, the sea?!

That was one hell of a surprise.

Rich people might gift islands or castles, sure—but an entire ocean? That had to be a first.

My thoughts were interrupted by the boom of an exploding firework echoing through the sky like a festival announcement.

“What’s wrong, Young Master?” Tomoe asked.

“Are you hurt?”

Shiki’s immediate concern made me feel a little guilty. Not a single spark from that divine firework had even come close to touching me.

“I’m fine,” I said, exhaling. “It was just… a message from the gods. Apparently, they decided to give me an ocean.”

“…”

“…”

Both Tomoe and Shiki fell silent, staring at me as though I’d just declared that the sky had turned purple.

“Seems like that’s that,” I went on, trying to sound casual. “The sea’s ours now. Free to use however we want.”

Tomoe tilted her head slowly, frowning in confusion. “The sea… is something one can receive, then?”

“Even for the Demiplane,” Shiki murmured, voice thin with disbelief, “that’s beyond reason.”

Tomoe twisted her neck with a dry creak, clearly unsatisfied, while Shiki’s tone wavered somewhere between awe and exasperation.

Yeah, that “beyond reason” part probably includes me, too, I thought wryly. I get it, really, but give me a break, okay? It’s not like I asked for the ocean.

“Anyway,” I went on, eyeing the line of trees in the distance, “those trees. The sign didn’t mention them, but perhaps Athena-sama had a hand in this as well.”

At that name, Shiki looked up in interest. “The trees? Those scattered around yonder? They do have rather peculiar shapes. Are they from your world, Young Master?”

“Yeah,” I replied, nodding. “I’ve never actually seen one in person before, but I recognize the shape. Hard to mistake them for anything else.”

“Trees connected to the gods… You mean divine trees, shinboku?” Shiki asked seriously. “I recall hearing from Tomoe-dono that shrines in your world are often dedicated to such sacred trees.”

I stifled a laugh. He’d misunderstood completely… but at the same, he wasn’t completely wrong.

“No, no,” Tomoe interjected, shaking her head. “Shinboku doesn’t just appear from nowhere. They’re ancient trees, often revered for their age or origin story. Sudden emergence would be… unnatural.”

I sighed as the two began to debate the definition of sacred trees. Naturally, Tomoe’s interpretation was the correct one.

“Not that kind of divine connection,” I clarified. “I mentioned Athena because the tree was pretty common in places that used to worship her.”

I squinted toward the edge of the forest, feeling faint memories stirring. If I remember right, I think they were all over Greece and Rome.

“It looks a bit like a mushroom, doesn’t it?” Shiki observed, tilting his head.

He wasn’t wrong. The trees did resemble mushrooms, or perhaps, depending on the thickness of their trunks, giant stalks of broccoli. Their trunks rose clean and straight for several meters before splitting into myriad branches, each stretching upward to form a wide, umbrella-shaped canopy of green.

The shape was so distinctive that I would have recognized it anywhere, even though I’d only ever seen pictures. The name stuck with me, too, strange and dramatic in equal measure. I’d always wanted to see one in person; I’d just never thought it would happen like this.

“Ryuketsuju. Written literally as ‘Dragon’s Blood Tree.’”

Tomoe made a face somewhere between amusement and discomfort. “That’s quite the… fierce name.”

“Yeah,” I admitted with a chuckle. “But in my world, dragons didn’t actually exist, so the name’s just symbolic. When the bark is cut, it bleeds this bright red sap. People used it as medicine, so the sap became known as ‘dragon’s blood.’”

Of course, given that gods existed in my world after all, maybe dragons had too, somewhere far removed from human reach.

Still, for me, they were creatures of myth.

It would’ve been amusing if this particular tree had an actual draconic link here in the Demiplane—but that was impossible to confirm, and not really worth thinking about at the moment.

“Red sap with medicinal properties…” Shiki murmured, studying the trees with a new gleam in his eyes. “That sounds fascinating.”

“Yeah. Apparently, it wasn’t just used as a salve. It also hardens, kind of like candy, so they made pills out of it too.”

Shiki turned toward me, his voice cautious but eager. “Would it be acceptable for me to study it in detail?”

“Of course,” I replied. “It’s plant-related, so get the arachs and the forest ogres to help you. The red sap only comes from trees that are fairly old, though, so take that into account when you’re investigating.”

“Got it!” he said enthusiastically. “I’ll see to it right away.”

Tomoe crossed her arms thoughtfully. “Young Master, as for me, I’d like to examine the sea. May I enlist Mio’s help as well?”

“Go ahead.”

Tomoe nodded, but her brow furrowed slightly. “Still… neither Mio nor I specializes in the sea. It would be ideal if we had someone who truly understood the ocean, particularly its depths.”

“True enough. I can’t think of anyone either.”

“Indeed. Perhaps, Young Master, given how much the Demiplane has grown, it might be time to select new residents again.”

“New residents… If it’s people you’ve narrowed down from watching the gorgons and the winged folk, I don’t think we’d have a problem with them…”

“Of course. You will conduct the final interviews, Young Master.”

Busted. I hadn’t offered anything yet, and they’d already guessed I’d pass the final interview onto them. No way I can just throw this on them entirely…

Then something popped into my head.

“Okay, we’ll do that. Hey, Tomoe, remember those small folk who didn’t end up moving in after the previous interviews?”

“Small folk… ah, yes. There were some. Wasn’t it because Ema got angry and the deal fell through? Fairies or spirits, I think.”

“Right. Those guys… what were they called again? A-A… Antonio?”

“Something like that, I believe,” Tomoe agreed. “An ‘A’ name.”

“What happened to them? This time, we’re looking for water-affiliated people. Could you check on that, too?”

“Young Master, Tomoe-dono,” Shiki interjected. “They are Al-Efemera. A fae variant that partially governs certain spirits.”

Oh, that’s it. Al-Efemera!

The name clicked into place. All I’d really remembered was how loud and chaotic they were, not who had been assigned to them or the finer details.

Tomoe’s recollections were no better than mine. “Oh, right, Al-Efemera. I only recall they were tiny troublemakers,” she said.

“Thanks, Shiki. Al-Efemera, then. Tomoe, start looking for candidates.”

“There’s no need to look, really. Applicants are already swarming to settle here. A line is forming; we just need to open the gate. After a quick survey of each species and a few rounds of interviews with us, it won’t take long. Soon, Young Master, we’ll be asking you for the final interviews.”

“Swarming?” I echoed. “Well… all right. I’ll leave the numbers and the selection of races to you.”

Tomoe and Shiki immediately began conversing, their voices fading into silence as they switched to Telepathy.

Meanwhile, I turned my attention back to the sea.

The more I looked at it, the more I was tempted to strip off and dive right in. The waves sparkled under the Demiplane’s light, endlessly rolling and retreating over pristine white sand.

This really is paradise. I could already imagine how beautiful it would look under the stars or moonlight.

With how vast the shoreline was, surely no one would complain if I claimed a small stretch as a private beach. Yeah, that sounds nice.

Excitement welled quietly in my chest.

New residents, new research materials, a brand-new ecosystem to explore—it looked like my schedule was filling up fast.

Once I head to Rotsgard, they’ll probably bring up the matter of visiting Limia.

They’d definitely try to tie me down with some formal agreement. I’d been traveling too much lately, and word had surely reached them that I’d even gone to the Empire. Refusing would just complicate things.

Still, when can I actually make the trip?

Considering how sour things had gotten when Mio and my senpai ran into each other, it might be best to leave her behind this time. Or visit when Senpai wasn’t around and make it a quick in-and-out trip. I’d have to check everyone’s schedules carefully.

I laughed to myself, shaking my head. And here I thought I could take a day off today and start working again tomorrow. That was a bit naïve, wasn’t it?

Even as I stared at the calm, peaceful waves, each crash against the shore seemed to bring another task to mind.

All right. No point waiting. I’ll start moving today.

I’d thought there was nothing urgent waiting in Rotsgard, but clearly, I was wrong.

Now that I remembered what Tomoe had told me, there was also the matter of Luto, apparently in bad shape.

That perverted dragon had made quite a scene in the Demon Realm. Supposedly, he’d fired off a full-powered breath attack, burning through all his strength, and had been bedridden ever since.

Serves him right. He really is a muscle-brained idiot.

Maybe I’d drop by to pay my respects.

With a weary sigh, I turned away from the Demiplane’s newly born sea.

Chapter 2

The air was… lively.

No, more like tense.

The next day, I’d been summoned to the training grounds on the outskirts of the Demiplane’s city. The atmosphere crackled with energy, reminding me of the charged air just before a storm.

Ema, the highland orc, stood at the center of it all with a scowl that could cut steel. Normally, she’d be with Tomoe or Shiki handling logistics, but judging from that expression and the tension all around us, this was something else entirely.

Behind her stood several other orcs, a few misty lizardfolk, and an arach. Facing them was a swarm of tiny, fluttering figures: dozens of fairies, maybe even a hundred of them, hovering in tight formation as if preparing for battle.

Ah. Those guys.

Right, the what were they called again? Anto—nio, not that… Al-Efemera. Yeah, that was it.

They’d moved fast. I hadn’t even given the official order yet, and the residents were already bringing them in.

Don’t tell me the sea folk are already lining up for interviews, too?

Nah. They wouldn’t be that quick.

“Ema,” I called. “Those are the Al-Efemera, right? What’s going on here? The mood’s kind of volatile.”

One spark, and I think this whole place might explode.

I knew Ema had clashed with them once before, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that history was about to repeat itself.

Ema turned sharply at the sound of my voice, her expression softening at once. She bowed politely.

“Young Master! It’s nothing too serious. These creatures were merely being… their usual selves. So, I was just giving them a little lecture.”

“Their usual selves?” I asked. “I mean, they look pretty different to me. More intense.”

If I remembered right, the Al-Efemera first applied to migrate into the Demiplane after being driven out of their territory by a pack of two-headed magical hounds—the Lize. But their behavior during the interview had earned Ema’s wrath, and the whole thing had been put on hold.

“It seems they’ve grown arrogant,” Ema said coldly. “Apparently, since driving off the Lize—and a few other threats—they’ve gotten rather full of themselves.”

Ah. That explains it.

I could see the king of the fairies posturing at the front of the swarm, but it wasn’t his attitude that bothered me; it was the aura behind him.

The crowd of Al-Efemera hovering at his back radiated a diffuse, directionless killing intent. Not the focused kind meant to intimidate someone specific, but a raw, unrefined tension that spilled into the air.

It reminded me of a batch of recruits fresh from Tomoe’s boot camp. Those first-timers who’d tasted real combat training and hadn’t yet learned to control the fire it lit in them. They didn’t even realize how much hostility they were leaking.

“King of the Demiplane!” the fairy leader shouted. “We are the Al-Elemera! Have you forgotten the name of a race that once stood before you, O king of the Demiplane?!”

“Al-Ele… mera?” I repeated blankly. “Ah, right. My apologies.”

Even Shiki hadn’t gotten their name exactly right before, so I didn’t feel too guilty. Although they were a loud bunch, they’d somehow managed to leave almost no impression on me.

“There’s no need to apologize, Young Master,” Ema said. Her tone was so sharp it could have peeled paint. “Creatures like these are no better than winged insects. A grand name would only be wasted on them.”

Okay, tell me how you really feel! Maybe their chaotic energy just rubbed her the wrong way?

“It is not wasted!” the fairy king shot back, wings fluttering furiously. “We are the kings of the fair folk! If the king is rude, then his servant must be just as rude! Orc woman! We kept our promise and repelled the Lize! So, why did you not come for us as agreed?! If you had kept your word, we would not have lost so many of our kin!”

I blinked, taking another look at their numbers. There were still plenty of them; if they’d lost “so many,” then they must have been a small army before.

How many were there originally? I can’t recall.

“Oh my, calling yourself the King of Fairies, yet speaking so childishly,” Ema said sweetly, folding her arms and putting on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Have you forgotten? My exact words to you were ‘Defeat the Lize and come back.’ You may have driven them off, but tell me, why didn’t you come back sooner? I’d assumed the beasts had eaten every last one of you.”

“We didn’t know how to come back, you cheating orc!” the fairy king cried, stamping his tiny foot in midair.

“Then perhaps you should have thought to ask before storming off in a tantrum. Had you told us, we might have arranged a way for you to return—though I can’t say the Demiplane has missed your endless buzzing. Three hundred fewer loudmouths are a welcome blessing, don’t you think? Fufufu…”

Dark.

This was a dark Ema.

Telling them to come back to the Demiplane on their own, though—that was absurd. They weren’t gods. How could they possibly have done that?

This was next-level cruel. Note to self: never get on Ema’s bad side.

A quick glance around showed the other races looking on with uneasy smiles. Some of the orcs, however, were pale, almost frightened.

Wait, don’t tell me Ema has another form she hasn’t shown yet? Please, no more transformations today.

Still, she was remarkably well informed about the Al-Elemera. She’d known their real name, their former numbers, everything. If they’d once numbered three hundred and were now down to a third of that, they’d taken serious losses.

Then, one of the fairies fluttered forward and looked straight at me, his wings quivering with indignation. Apparently, he’d decided Ema was too dangerous to confront, so it was my turn.

“Why didn’t you tell us properly, king of the Demiplane?!”

“Uh, I know you call me that, but…”

“It was you who sent us away! You, you… uh, king of the Demiplane!”

Wait a minute. Did they forget my name, too?

They hadn’t called Ema by name either, so yeah, apparently, the forgetfulness went both ways.

Well, fair’s fair, I guess.

Ema exhaled softly and gave a smile that was as thin and sharp as a knife’s edge. “Of all things, you choose to bite at Young Master again. Fufu. I was thinking of asking Mio-sama to handle your second interview, but it seems that won’t be necessary. I was even prepared to show a little sympathy and reconsider your settlement request, but…”

Her tone carried the same kind of sweetness one used before burning something alive.

The fairy king puffed out his chest defiantly. “We overcame our trial! The lush forest we once called home has been swallowed by a cursed purple fog, turned into a poisonous swamp! We have nowhere left to live! No matter what you say, we will live here!”

Wow. The arrogance is still going strong.

I really didn’t mind that kind of free-spirited defiance, so long as it stayed far away from me. They’d make great TV personalities, just not great neighbors.

The Demiplane was enormous now.

If these fairies wanted to find their own patch of land and live there peacefully, I honestly didn’t see any harm in it. With the sudden appearance of the sea, the place had grown far beyond what even I could easily keep track of.

They’ll be fine as long as they stay out of trouble, right?

Just as that thought crossed my mind, Ema put it into words for me.

“Very well,” she said coolly. “Do as you please. You preferred the forest, didn’t you? Then live in whichever forest suits you.”

That… surprised me. Given her personality, I’d expected a scolding or another sharp retort. Not to mention, she usually consulted me before making decisions this big.

“!!! I heard that! You said it!” the fairy king shouted triumphantly.

“But remember,” Ema added, her smile never wavering, “we will not involve ourselves with you in any way. Should you ever find yourselves desperate enough to beg for help, you may come crawling to us, all of you, and bow so low your heads touch the dirt. Then I’ll think about it.”

The warning went in one pointed ear and out the other.

“Did you hear that, everyone?!” the fairy king cried. “We have a new home! Over there—the forest! Hurry, build our houses! Gather food!”

“Ooooh!!!” a hundred tiny voices echoed in unison.

Just like that, they scattered in a glittering swarm, wings flashing in the light as they vanished toward the tree line. It looked absurdly like a hive of honeybees relocating to a new nest.

I exhaled softly, watching them go. Then I caught Ema’s expression out of the corner of my eye.

She was smiling.

A perfect, radiant, terrifyingly satisfied smile.

A chill ran down my spine before I could stop it, and I instinctively looked away.

“Now then,” she said briskly, clapping her hands once. “Let’s all get back to our duties. Now that we have that ocean, the Demiplane will be busier than ever.”

“Right, of course.”

Her tone left no room for argument, and everyone, including me, nodded and began to disperse. But Ema stopped me.

“Young Master,” she said, “we’ve compiled a preliminary list of races suited to aquatic environments, or capable of adapting to one. It’s still growing, but would you review it for now?”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks,” I said.

“Shiki-sama mentioned he would clear some land near the beach and start constructing a port. For now, I’ve dispatched several elder dwarf craftsmen to assist. Some artisans who were working in the harbor towns have already returned as well, and they said they’ll build ships if the Demiplane needs them.”

Wow. They’re already moving?

No one here wasted time. They all worked nonstop from the moment an idea was born. Compared to them, my let’s start tomorrow attitude felt downright shameful.

Ema, composed as always, began issuing orders to the other races present. Her tone was sharp, confident, efficient; no trace was left of the heated argument from earlier.

Still, something about that exchange kept nagging at me.

“Hey, Ema?” I called out.

“Yes, Young Master?”

“About those Al-Elemera…”

“Yes?”

“Why’d you let them move in so easily? You were furious just moments ago.”

It hadn’t looked anything like a negotiation. The fairies hadn’t apologized, hadn’t shown the slightest remorse, and yet Ema had simply allowed them to settle. I couldn’t understand why.

Ema paused, her expression softening into something more solemn. Then she bowed her head. “I spoke out of turn in front of you, Young Master. I apologize.”

“It’s not that,” I said quickly. “I just want to know why.”

“Young Master, do you recall what became of the monsters Tomoe-sama released into the wilderness of the Demiplane some time ago?”

“The ones like the Lize?”

“Yes.”

“I think I heard they were hunted down. By the wolves, the bears, even the boars and cattle, right?”

“Exactly. They were nearly wiped out.”

Right. Tomoe had reported that the local ecosystem had barely changed after that experiment. The creatures hadn’t survived long enough to leave any impact.

“…”

“…”

Ema met my eyes, calm but unwavering. I was starting to see where she was going with this, but I didn’t quite understand.

“Um, so when you say ‘exactly,’ what does that have to do with—”

“Young Master,” she interrupted, her voice even but laced with quiet steel, “those beings are not protected under your care. In other words, unlike us, they’re not recognized as part of your domain. To the rest of the Demiplane’s ecosystem… they’ll be no different from wild monsters.”

Ohh.

“Creatures who considered the Lize a deadly threat, and still managed to lose half their number in such a short time. Fairies in name only,” Ema explained. “And given their intellect, I doubt they’ll heed the warnings of the wolves either. I don’t tell lies, Young Master. If they lose another half and come crawling back on their knees… fufufu, then perhaps I’ll consider helping them.”

Wow.

Forget Dark Ema. This is Abyssal Ema.

“The Demiplane’s a paradise,” she continued matter-of-factly. “There’s no need for conflict between races, and there’s plenty of land for everyone. But even paradise has its rules. Those who defy them, who live without restraint, are naturally purged.”

“The Demiplane has rules, I guess…” I murmured, though the concept still didn’t quite click.

“Power, or protection. One or the other is required. With neither, paradise is not guaranteed. Especially if one dares trespass upon the territories of the native beasts…”

Her lips curved again, into an exquisite, terrifying smile that could’ve frozen blood.

So that’s the truth of it, huh… The Demiplane isn’t kind to everyone.

To me, who’d once lived surrounded by games, the internet, and endless entertainment, this world sometimes felt quiet. Maybe even too peaceful. But for its residents, it really was a paradise. I’d taken that for granted.

Yet in Ema’s eyes, I caught a truth I’d never considered: paradise only existed for those protected by its balance. Change your perspective, and the Demiplane could become as merciless as any wilderness.

Yeah, I’m not great at that. Seeing things from the other side.

I tore my gaze away from her unsettling smile and turned to the list she’d given me earlier.

The pages were filled with sketches and notes: merfolk, half-fish, humanoids; anemone-like creatures; and even bizarre species with human limbs sprouting directly from piscine bodies.

Each one was tagged as a potential marine-dwelling race.

Guess Tomoe and others will make their own recommendations later. I’ll take that into account too.

The sea was vast.

If it came down to it, there was room for everyone.

※※※

Under the vast night sky, the demon girl Sari sat gazing at the stars.

Her thoughts were a tangled knot, emotions pulling in every direction, leaving behind an unpleasant fog that refused to clear. Her eyes reflected the glittering constellations as she whispered to no one.

“The scale… one, two, three, maybe four times greater… no, more than that.”

The words slipped out faintly, vanishing before the wind could carry them.

“What I must do hasn’t changed,” she murmured. “And yet… I can’t move.”

That hesitation was unlike her.

Sari had always been decisive. Once she’d reached a conclusion, she acted immediately, no matter the risk or cost. That was her way. When she chose to abandon her former status and cast aside everything to become a mere subordinate, she did so without hesitation or regret.

This was the result.

Her next move should have been obvious: to draw closer to Raidou, to slip deeper into his confidence and learn more about him.

Yet here she was, unable even to approach him.

Ever since being drawn into this place he called the Demiplane, she hadn’t been able to speak with him properly.

The days passed quietly, filled only with empty hours and the distant comfort of starlight.

“Who could’ve imagined that Raidou was the king of another world?”

Her voice was soft, almost swallowed by the night.

Raidou himself didn’t see it that way, but Sari believed her understanding was closer to the truth than his own modest self-image.

He possessed this realm, an entire dimension that continued to expand with every breath he took. It was no longer just a space; it had grown into a full-fledged world, complete with land, sky, and now even an ocean.

No one could enter the Demiplane except through him, but those bound to him could move freely between realms as if walking through an open door.

To Sari, who knew nothing of the mechanism behind it, the picture was simple—and daunting.

Raidou was the sovereign of a separate reality, a guest who had crossed over into her own world.

If she were to put her unease into blunt words, the title that surfaced in her heart was not guest at all.

It was invader.

If she looked at it from that perspective, it made sense.

If Raidou truly ruled a world of his own, then his conflict with the Goddess was perfectly natural.

If he truly was a hyuman, how could he be at war with the god of his own people?

Or could it be that hyumans existed in other worlds too? Perhaps in his realm, there was another goddess, one who had given him her blessing instead. But if that were the case, why was Raidou the only hyuman in the Demiplane? Where were the rest of his kind? And if his world had a divine ruler, why was she absent here?

These questions spun endlessly in Sari’s mind, chasing one another around and around and offering no answers. The uncertainty gnawed at her.

“For now, the priority is to become one of Raidou’s own,” she whispered to herself. “If I can make him see me as someone dear to him… then that alone will be enough to stop him from turning his blade on the demons.”

That was the conclusion Sari had reached.

Raidou, she believed, was a man who acted out of love.

He didn’t fight for duty, nor pride, nor faith—but for those he cared about. And if she could make him care, then the demons might finally have a shield instead of an executioner.

It was an insight born from observation: cold, rational, and accurate in its way.

Also terrifying.

Because it meant that Raidou, that calm, soft-spoken merchant, could annihilate entire nations, erase entire races, simply because someone close to him asked him to.

If someone who despised the demons were to become his close friend (or worse, his lover), her people would be doomed.

Diplomacy, timing, economy—none of it would matter.

He would move without hesitation.

The Goddess. The Heroes. And Raidou.

If all three became their enemies, the demons wouldn’t stand a chance.

The more Sari saw of the Demiplane, the more certain she became.

“This world,” she murmured. “It’s completely self-sufficient. A standing army composed of multiple powerful species, yet perfectly organized. Their technology is generations ahead of ours. They can launch assaults anywhere, anytime, and retreat instantly with teleportation. And Raidou and his followers… their individual combat ability is on an entirely different level.”

If the Demiplane had any weakness at all, it would be numbers.

From what Sari had seen, its population was strikingly small. Fertile plains stretched endlessly, yet there was hardly anyone here to cultivate them. She couldn’t fathom why.

Still, even the hyumans, who possessed the largest armies in the world, wouldn’t dare provoke an opponent like this. Numbers alone meant little when the conditions for battle were so utterly one-sided against them.

Sari tried to imagine what her father, the current Demon King, would do if he knew the truth about Raidou and the Demiplane.

“He’d probably seek an alliance,” she murmured. “Even if the terms were unfavorable. Something more like a pact between nations than a trade agreement.”

If Sari herself led the demons, she would immediately request that her people be relocated to the Demiplane.

That thought carried no hesitation. It was a pragmatic choice, born from her freedom as someone without obligations to rule, and from her lack of deep-seated hatred toward hyumans—a rarity among her kind.

If Raidou agreed, it would be the most peaceful, least costly solution possible. A future where both races could survive.

It was, in every sense, the proposal of someone who genuinely considered the long-term fate of her people.

But…

“I’d face overwhelming opposition,” she said softly. “Even risk assassination from within. Hatred for the hyumans is practically our race’s collective will. It would be unthinkable for the Demon King to turn his back on that. At least, not for His Majesty. Even knowing it would lead to ruin, he’d choose resistance to the bitter end.”

Her gaze lowered, and the faintest trace of sorrow touched her lips.

When Sari thought of her father, one question often haunted her: What makes a good ruler?

There were countless kinds of kings, but Zef was a pure reflection of his people’s will. He could silence his own desires without hesitation. His objective was terrifyingly simple.

To crush the hyumans. To ensure the demons’ prosperity.

To most demons, those two goals were inseparable.

Sari believed her race could repay their humiliation in another way. By thriving, by proving through prosperity that they no longer needed to fear or envy the hyumans. That, to her, was a form of vengeance too.

Unfortunately, most demons didn’t think like her. They didn’t want status or peace. They wanted blood.

“Or,” she murmured, “if Raidou were to side with the demons, and help us defeat the hyumans, then perhaps there’d be another path. The odds are slim, though. Too slim.”

Her thoughts dissolved again into the same silent, impossible loop.

And then—

“Sari, do you have a moment?”

The voice from beyond the door froze her in place. She would never forget that voice in all her life.

“Ah—yes! Please, come in, Young Master!”

The door opened, and in stepped Raidou himself. He wore his usual calm expression, blissfully unaware of the turmoil in Sari’s mind. This time, he’d come alone, without a single attendant.

“You seem a bit unwell today,” he said gently. “Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m fine,” she replied quickly. “It’s only that I’m not used to the environment yet. I apologize for causing you concern. Is there… something you need from me?”

“I was hoping you could help with something.”

“Of course. Please, ask me anything. For a servant who’s been treated so generously, I can’t possibly ask you to hold back out of courtesy.”

It wasn’t flattery; Sari meant every word.

Her life here had been far better than anything she’d imagined. Despite her status as a slave, she’d been given freedom, comfort, and respect. She had yet to be ordered to do anything demeaning. In truth, she was being treated more like an honored guest than property.

It was… bewildering.

Even if it were only temporary, it was a reality she could barely comprehend.

“I see,” Raidou said. “Then tomorrow morning, there’s a group I’d like you to meet. Listen to them, hear their requests and concerns, and summarize everything for me afterward.”

“…?” Sari blinked. “That’s fine, of course, but is that really a task I should be doing?”

It didn’t sound at all like the kind of work a slave would be assigned. From that brief explanation, this sounded much more like a diplomatic role.

Which only made her question it more.

“Yeah,” Raidou said with a casual nod. “We’re short on people. And Shiki mentioned you might already have some background knowledge that could be useful.”

“So, you mean I’m useful, then. Thank you. I’m honored that you trust me enough to give me work.”

“Of course.” Raidou tilted his head, genuinely puzzled at her reaction. “You’re not going to betray me, are you? I mean, there’s a contract and all that.”

“No. I have no intention of betrayal, nor the ability to do so. And yet…” Sari gave an incredulous smile. “You don’t even wonder if there might be a loophole? Truly, my master is a man of extraordinary generosity. I’m fortunate indeed.”

“Hmm, a loophole? I didn’t even think of that,” Raidou said, scratching his cheek. “But really, there’s no need to think that far.”

“No need?”

“Sure. If you betrayed me, you’d be my enemy. But you risked your life to serve me; you must have had a reason. If you turned against me now, everything you’ve done would be meaningless. You’re too smart to throw it all away on something so pointless.”

“…”

“So yeah. I’m not great at complicated reasoning. If someone betrays me, they’re an enemy. If they contribute, they’re an ally. That’s it. I like to keep things simple.”

How terrifyingly straightforward, Sari thought.

There was no calculation in his words, just an unflinching clarity that drew a hard, irreversible line. It was the kind of purity that made her blood run cold.

“Then, if I were to make what looked like a betrayal, but it was actually a contribution?” she asked carefully.

“If I realize it’s a contribution, you’re an ally,” he said without hesitation. “If I don’t, you’re an enemy.”

Raidou’s answer came so casually that it took her a moment to process.

“…”

Sari had just learned something crucial and frightening about the man she served.

He doesn’t waver. He doesn’t debate. His decisions are absolute.

Raidou blinked when she didn’t reply. “Hm? Something wrong?”

“No. Your words will stay with me, Young Master.”

“Good. Now, about the people I want you to meet.”

“Yes.”

“They’re a race called the Lorelei,” he explained. “They want to migrate here. Apparently, they were originally demons, but after living in the sea for generations, they changed so much that they’re basically a different species now. Ever heard of them?”

“The Lorelei?!”

“Good, sounds like you have.”

“Yes. Long ago, there was a faction of demons who turned to the sea for survival. I heard they were led by a clan called the Lorelei. But I was told they’d gone extinct ages ago.”

“Then it must be them. They look similar to demons. Apparently, they’ve been living in pretty cold waters, but thanks to a bit of… circumstance, they asked about relocating here.”

“Relocating?”

“Yeah. We’re going to have a meeting with them soon. I’ll need you to gather background information. Characteristics of their species, their requests, and what they might need to adapt here. You’ll compile all that for me.”

“This realm accepts other races as immigrants?”

“Mm, it depends on the situation. But this time, we put out a call for races that live in the sea.”

“That’s something you decreed, isn’t it, Young Master?”

“Ah, I suppose it is, technically? But I’ve left the details to everyone else. The Demiplane’s so vast that even if people say it all belongs to me, it doesn’t feel like it. If someone wants to live here, my instinct is just to say, ‘Sure, as long as you pass the interview.’ But… yeah, it’s not quite that simple.”

“I see.”

“Anyway,” he added, “you should build yourself a home somewhere eventually. Or maybe stay with the Lorelei when they settle here. You’re from the same race originally, right? Might be nice to have familiar company.”

Raidou’s tone was so effortlessly light, so utterly free of tension, that Sari could only stare for a moment, speechless.

This man was the ruler of an entire world.

“Hah… Yes. I see. I’ll handle the investigation thoroughly. Should I begin in the morning?”

“Yeah, that’d be great. I’ll assign a gorgon and an orc to help you out, so don’t stress too much.”

As monitors? Or genuine assistants? Hard to tell… Sari thought. It’s possible the idea didn’t even come from him directly. Makes it even harder to read his intentions.

“Sari?”

She flinched slightly. “Ah, my apologies! Thank you for thinking of me, Young Master.”

Raidou gave her a kind smile. “All right then. Good night.”

“Good night, Young Master.”

When the door closed behind him, Sari let out a long, quiet breath.

She still didn’t know his true name.

He hadn’t told her, and clearly, his subordinates didn’t trust her enough to share it either.

She could feel it: something was coming.

Something that would determine whether she truly belonged here.

She clenched her hands lightly, steadying her breath.

This is it, she thought. From now on, every step I take will be a test of who I am.

※※※

“Ah, Shiki. About the Lorelei pre-assessment. You mentioned it earlier, so I went ahead and asked Sari to handle it.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Young Master.” Shiki inclined his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “That one needs to begin contributing little by little. Otherwise, the others will take issue with her position. You’ve helped greatly.”

“I figured as much,” I said with a shrug. “I was holding back since she’s so young, but this gave me the perfect excuse to get her started. So really, I should be thanking you.”

“I’m honored you’d say so.”

As we walked, my eyes caught something odd in the distance.

“Hey, Shiki, what’s that?”

Following his line of sight, I saw Ema—and around her, a cluster of the Al-Elemera.

Only, they weren’t flying.

All of them were kneeling on the ground. The sight was… well, new.

I blinked, then looked at Shiki again. “What’s going on?”

He gave a mild, almost amused sigh. “Ah, as you can see, the Al-Efemera appear to share a certain… resemblance to you, Young Master.”

“Uh, what?”

I wasn’t sure I liked where this was going.

“On their first day scouting for a place to live,” Shiki explained, “they somehow decided to enter the wolves’ territory.”

“… Oh, wow.”

Of all places to wander into, that one? Talk about bad luck.

Wait, so that’s how they’re like me? Charging straight into trouble without realizing it?

“They were thoroughly routed,” Shiki continued calmly. “Not everyone can escape such a situation alive as you once did, Young Master. To their credit, though, this is a rather reasonable reaction.”

“They’re actually groveling,” I muttered. “Ema mentioned something like that might happen. So, the king and his court are all down there, aren’t they?”

“All of them.”

I stared at the scene again. The group was far smaller than when I’d last seen them. So that was it. They hadn’t just fled; they’d been culled.

“The wolves really got them,” I muttered.

“They came back here utterly terrified,” Shiki confirmed.

I couldn’t blame them. Those wolves were on par with the fiercest monsters I’d encountered anywhere. Well, to be fair, everything that lived in the Demiplane was powerful. But the carnivores were something else entirely.

The wolves, in particular, were apex predators. Masters of the forest, of the hunt, and of coordinated combat.

If it came down to a real fight, even the orcs or the lizardfolk would struggle.

I could still remember my first encounter with them vividly. I’d been genuinely thankful for my ridiculous defensive power that day.

At the same time, it had been unforgettable. Being able to communicate with them, even if only barely, had felt almost sacred.

Of course, it was only me they could actually understand.

Still, wolves were intelligent creatures. Even without shared language, they made themselves understood through presence, posture, and movement. They warned and cautioned before attacking. The only question was whether the other side could read those signs.

Apparently, the Al-Elemera couldn’t.

“You think Ema’s going to forgive them?” I asked under my breath as I watched her silent, looming figure before the kneeling fairies.

“If she does,” Shiki replied dryly, “the Al-Efemera will never again be able to raise their heads before her.”

“Uh, by the way, Shiki, it’s Al-Elemera, not Al-Efemera.”

“My apologies. Winged insects are not exactly names I commit to memory.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that I almost laughed.

“Well, they’re noisy but somehow forgettable,” I mused.

“Quite so,” Shiki agreed.

“Oh, right. Did you hear about what happened to their forest?”

“Yes. They claimed it was destroyed by a violet cloud.”

“Do you know what that actually means?”

Shiki nodded. “I do. It’s a rather violent phenomenon, but not unheard of in the Wasteland. Thick masses of deep purple clouds form and release rain of the same hue. It’s poisonous enough to render the land uninhabitable.”

“Poison rain?” I shuddered. “That’s nasty.”

Thank god I never ran into that back when I was wandering the Wasteland.

If the clouds were that dense, like storm cumulonimbus but violet, that would be a terrifying sight.

“Even if you try to guard against it, all you can really do is evacuate. So, any base in its path would be completely wiped out,” Shiki said, then hesitated a little, as if weighing how to continue.

“Go on.”

He cleared his throat. “Tomoe-dono told me something about those purple clouds. They’re not weather; apparently, they’re living things.”

“Wait, living things? Clouds?”

“Think of them as swarms of tiny gaseous organisms,” Shiki explained. “On their own, they’re not terribly dangerous, but when enough of them gather, they can expand rapidly and turn into a real disaster. Tomoe’s seen a great many phenomena, and she’s learned more than most.”

Gaseous lifeforms… I still couldn’t picture it properly.

“But if they are alive, they have to be killable,” Shiki went on. “So, in theory, dispersing or destroying them could stop them.”

“Right—if they’re creatures, killing them should work.”

“However, because they exist as a kind of swarm, each individual might be nothing more than a speck of gas or something too small to see. That makes the idea of ‘killing’ them in practice rather unrealistic. Also, this isn’t really a Demiplane problem, so it’s not exactly worth devoting a full research program to. For now.”

Still, I’d like to see one at some point, I thought.

“But you’d be interested, Shiki?”

“I would, yes. But I’m swamped with work at the moment.”

“Then maybe I’ll ask Tomoe or Mio to bring back a sample,” I said. “If we could study a specimen…”

“They’re both busy,” Shiki replied. “Perhaps ask the winged folk. They might know something about the purple clouds; anything to do with the sky would be in their domain.”

“Good idea. I’ll ask them.”

If the clouds had unique properties, they could be useful for lectures at the academy. Unless it’s a biohazard, I thought, a wry smile coming to my lips. If it looked like a classroom disaster waiting to happen, I’d drop the idea. Between the Demiplane and the academy there were things I should get started on while I could.

“Using those things as classroom material is probably out of the question,” Shiki murmured.

“Shiki! When did you learn to read minds?!” I blurted in surprise.

“Heh. Morris-dono said sensing your master’s mood is a basic skill of a steward, so I’ve been practicing,” he said mildly.

You don’t just practice mind-reading, I thought, shaking my head. And Rembrandt’s butler really is something else.

“Diligent as ever, Shiki,” I said.

“Your praise honors me,” he replied smoothly.

Maybe I should hand the lecture plans over to Shiki, too.

※※※

“Wow, that’s incredible,” I murmured, shading my eyes as I looked up. “So, that’s the purple cloud causing all the trouble.”

Overhead, suspended in the sky like a bruise against the blue, loomed a massive cumulonimbus tinted a deep, unnatural violet. It was shaped like a column of smoke from some giant’s incense burner, rising thick and high into the heavens.

The contrast between the clear sky and that sinister purple was breathtaking… but perhaps in more of a suffocating way.

“A rather large-scale manifestation,” Tomoe observed beside me. “Judging from its point of origin and trajectory, the damage may be significant.”

When I’d said I wanted to see one of the purple clouds for myself, Tomoe hadn’t even waited for me to call on the winged folk. She’d simply located the active area and brought me here in an instant.

“So, where exactly are we? Which part of the Wasteland is this?” I asked.

“Quite far to the east,” she replied, pointing toward the horizon. “Those mountains ahead mark the edge of the Wasteland.”

I squinted at the jagged peaks rising in the distance, their ridgelines stark against the tinted sky, and tried to imagine what the other side looked like.

“East? So, this has nothing to do with Tsige. No bases out here either. Then who’s going to take the hit?”

“Most likely the Lorel Union,” Tomoe said evenly. “Beyond that range lies their territory. If I recall, there are no major cities or fortifications in that specific area, only forest, rivers, and several villages. Those are likely to suffer.”

“The Wasteland really is enormous. Didn’t realize Lorel bordered it too.”

“Indeed, although those mountains are a formidable boundary. I doubt even the Lorel folk think of themselves as neighbors to the Wasteland.”

“Oh, right—Lime’s still over there, isn’t he?”

My senpai, Hibiki, was currently staying in Lorel, and Lime had been keeping us informed about her movements. Apparently, he’d been traveling with her.

“Yes,” Tomoe said with a nod. “I was considering recalling him soon.”

“So, Hibiki-senpai and her group are probably getting ready to head back to Limia, then.”

“That is my assumption. Though I have not heard from the man for several days now.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much. Lime’s capable. And Senpai’s with him.”

At that, Tomoe’s lips pressed together ever so slightly, and her eyes narrowed as if she’d just tasted something bitter.

“That woman—Hibiki, is it?—is she truly so remarkable? Her mind may be quick enough, I grant you that, but to hear you speak of her so favorably, Young Master…” Tomoe gave a low, skeptical hum. “I cannot say I see the appeal.”

“Honestly, Hibiki-senpai’s a genius. She doesn’t feel like someone just one year ahead. My archery is more like a weird talent or quirk, but she can do anything.”

“That sounds a bit like overpraise.”

“Is it?”

“She undoubtedly has admirable aspects,” Tomoe admitted, “but I find Young Master—well, you—far more extraordinary. Hard to say, but your appraisal of Hibiki might contain a fair share of admiration.”

Yeah, probably. I let the thought sit there, a half-smile on my face. If my image of Hibiki was accurate, she wouldn’t be the sort of person to come to another world in the first place. I hadn’t heard the full story yet, but I wasn’t going to deny that some of my admiration was playing a role here.

“You won’t become dependent on her, I hope,” Tomoe added. “That one seems more suited to politics than pure combat. Consider that a gentle warning.”

“Thanks, Tomoe. I’ll be careful.”

Even so, Hibiki-senpai wouldn’t set me up. There’s no reason for it. As for Tomoki, well, she hinted about him, too. Good to know.

“So, Young Master, do you think that cloud has calmed down enough?”

“Well, it’s not responding when we try to communicate with it. There’s probably a core, but we don’t need to press it further.”

“Then shall we return? You planned to go to Rotsgard this afternoon. Shiki’s already left ahead; you should prepare.”

“Yeah. Not much use for lectures if it’s like that. Hmm.”

I summoned Azusa and nocked an arrow.

“Young Master?” Tomoe’s expression was confused.

“If we ignore it, that cloud’s going to drift toward Lorel, right? That country’s been taking in displaced otherworlders. I figure I’ll do them a little favor.”

“One could argue you’d gain more gratitude by saving them after the damage hits,” Tomoe said dryly.

“Ha. It’s not about earning favor,” I said, not quite meeting her teasing tone.

I drew the bow and took careful aim. If I hit the core, maybe it’ll do something.

I had focused on a point I’d found by extending my Realm: a dense knot where the gaseous organisms that made up the cloud seemed thickest. If I struck that spot, there’d probably be some effect.

All right. Let’s see what happens.

“Ah, so this is what they call compassion for compassion’s sake, then?” Tomoe asked.

“Mm, not quite,” I said, shaking my head. Something about her words didn’t feel quite right. While my mind searched for the phrase I wanted, I drew the bow to its fullest and released.

The arrow cut clean through the sky, vanishing into the violet mass above.

Then, as the bowstring’s hum faded, the words came to me.

“Yeah, more like repaying kindness forward.”

Tomoe tilted her head. “Repaying kindness forward?”

“Lorel’s been sheltering people from Japan ever since they started falling into this world. Whatever their motives, they’ve saved a lot of lives.”

“I suppose that’s true enough,” she conceded.

“So, I guess this is my way of repaying that kindness. Not to the same people, but to the same country. I know it’s backward to show gratitude for someone else’s debt, but… that’s how it feels.”

“Would those other Japanese people have even wished for that? To repay gratitude to strangers you’ve never met, with no expectation of return… I confess, Young Master, I do not understand such an emotion.”

Overhead, the arrow struck true.

A low, muted boom rolled across the air, and a great hollow opened within the violet cloud at the point of impact. The dense purple began to unravel and fade, dissolving outward like ink thinning in water.

Yet as I watched, something felt… off.

The reaction was right, but the feedback, the feeling that every archer knows when a shot truly lands, was missing.

The target had been pierced. I was sure of it. But it didn’t feel alive.

I frowned as a thought came to me. Like shooting at a mirage.

Still, the nucleus I was aiming for, the densest point of that strange life form, had been hit. That should be enough to prevent a catastrophe.

And if anything did happen in Lorel, Lime would report it soon enough.

“That’s all there is to it,” I said finally. “I didn’t really think it through. I just felt like… if other people from Japan were helped once, maybe I should help the people who helped them. The ‘repaying kindness forward’ thing was an afterthought.”

“Hmph. I still have much to learn, it seems. I shall take this as another lesson in the hyuman heart. In any case, splendid work, Young Master. That thing won’t be causing any major trouble now.”

“Oh, crap!”

Tomoe blinked. “What is it?”

“The sample! Shiki said he wanted to study it!”

“Already taken care of. I collected a portion and sent it to the Demiplane. In small amounts, it poses little harm, so it was no trouble at all.”

“Thank god. All right, let’s head back.”

“As you wish. Regarding the sea-dwelling races, we’ll select them as you propose. Mio and I will both devote the day to that task. Still, if it leads to grilling seven rings of dried sardines for the winter, the effort is worth it, eh? Fufufufu…”

“Then make sure we’ve got a kotatsu and some oranges ready, too,” I called as we began to step through the mist gate.

“Already arranged,” she said brightly. “Ahh, winter will be delightful this year.”

I grinned. Kotatsu, oranges, grilled fish… Yeah. It really does feel like home sometimes.

Now then, back to Rotsgard.

I wonder how Jin and the others are doing these days.

Chapter 3

“Come in!” came a voice from behind the door.

The woman who’d escorted me gave a small nod in response, then turned to offer me a polite bow before taking her leave. Compared to last time, she seemed a bit distant.

Guess she’s in a better mood now that her employer is out of the way.

Now that I thought about it, when I visited the Rembrandt Company, Morris—the boss’s butler—would always open the door, welcome me in, and even enter the room alongside me. Apparently, they did things differently here.

This was the Rotsgard Adventurers’ Guild.

I’d come to visit Luto, a Greater Dragon and the current guildmaster, who was supposedly recovering from… something.

His office had changed since my last visit. A bed now dominated the center of the room, and the sofa arrangement had been shifted—probably so guests like me could sit while pretending not to gawk at the patient.

Well, with an office this oversized, I guess it doubles as a sickroom just fine.

Security here wasn’t half bad either, so it probably made for a comfortable place to recover.

After taking it all in for a moment, I finally addressed the man lying in bed: Luto, dressed to the nines in full-on tragic patient fashion.

“They told me you were in your office, so I figured it wasn’t anything serious. But of course you had to take it to the next level, didn’t you?”

“Thanks for visiting, Raidou-dono,” he said. “I apologize for letting you see me in such a disgraceful state. Not very befitting of a guildmaster, is it?”

Oh, spare me the noble act. What the hell kind of injury is this supposed to be?

Luto was wrapped in bandages from head to toe. His left leg was suspended in the air, locked in place with what looked like a plaster cast straight out of a textbook.

It was the most stereotypical injured-person look I’d ever seen.

He looked like he was in serious condition.

From what I’d heard, the real reason he was down wasn’t some battle wound; it was fatigue. The aftermath of firing off a full-power breath attack. In other words, overexertion.

He didn’t need bandages.

Did you really have to commit this hard to the part?

“You go around acting like some divine badass, then come home and cosplay as an injured man in bed… You’re practically risking your life for the bit.”

“That’s rude! This is all from actual injuries, Raidou-dono.”

“I heard it was just a week of bed rest for fatigue.”

“That’s outdated information,” Luto said after a pause. “That was the prognosis at first, sure. But after re-evaluating things myself, I’d say we’re looking at about a month now.”

Re-evaluating things yourself? How about seeing a real doctor, genius?

Then again, now that I thought about it, this world didn’t really have hospitals in the way I was used to. There were small clinics here and there, yes, but I’d never seen a place with lots of beds or a team of professional medical staff.

Maybe that’s because magic usually takes care of things, and the potions here work freakishly fast…

Still, the concept of a doctor had value. Not many people could treat dragons, so fine; maybe exclude them. But what about vets? Doctors for demi-humans? There could be something in that. Like, the next step beyond just having a pharmacy. Somewhere, people could get real treatment.

It’d take a while to build up the talent pool, and I have no idea when something like that could actually happen. But maybe I should bring it up sometime.

Of course, I wouldn’t be the one doing the training or writing the curriculum, so I couldn’t just casually throw the idea out there and expect results. Who knew if it’d ever go anywhere?

Still, maybe it’ll spark something useful.

I turned back to Luto, skeptical. “You diagnosed yourself?”

“But of course, Raidou-dono,” he said with a smug grin. “I’m proud to say I’m a bit more skilled in healing than your average doctor or priest.”

Sigh. And yet, he keeps calling me Raidou-dono. Over and over again. Like he’s doing it on purpose.

Normally, Luto called me Makoto-kun. In my experience, he only put on this formal persona as Guildmaster Fals.

But we were in his office. Alone. No performance needed.

He was acting normal, saying mostly sensible things for once, but that just made it all the more suspicious.

What the hell are you plotting now?

Not that I miss hearing your usual pervy delusions, but this version of you gives me the creeps in a whole new way.

“So?” I asked, eyes narrowed. “Why the polite act? What are you scheming today, Lu—”

“Raidou-dono!” Luto cut me off, which was very unlike him.

And then—

“It seems the two of you are far closer than I had imagined,” a calm voice said behind us. “He already had plenty of mysteries surrounding him, but it appears I’ve found yet another. In any case, Fals-dono, I hope you’ll take your time and rest well. I now understand the circumstances regarding the matter of appointing an acting proxy, so there’s no issue.”

Z–Zara-san?!

I turned around, and there he was.

In the reception area I’d already dismissed as empty, Representative Zara of the Merchants’ Guild sat comfortably sunk into the sofa.

Why is Zara-san here, of all places?

“I must apologize, Representative Zara,” Luto said, his tone smooth and composed. “I fear I’ve done little to entertain you and only burdened you with business talk. I’m in your debt for the time being.”

“Think nothing of it. In our line of work, a hospital visit is merely a convenient pretext,” Zara replied with a faint smile. “I see now. Both of you are full of secrets. Perhaps that was what allowed you to open up to one another. In that case, I suppose I should make an effort to acquire a secret or two of my own, ha ha.”

While I wondered what on earth to say, Luto politely replied, “You jest.”

“Not at all. The assistance I’ve received from the two of you has been invaluable to the reconstruction of Rotsgard,” Zara continued. “To see you getting along so well is truly delightful. I daresay I feel a hint of envy. Well then, until next time.”

“Yes. Take care of yourself as well,” Luto said.

Just like that, the conversation was over without me getting a single word in.

If I’d known this was going to happen, I would’ve set up my Realm the moment I walked in.

I mean, Luto could’ve at least told me with telepathy.

Oh. Right.

This room was the one place where telepathy didn’t work, thanks to Luto’s beloved technology (self-proclaimed, of course). He’d explained it to me before, something about cutting off outside contact to protect secrets since he’d be inviting me here more often.

For some reason, when he said that, I got this mental image of him locking the door behind me with both hands. That seriously creeped me out.

Still, how was I supposed to figure it out just from you going, “Raidou-dono, Raidou-dono” over and over?

Even if that pervert suddenly changed the way he addressed me, my first thought is always going to be “what shady scheme are you cooking up now?”

Then there was Zara. The way he erased his presence was way too good for “just a merchant.”

That’s assassin-level.

“Raidou. When you’re done with your visit, come see me,” he whispered as we passed each other. “I’ll be waiting at my shop, not the Merchants’ Guild.”

He didn’t even wait for my reply. By the time I turned, he was already leaving the room.

Welp, looks like my next few hours have been decided for me.

I’d intended to grab a meal, swing by my own store, then head to the academy. Now I had a Zara-shaped detour.

He had helped me out a lot since I came to this city. So, he wasn’t somebody I wanted to brush off.

“Luto, you’re kind of the worst, you know that?” I complained the moment Zara left.

“I did try to drop some hints so you’d notice,” he replied, completely unrepentant.

“If you already had a guest, you could’ve just made me wait outside. It sounded like you were almost done talking anyway.”

“Considering the stage you’re standing on these days, I figured you should at least be able to notice someone like him,” Luto said. “So I thought, why not test you a little?”

“Do tests as tests. Don’t spring the real thing on me out of nowhere!”

“I’ll grant you, Zara is good at hiding his presence. Good enough that one might wonder what he used to do. But he’s not impossible to find. Any high-ranked adventurer could manage it,” he went on. “And you, Makoto-kun, should be able to do at least that much. You’ve got some sort of detection-focused magic anyway, don’t you? You shouldn’t have to rely on it for something this simple.”

“Guh…”

He had a point, which was annoying.

“And as I mentioned earlier,” he continued, “I am actually pretty badly injured right now.”

“Yeah, I heard. Full recovery in a month, right? Didn’t you just tire yourself out from using your breath attack?”

“I was bedridden when I had some visitors,” he said darkly. “Two women. Each one with a smile like a demon’s.”

“Women, huh.”

There are actually people in this world brave enough to do this to Luto?

“They had me trussed up like a straw mat in seconds,” he said. “Then they went to town on me. Punches, kicks—the works. All while giggling.”

Giggling?

Yeah, that was terrifying.

Knowing this pervert, he’d probably racked up grudges all over the place. But still, sneaking in while he was weakened and resting, then beating him up and laughing about it…

Well, your everyday behavior really does matter, huh.

I probably needed to be a little kinder to my students at the academy. I hadn’t really been paying them much attention lately.

“‘What goes around comes around’ really is a profound saying,” I muttered.

“Amazing how you managed to say that without a shred of sympathy for me,” Luto groaned. “Especially when one of them was that samurai-obsessed retainer of yours.”

… Samurai-obsessed?

“I was so exhausted I could barely move!” he went on, voice rising. “And then that samurai maniac and an over-the-hill desert lizard showed up with blunt weapons and jumped me!”

Tomoe, huh.

She’d been strangely generous with her comments about Luto lately, so I’d wondered if she’d gotten bribed or something. Apparently, she’d just already gotten it out of her system.

“Even so, he has done quite a bit for us. It would not be improper to pay him a visit at least once, Young Master.”

That was what she’d said.

Now that I’d seen this disaster firsthand, replaying those words in my head made them sound less like a polite suggestion and more like the proud report of a loyal hunting dog eager to show off its kill.

Whether she actually fit the “loyal dog” type was another question. Maybe more of a cat?

Which meant the other culprit would be the Greater Dragon Sazanami, also known as Gront-san.

As far as I knew, she never left the White Sand Sea. That was why we’d agreed I would bring the egg to her, not the other way around.

If she could come all the way to Rotsgard just to beat the crap out of Luto, she could’ve come to pick up the egg herself, couldn’t she?

Or was it the other way around? Had this pervert been spreading so much trouble among the Greater Dragons that Gront was finally forced to leave the desert to deal with him?

“I see how it is,” I said slowly.

“For that matter,” Luto snapped, “you’re the one who pulled that absurdly low probability from that divine artifact in the first place! This is all your fault! Just what kind of luck do you have, Makoto-kun?! And then Tomoe had the nerve to say, ‘Did you go all the way to a demon city just to stalk Young Master? I hear he collapsed afterward—how do you intend to atone?’ And Gront just sat there going, ‘Ho ho ho ho’! It was terrifying!”

“Th–That’s not how it happened at all!” I stammered. “The idiot who set up an attack so ridiculous it knocked me out for a week—that’s who’s really at fault here! And I wasn’t even the one who activated it—a demon did that! You have no idea how hard I had to work to block that so-called breath of yours!”

“If you hadn’t been there, I’m absolutely certain I never would’ve been chosen! I was in a nice restaurant, with a great atmosphere, finally talking a very promising new secretary into working for me, when I got force-summoned! She thought I’d just suddenly run out on her! Do you have any idea how hard it was to smooth that over afterward?! Especially when, as you can see, I’ve been stuck in bed like this?!”

“I don’t care! I’m the one who had to deal with your scattershot breath and everything else that came with it! One of those blasts hit a mountain miles and miles away and caused massive damage! The demons looked into it later, and they told me there were no casualties over there, which was a relief, but in the city itself, dozens of people died! Don’t act like you’re the victim here!”

“I tuned that thing under the assumption it would punch a fist-sized black hole into the world map, so that much damage is only natu— Wait. Dozens?”

“Yes, at least! Thanks to your breath and that roar before it, demon children and elderly died by the handful! And if you count the wounded, that number would be well over a hundred! Think about what you did, you lunatic. Think about it!”

“Wait, hold on. That whole area should’ve been scorched black. Or blown into a massive crater, at least… right? I heard Akari’s place was fine, but the demons’ ancient capital should’ve been completely wiped out, shouldn’t it?”

“Of course not. I managed to catch it and erase it. It made me collapse, though. That feeling of my mana being scraped away bit by bit? That’s something I could’ve gone my whole life without experiencing. The fact that I had to pass out just to clean up your mess—when I think about it even now… Yeah. Tomoe did nothing wrong.”

“All of it? You erased all of that?” he whispered.

“That’s what I said.”

“… Makoto-kun.”

“What?” I frowned. “Why’d you go all quiet?”

“How did you erase it?”

Luto’s whole aura had changed. A sharp light shone in his eyes, something I could only describe as raw, condensed curiosity. Combined with the way his gaze had gone unnervingly fixed, it honestly weirded me out.

“I had Mio gather it all up,” I said slowly. “I took it from her, and then I erased it.”

“With magic?” he asked.

“Something like converting the mana construct, I think,” I replied. “Shiki helped me with the chant and all the details, so to be honest, I don’t really know the specifics.”

I was playing dumb, having decided it was better not to bring up the whole creation thing. But I mixed in just enough truth that it wouldn’t be easy to call me out on it.

“Conversion of Materia Prima. Can you do that now?” Luto asked.

“You really don’t listen, do you?” I sighed. “I told you Shiki was supporting me. I can’t do it on my own.”

“I see,” he murmured. “So, you essentially handled all of that alone, without any collateral damage… I see…”

Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Luto mutter to himself like that.

Then again, with him, every new side I discovered just made things more depressing, so this wasn’t exactly a welcome development.

Oh, right. I actually had another reason to come here.

“Hey, you still alive?” I called out. “Since I was already coming to visit, I wanted to pick up the candidate list of adventurers to send to Kaleneon. You finished it, right? Hellooo?”

“Makoto-kun. You’ve wounded me,” he said.

“If anything, you should’ve said ‘I was injured’ or ‘I was hurt.’ And more importantly, listen to my side.”

“That’s not what I meant. Those two beat up my body, sure, but just now you pounded my heart into a pulp. So ‘wounded’ is accurate.”

“Look,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Not to be rude, but that’s kind of a two-way—”

“Just go home for today,” Luto cut in. “I left the list with the girl who guided you here. You can get it from her on your way out. I may look like this, but I didn’t cut any corners, so don’t worry.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Right. Zara called for you earlier, didn’t he? You should hurry over there.”

Cold. But honestly, that made things easier.

“Got it. Take care of yourself,” I said.

“I’ll be waiting for your midnight crawl,” he chimed back with a sleazy grin.

“Sure. I’ll let Tomoe and Gront-san know.”

I’d gotten used to swatting away his harassment by now.

“…”

“Later,” I said to the suddenly silent Luto before leaving the room.

All right. Time to head to Zara-san’s shop.

If I remembered correctly, it was a brothe—no, a real estate office. That was the place he meant when he said my shop.

Officially, Zara had nothing to do with the brothels.

I collected a tube containing the list from the receptionist at the front desk and stepped outside.

※※※

After leaving the Adventurers’ Guild, it was straight to Zara’s shop.

By now, I was a familiar enough face there that the receptionists and office staff all greeted me by name. After a quick round of hellos, they led me not to the reception room, but straight to the representative’s office.

Apparently, there weren’t many merchants who got this treatment; back at the beginning, I’d gotten plenty of confused and surprised looks over it.

“I hear you’ve been out traveling a lot lately,” Zara said. He’d never been one for small talk. “That incident shot your name across the map. I’d imagine you’re getting invitations from every country that can write a letter, hm?”

“You guessed right,” I admitted. He’d torn the curtain off my situation in one clean pull.

“I was going to say you were probably making your rounds inefficiently…” he went on, steepling his fingers, “but you can’t exactly turn down Gritonia or Limia. Some things simply can’t be helped. In any line of work, there’s a period at the beginning where you work yourself half to death.”

Oh?

I was bracing myself for a lecture, but he was strangely gentle today. With that stern face of his, the kindness felt about fifty percent stronger.

“The guild meetings are being covered properly by your proxy, so there’s no issue there,” Zara continued. “However, I was surprised the representative was a demi-human, not Shiki-san. In the past, that alone might have been enough to spark an uproar.”

“That said, after the Mutant Incident, this city’s discrimination toward demi-humans has softened quite a bit. They’re the ones who saved a lot of the survivors, after all. I don’t know how long it will last, but still.”

“That’s a good trend,” I acknowledged.

“The temple folk don’t seem especially pleased,” Zara-san added, “but at least in this city, they’re keeping their displeasure off the surface and behaving politely. The one at the top right now, for all appearances, is surprisingly reasonable.”

The head of the temple, huh…

All I really remembered was a woman with a husky voice, but apparently, she was more capable than she looked.

Being able to get along in whatever city you’re assigned to—that’s a handy skill for someone who gets transferred a lot.

“Your proxies have been doing their part as well,” Zara said. “Aqua and Eris, right? Those two have offered sharp opinions and some very entertaining proposals. At the meetings, there are even people who say they’d rather have them attend than you. They say it as a joke, of course… although if you ask me, their eyes weren’t joking.”

“I’d really prefer if we could just leave it as a joke,” I said weakly.

“Idiot. Use it as motivation and push yourself. Every single time, someone suggests those two should start their own company. But they both refuse immediately. For whatever reason, you’ve been blessed with very capable subordinates. Value them, and make sure their strength helps with your growth.”

“Yes, I’ll do my best.”

“Rembrandt told me to keep an eye on you, and I have, ever since then. You’re not slacking off. That much is clear. You’re simply nowhere near the level your position demands. That’s all there is to it. And yet, your environment, the goods you handle, your personnel—and yes, your luck—are all far too good. So, your standing just keeps rising on its own. If you ask me, it’s mildly horrifying.”

He’s not wrong. Except for the luck part. I refuse to accept that one.

Still, I never imagined I’d be hearing this from Zara-san of all people.

“I’m still inexperienced,” I admitted. “There’s a lot I’m lacking.”

“Exactly,” he said, his tone merciless. “If I wanted to train you properly as a merchant, I’d cut you off from all this nonsense, dump you in charge of a branch office in some random city, and make you grind it out. That’s what I’d do.”

“But in your case, you’re a ‘merchant who fights’…” He paused, then shook his head. “No, that’s too soft. A military merchant. An extermination merchant. A landmine merchant. Hm. I can’t quite find the perfect term, but something along those lines. There’s no precedent for your category.”

Wh-What kind of comparisons are those supposed to be?

Every single one of his labels treated the word ‘merchant’ like a flimsy accessory slapped on at the end.

“Um… So, what did you need from me today?” I asked.

I’d reached my limit for being roasted and just wanted to get to the actual point of the visit.

At least I no longer felt sick to my stomach just from meeting him. Progress, I guess. But I was still planning to head to the academy after this.

The best way to deal with unexpected errands is to get them over with quickly.

“There are two things,” Zara said. “First, our continued cooperation on the reconstruction. Second, the matter with Estelle’s place.”

Reconstruction, sure. But Estelle-san… from the brothel?

So, this was about them.

I hadn’t heard any complaints so far. I could guess Estelle had reported something to Zara, but what?

Anyway, let’s start with the easy part.

“Cooperation on the reconstruction?”

“Yes,” he replied with a nod. “You’ve been sending employees from your company as well as students who attend your lectures. Their help has been invaluable. So, I want to confirm something: will you be able to continue supporting us at the current pace? I’d like to know before you disappear out of town again.”

“Of course,” I reassured him. “There are still districts that haven’t been restored, and the area where the last Mutant rampaged hasn’t even been touched yet. I heard the plan was to redevelop it into a park, right? That’s going to be a major project.”

The more hands we had, the better.

“That’s good to hear,” Zara said. “To be honest, the assistance we’re getting from the Kuzunoha Company is enough to directly affect the overall pace of reconstruction. Those two massive trees that suddenly appeared, they have a real presence. They’ll make fine symbols for this academy city in the years to come. I can’t raise the priority of that area above others, but I’d like to get started there as soon as possible.”

If it ended up becoming a place where the townspeople could relax and gather, then as a final resting place for the Mutant, it wasn’t such a bad outcome.

The priority for a park probably wasn’t all that high compared to housing and infrastructure, but if we kept working as fast as we were, it would no longer be some distant dream.

“So, did something happen at Estelle-san’s place?” I asked. “They’re inexperienced with the outside world, sure, but I didn’t think those girls would cause trouble.”

“There’s no problem as such,” Zara said slowly. “Raidou, just where did you kidnap those girls from?”

“That’s not funny, Zara-san,” I said, my tone dropping. “I’m their friend. I also have a good relationship with their village. Because of that connection, I just arranged work for them. That’s all.”

People trafficking? Not a chance.

There was no way I was ever getting Kuzunoha involved in a business I didn’t want to touch myself.

I was already feeling depressed enough about that demon, Sari.

Slave trading just didn’t sit right with me.

“I’m joking,” Zara-san said with a dry laugh. “I never imagined that giving you a free pass to the brothel would result in you sending women who wanted to work there. Still, it seems you’ve never actually made use of that pass yourself, Raidou. Estelle’s been pouting about it, you know.”

“Please spare me,” I groaned. “I don’t exactly have the ti—”

“Time to bed a woman is something you make, no matter how busy you are. If you truly want to, that is.”

“Besides, isn’t Estelle-san the owner, not a prostitute?” I countered, ignoring his comment.

“She’s both,” he replied. “Owner and courtesan. If she takes a liking to a customer, she’ll service him personally. I believe she introduced herself to you as a prostitute, didn’t she? Not that there are many men who actually get that privilege—you could count them on one hand. You should be proud.”

“What would I even be proud of there? Anyway, putting that aside—there aren’t any real problems with those girls, right?”

“For the most part, no,” Zara said. “However, Estelle did ask whether we could increase their numbers a bit.”

“Increase… their numbers?”

“You introduced them to me as demi-humans,” he continued. “But as far as the customers are concerned, they’re hyuman prostitutes. They’re extremely popular. Quite a few clients have become thoroughly addicted.”

I’d figured if I said “monsters,” he’d refuse to take them, so I’d gone with “demi-humans” instead. And somewhere along the line, they’d been rebranded as hyumans.

“Well,” I mused, “I guess they don’t have any obvious traits that would give them away at a glance.”

Zara nodded. “Exactly. There are plenty of fools among the clientele who insist they’ll only take hyumans. But if they can’t even tell the difference themselves, that’s hardly our concern. Should one of them figure it out and come complain, then we’ll show good faith and provide them with a proper hyuman woman.”

That way of thinking was something I just didn’t have.

Passing off something fake and blaming the customer for not spotting it—that was normal here. In this world, it was considered the customer’s responsibility to be discerning. Merchants like me, who basically only dealt in the genuine article, were in the minority.

“You say they’re popular,” I said, “but aren’t the other women jealous of them?”

“Estelle manages that side of things quite skillfully,” Zara explained. “Reconstruction’s going well, and business is growing. So, as you can imagine, the conversation has turned toward opening a new house. That’s why Estelle’s been pestering me. She wants to know if there’s anyone else from those girls’ village who could come work.”

“I see.”

“As you requested, I haven’t investigated those girls’ backgrounds at all. That’s why I’m coming directly to you like this. So? What do you say?”

“I think there’ll be a few who’d be interested,” I answered after a moment’s thought. “I’ll check with them and have someone from the company bring you our answer soon.”

The village Zara was referring to was the Gorgons’. I’d already sent several of them, ones who’d learned to control their petrification to some extent, to work at the Rotsgard brothel.

Naturally, it was their own choice.

They hadn’t caused any trouble, and from what I’d heard, they were doing exceptionally well.

The real bottleneck was the petrification. It took an incredible amount of power to bring it under control, which was why only a select few gorgons could safely leave the Demiplane.

Out of that group, around half were working at the brothel, and the other half were assigned to external work or shop duties for the company.

“Good,” Zara said with a grateful nod. “I’m counting on you.”

“Thank you again for being willing to employ them,” I replied with a small bow.

“Honestly, I’m relieved we didn’t end up with some unauthorized operation suddenly competing with us and getting into a full-blown turf war with you. Those girls even handle rowdy clients, you know. They’re truly invaluable. I want them to keep working for us, if possible. Tell them I’m grateful, and that they’re a big help.”

“I will.”

“And I’ve heard they’re staying at Kuzunoha for now. If they don’t have a proper place to live, I can arrange rooms for them here. If living together with others is difficult because of customs or environment, I can secure a house separate from the brothel instead.”

“You really do think highly of them.”

“I like people who are forward-looking and capable in their work,” Zara replied simply.

I could claim to be forward-looking, sure, but capable is still a stretch.

Still, I was happy the gorgons were getting such good evaluations. And not only those working for Zara; the girls working on the company side were putting in serious effort too.

“I’ll be sure to tell them,” I said. “Well, if that’s all you needed from me today, I’ll take my leave here.”

“Those were the main points,” Zara said. “Ah, but one more thing, purely out of curiosity. Raidou, are you planning on doing something at sea next? The ocean’s a long way from here, but you smell like salt. I didn’t expect your next business destination to be the coast. The winter sea is nothing but storms. Hardly ideal for turning a profit.”

“Ah, that would be—”

“If it’s business-related, you don’t need to tell me,” he cut in. “I’m not trying to pry. In fact, I should really be scolding you to keep your guard up.”

“Thank you for the advice,” I said, giving him a bow. “It’s something that might turn into business eventually, so I’d like to keep it under wraps for now.”

“That’s the right call. For the time being, hide that earnest honesty of yours when you’re doing business here. Being sincere is an ideal, but there aren’t many places where it actually works.”

“Got it. Well then, I’ll be going.”

“Sorry to drag you over here. Be care—well, maybe you don’t need to worry about that, but trouble can be found anywhere. Stay sharp.”

Every single time we meet, he manages to work in a sermon, I thought as I left.

Yeah. Definitely not my kind of person.

Right… better add “check how many gorgons can safely go outside right now” to the list.

I’d been considering asking a few of them to help with the maritime work, but at this rate, that was probably impossible. If we ended up short-handed on livestock management in the Demiplane, that would defeat the whole purpose.

Anyway, almost lunchtime.

I still had to contact Limia and drop by the academy.

Messages from Limia would arrive at the store, so…

I should hit the academy first.

If I went around lunchtime, I wouldn’t be interrupting any classes, and it would be easier to track down Jin and the others.

I’d been working them pretty hard with the reconstruction, so I needed to check in on them a little.

It was also about time I formally told them when my lectures would resume in earnest.

If we were going to recruit new students, it would go much more smoothly if I gave the administration office advance notice.

The only hassle would be the headmaster and the various teacher factions.

I’ll just have to pray I don’t run into them.

Those thoughts added a little heaviness to my steps as I made my way out onto the main street, which to the eye looked completely restored to its former self.

All right, let’s see what the academy looks like after all this time.

Chapter 4

The answer? The academy had taken on a strange atmosphere.

It felt… intense. Not exactly lively; more like there was bloodlust simmering under the surface. And for some reason, it gave me a sense of déjà vu.

The stone path leading from the main gate to the first building was the first public face of the academy—the kind of tasteful, refined façade that screamed “elite students only.”

The outdoor facilities and various training fields used for practical lessons were tucked farther in, so the area around the main gate was usually free of rough or violent energy.

Oddly, even from here, I could hear the faint sounds of combat—clashes, thuds, and the occasional shouted war cry full of fighting spirit.

Another aftereffect of the Mutant Incident, maybe.

I’d shifted my students almost entirely to reconstruction work across the city, so I hadn’t had much reason to come to the academy itself. In fact, I’d barely set foot here lately.

I’d sent Shiki over a few times, but none of his reports had prepared me for this weird “battle-ready campus” feeling.

Well, if it’s just gotten noisier because the students are more fired up, that’s not really a bad thing.

I’d just take care of the paperwork for my lectures at the administration office, then all I needed was a quick look at Jin and the others’ faces.

Actually, class was tomorrow anyway. I could just walk around a bit, and if I didn’t run into them, there was no need to force a meeting today. I could have any announcements passed along through the office.

The longer I stayed here, the greater the odds that the headmaster or one of the other bigwigs would decide to call me in. That was exactly what I wanted to avoid.

The first school building was for invited guests, guardians, and business partners. It was another of the academy’s faces.

Students didn’t come and go from it very often, but the building itself was always spotless, and it was the first to get repairs and maintenance. The regular classroom buildings that students used were already pretty high-grade, but this place was a clear step above.

You could call it Rotsgard Academy’s unofficial reception hall.

I’d visited it several times already and knew my way around, so I headed straight for the administration office and called out to the staff inside:

“I appreciate your hard work!”

“!!!”

In that instant, every head in the office snapped toward me.

Even though I’d long since stopped being intimidated by the extravagant décor of this place, I flinched a little at the sheer pressure in the air.

O-Okay, what the hell?

“Um, I’m Raidou,” I said carefully. “I’m a temporary instructor. I’m here to file some changes to my course content and registration, so I’d like to take care of the paperwork…”

“You’re finally here, Raidou-sensei!!! Finally!”

The receptionist practically lunged over the counter the moment I finished explaining why I’d come.

“Eh?”

“I asked your assistant, Shiki-san, to have you come in person several times,” he said, his words tumbling out with urgency. “Every time, I was told you were away on business in another city. We were honestly at our wits’ end!”

As he spoke, several other staff members had crowded in around him, all staring at me.

Some were glaring at me meaningfully. Some looked relieved. One of them was quietly sobbing.

Despite these varied reactions, they all nodded emphatically at the words “at our wits’ end.”

“I’m sorry I was away so much,” I said. “When I went out of town after being summoned to the Gritonia Empire, I stumbled across a potential new business opportunity. I judged speed crucial, so I left right away. That said, I did have Shiki submit the proper notices to cancel my lectures, didn’t I?”

“We did receive them,” the receptionist confirmed. “In any case—this, please.”

His tone made it obvious that my reason for being gone no longer mattered in the slightest. He thrust a thick brown envelope toward me.

It looks like it’s all documents?

If they’d been bundled up and handed to me like this, they couldn’t be that important, right?

I can just go through them bit by bit when I have the time.

As if he’d read my mind, the staff member drove a verbal stake through that plan.

“Just so you know,” he said firmly, “every single one of those documents is marked for urgent review.”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

All of this?

“And then, there’s also this,” he added.

Another brown envelope, about the same size and stuffed near bursting, was dropped in front of me. And another. And…

Thud. Thud. Thud.

There were six of them.

“Right.”

“And as for documents related to internal academy matters,” he continued briskly, “those have been gathered in the room next to the temporary instructors’ lounge. By regulation, they must be checked directly by you, Raidou-sensei. We cannot entrust them to Shiki-san.”

“Why the room next door?” I asked faintly. “You used to just leave everything on the desk in the lounge, didn’t you?”

“Well, that’s because…”

“Yes?”

“They don’t fit anymore,” he said flatly.

“Hah?”

“The lounge is used by other instructors as well,” he explained. “At this point, about a third of the adjacent room is filled with documents. Some of them are repeated reminders rather than new matters, so it’s not as though every single one is a separate case, but even so, properly sorting all of them on our end proved impossible. The best we could do was group them by date.”

If I could read his eyes, they were saying, “You know we have other work too, right?”

“Right now, it’s not just the academy,” he went on. “We’re getting written inquiries and telepathic messages from all over the city, and even from foreign nations. A significant portion of our daily workload here in the office is tied to you, Raidou-sensei.”

You’re joking, right?

“…”

No words came out. I just swallowed hard.

“Keep in mind, we also have a mountain of temporary tasks related to the reconstruction. As you can see, the office staff has been expanded considerably. And now, you’ve finally come in person. Thus, the sorting and processing of these documents. We’d like you to start taking them home with you, beginning today.”

“Y-Yes,” I managed.

“Now then,” he said, shifting gears with professional speed, “regarding the paperwork for your lecture. Could you tell me the specific changes you’d like to request?”

“I’d like to increase the number of students, and—”

Everyone in the office widened their eyes. Okay, big reaction.

“I’d like to reduce the number of lectures.”

“That’s impossible,” came the immediate reply.

The moment the words left my mouth, they shut me down. Clean, sharp, merciless.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure there’s a procedure for decreasing lecture frequency, right?” I tried.

“Absolutely impossible.”

“The increase in student numbers is just a matter of having you put out a recruitment notice through the office, correct? And lifting the temporary suspension?”

“Yes, that is possible,” he admitted. “In fact, we’ve received a directive from above granting an exceptional expansion of your capacity. If anything, we would very much like you to raise the cap to the current maximum of eighty students.”

Ei—eighty?!

Are you insane? Even at a Japanese school, that would be nearly two classes’ worth.

I didn’t even have a teaching license. There was no way I could properly teach that many people.

My lectures were practical. People got hurt, and things got dangerous. It was fundamental that I only accept as many students as Shiki and I could reliably keep an eye on.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “Even with an increase, at most I could handle about double the current number. I was thinking… four or five more students, tops.”

“Such a number would be a drop of water on a red-hot stone, sensei.”

Too few. Far too few. The streets will run red. The office bears no responsibility. The office bears no responsibility. Therefore, I, too, bear no responsibility…

That was basically what I heard between the lines, like some grim mantra.

“Even so, that’s my limit,” I insisted. “As an instructor, I don’t want students dying in my class. More importantly, why exactly is it impossible to reduce the number of lectures?”

Shiki had told me that even if the worst happened and someone died, things could be… managed to some extent.

To some extent being the worrying part. How far does that “extent” actually go?

“To put it simply,” the receptionist said, “because it is the academy’s consensus.”

“Consensus?”

“Students, instructors, and even the various factions involved in administration, all of them want you, Raidou-sensei, to be more closely involved with this academy,” he explained. “Despite all the noise from power struggles and internal disputes, this particular policy was approved in an instant.”

He gestured toward the pile of envelopes and the room he’d mentioned earlier.

“You can see it in the sheer volume of documents,” he continued. “They’re filled with the wishes of students and teachers alike, each trying to find some way to establish a connection with you. Given all that, attempting to move in the opposite direction by cutting back lectures puts us in a very difficult position.”

Yeah, well, that’s not really my problem.

I’d only ever planned to be involved as a temporary instructor, doing about one class a week. In fact, I’d come here today hoping to cut it down to twice a month.

“If, for some unavoidable reason, you truly wish to reduce the number of lectures,” the staffer said, glancing around before lowering his voice and leaning toward me, “then…”

“Yes?” I prompted.

“Please do it when I’m not the one in charge.”

“Sorry?”

“In the current climate, any staff member who accepts that request will, without question, be fired,” he whispered. “Finding another position after that… will not be easy.”

That is, quite literally, not my problem at all.

“So, you’re telling me that if I go through with it, I should be prepared to get someone fired?” I asked. “I mean, I could.”

“We all understand,” he said quickly, “that you’re not the sort of person who would do that just because you felt like it, Raidou-sensei. So, we would like to ask you, if at all possible, to maintain the current arrangement.”

His eyes actually sparkled.

Don’t cry!

We’re not even that close, and you’re trying emotional blackmail?!

“Maintain it, huh,” I muttered.

“If you wish to add a few more students, that would be wonderful,” he said. “But as for us, we would be very grateful if you could at least continue as a temporary instructor once a week.”

“Right. I’ll go back to my shop and think it over. For the moment, just get recruitment going again for my class. Ah, right. Do you know where my students, Jin and Abelia, are right now?”

I asked the question without much hope. They were probably in one of the outdoor training fields for self-study, but still.

“At this time of day, they should be in the cafeteria,” he answered.

“Oh, I see. Then I’ll just wander aro—… the cafeteria?”

How does he even know that?

“Yes,” the receptionist confirmed. “Lately, there have been… various things going on around this time in the cafeteria.”

“Various things?” I echoed.

“Various things.”

“All right, I’ll go take a look for now. Thank you.”

It’s a little late for lunch, isn’t it? Maybe they’ve just shifted their mealtime?

Stepping into the other room, I wrestled the mountain of documents into some semblance of order and shoved everything into a large bag. It was all I could do to walk under that weight. Shouldering the burden and staggering a little, I headed straight for the cafeteria.

The constant stares from the students and that strange, edgy energy hanging in the air hadn’t changed.

Even when I was close enough to the cafeteria to catch the aroma of food, the atmosphere stayed the same.

“Right, forgot this place still serves set meals even after the lunch rush,” I muttered. “Might as well eat while I’m here.”

Not yet knowing that my thoughts were far too casual for the situation, I stepped into the cafeteria and scanned the room for Jin and Abelia.

Found them.

They were sitting across from each other at one of the long tables, calmly eating lunch.

… in the middle of a couple of dozen spectators.

Wait, since when does a meal come with a live audience?

The crowd’s gazes were locked onto them—some full of envy, others radiating open hostility.

On the bright side, it meant very few eyes were on me. I was just starting to feel grateful for that when a student suddenly lunged at Jin from behind.

“You let your guard down, Jin!!!”

“Not a chance.”

Without even turning around, Jin’s backfist slammed into the attacker’s face with a sharp crack. The student went flying, crashing into the wall of bodies that made up the hyuman barrier around them.

“I totally killed him!” Jin exclaimed in triumph.

“Killed?” Abelia snapped. “Don’t be stupid.”

The next moment, a flash of steel came at her from behind. It was a dagger, aimed at the center of her back. She slipped out of its path with a slight twist of her body and calmly drove her fork straight into the attacker’s outstretched hand.

A scream tore through the cafeteria.

What is this, the end of the world? Did I walk into some apocalypse-themed lunch event?

“Shifu-senpai, please go out wi—”

Boom.

A small but very real explosion cut off the confession mid-sentence, snuffing out what might have been a tender moment before it had a chance to exist.

The poor guy’s hair puffed up into a perfect afro in an instant, and he collapsed without another word.

In many ways, he’d been a brave man.

“…”

Shifu didn’t say a thing.

Yikes. Brutal.

Personally, I kind of wished she’d handled that one a little more gently.

The air around them was so hostile that it was almost physically painful to walk through.

Did someone put a bounty on them, or something?

Given that this academy catered to the children of powerful nobles and merchants, I wouldn’t be surprised if most insane ideas could, in fact, be pushed through.

That said, the primary suspect for antics like that, the Kingdom of Limia’s high noble Ilmgand Hopleys, was no longer with us.

He’d given me one hell of a time during the academy festival. Harassment after harassment, blatant fouls: it was obvious he’d cheated all over the place, and yet because he’d died, the punishment had been laughably light.

This place really is terrifying sometimes.

From my perspective, he’d been completely unhinged, but apparently, in his family’s domain, his reputation had been glowing.

The locals and his relatives had petitioned the academy one after another, begging them to lighten his punishment and restore his honor.

I’d found that big nobles and major merchants tended to be experts at putting on a “good citizen” mask in public.

Knowing that, underneath, someone could be that twisted, that petty and spiteful…

Just thinking that I might have to meet Ilmgand’s relatives when I went to Limia already made me feel depressed.

It was a country Hibiki owed a lot to, but to me, it felt like it was going to be a nightmare gate.

I was just starting to make my way closer to Jin when he called out, “Sensei!!!”

In the same moment, the cafeteria erupted in a wave of murmurs.

“Jin,” I greeted him. “It seems this place got a lot more dangerous while I was away.”

Whenever I dealt with students, I tried to adopt a cool, even tone. When I first started speaking the common language, I’d been told over and over that I lacked presence, that my voice sounded weak.

My magic speech bubbles, however, apparently came across as calm, quiet, and unshakable. So now, I was doing my best to act in a way that matched that impression.

“You saw what just happened?” Jin asked.

“I did. Did someone put a bounty on your heads?”

“Of course not,” he replied dryly. “But let’s talk about more important things. I heard you reopened recruitment for your class?”

How does he already know that?!

I’d literally just signed the paperwork ten minutes before.

Does gossip travel at the speed of light here?

“Did you hear that from Shiki?” I asked. The other students were coming closer now, their faces all eagerly awaiting an explanation.

“No, it’s supposedly solid intel from people connected to the office,” Jin answered. “And that’s what’s causing things to be like this.”

“This… meaning that strange energy hanging over the academy?” I asked.

But that didn’t fit the timeline.

“No, that started after that incident. Students began training and fighting in earnest, and the overall atmosphere in Rotsgard shifted significantly. As part of that, they brought in more temporary instructors. They also made some reforms to the self-study system.”

“I see…”

Right. Dignity. Remember the dignity.

Gotta keep the stern, imposing act going.

“By things being ‘like this,’ I meant the part where we’re being attacked right now,” Jin explained. He threw a glance at the crowd around us. “Being mobbed like this was already a daily occurrence.”

I have no idea how you can eat like this. If it were me, I’d probably sooner skip a meal.

“These guys heard about the new slots opening up for your lecture,” Jin went on. “But they also heard you’d only be adding at most five people. So, now they’re all fired up to show off their skills to you. And while they’re at it, they figure they can knock us out of the running and open up more spaces. That’s how we ended up with this super thrilling lunch.”

Wow, so they already know the exact number.

The rumor network at Rotsgard Academy was terrifying.

If “the walls have ears and the shōji have eyes” was the old saying, here it felt more like everything was made of glass.

“As an instructor, I’m glad they value my lectures that much,” I said. “But I’d rather not see things get quite this violent. There are other ways to prove their strength.”

“Exactly!!!” Abelia piped up, slamming her hands down on the table.

“Abelia?” I asked, surprised. She’d been quiet up until now.

“If they really wanted to be evaluated by you, Sensei, they could just come help with the reconstruction work we do every day!!!” she shouted. “But no! They don’t do any of that! They just come after us instead! Do they have any idea how brutal that work is, you idiots?!”

Wait, I told them if they had time after class, they should help with reconstruction… but every day?

She must be really serious about this.

Honestly, I would’ve been fine if only the students in my lecture slots had taken part.

Abelia’s outburst broke the dam. The rest of my students started speaking up one after another.

Bang!

This time, it was Izumo who slammed the table. When he pulled his clenched fist away, it was trembling.

Pretty sure that actually hurt.

“She’s absolutely right!” Izumo yelled. “When people find out I’m a mage, they all say the same thing: ‘You’re useful, this really helps!’ Then they drag me all over the place and wring me dry, making me cast spells until I’m at my limit. And just when I literally don’t even have the strength left to resist, they call it a ‘thank-you’ and start stuffing me full of alcohol I can’t drink and greasy, over-seasoned food! That’s basically torture, you know?!”

“And even after all that, the reconstruction’s only halfway done. The workload just keeps piling up! And then to be resented by people who sit nice and cozy in lectures and never lift a finger to help? Give me a break!!! Try being treated like a convenient tool and worked to death for once and see how you like it!”

The second Izumo finished speaking, Mithra started up, his voice shaking.

“Mages still have it better,” he asserted. “Once you’re out of mana, that’s it, right? Me, I’m stuck doing physical labor until I'm at my limit and beyond, while simultaneously recovering stamina and vitality. I’ve basically learned how to build simple structures from scratch by now!”

As a sword-and-shield type, Mithra had naturally high stamina, and while his healing magic was still pretty clumsy, he could use it. On the construction sites, I’d heard, he was invaluable as physical labor.

If it’s that rough, you two could just cut back to twice a week. Or three times.

It wasn’t like this work was mandatory.

Abelia, Izumo, Mithra… way too serious, the lot of them.

“If we’re talking about hitting the limit of stamina and mana, that goes for me too,” Daena added next.

According to Zara, he’d been helping out as a courier and with supply transport.

“Mithra still has it easy; he’s single,” Daena sighed. “Me? After I finally drag myself back home from work, my wife hits me with stuff like, ‘Why are you always coming home so late? Reconstruction is no job for a student. You should be prioritizing your family more.’ I come home dead on my feet, and she’s there in tears. That hits you right in the soul, man. I’m at the limit of my stamina, my mana, and my sanity.”

Well, if it’s that bad, the same solution applies, Daena.

Even though I’d never met his wife, I found myself taking her side. I’d always figured if you were married, your family should come first.

After everyone vented, Jin stepped in to tie it all together.

“Even so,” he said, giving me a pointed look, “once our lectures are over, we have to help with the reconstruction. So, we work hard every day. Everyone you see here knows at least something about what we’ve been doing, but they won’t acknowledge it at all. If that’s how they act, how are we supposed to feel like recommending them or speaking up for them, huh? Isn’t that right, Raidou-sensei?!”

This weird energy was hanging over the place, and the way everyone was going overboard with Jin and the others… I felt like I’d finally pieced it together.

If they won’t recommend us, then they’re in the way. So, we’ll just get rid of them.

That was basically the logic at work here.

But…

“Jin,” I said. “I get what you’re saying, and I understand the situation now. But I don’t recall ever telling you to help with reconstruction every single day.”

“…”

Huh? Why is everyone staring at me blankly?

Only Shifu and Yuno Rembrandt, who hadn’t said a word about the reconstruction work, looked normal, smiling benignly.

From what I’d heard, they did take on physical labor every now and then, but mostly they worked in the background, helping out at the Merchants’ Guild and handling paperwork or coordination.

Apparently, Rembrandt had gone ahead of me and arranged things with Zara.

His wife had insisted that her daughters be treated the same as the other students, and Rembrandt had agreed with her, at least outwardly.

Yeah. That’s exactly the kind of move I’d expect from a top-class merchant.

It was Jin who finally broke the silence. “After Yusuri-san,” he muttered.

“Hm?”

“After we got beaten half to death by Yusuri-san alone…” His voice was shaking.

As if the trigger had been pulled, the others followed, their voices overlapping as they all relived the same nightmare.

“Then Zwei-san locked us down at range,” Izumo recalled. “We couldn’t even get into melee.”

“The Blue Lizard–san squad wiped us out without us so much as grazing them,” Mithra added.

“And then, after we were force-healed,” Daena groaned, “we had that group battle against all the misty lizardfolk. They snapped our weapons and our spirits.”

Their faces twisted with bitterness and quiet agony as they each described the sequence of events.

Right, now that they mention it, something like that did happen around the time I talked about helping with reconstruction.

“Back then,” Jin continued, “when we were all lying there unable to even twitch, you told us, ‘I’m counting on you to help with the reconstruction.’ After you left, Shiki-san didn’t heal us. He just put up a barrier to keep the monsters away and said, ‘Well then,’ and went after you.”

“…”

Did I really say it like that?

I couldn’t remember clearly. I’d just told Shiki, “I’m leaving the rest to you,” so I had no idea how he’d handled the details.

So, he didn’t heal them at all, huh.

“I’ll never forget that night sky, or that cold,” Jin said quietly. “It felt like the command to ‘help with the reconstruction’ was carved into our bones.”

He stared up at the ceiling with distant eyes.

Looks like I managed to cause a pretty spectacular misunderstanding.

“I had absolutely no such intention,” I said. “From what I can see, though, your basic ability has gone up a fair bit. So, let’s just call it a net positive, all right? Anyway, since I’m here, I’ll tell you this directly: I’ve reserved a training field for tomorrow’s lecture. If you plan on attending, don’t go off to do reconstruction work. That’s an order. Now then—do your best this afternoon as well.”

“!!! You mean you’re really going to hold a lecture?!”

In an instant, every ounce of gloom vanished from Jin’s face. He and the others looked at me with eyes full of pure, unfiltered expectation.

“I’ll be heading to Limia before long,” I explained. “As a temporary instructor, it’d feel wrong to leave without holding at least a few more classes first.”

Mostly, I would just check their current status and toss them one or two new assignments.

Once I did that, they’d each throw themselves at it with everything they had. That was what I liked about them.

“Raidou-sensei!”

I’d just turned to leave when an unfamiliar voice called out to stop me.

I looked toward the sound and saw several unfamiliar faces.

The gallery, huh. The ones who want in on my lectures.

“What is it?” I asked, keeping my ‘lecturer voice’ steady.

It was part of the job, but speaking like this all the time really wore me out.

A sharp, energetic-looking student stepped forward as their representative.

“You’re going to be taking more students soon, right?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan.”

“When will that be?” the student asked. “And is the information about ‘only a few’ being taken accurate? What are the selection criteria?”

“I’ll be going to the Kingdom of Limia,” I said. “I’ll make my decision after that. The ‘few’ part is accurate. As for the selection, I’ll screen everyone by their written applications first. If you want to be considered, submit your form before I leave for Limia. That’s all.”

“So, the deadline is before you depart for Limia, sensei,” he confirmed. “In that case, which parts of the application will be prioritized in the screening? Could you tell us, for reference?”

They’d gone the roundabout route, but I understood what this kid really wanted to know.

Fine. I’ll just answer it directly and get out of here faster.

“I won’t look at anything except grades and aptitude,” I said. “And I won’t take anything outside the written application into account. After that, Shiki and I will watch how you move in person and make our final decision. In other words, we’ll be judging whether you can at least keep up with my lecture. That is all.”

“Thank you very much!”

So: no connections, no recommendations. Just merit.

Judging from their expression, they’d all gotten the message.

Now I had another problem.

Do I keep acting like this stern, intimidating teacher? Or should I just go back to communicating in writing?

Or maybe drop the act entirely and be myself and… Yeah, no. That’s not happening.

They weren’t my friends, and we weren’t going to become friends either.

This was work. There had to be a line somewhere.

Leaving the cafeteria behind, I didn’t bother going back to the lounge. Instead, I took a peek into what the receptionist had called the “room next door.”

There really was a mountain of documents.

I’ll come back with Shiki later.

But then there was the library.

I haven’t gone in a while. I could—

No. There was no need. Eva wasn’t there anymore. I’d probably be visiting a lot less from now on.

I pictured the grand library in the back of my mind.

On the surface, it looked the same as when I’d first come here. But the way I interacted with this academy had changed a lot.

That thought hit me all at once, and I felt my lips tug into a small smile. That wrapped up my business here.

All right. Time to head back to the sea—no, back to the Demiplane.

※※※

The next day, Shiki and I stood facing the students out on one of the academy’s outdoor fields.

It was supposed to be a long-overdue lecture, but instead of focusing on my students’ serious expressions, my attention kept drifting to the mass of eyes fixed on us.

There were a lot of spectators.

Quite the crowd just for a lesson…

I’d gone back to written speech, so I used magic to trace glowing letters in the air.

“Since we have so many observers today,” I wrote, the words hanging above the field, “I’d like to ask you all to stay far enough back so you don’t get hurt.”

I enlarged the text and turned it toward the watching students.

The responses I got back—shouted, muttered, or signaled—were all some variation of “Don’t worry about us.”

In the past, most of them would’ve backed off with just that.

Well, if they were fine with getting injured, I supposed it wasn’t my problem. And it wasn’t like I was doing anything different from what I’d already submitted to the office.

New lesson, same content.

“Very brave of you,” I wrote. “Fine. As usual, we’ll be combining mock battles with reflection and review.”

Jin quietly raised his hand, and I turned to him.

“What is it, Jin?”

“Who will we be facing?” he asked. “We’d like to adjust our formation depending on the opponent.”

Impressive. Sounds like he’s been thinking things through and doing his homework. Compared to how I’d spent my own high school days, it was almost embarrassing.

Still, this time I wanted to see everyone’s current raw strength. The whole “preparation and counter-planning” part could wait until next time.

“First, all of you will challenge a new opponent together,” I wrote. “After that mock battle, we’ll divide you into close-combat, magic, and ranged, or any other party structure based on your own self-assessment, and run another set of mock battles. Then we’ll reflect, analyze, and each of you will compile a written report to submit later. That’s today’s plan. In short, nothing you’re not used to.”

“A new opponent, huh?” Jin muttered.

Even as he spoke, a ripple of tension ran through the crowd.

I wanted to see how strong they were without prior knowledge or a tailored strategy. Once I got a good look at that, I could decide how much further they needed to be trained.

Then again, if they were relaxed enough to calmly observe while fighting today’s opponents, they’d already be above the passing line.

“There’s no way it’ll be… Shiki-san or you, right, Sensei?” Abelia asked nervously.

Huh?

Did the apocalypse-flavored academy life scramble her brain a bit?

Shiki spoke before I could. “There is no universe in which I or Young Master would be your opponent. If you’re arrogant enough to assume that, you’ll get yourself badly hurt, Abelia.”

“S-Sorry!!!”

Yeah. Looks like I still have a lot of work to do with them.

“Then, prepare yourselves,” I wrote in the air.

“Raidou-sensei!” Yuno called out. “If it’s the usual format… that means it’s basically no-holds-barred, right?”

“Of course,” I wrote back. “Resist with everything you have.”

“Got it!!!”

Sounded like she had something up her sleeve.

Under Shiki’s guidance, the students spread out across the field and formed their formation.

Frontline, midline, backline: a classic, well-balanced setup.

In a situation where they had no idea what kind of opponent they’d face or what would happen, choosing not to rely on a gimmick strategy—a one-trick, overly specialized setup—showed a certain level of confidence in themselves. Come to think of it, it had been a while since they’d gone for some reckless all-or-nothing suicide charge.

All right then. Time to call them.

I used Telepathy to check their status, then opened a gate to the Demiplane.

“…”

“…”

Two figures stepped out. One large, one small.

The two of them glanced around, sizing up their surroundings, then bowed once to me before fixing their gazes on Jin and the others and slipping into their stances.

From the spectators came a mix of surprised murmurs and dismissive scoffs at the sight of the opponents I’d just summoned.

Jin’s group reacted very differently. There wasn’t a trace of carelessness in them. They immediately shifted to full alert and looked around.

“Then I’m counting on you. Ema, Agarest,” I said quietly to the two.

After confirming their nods, I stepped away from the spot that was about to turn into a battlefield.

Their opponents this time weren’t misty lizardfolk.

They were highland orcs.

Ema, the foremost spellcaster, and Agarest, the top warrior.

Even setting aside the fact that one was a petite woman and the other was a towering figure over two meters tall, the difference in build was so extreme you’d never think they were the same race. And yet, at long range, Ema still came out on top.

All right, let’s see how this goes.

Or rather, how many minutes they last.

I glanced toward Shiki, who quickly picked up on my intent and called, “Begin!”

The instant his voice rang out, Jin and Daena shot forward, clearly aiming for a first-strike advantage.

Daena was faster by a full body length.

He was opening with the spell he’d developed before the academy festival, which could be called an all-parameter boost. Daena himself had named it Second Stage.

Compared to Jin’s burst-like instant enhancement, it was a lot less efficient, but gaining a full tier of overall strength was very appealing. I didn’t know if Daena himself realized it yet, but the fact that it enhanced not just physical abilities, but also spell power and sensory awareness—that pretty much made it an original spell of his own design.

Quiet as it looks, it’s seriously impressive.

Well, if anyone had figured that out already, the mage group would’ve been grabbing him by the collar, begging him to teach it. That meant no one had grasped the true nature of his spell yet.

If Agarest didn’t move from his position, Daena would reach him a few seconds before Jin.

The mid and rear lines stayed where they were, keeping a wary eye on the orcs as they quickly began their chanting.

Mithra, who was front-line but specialized in defense, stayed put at the starting point, apparently watching how things would unfold.

No carelessness there.

Agarest looked like a walking boulder made of muscle. Ema, by contrast, had the harmless appearance of a stuffed toy.

If this were their first time seeing them, most people would either flinch or underestimate them. The fact that my students did neither said a lot.

“I’ll mow them down,” Agarest rumbled, eyes fixed forward.

Ema, standing behind him, answered calmly.

“Yes. I thought you’d say that.”

Right after that, a dark red film of light wrapped around Agarest’s body.

Symbols floated to the surface of it, and his already overwhelming presence climbed even higher. That was just the start; layer upon layer of light spells wrapped around him in quick succession.

Seeing that, Daena instinctively slowed his charge, and Jin shifted his stance, raising both blades at the ready.

Too bad. The correct answer here was to commit and crash into him before he finished.

“Fuuu…”

Agarest, clad in heavy armor, brought his shoulder guard forward and switched his halberd to his off hand. He braced his whole body, took in a deep breath, and settled into a posture that practically screamed, “I’m about to charge.”

It was the exact pose of a living battering ram.

“—!”

“Daena, spread!” Jin barked, snapping Daena out of his hesitation before the pressure froze him in place.

Fast call.

Just as Jin had feared, Agarest blasted forward while still cloaked in layers of light.

It was the quintessential orc charge: pure, brute-force penetration.

Under normal circumstances, Jin’s order would’ve come in plenty of time.

But this time, Agarest had Ema’s support magic on him.

If I remember right…

Back when they assaulted Kaleneon, I’d heard that Agarest, fully armed, had hurled himself through the air at full power and claimed first spear honors with that opening strike.

If he decided to fly here too… Yeah, that wouldn’t be funny at all. Not even a little.

Agarest barreled straight through the gap between Jin and Daena.

As he shot past, the shockwave and the light of Ema’s spell brushed against the two of them.

“Geh?!”

“A shockwave—and heat! Ugh, ngh… You bastard!!!”

He hadn’t even touched them directly, and yet the two students were blown away like they’d just been hit by a carriage at full speed.

Judging from the fact Jin still had the presence of mind to shout, he’d probably thrown himself with the blow on purpose to soften it. He didn’t look unscathed, but he was far from out of the fight either.

Daena seemed to be hanging in there, too. His full-ability buff was earning its keep.

The real issue was how the rest of them would handle what was coming next.

Agarest hadn’t even started his real attacks yet, but something felt off. His movements had dulled, just a bit.

Did Jin or Daena slip something in?

“M–Mithra,” Abelia began, “I’m counting on you, okay?”

She put up a barrier, then backed away from Mithra, putting distance between them.

The question mark at the end was probably because she couldn’t quite gauge the destructive power of Agarest’s charge, and because she’d already realized her barrier would only amount to a token defense at best.

Right after her, Izumo and Shifu raised barriers of their own and retreated, leaving Mithra covered from behind.

Yuno moved back too, putting herself in a position to shield Shifu.

In the end, the only one left standing in Agarest’s path was Mithra.

Even when you knew it was his role, the scene still looked a bit like bullying.

The mage squad had all their attack spells already held at the verge of release. A little while ago, they’d been gasping and stumbling just trying to reach that state. Now they could all do it.

Pretty impressive progress, honestly.

All of those spells were about to be unleashed on Agarest the moment Mithra did his job.

I could hear his anguished muttering from where I stood.

“This is terrifying. This is actually terrifying. A giant chunk of metal with buff magic on it is charging straight at me. If I block it, I get annihilated along with my allies’ spells from behind. Why did I ever decide to be a tank?”

“Letting your face show fear is a sign of immaturity,” Agarest rumbled, charging mercilessly forward—then stopped short as he noticed something off in Mithra’s expression.

“But. This is still way better than Tomoe-san!”

Ah. He’d flipped a switch.

He wasn’t wrong.

Compared to training under Tomoe, facing Agarest was… yeah. Definitely the kinder option.

Having your only options be ‘worst’ and ‘bad’ really was unfair.

Agarest smashed through the three-layer barrier line with barely any loss of speed. His shoulder guard and Mithra’s greatsword collided with a dull, heavy crack that echoed across the field.

Under normal circumstances, given the difference in size and weight, Mithra should have been blown away. But he wasn’t.

As expected of Mithra: stubbornly devoted to defense, single-minded and unshakable. He met the charge cleanly, redirected the force, and managed to hold his ground.

The impact and internal damage must’ve been brutal, but he’d still stopped Agarest.

No wonder Tomoe had taken a liking to him. Even Agarest let out a quiet sigh of admiration.

But he was done. The follow-up would finish it.

“Impressive. I’m surprised,” Agarest murmured in his usual even tone.

Now that I think about it, is it really okay that the orc is speaking the common language so casually?

Maybe I should’ve had them play it like the lizardfolk—silent and menacing. I was still worrying about that when Agarest’s halberd came sweeping in at Mithra from the side.

There was no way he’d be able to move in time. Dodging was out of the question. Shifu and Izumo were about to release their spells, and Abelia had just drawn an arrow to her string, but Mithra’s shout stopped all of them from firing.

“Everyone, not yet!!!”

Then, as if the full-body tackle he’d just taken had never happened, he swung his greatsword up and caught the incoming halberd, knocking it off course.

Oh, come on.

Even if he’d avoided external injuries, his internal organs had to be wrecked to the point that “I might throw up blood” would not be an exaggeration.

Mithra had once learned how to ignore damage (well, more accurately, how to temporarily numb his sense of pain) and used suicidal trades as his trump card during the academy festival.

But this time, even with that skill, his body shouldn’t have been able to respond properly.

Just what kind of trick was he pulling?

“Now!!!” Mithra’s voice rang out over the area as I tried to piece it together.

“Hm—”

By the time Agarest noticed something was wrong at his feet, it was already too late.

The ground heaved like a living thing and rose up, wrapping around his body. The spell tore away Ema’s support magic and bound the orc warrior’s movements in place.

Shifu, huh.

Using that opening, Mithra retreated in a large, stumbling leap.

Right on cue, wind and fire roared to life, swirling together into a flaming tornado that slammed into Agarest.

A joint spell from Izumo and Shifu…

“Guh.”

Agarest tore his upper body free from the earthen restraints through brute force and swung his halberd in wide arcs, trying to scatter the flames and wind.

At the same time, one of Abelia’s carefully aimed arrows streaked in toward him, but it was quickly knocked away by the spinning halberd.

As expected of Agarest. He still had plenty of toughness to spare.

Then came a barrage of explosions as several spell-infused arrows detonated around him, in a style that would’ve stolen Shiki’s usual thunder.

Shifu was behind that, too.

She was sharing her firepower with the others, turning their attacks into something stronger. Compared to firing a compound spell alone, it cost her less and hit harder. Efficient and nasty.

They’re really piling it on.

I was pretty sure those were the same arrows that had brought Ilmgand down.

Abelia had fully incorporated them into her own arsenal now.

They were thinking through their moves, and, more importantly, they were seriously trying to win.

The whole team had grown far more than I realized.

“Just because she’s a mage doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on her!”

When I shifted my gaze, I saw Jin and Daena. They weren’t resting, but charging straight for Ema.

So that “Now!!!” earlier had been a signal for them as well.

Daena was already close enough that Ema couldn’t afford to chant anymore, and Jin had come to a halt a bit farther back.

Their basic abilities had gone up, sure—but more than that, it was obvious they’d been training seriously, with the full intent of one day beating the misty lizardfolk trio.

That was why, even with their opponents suddenly switching out on them, they’d managed to coordinate so well.

They really are incredible.

Once the students watching spread the word, Jin and his group would be crowned the undisputed champions of this madhouse of an academy.

Shifu, the official victor of the academy festival, already had that aura to begin with.

“I’ll pin her down! Daena, finish it!!!” Jin shouted.

I felt him deploy some kind of subtle spell, something that made the air waver, but its presence was so thin I couldn’t quite grasp what it was.

“Of course… got you!!!”

Daena’s short sword shot toward Ema—and sliced nothing but air.

“Huh?”

“An illusion?!”

Like an image on the surface of water disturbed by ripples, Ema’s figure shimmered and vanished. But the next moment, her calm voice floated over to us.

“It would seem hyumans are quite formidable. I’ve learned a lot today. But, students? In a field battle, the first thing you must suspect is camouflage. Especially when someone is standing unusually still.”

“!!!”

Ema spoke from a spot some distance away from the line Agarest had charged through.

That was where she really was.

In truth, she’d moved along with Agarest, sticking close to him until he broke through. By the time Jin and Daena were blown away, they’d already lost track of her real body.

Even if you know about camouflage, illusions that come bundled with false presence aren’t something you just casually see through.

On an open plain like this, with nothing to block the view, if she could still blend into the scenery that well, calling it camouflage almost felt unfair. It was practically cheating.

If she hadn’t canceled it herself, Jin and the others would never have found her.

The Demiplane’s almighty archmage, Ema, was in top form as usual.

Several magic circles were already floating around her.

In other words, the students were late.

Jin was pummeled by several invisible somethings and lifted clean off the ground, while Daena was frozen solid in an instant.

Mithra’s footing turned to sludge beneath him, and before he could react, everything from the neck down was swallowed as the earth hardened back into solid ground, trapping him. Izumo simply crumpled onto his back and fell asleep without a sound.

That left Abelia, Shifu, and Yuno.

Wait. Speaking of which—where is Yuno?

“ROCKET KIIIIICK!!!”

… Hah?!

Something dropped out of the sky toward Ema, who was in the middle of deploying several spells to try and finish off Abelia and Shifu. She immediately canceled two of her prepared spells and retreated from the incoming object.

It didn’t look like it hit.

Ema fell back beside Agarest.

And at the point of impact—

“…”

The battlefield went silent.

Of course it did. Because there was something deeply wrong standing there.

“Why is that… with Yuno…”

The words slipped out of my mouth before I realized it, squeezed out of my throat more than spoken.

For a moment, the image of Hibiki’s over-the-top gravure-version transformation flashed through my mind.

More than that, the sight of that vivid crimson suit right in front of me made my head hurt.

So, it turns red when Yuno wears it, huh.

No, that wasn’t the problem!

Wasn’t there only supposed to be one prototype of that thing, Miooo?!

The armor didn’t look anything like traditional plate armor or a helmet. Its design was almost futuristic; organic, even, like something alive had been sculpted into a suit.

It had dropped from high in the sky in a single burst of acceleration, hit the ground with enough force to gouge a serious chunk out of it… and Yuno, inside it, was completely fine.

Ridiculous durability, and an attack power that absolutely did not match the stupid name she’d just yelled.

The full-body suit covering her from head to toe screamed “tokusatsu nerd.”

It was the same thing I’d worn in Limia, the one I’d sworn I would never put on again. And now, there it was.

“Kuzunoha Company–made equipment is allowed, too, right, Sensei?” Yuno asked cheerfully. “I really like this one! It’s my main gear now! It does suck up a ton of mana when I equip it, though.”

Please spare me.

“Anyway, here I go! I got this power in exchange for Mother’s treasured books. If I don’t show results, I’m done for!”

You’re done for either way, actually.

I let out a long, deep sigh and started walking toward the field.

Agarest had already broken free of his restraints, and Ema had fully recovered her stance.

I could’ve left it to them.

Yeah, no. This is my mess. I have to step in.

Next to me, Shiki was pressing his fingers to his forehead like he was fighting off a migraine.

Yeah, I completely feel you right now.

“Yuno,” I wrote. “Is that from Mio?”

“Yes. From Mio-sama, delivered via Beren-san!” she answered proudly. “It’s the Kuzunoha general-purpose high-mobility full-body armor prototype, Juuki!”

Juuki…

As in heavy machinery, huh.

And the thing really could operate on that level, too.

At least use it for reconstruction work, not rocket dropkicks in front of a crowd…

If Beren the elder dwarf had a hand in it, I wanted to believe he’d at least kept the specs somewhat reined in. But even before that, just looking at it made me want to curl up and groan.

“Which of your mother’s books did you give up for that?” I asked.

I’d return the books, then give Mio a very long lecture.

“Lorel Regional Cuisine: A Study, volumes one through four,” Yuno said. “They were collecting dust, so more like ‘left to rot in storage’ than ‘treasured,’ really.”

Her excitement was starting to cool down a little.

Probably because she’d figured out what I was about to do.

Even if you have, I’m not letting this slide, you know?

Not a chance.

“Yuno.”

“Y-Yes?”

“Reflect.”

I smacked her helmet.

Smacked it.

Smacked it.

Smacked it.

“Kyah! Sensei, I’m sinking! I’m sinking into the ground!”

If you’re going to reflect, you should do it somewhere dark. In fact, go ahead and sink!

She shrieked something like “Wakyaaa!” but I just hit a bit harder.

No, I buried her. Soon enough, Yuno was driven into the earth like a stake.

Done.

“Ema, sorry, but could you look for those books Mio’s holding onto?” I asked. “I’m going to return them.”

“Ah, yes,” she replied immediately, already completely out of combat mode.

Jin and the others had gotten stronger. Even in the middle of the fight, there were moments where I couldn’t tell exactly what they were doing. In some areas, you could honestly say they had surpassed student level.

Getting gear that matched their aptitudes was important, too. But as I thought about this, something truly horrifying crossed my mind.

What if there are more of those suits floating around this world?

What if there are crane-types? Shovel-types?

If that were the case, a terrifying contamination might be on the verge of spreading.

I had to retrieve them.

All of them.

Before it was too late.

“Um, Young Master.”

“Shiki?”

“It seems we’ve received a message from the Kingdom of Limia,” he said. “Why don’t you return to the shop. I’ll handle the review and analysis of today’s battle in your stead.”

“Limia… Right.” I sighed. “Honestly, I’ve got bigger problems on my mind right now, but… fine.”

The students who’d been watching the mock battle, so engrossed they’d stopped even cheering partway through, noticed I was leaving and stepped aside to clear a path.

There’s no way Limia would…

No, surely not.

It has to be fine. Right?

On my way back to the company, that uneasy thought gnawed at me, and the mood settled over me like a weight.

※※※

“They’ve boxed me in…”

The message from Limia was exactly what I’d expected: the schedule for my “state visit.”

My request had been simple: I’d like to come as soon as possible, while Senpai is still in Lorel.

That hope was spectacularly shattered.

With the ever-polite excuse of We have much to prepare on our end, every date they proposed was a fair way off.

Even the earliest would be after Hibiki had already returned to Limia. Which meant Mio would most likely have to stay behind.

On the bright side, now that we had a sea in the Demiplane, she wouldn’t be bored.

“And we finally have a fixed date,” I muttered to myself. “One more hassle pinned down.”

Hopefully, saying it out loud would convince my brain that something about this was positive. After Limia, I’d be done with these annoying state visits.

The Aion Kingdom seemed to be handled nicely by Rembrandt; I hadn’t been summoned there at all.

I was actually interested in the Lorel Union, so I’d wanted to visit at least once anyway.

As for the Temple, things were quiet. Maybe because the Goddess was behaving herself for once?

All’s well with the world, or something like that.

Just a little more to endure. Even so, the conversation had ended faster than I’d expected. Mostly because I’d just gone ahead and compromised.

I was a bit curious to see how much Jin and the others had grown after that mock battle, but the idea of going back to the academy again right now wasn’t exactly appealing.

Yeah. I’ll check on the work in the Demiplane instead.

I pulled open my desk drawer and removed the documents I was looking for. They were bundled into a neat stack; Shiki’s work, as usual.

“So, these are the races we’ll send to the sea area for now,” I murmured, skimming down the list.

This time, before I personally interviewed them, I’d decided to assign each group a supervisor and have them survive out there for a set period.

A test run, basically. A trial at sea. This sounded dramatic, but in reality, it was just “go live there and see if you can handle it.”

It might have all been “the sea,” but the environments varied wildly. I planned to have each race try living in the part of the Demiplane’s ocean that best suited them and see whether they could actually build a life there. Tomoe and the others would act as examiners and advisors.

As long as no one did anything outrageously unacceptable during the trial period, I had no intention of kicking anyone out.

“Ideally, I’d like races that can also adapt to land, but…”

Yeah, it was never that easy.

Large aquatic monsters, for obvious reasons, had almost nothing to do with dry ground.

Or merfolk. No matter how humanoid their upper bodies looked, one glance at their fish tails told you walking wasn’t going to happen.

On the other hand, the Lorelei, apparently a kind of subspecies of demon, were basically human-shaped and spent more time above the water than in it, so they were already adapting just fine.

There was also a race that looked like someone had stuck human arms and legs onto a fish as a bad joke, but they could run all over the land. The name of this race? Sealord. Which honestly made their entire existence feel like a gag.

Then you had Sahagin, the classic half-fish people. They couldn’t do much on land, but at least they could move.

More than their amphibiousness, though, the most striking thing about them was the little plate on top of their heads that flashed with light.

Like a kappa.¹ An ocean kappa.

So, my ideal setup went like this: amphibious races would build ports and serve as intermediaries, while purely marine races interacted with them from offshore.

If we could link those ports with the Demiplane city where my store and home were, that would be perfect.

And the finer details? I’d leave those to Tomoe’s team.

“Merfolk, Lorelei, Sahagin, Sealord… then Kelpies, Sea Serpents, Blue Moon, and…”

Going down the list one by one, there were quite a few.

More than ten races, at least.

I wasn’t planning on making them compete for immigration slots. So, as long as they could adapt to the Demiplane’s ocean, I had no problem letting all of them relocate.

As long as they didn’t show obvious hostility toward other races.

The sea was vast—there was more than enough room for everyone to carve out their own territory.

If any of them looked like they were just going to end up as food for something that already lived there, they’d simply be removed from the project.

Either I’d be doing interviews with every race that passed…

… or none of them.

Yeah, no. That last one would be bad. I really hope they pull through.

Chapter 5

“What the hell am I doing?”

Lime Latte rested his back against a tree a short distance away from the campsite, muttering to himself.

His hair had grown longer than it was back when he worked at the Kuzunoha Company in Rotsgard, and the way he absently played with it made his confusion plain.

Seriously, I’ve lost it. At this rate, it really does feel like I’m partying up with them for real.

Ever since he and Hero Hibiki had rescued the shrine maiden Chiya from her crisis in the Lorel Union, Lime had been traveling together with them. Of course, at the start, he was just following Tomoe’s orders to gather intel.

Still, somehow, he’d ended up blending perfectly into their party and tagging along on the official mission Lorel had given Hibiki.

Now he was alone in the quiet forest at night, away from everyone’s voices. Yet neither beasts nor monsters came near.

Every living thing in this forest instinctively recognized that this man, lazily leaning against a tree and enjoying a cigarette, was a dangerous predator… Honestly? It feels good being here, Lime thought. Comfortable. Like I’ve been with this group for years.

There was a reason it felt to him as if he were traveling with old comrades. It hadn’t been years, but Hibiki’s party had once had another swordswoman.

A woman named Navarre.

Lime had heard the story, and he knew he was standing in her shoes.

That strange sensation he sometimes felt in battle, that feeling of slotting perfectly into a place that was already there? He knew that was thanks to her.

More than that, you could even say Lime knew what kind of woman Navarre had been—better than Hibiki did.

Navarre, that Navarre, of all people, had been the Hero’s partner.

There had even been a time when she’d passed through Tsige.

A vengeful devil like her turning into something that soft… Lime thought. Dying to buy your comrades time to escape? That was the one kind of death she’d never have accepted for herself. Well, I’m not exactly one to talk, either.

The Navarre of his memories had been nothing but a mass of hatred, a blade of pure vengeance pointed at the demons.

He’d seen that striking white hair of hers stained in red patches by demon blood more than a few times.

Power, money, and everything she gathered were just fuel to let her kill more demons. That was the kind of woman she’d been.

Oddly, the Navarre he heard about now, from Hibiki, Chiya, and the rest of the Hero’s party, was consistently described as a warm, deeply hyuman, and strangely charming woman.

So, Hibiki changed her.

If that was true, then Navarre was probably far happier here than she’d ever been back then.

When he thought of it that way, Lime felt something like gratitude toward Hibiki.

At least she didn’t die at the end of that crazed grin and empty, hollow laughter. That alone is a good thing. And on top of that, her dancing swordplay is still alive, carried forward by Hibiki herself.

Lime sighed, exhaling smoke.

The thick, heady purple haze clouding his mind seemed to thin just a little, so he drew in another deep drag.

Hibiki really is a true Hero. Almost absurdly easy to understand as one.

Part of it was because she was deliberately playing that role, but it was also that everyone around her wanted her to be that way. She understood what it meant to be a vessel for other people’s hopes, and she accepted it. That wasn’t something an ordinary mind could handle. No wonder the boss thought so highly of her.

Over months of watching Hibiki, Lime had realized that she was consciously putting on the Hero image and acting in line with it.

At first, he’d thought that made her some kind of con artist, deceiving the masses.

She must have thought something like, “If a Hero does exactly what people want a Hero to do, what’s wrong with that? Who loses out?”

That’s her answer, huh. Yeah. She’s a big one, all right.

Hibiki was calculating.

Even Lime sometimes found himself speechless at just how far ahead she thought.

She wasn’t calculating in order to drag someone down. She didn’t reject the image the people had of a Hero—instead, she embraced it and acted exactly the way they wished.

The result was simple: their support for her only grew stronger, and more and more people were willing to cooperate with the kingdom for the sake of Hero Hibiki.

As Hibiki earned more and more support from the ground up, her voice naturally grew stronger.

No one lost out in that arrangement.

Saying “it’s bad because it’s deception” is the sort of thing only idealists could cling to, Lime thought.

Partly swayed by Hibiki’s steadily swelling charisma, Lime, like Makoto, had started to genuinely acknowledge this woman.

And…

… I’ve ignored a few of Tomoe-neesan’s contacts now. I know I’m not thinking straight. But… maybe staying with Hibiki like this isn’t such a bad option. No, I’m someone whose whole life was changed by the boss and Tomoe-neesan.

Saying, “I’m switching over to Hibiki now” would be pretty damn pathetic.

That was the core of Lime’s problem.

The cigarette butts hitting the ground three times faster than usual bore witness to his bitter indecision about what to do with himself.

Hibiki’s conduct was the kind of thing that made Lime so interested in her future.

Never once did she say she wanted him to join the party permanently.

Instead, she said it wouldn’t sit right with her to poach an employee from the Kuzunoha Company (an organization to which she owed a great deal) without permission.

She also mentioned that if, while they traveled together, Lime’s heart shifted on its own, then she would formally ask Makoto for permission. It was recruitment of the gentlest possible form.

If everything goes smoothly and cleanly, I’d be happy to have you. That was the feeling she conveyed to him.

An awkward, guilty feeling that kept him from reaching out to Kuzunoha.

It shook him.

At the same time, it was proof that Lime was, to some degree, already leaning toward Hibiki.

He tilted his head up, then down, his gaze wandering restlessly. Finally, Lime turned his face to the side.

Hmm. Hibiki, huh. Rare to see her come over alone.

He’d felt her presence in that direction.

“I was sure I’d erased my presence properly,” said a familiar voice. “You really are something else, Lime.”

With that, Hibiki stepped out from behind a tree and into view.

Lime regarded her with curiosity. “What brings you out here?”

“I told you earlier we’d be eating separately tonight, remember? Even so, I should at least show some consideration to our collaborator.”

She smiled and held out the wooden plate she’d been carrying.

As Lime’s eyes dropped to the plate, Hibiki, in a deliberately theatrical gesture, whisked away the cloth covering it. The aroma of meat juices mingled with herbs and vegetables rose into the air, awakening his appetite.

“Calling it ‘consideration’ yourself kind of ruins the mood, you know,” he said.

“With you, I don’t have to dress it up,” Hibiki replied matter-of-factly. “That’s what makes it easy. I told you before, didn’t I? As long as there’s no malice behind it, ‘acting’ isn’t such a bad thing.”

“I’m just an outsider, though.”

“But you’re helping. You didn’t have to come along on this mission from Lorel. It’s got nothing to do with scouting for your company.”

Lime let out a wry chuckle and scratched his head, then turned his attention back to the plate.

“Is that steamed?” he asked. “You managed this without a kitchen? Guess I’ll take it while it’s hot.”

“Oh? Good eye,” Hibiki said. “Steaming doesn’t have to be some complicated thing. There are a few tricks that make it very convenient.”

Grateful she’d gone along with his attempt to change the subject, Lime dug into the food.

“This is good,” he said after a bite. “If you ever retire from the Hero gig, you’ll be just fine. You and the little shrine maiden made this, right?”

“Thanks,” Hibiki answered. “Yes, we did.”

“You matched the veggies to take the gamey edge off the meat, and pre-seasoned it too. A Hero who can handle housework on top of everything else—doesn’t that just make you kind of… unfair? To all the other women out there.”

“It’s not the sort of skill that causes trouble,” she said lightly. “And you’re one to talk. For someone who smokes, you’ve got a pretty sensitive palate. Isn’t that a bit unfair too?”

“You got me there.”

After that, he stopped talking, focusing instead on steadily polishing off the food.

Hibiki didn’t seem to mind the lull in conversation. She stayed there beside him, occasionally tossing out a comment or question, letting the silence stretch comfortably between them.

“Thanks for the meal,” Lime said when the plate was clean.

“You’re welcome.” Hibiki smiled. “Seeing you clean your plate like that makes it worth the effort. Feels like it was really worth making and bringing it over.”

“So? You didn’t just come to butter me up, did you?”

“It is true I came to win your stomach over,” she said with a playful smile.

“If you’re gonna do that, try it on Belda instead,” Lime snorted. “Back home, we’ve got plenty of cooking nuts, starting with Mio-neesan. It’ll take more than this to hook me.”

“Too bad. Well then, tomorrow,” Hibiki said, her tone shifting.

“The purple cloud,” Lime replied at once. “Heard it’s rotting the forest as it moves and coming in fast.”

“Yes. And it’s highly toxic,” Hibiki said. “This isn’t going to be something mild like acid rain. Considering how few creatures are managing to flee ahead of it, it’s safer to assume it’s something much worse.”

“So bad even the animals can’t run away in time… That is a big deal.”

“Among us, the only ones who can fight while maintaining wide-area wind magic are me and Woody,” she continued. “Given the scale and danger of that cloud, we’ll have to leave Chiya-chan and Belda further back, on support.”

“I know you all rushed out together because it was an emergency,” Lime said. “But I can manage fighting while keeping a wind barrier up too, you know?”

She held his gaze for a long moment before speaking quietly.

“If I’d been including you in that ‘us’ just now, I wouldn’t have bothered coming out here.”

“I see,” Lime said. “So, what you’re really saying is you want me in on the offensive team.”

“Yes. I’m asking you to help us.”

“Straight to the point, huh.”

“…”

Lime felt something from her that was different from what he felt with Makoto—something that made you want to reach out a hand almost by instinct.

And at that point, his answer was already decided.

If things go bad, I’ll just pull out, he told himself.

Even so, he nodded.

“All right, sure. I’ll help you. Seriously, though… at this point I’ve lost count of how many favors you owe me, Hibiki. You’re keeping track, right?”

“You have no idea how much that helps,” Hibiki said, her face breaking into a full, radiant smile of gratitude. “If you’d like, I could just marry you and spend the rest of my life paying you back.”

“That’s a nasty joke,” Lime grimaced. “I’ve got zero interest in being the Hero’s husband. Sounds like nothing but trouble.”

“Brutal?!” Hibiki yelped.

“Look, I like women. All of them. But I’ve never once wanted to get married.”

“One day, somebody’s going to stab you for that.”

“Right, like no one’s told me that before.”

“Ahh, rejected. I’m stubborn, though. I’ll try again some other time.”

“I like your persistence. As expected of a Hero,” Lime said with a crooked grin.

“Well then, I’ll be counting on you tomorrow,” Hibiki said.

“You got it.”

Lime watched as she walked back toward the camp, leaving him alone with the trees and the night.

Husband…

His long, tangled night of doubts was far from over.

※※※

Range.

That might just have been Hero Hibiki’s greatest weakness.

Her combat ability was improving day by day. But when it came to hitting something far away, she still lagged behind her close-quarters prowess.

And this time, their enemy was the clouds high above.

If they wanted to attack, they needed some way to reach that altitude. Or some way to get up there themselves.

For Hibiki, the latter was the only real option.

Her current companions were the mage Woody and Lime.

Fending off the stormy winds, the myriad poisons scattered through the air, and the vividly colored rain that would undoubtedly harm them on contact, the three pushed as close to the cloud as they could. From there, they unleashed every attack they could think of, trying to disperse the mass overhead.

The only ones with the firepower to strike at it directly were Hibiki and Woody.

Lime stayed in the back, supporting them.

Their opponent was an enormous bank of cloud. If they could only close the distance so much, this kind of setup was inevitable.

If Hibiki alone had been capable of maintaining and manipulating high-level barriers at all times while still pouring everything she had into her attacks, there might have been a different way for them to coordinate. But this was the reality they faced.

“That was supposed to be my ace in the hole. And even Piercing Thrust doesn’t get through. What do I do with this? Do we just have to get closer? Is that it?”

Hibiki hung suspended hundreds of meters above the ground. Her tone still sounded composed, but her face had grown noticeably tense.

“Don’t joke about that. We can’t get any closer than this,” Lime shot back. “Besides, Piercing Thrust? Molding sword pressure like that and blasting it that far—anyone else, we’d be calling them a monster. You can be proud of that one.”

Lime’s voice was full of honest admiration.

As a way to land an effective hit at range, Hibiki had come up with the idea of compressing the pressure from her sword swing and firing it like a bullet.

It was a spur-of-the-moment thought, but she had actually pulled it off.

For the moment, she could barely manage it with the help of her divine weapon. To fire it at full power, she also needed Lime’s support. Even so, it was only a matter of time before she would be able to launch it on her own.

That insane capacity for new ideas, coupled with the growth to make those ideas a reality.

Traveling with Hibiki, Lime had come to feel firsthand why the boss rated her so highly. But even he had been stunned by this particular trump card.

Woody let out a sigh and gave a wry smile.

“In terms of raw power focused on a single point, she’s already surpassed me. Honestly, to be told to keep aiming higher at my age, and by example no less… This ‘Hero’s party’ really isn’t very kind to us old men, is it?”

Woody’s magic, too, had failed to land a significant blow on the cloud.

To put it plainly, they were stuck.

“This isn’t happening,” Lime concluded. “We fall back and come up with a new plan. That’s the best option we’ve got right now.”

Hibiki’s face twisted into a tight, bitter grimace at Lime’s suggestion. She immediately sent a telepathic message to Woody and the rest of their party waiting on the ground.

“If we go back now, some of the villages will take damage. That much is certain.”

“We can evacuate the people,” someone replied. “Villages can always be rebuilt somewhere else.”

“Woody, isn’t there anything we can do?”

They kept up a steady exchange of messages, wracking their brains for some last-minute way to break through the deadlock.

Fortunately, Lime already had one idea.

If I get in touch with Tomoe-neesan, we might be able to swing something, he thought. Odds are this cloud’s something from the Wasteland. Judging by the direction it rolled in from, I’d bet on it. She or the boss might know what we’re dealing with.

Still, he hesitated.

Drawn in by Hibiki, he’d “forgotten” more than once to report back. To go running to them for help now, when it suited him, didn’t feel right.

His pride had been blown to pieces by Makoto and Tomoe long ago, but even so, a twinge of resistance remained. The reason he wanted to ask for help was personal: he simply wanted to save the Hero.

No. I don’t have time to waffle over this. This is the last stretch. And it’s about time I headed back anyway. If this can save the people in those villages, save the kids out there, then there’s nothing to agonize over. Helping Hibiki will just be a bonus. That’s all it is.

Lime thought and thought, turned it over and over, and then chose.

“Neesan, it’s Lime.”

Tomoe answered almost immediately.

“It has been some time.” Her voice echoed in his head, and it sounded as if she could see straight through him. “Is life over there treating thee well?”

Lime’s breath caught.

“Sorry,” he said after a moment, then abandoned the impulse to smooth things over and braced himself to tell her everything.

“I… with Hibiki…”

“Think nothing of it,” Tomoe interrupted gently. “I asked that in a rather mean-spirited way. Forgive me. The important thing is that thou hast contacted me now. That is enough. What is thy business?”

“Right now, a purple cloud is rolling over the Lorel Union, and damage is starting to show up. My read is that this is climate leaking in from the Wasteland.”

“Not exactly, but… close enough. That understanding is not wrong.”

“In that case, I was wondering if you might know any way to break through this.”

“Hmph. Thou hast grown quite attached, I see.”

“Neesan. At her core, Hibiki’s all about coexistence and mutual prosperity. I really think she could get along with the boss and with us just fine—”

“So long as she never abandons that principle as her first priority.”

“Huh?”

“This is still only a hypothetical. But should Hibiki one day overturn that way of thinking, she could become the one who wounds Young Master more than anyone else. And how we respond to those who hurt him… there is but one answer.”

“Is that level of caution really necessary?”

“That is what I believe. I have yet to mention this to Young Master. Thou alone art hearing this. All I have told him is, ‘Please be wary of politicians.’”

Lime had no idea how to answer.

His argument was that Hibiki and Makoto could reach out and take each other’s hands. Tomoe, however, was looking beyond that, to what might come after.

With that in mind, what could he say?

“And there is one more thing, Lime. Thou still does not truly understand Young Master.”

“Come again?”

“I shall demonstrate, using that cloud above thee. Do not move from where thou art. And see that no one else moves either.”

The telepathic link with Tomoe cut out.

“Hibiki, Woody!” Lime called, with nothing but a vague premonition to guide him.

“What is it?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t move from this spot. And tell the two down below the same thing. Nobody moves.”

As he spoke, he spread his senses to the very limit, probing the surroundings with everything he had.

Something snagged his awareness.

A gate! And what’s that coming out of it? Two winged folk?

At the very edge of his detection range, Lime felt a mist gate bloom open. There was no way this was a coincidence.

It was obvious Tomoe had opened that gate in a spot where even he would be sure to notice it. A white demihuman was carrying a black demihuman in his arms, soaring up into the sky.

Winged folk.

People of the Demiplane.

They climbed far higher than where Hibiki, Lime, and the others were stationed; higher still than the peak of the stacked purple clouds. And they kept going up.

What is this? What’s about to happen?

“Lime, did you come up with something? Tell me what you’re planning.”

“I’ve already made my move.”

“Huh?”

“So, just don’t move. Don’t do anything. Just watch. If you want the best possible outcome, that is.”

Lime himself had no idea what was coming.

Which meant there wasn’t much he could really explain.

The winged folk stopped at the very edge of his senses.

If I remember right, some of the black-winged ones can link their minds and share information with others. But with whom?

Black-winged folk couldn’t fly as high as their white-winged counterparts. That was why the other was carrying them so high. Lime understood that much.

Which meant the one they actually needed up there was the black-winged folk.

It barely took him a moment to figure out who must be on the other end of that link.

“What?!” Hibiki asked.

“This is bad! Raise your defenses!” Woody shouted. “No, we won’t make it in time?!”

“Don’t move!!!”

Lime noticed it just a hair before Hibiki and Woody did, and he shouted over them on pure instinct.

Not that, given the speed of what was coming, that tiny difference in timing meant anything at all.

From far, far away, a colossal pillar of light erupted, lancing toward the purple cloud—and toward Hibiki and the others beneath it.

“!!!”

So that’s it. I’m already obsolete, huh, Neesan?

Lime felt a strange, detached calm as he watched the scene unfold.

But that was only because he still didn’t truly understand the man he’d chosen to call his master.

In more ways than one, Tomoe’s earlier words had been absolutely right.

Boss… Well, if it’s the boss who takes me out, this life was his to begin with anyway. Somehow, I don’t doubt he’ll take care of everything after I’m gone, even for dead weight like me…

Accepting death with startling grace, Lime quietly closed his eyes. He didn’t know where this strike was being fired from.

But he was certain of one thing: the person the black-winged folk was linked to was Makoto.

Which meant this was Makoto’s attack.

The pillar of light surged in, roaring right up to Hibiki and the others, then burst apart into countless shafts, splitting and threading their way past them with impossible precision. Those myriad rays of light drove straight into the purple cloud.

“…”

“…”

“…”

No one spoke. Hibiki, Woody, and Lime were all struck dumb. But Lime’s silence carried a different weight.

Yeah… that’s right. I remember now.

The clouds were ripped open, scattering in all directions.

If he compared Hibiki and Makoto, then aside from a single point, Hibiki came out on top. Even now, Lime still believed that wholeheartedly.

Suddenly, he realized he’d vastly underestimated the importance of that one point.

It was this “power” that captivated me. This overwhelming strength that crushes any disadvantage, no questions asked. That’s it. I want to see where the boss, the guy who literally owns the Demiplane, ends up.

In Lime’s mind, memories of Tsige were replaying in vivid detail.

It’d be a damn waste to get off this ride halfway through. I’m Lime Latte of the Kuzunoha Company.

Staring up at the sky, which was now a clear blue without a single scrap of purple cloud, Lime finally spoke to the still-silent Hibiki and Woody.

“Well then, guess we head back. It’s all wrapped up anyway.”

Traces of Makoto’s mana still clung faintly to the air around them.

The mana of the man who had just unleashed a spell of that scale, yet somehow managed to leave the three people in its blast zone completely unharmed.

Lime wore a strange smile, caught somewhere between pride and exasperation.

“So, this was your trump card, Lime?” Hibiki’s voice trembled just a little as she finally broke her silence.

“Yeah. And just like with the temple, you’re free to take the credit. No problem there.”

“Can’t you at least tell me what you did?”

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I really don’t know. All I did was ask for advice.” Lime’s face was as clear as the sky, as if some lingering burden had finally fallen away. “I contacted someone who might know what that cloud was and asked, ‘Do you have any way to deal with it?’ That’s it.”

“What an incredible…” Woody trailed off.

“Right?” Lime agreed. “It’s ridiculous. All you can do is laugh.”

“Kuzunoha… Company…”

Hibiki had, no doubt, already pieced together a good part of the truth.

For now, she left it at quietly murmuring those words under her breath, and nothing more. It wouldn’t do for Lime to overhear anything careless. She could sense the shift in his heart on pure intuition.

“I should get going too,” Lime said. “I’ve got a mountain of work waiting for me back there.”

“I see… That’s a shame. I really enjoyed having you with us. When he—when Raidou-dono comes to Limia, I’d like you to come along with him if you can. Ending it here feels far too lonely.”

“If the boss asks me to, I’ll be there. I had fun too, Hibiki.”

The two of them descended from the sky and regrouped on the ground with Chiya and Belda.

The Hero who had driven back the purple cloud and saved the people of Lorel.

Hibiki’s fame would rise yet again.

By all accounts, it was a successful outcome.

Just before they met back up with Chiya and the others, Hibiki bit down hard on the corner of her lip.

Lime… I…

Once again, the thing she wanted most had slipped right through her fingers.

She understood that.

She usually took care not to let those emotions show on her face, but this time, she couldn’t quite manage it. Frustration swelled in her throat, burning all the way up to the back of her tongue.

That she at least kept it from spilling out as words was, perhaps, nothing but sheer stubbornness.

Either way.

The match between Hibiki and Makoto, fought through Lime as the go-between, ended in Makoto’s victory—without Makoto ever realizing there had been a contest at all.

Chapter 6

It was a few days after my first lecture at the academy in a while, and the migration tests in the Demiplane were going smoothly.

Almost unnervingly smoothly.

In the midst of that unexpected calm came some welcome news.

Most of the races that wanted to live in the Demiplane’s sea were adapting well to their new lives. A couple of them had dropped out after deciding the native creatures, which included sharks and giant octopi, were too dangerous, but it sounded like the majority were managing just fine.

If things kept progressing like this, we’d end up with residents in both the cold seas and the warm seas.

The population density of the Demiplane was absurdly low—and that was on land. The ocean was another story entirely.

Exploring every last corner ourselves would be a nightmare, but if we could get people living in all sorts of places to gather information for us, the job would be infinitely easier.

“For the most part, there are no problems,” Tomoe reported. “Some of them have even begun communicating with the native sea creatures. And we have yet to see any of the quarrels between sea races we were afraid of.”

“That’s great. It’s a shame about the ones who bowed out, but tell them this for me: if there’s ever anything the Kuzunoha Company can do for them, we’ll help.”

“I have already conveyed that. I also told them that if they run into trouble with hyuman fishermen, we are willing to consult on the matter.”

“Excellent. Is Sari handling things well, too?”

“Tis her first real assignment, so she is most enthusiastic. I have observed no suspicious behavior.”

“I see.”

“By the way, Young Master,” Tomoe went on, “I heard from Shiki that the students in Rotsgard have grown considerably?”

“Mm. Yeah. They’re amazing; I’m so proud of all of them. But if I keep training them full throttle until they graduate, I feel like I’d be overdoing it. I’m thinking it might be better to have them move over to the teaching side instead.”

“Oh, have them teach? I imagine that lot will beg to be made even stronger instead.”

“There’s a kind of growth you only get by teaching. And come on, ‘even stronger’? They’re already among the strongest in their class. I don’t think there’s any need to keep widening the gap. At this point, I’m pretty sure they’d do more than enough in a war between hyumans, or in a fight against most other races.”

“I see. That does pique my interest a bit. Would it be acceptable if I asked Shiki to show me the data on them later?”

“Of course. Just don’t meddle with them, okay? I don’t know how much of it is because of your training, but Mithra’s already picked up some really weird abilities.”

“I shall be careful.”

Seriously.

Starting with Mithra, whom Tomoe had trained, all my students had grown by leaps and bounds.

Each of them had acquired their own specialized abilities, honing their individuality and trying to become stronger in their own unique ways.

Just being at Rotsgard Academy in the first place meant they were talented kids. Maybe it wasn’t all that surprising that, once they set their sights high, they just kept climbing.

If you thought about it that way, Shiki and I had probably only nudged them along.

If we could raise the new recruits to the level of Jin’s group, then leave the rest to their own personal growth, they’d become plenty strong.

We’d even found a good benchmark for how far we should push the students as instructors. Everything on that front was going smoothly.

It felt really good.

“So, Tomoe, are you free for a bit?”

“Again, hm? I must still look after the races who wish to migrate, so accompanying you today…” she trailed off.

“Right. That’s a shame.”

“Recreating the environment of your former world is quite exhausting, you see. I shall do my best to make time before you depart for Limia. My apologies.”

“I get it. I know I’m asking a lot from you even though you’re already busy, so don’t worry about it.”

As soon as I said that, Tomoe suddenly made a bitter face.

Tomoe?

“Um, Young Master. Might I have a moment?”

Ah, so she’d been using Telepathy.

Being able to hold a normal conversation and use thought transmission at the same time, that was the kind of multitasking I’d like to learn. Handling both with full focus was still hard for me.

If it’s just a matter of getting used to it, maybe I should actually train that.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“A message from Lime,” she replied.

“Oh, right. He’s with my senpai, isn’t he? What did he say?”

“It’s not a major matter, but… it seems that purple cloud wasn’t completely dispersed by what we did the other day.”

“I figured. It felt like there wasn’t much resistance. Don’t tell me it’s already causing trouble?”

“Yes. At the moment, Lime and Hibiki’s party are dealing with it, but things are… not going well.”

“Even for Hibiki-senpai?”

“So, it appears.”

You’ve got to be kidding me. Hibiki-senpai?

I’d thought she could handle something of that level without breaking a sweat.

Maybe she just doesn’t have many long-range options? She does use a sword, after all.

“I’m the one who said I’d help Lorel in the first place. Bailing out halfway would look pretty lame. And I don’t want to cause Hibiki-senpai any more trouble than I already have. I’ll take care of it.”

“May I leave it to you, then?”

“Yeah. It’s just that with those colony-type things, I really don’t think what I did before is going to work. It barely felt like I hit them. I do have an idea, but it looks like I’ll have to get closer and confirm a few things as I go.”

At the very least, I wanted a more precise fix on the target’s position.

“In that case, why not adapt the tactic the winged folk used in that mock battle with you? The one where they shared information with someone far away.”

“Ah, I see. Yeah, that could work. Let’s go with that. In that case, I’ll need to move somewhere I can get a clear shot.”

“There happens to be a mountain with an excellent view. There will be some distance, but for you, that should pose no problem, right?”

“With Azusa and my magic, I can pretty much ignore practical range at this point.”

“In that case, off you go. I shall send some winged folk your way. While confirming this information-sharing of theirs, you may deal with the matter.”

“Got it.”

Tomoe opened the gate, and I was just about to step through with Azusa in one hand when she stopped me.

“Young Master.”

“What’s that?”

“Lime and the Hero appear to be floating nearby. If you wish, you could ‘accidentally’ let a few shots graze them. Lime in particular.”

I looked at her, surprised. “Why would I do something like that to Lime?”

“Well, he has grown a touch lax of late. I merely thought it might help him… refocus,” she replied with a wry smile.

“You know, you say some pretty scary things.”

“It might provide good motivation for Hibiki as well, you know?”

“I’m not doing that. What would I even say if they found out later? Honestly…”

“… Very well. Please take care, then.”

“Yeah. I’ll be right back.”

On the other side of the gate was exactly what she’d described: a mountaintop.

The view was fantastic: an unbroken 360 degrees of open sky and sweeping landscape. In Lorel, this mountain probably had a famous name.

And there, far off in the distant sky, I saw it: one obvious anomaly. A blot of purple, like a stain, brushed across the blue. No doubt about it, that was the cloud.

“It’s grown pretty big. Not as bad as last time, but still,” I murmured to myself.

I raised my bow and set an arrow to the string.

The target cloud was a long way off, but ever since I’d come to this world and started combining archery with magic, I didn’t really feel like I could miss.

I’d even stopped caring whether or not it would reach.

If I could see it, I could hit it. That way of thinking had become natural to me.

In my last attack, I’d gotten the impression that the cloud was a mass made up of countless individual entities, so I couldn’t treat it as a single solid target.

The alternative was to wipe it out with an attack big enough to swallow the entire cloud from end to end in one go. Since Hibiki and Lime were there this time, that plan was the first one I tossed out.

“Okay, time to see how this link works…”

While I waited for the winged folk to show up, I saw them appear a little ways off from the purple cloud.

Two of them.

A moment later, a telepathic message came through, asking if they could start feeding me information.

I agreed, and after a short pause, a strange image surfaced in my mind, as if I were looking at the purple cloud from much closer than I actually was.

The gap between the distant cloud I saw with my eyes and the up-close view in my head made me feel a bit queasy.

It was like staring at the real thing from a distance while someone projected a zoomed-in camera feed of the same spot directly onto the inside of my skull.

Weird… but if I got used to it, it might actually be pretty handy.

Thanks to that, I could clearly see where Hibiki, the mage with her, and Lime were floating.

“We will now mark coordinates,” came the next update from the winged folk.

The image of the cloud and its surroundings in my mind suddenly had a grid superimposed on it, like graph paper, and several numbers appeared.

So, that’s how the winged folk had been sharing data and lining up their shots with each other. It really was easy to understand. Like having X, Y, and Z axes laid out in front of you.

It wasn’t something I particularly needed for the kind of sniping I did, which relied mostly on instinct, but it seemed useful if you wanted to reduce targeting errors as much as possible.

I thanked the winged folk and told them to hold position where they were.

“I’ll shoot the purple cloud I can see from here. And at the same time, I’ll shoot only the cloud in the image in my mind.”

It was such a bizarre sensation.

My usual sense of aiming straight at a target was still there. But at the same time, I was lining up a shot on the “monitor” in my head.

Back in Japan, I never could have imagined pulling off something this outrageous. Yet the work went surprisingly smoothly.

No. It wasn’t over yet.

Dodging my senpai and the others wasn’t enough. Just piercing what looked like the core of the cloud wasn’t enough either.

More, more, more, more…

I had to be precise. I had to recognize every single life that made up that cloud and erase them all. At the same time, I had to sever the very bonds that tied them together, in one sweeping, indistinct cut.

To do that…

Still holding on to my concentration, I lowered the arrow I’d nocked.

This wasn’t the one I needed.

What I needed now wasn’t an arrow as a projectile, but an arrow as a catalyst. To hit countless targets all at once, I’d have to use both archery and magic.

From among the many types of arrows the eldwars had made for me, I chose the one with the greatest capacity for storing mana and nocked it again.

An amber-colored shaft.

“A shot that misses my senpai and the others, punches through the core, and at the same time drags down every life that makes up the cloud, one after another…”

In my mind’s eye, the image of the cloud was filled with the hundreds of points I’d designated as my aiming marks.

I can do this.

I loosed the arrow in a quiet exhale.

The amber arrow held its shape as it cut through the air for a time, then shattered, becoming a huge mass of light that filled my vision as it rushed toward the purple cloud.

Moments later, my light detonated.

Yes, nailed it.

I felt it—the arrows that had avoided my senpai’s party and punched through the cloud’s core one after another, and at the same time, the fragments that had scattered like buckshot, thin as threads, each one skewering its own target.

I’d killed them.

Unlike last time, I could say it with certainty.

“… Whew. Got it.”

The pair of winged folk had apparently confirmed it, too.

They turned and flew toward me. One was carrying the other, and even so, they were incredibly fast.

With their help, the possibilities of my bow had expanded even further. Now, I was confident I could pick off a single designated target inside some far-removed, enclosed room.

That made me incredibly happy.

It reminded me that the bow was something irreplaceable to me.

※※※

Not far from the Demiplane’s city lay a vast stretch of untouched forest. I’d given strict orders that no one was to clear or develop it. I’d also told everyone not to wander into it unless they had a good reason.

It wasn’t as if this was the only forest in the Demiplane. If people wanted lumber or game or whatever blessings a forest could offer, there were plenty of other places they could go. So, no one really objected when I declared this one off-limits.

Still, why go that far for just one forest?

The answer lay in the creatures that called this forest home.

Wolves. Animals thought to be extinct in Japan. Their image changed from country to country, but in Japan, they’d once been seen as proud and clever, like guardians of the woods watching over the mountains. Or at least, that was how I’d always thought of them.

To me, the Japanese wolf had an almost sacred quality. I never imagined I’d get to see its like in another world (well, in the Demiplane, which was sort of another other world) but when I did, it made me happy in a way that was hard to describe.

So, this was completely my selfishness: I acknowledged the wolves’ right to exist here. I didn’t want them to become “pests” that we hunted just because they were dangerous or inconvenient.

So, I found myself in the forest that these wolves called home, holding a huge platter with both hands. It was piled high with fruit and grains, a small mountain of offerings.

I followed a narrow track that could best be described as a game trail, pushing through undergrowth until finally the trees opened up and I stepped into a small clearing. There in the center stood a simple altar built from stacked stones.

“Here we are.”

I set the platter carefully on the altar, then dropped down to sit next to it and tilted my head back, gazing up.

“The green here is so dense,” I muttered aloud. “The sea breeze isn’t bad, but this is more my speed.”

I drew in a long, deep breath, and it felt better than anything.

“For you to come of your own accord,” came a deep, ancient voice from the grass, “that is rare.”

“Once in a while, I make the effort,” I replied.

He padded out from the undergrowth. A wolf, large enough that he made a big dog look small. I had no idea if the Japanese wolf had ever been this size, but the presence he radiated was more than enough to make me believe it. Facing him head-on, I couldn’t help being struck by the sheer bulk of his shoulders and chest.

“Are those crops your people raised? I told you, we will not be tamed with food.”

“This is not bait. It’s a token of friendship.”

Only the sound of his panting reached my ears. And yet, his words echoed clearly in my head.

I’d gotten used to it by now, but it was still a bizarre feeling.

“Of friendship, hm… Very well. Misumi, I have caught an unfamiliar scent on the wind, from far away. Do you know aught of it?”

“A god I know seems to have gone a little overboard. The result is… an ocean.”

“Ocean?”

The wolf tilted his head, as if hearing the word for the first time. Around us, I could sense several more of his kind lingering just out of sight. As usual, they were letting their leader do the talking.

“It’s like a lake made entirely of salt water, except it’s far, far bigger than this forest.”

“I find that hard to believe. Yet if you say it is so, then it must be so. Will it touch upon our way of life?”

“No. It’s a long way from here. Honestly, I’m more impressed you could smell anything from that far away.”

“I could tell that fruit was something different from the moment you piled it on the plate. Hyumans are truly inconvenient creatures.”

“Ahahaha, I guess that’s how it looks from a wolf’s point of view,” I said with a laugh. “Anyway, this little token of friendship actually has another purpose, too.”

“You speak of those strange winged insects, do you not?”

“Right on the nose. Sorry. Sounds like they caused you some trouble.”

I still didn’t know exactly how the Al-Elemera and the wolves had clashed, but it was pretty obvious the smaller creatures had been the ones to start the fight.

So, here I was, bringing them a share of our crops; twenty percent apology, eighty percent excuse to come see the wolves again.

“It matters not. That level of nuisance is insignificant,”the wolf replied. “They were merely akin to hornets, somewhat stronger than usual. There are plenty of creatures that refuse to listen to reason. I am long since accustomed.”

The moment I heard the word “hornets,” a chill ran down my spine.

So, there are hornets here, too? I'm definitely warning everyone about that later.

If the Al-Elemera had just been compared to something like that… yeah, that actually makes them sound terrifying in a very real way.

“None of your pack got hurt, did they?” I asked.

“No one was injured. However, there is one small problem.”

“I’m listening.”

“Before I speak, I would confirm something. Those creatures will not come here again, will they?”

“They won’t. They had a pretty terrifying experience. They’re completely spooked by this forest now.”

Poor things, honestly.

“I see…”

For some reason, the wolf hesitated and trailed off. I tilted my head, prompting him gently.

“Go on,” I said.

“In truth,” he admitted at last, “they are… quite delicious.”

“Huh?”

“They possess a rich sweetness, like concentrated nectar. A rather exquisite flavor.”

“…”

“I did, however, once promise that I would not bring harm to your people, Misumi. If those winged insects are to be counted among your folk as well… then it is unfortunate.”

“They’re… tasty, are they?”

“Indeed. Far more satisfying than raiding a beehive.”

Judging by his face, the wolf was completely serious. I wondered whether he was aware of the line of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth.

“Um, sorry,” I said, “I’m going to have to ask you to hold back.”

“Then hold back we will,”the wolf replied.“You could have slaughtered us to the last, Misumi, and yet you offered coexistence instead. That is a great debt. I will abide by your request.”

“Thanks. I’ll have them bring more later. Same kind of stuff that’s on that plate. Share it with everyone. I hope there’s something you all end up liking.”

“We already have more than enough bounty from the forest. You have no reason to treat us so well, Misumi. As I said at the start, if this is charity, we have no need of it.”

“Let me do it anyway,” I said with a shrug. “Think of it as a kind of coexistence where we cross paths like this once in a while.”

I’m just glad they’re here, I thought, but there was no way I could say that out loud.

They’d treat me like a complete eccentric.

Not that they don’t already.

“You are a strange man,”the wolf said after a pause. “Well, it is not exactly repayment, but I shall at least warn the bears not to eat those winged insects.”

“Right, the bears… Yeah, I can imagine them having a sweet tooth.”

Honey and bears. The combination fit almost too well.

“They have not eaten them yet, so there is no problem for now,”the wolf went on. “But had they tasted those insects first, they might well have rampaged for more. However, Misumi, we live our lives without involving ourselves with the folk of the sky. If you want terms with them, you must go and speak to them yourself.”

“Ah… yeah. Got it. Thanks.”

So, the Al-Elemera could end up as prey for birds of prey, too.

I could just tell them to stay away from the mountains, but I doubted that would be very effective.

Still, teleporting over there would only take a moment. Might as well get it done now.

Even if I had to go have a talk, doing it inside the Demiplane made everything feel oddly low-pressure.

※※※

Jagged rock peaks rose all around, a wall of harsh stone.

Between those sheer ridges, a single patch of green spread out like an oasis. If you looked down on it from above, it would probably resemble a heliport someone had carved into the mountain by force.

Without wings, reaching this place was nearly impossible. Either that, or you’d need the mountain-goat sort of body that laughed at cliffs.

Unlike strolling through a forest, starting off with actual cliff-face climbing was brutal. Even at a glance, this mountain looked unforgiving to anyone who thought of themselves as a hiker.

On the other hand, if you just teleported up here, it really wasn’t that big a deal.

“Ah, there you are,” I greeted him.

He was settled in one corner of the green—a massive lump of deep indigo that made you feel like you were craning your neck up at the Great Buddha of Nara.

As I drew closer, that lump resolved into the shape of a bird with its wings folded. And that was him with his wings folded. This was what people meant when they said something was stupidly huge.

He was the king of the Demiplane’s skies. Not a hawk or an eagle, but something called a roc.

Rarer than the wolves; honestly, he felt more like a straight-up mythical beast. Next to a presence this unreal, the wolves ended up feeling more grounded and, in a way, more impressive.

Because come on, at this point he’s basically a monster.

“King. It has been a while,” the roc spoke in my mind.

He always called me “king.”

“Yeah, long time,” I replied. “Still not sure I’ll ever get used to you calling me that, though.”

Being called something like “landowner” or “the guy who owns the place” felt way more accurate to me.

“You have come a long way,”the roc continued, ignoring my comment. “You seem to be dealing well with the winged folk. Is this a different matter?”

“Yeah, something else,” I said. “I’ve got a favor to ask about a race that’s going to be living here from now on.”

“Ah. I saw many races making a commotion over that absurdly wide lake. Is it about that?”

“No, that’s something else. As for the sea, if there are birds over there that decide to live around it, they’re free to do whatever they want.”

“I see. So, that lake is called a sea. It is truly vast. I sensed many different forms of life within it.”

“Yeah, I figured you would. Right now, I’m in the middle of choosing who gets to move there. Even then, they’ll be living on the coast or under the water, so they probably won’t clash with anything that lives in the sky.”

Sounded like he’d already gone to look at the ocean himself.

Between him and the wolves, it was genuinely impressive how clearly they could perceive things happening that far away.

“I will speak of it to the others as well,”he said.

“Great. Anyway, today’s favor is about a fairy race called Al-Elemera.”

“I do not know the name. If they are ones who make their home in the sky, I can take responsibility for them.”

“No, classification-wise, they’re closer to insects. They live around mountains and rivers, that kind of lifestyle. I don’t have all the details yet myself, but that’s the basic idea.”

“You wish me to give the order not to eat them, then?”

“Quick on the uptake,” I said with a smile. “They’ve got wings, and they fly, but they look like tiny people. I’d really appreciate it if you and the others didn’t eat them.”

“Understood. If they are your people, I shall see to it they are not hunted.”

“Sorry for disturbing your nap. I’ll get out of your feathers. See you.”

“Very well. If I have business, I will come to you as well. You may summon me whenever you have need.”

“Sure. And you as well, drop by whenever you like.”

“Give my regards to your new people.”

Great, that should take care of things with the Al-Elemera.

I’d swing by the sea to check how things were looking, then head over to the shop for a bit.

※※※

Apparently, the Lorelei were planning to build a port town and live along the shoreline.

I’d come down to the beach and was watching them from a short distance away as they hauled building materials around and worked on… something. The documents said they’d originally lived quietly in rocky reef zones, but maybe Sari had given them some ideas. Or maybe they’d simply decided they wanted a better environment and a proper town of their own.

The sandy beach stretched wide in both directions, and from what I could see, the waves were gentle.

No matter how many times I looked at it, this place was a resort coastline, through and through.

I honestly thought it was a great spot.

“Young Master,” came Sari’s polite tone as she walked over to me.

“Looks like you’re working hard,” I said.

“This is the first task you entrusted to me, Young Master,” she replied.

“So, right now, you’re serving as the Lorelei’s advisor, more or less?”

“Yes. That said, at this rate, the trial period is going to come to an end with almost no problems at all.”

“That’s good to hear. So, do the Lorelei want to stay here for good?”

“Of course. They’ve already started building relationships with other races as well. Their outlook is very positive.”

“With other races? That’s pretty proactive. Specific—”

Just then, something thundered past behind me at high speed, da-da-da-da, cutting me off. I reflexively turned my head toward the sound.

Apparently, Tuna Man was sprinting by.

He wasn’t using his fins at all—just a pair of thick, muscular legs growing from his torso, pumping like a professional sprinter going all out. He was carrying a long, narrow wooden crate, but I had no idea what was inside.

“They’ve especially been interacting a lot with the Sealord,” Sari explained.

“Ah. That makes sense.”

I’d heard tuna were incredibly fast in the water, and apparently, these ones were fast on land, too.

—And there he went, diving straight into the sea without slowing down.

Truly a fearsome amphibious lifestyle.

“That’s a race whose ability lives up to their grand name,” Sari said. “Exceptionally capable. That courier, Mr. Tuna, who just ran past, is one of them, and then there’s Mr. Taraba Crab the Powerhouse. He can shatter enormous rocks on the seabed with a single blow and adjust the currents. I had never heard of their kind before this, but the world is truly vast.”

Mr. Tuna the Courier and Mr. Taraba Crab the Powerhouse…

Hikyaku and gōriki. So, in old Japanese terms, we’re talking Edo-period mail runners and pack-carrying mountain guides.

Yeah, that tracks.

No, it doesn’t. Not even a little.

A tuna that looks like it could finish a triathlon and a probably-very-crab-like king crab, and they’re still part of the Sealord species? That’s just wrong on several levels, isn’t it?

Isn’t it?

Is it actually not?

“I feel like ‘the world is vast’ doesn’t quite cover it when it comes to the Sealord,” I said.

“They seem to be steadily building relationships with races other than the Lorelei as well,” Sari replied, her voice glowing with admiration. “I imagine they’ll become a key marine race in time.”

Is she incredibly pure-hearted, or has her sense of normal slid off in a weird direction?

Either way, I found myself growing curious about Sealord for entirely different reasons. Their ridiculously good social skills were… amusing. And a little mysterious.

Forest, mountains, sea.

Today had turned into a full Demiplane nature tour, but spending a day like this wasn’t bad at all.

Not only did I feel oddly refreshed, but I’d also gotten to see how Sari was doing.

If she could eventually find something here in the Demiplane that felt like a purpose in life, I’d be really happy.

※※※

“Th-thank you very much!!!”

“Mm. Make sure you recover properly and don’t be late for your next class,” Raidou said.

At the teacher’s signal that the lecture was over, every student bowed in unison. There was no rule at the academy requiring that sort of formality, but in his class, the sight had already become routine.

The only real difference from the usual lecture was the number of observers.

Ever since word got out that Raidou’s class was accepting new students again, people had been flocking to sit in and watch.

The content of the lesson hadn’t changed one bit.

Today, he hadn’t brought his assistant Shiki along, so once Raidou left the room, only the students remained. Jin and Daena, who had been standing through sheer willpower on trembling legs, promptly tipped backward and collapsed. Shifu and Abelia sank down to the floor, leaning heavily on their respective weapons.

Izumo was in pitiful shape: cold sweat pouring down his face, skin gone deathly pale. A textbook symptom of overusing mana.

Interestingly, Mithra and Yuno were comparatively fine, probably thanks to Mithra’s unique skill and Yuno’s unusual equipment.

“That was brutal. Seriously brutal,” Daena groaned.

“I’m starting to think sensei could fistfight a mutant without using magic,” Izumo said weakly.

“He could,” Daena said at once. “Without a doubt, he could do it barehanded.”

The two nodded to each other with near-death seriousness.

“Unlike last time, I can stand,” Jin grunted.

After a few deep breaths, he pushed himself back to his feet. He wasn’t gritting his teeth or bluffing his way through it. He was clearly still exhausted, but he was standing under his own power.

“Same here,” Abelia said as she straightened, letting out a rueful little laugh. “At the very least, before the academy festival, I wouldn’t have had the energy to go to the next lecture.”

“The demidragon-slaying over the break probably helped a bit,” Shifu murmured, eyes drifting over the room as she thought it over.

“I get what you mean, Shifu. And Jin’s right too,” Abelia added. “Sensei muttered it under his breath, remember? That we’ve been getting stronger, in our own way.”

“I wonder what Raidou-sensei can see that we can’t,” said Yuno, glancing around herself as if hoping something would materialize in the air. Of course, there was nothing there.

The gesture looked oddly girlish and out of place next to the strange full-body armament wrapped around her.

This was what Yuno called her “fated equipment.” Since it had already contaminated so many people and circumstances, Makoto had finally given up on reclaiming it, and after a long, twisty chain of events, it now officially belonged to Yuno.

Incidentally, Mio and Rembrandt had both been involved to a fair degree in that whole mess, but as far as Makoto was concerned, everything about the attempts to retrieve the suit added up to a stretch of pure, unrelenting hell that he would rather not remember in detail.

“Yuno’s the one who’s obviously changed, though,” Mithra said, turning to her. “You suddenly turned into the ultimate tank. What is that gear? Just how much of a death zone is Tsige supposed to be?”

“This is a prototype from the Kuzunoha Company,” Yuno replied cheerfully.

In Mithra’s head, the image of that frontier city he’d never actually visited twisted off in a strange direction.

Granted, equipment on Yuno’s level wasn’t exactly everywhere, but in most other respects, Tsige had turned into even more of a madhouse than Mithra was imagining.

“Even so, sensei was just taking attacks from that thing head-on or brushing them aside,” Jin pointed out. “Hey, Yuno, mind attacking me for a bit?”

“All-out?”

“May as well. Give me your best shot.”

“Eeh, seriously? I don’t mind, I still have some mana left. But are you sure about this?”

“Full power, please.”

What Jin was asking for was the most powerful-looking attack Yuno had thrown earlier during the lecture.

The rest of the group stared at him, equal parts stunned and exasperated. Abelia and Shifu were busy preparing healing spells just in case.

“Okay then, I’ll use the strongest thing I can fire off with the mana I’ve got left. No holding back, all right? Jeeeet Punch!!!”

From around the elbow of Yuno’s armor, light made of mana burst out in a jet. In an instant, it boosted her fist forward, rocketing straight toward Jin’s guard.

“Ugoaaah?!”

The moment fist met forearms, a dull, heavy impact exploded through the room, Jin’s strangled scream riding on top of it. His whole body was driven back, his feet gouging deep furrows in the dirt as he slid.

“Ghh! If I brace myself for it, I can kind of take it. Maybe,” he wheezed.

“Impact Knuckle… accelerate!!!”

“Bubboaah—!!!”

The instant Yuno shifted, setting her other hand against her outstretched fist to transition into Jet Punch’s follow-up technique, Jin was launched clean off his feet.

He went flying all the way to a patch of ground where trees grew sparsely, crashing down in a spectacular arc.

This time, only Jin had gone flying. Yuno hadn’t taken a single step from where she’d been standing.

“Jiiin, if you want healing, you’d better drag yourself back over here!” Abelia called out.

“Same goes for meee,” Shifu chimed in mercilessly.

“So, that was the move where she put her other hand on her fist,” Mithra said, watching the direction Jin had disappeared in. “The one sensei took while bracing his hips a little.”

“Ahh, so it’s a follow-up,” Izumo muttered. “Didn’t know she had something like that. Yeah, I don’t ever want to spar one-on-one with Yuno again.”

The two of them stared toward the scattered trees Jin had crashed into, speaking in dazed tones.

Hearing them, Shifu leaned closer to Abelia and whispered, “With that armor, that still isn’t the strongest skill Yuno can use.”

“You’re kidding,” Abelia replied.

“I’m writing it as seriously and reading it as dead serious,” Shifu said, her expression earnest. “To begin with, I don’t even know if the techniques Juuki fires off should be classified as magic, skills, or something else entirely. The one I saw was called Crimson Blast Drill.”

“Yeah, that sounds terrifying already,” Abelia said. “Definitely magic, at least in name.”

“The power really doesn’t compare to that punch. But the penalty is huge. Yuno couldn’t move for quite a while afterward.”

Abelia shivered dramatically. “So, if it doesn’t finish the fight, you’re done. That’s a pretty scary move.”

Just then, Yuno came strolling back over, stretching as she disengaged her armor.

“I honestly thought I was gonna die that—” she began, then realized what Abelia was talking about. “Hey sis, I told you to keep that a secret from everyone! It’s so frustrating not being able to draw out more of Juuki’s power. My body just can’t keep up yet.”

“Have you looked at the state Jin’s in?” Abelia asked. “You’re doing just fine.”

“Jet Punch, huh? Sensei stopped that with one hand,” Yuno said, clenching her fist in front of her face. “I’ve gotta train way more.”

“In that case, want to join the ‘Reconstruction Physical Volunteer’ crew too?” Abelia asked. “I hate to admit it, but our basic stats are higher because of that nightmare.”

“Oh, come on, now you’re just trying to trick me, Abelia-neesan.”

“……”

Yuno saw Abelia’s silence and her expression, and her eyes went wide. She realized, at last, that her senior hadn’t been joking.

“Uh…”

“Honestly, I’m surprised myself,” Abelia said. “I feel sore just remembering that whole period.”

“So, it really does build basic stamina,” Yuno murmured. “I can’t believe it.”

“Not just stamina. Mana too,” Abelia added. “Which, frankly, I still can’t believe either.”

On hearing the word mana, Shifu, who had been watching their exchange with a faint, complicated smile, jerked upright.

“M–mana goes up too?!” she blurted.

“Probably,” Abelia said, then pressed a finger to her lips and gave Shifu a conspiratorial wink.

“I don’t have solid proof yet, but I’m planning to get it measured tomorrow,” she went on in a whisper. “From how it feels, it’s less than ten percent, I think. From the way he was glancing at his tablet during the lecture, Izumo seems to have noticed the same thing.”

Shifu drew in a sharp breath.

“Um, mana capacity is supposed to be fixed from birth, right?” she asked slowly. “Pure talent and nothing else.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to work,” Abelia agreed.

“Then this ‘Physical Reconstruction’ thing is like a miraculous super magic training camp?”

“Except it’s a boot camp straight out of hell. That part’s a hundred percent confirmed. It was so insanely hard that up until today’s lecture, I didn’t even have the mental bandwidth to worry about my mana.”

“But it might actually let you grow your mana itself…” Shifu’s voice trembled between awe and fear.

“Yeah. Might.”

“What a revolution. How dare Father deprive his daughters of such an opportunity for growth!” Shifu burst out.

“Please. You and your sister both looked pretty happy with your separate task,” Abelia shot back.

Her retort was elegantly ignored.

And so, the deeply sheltered Rembrandt sisters began to seriously consider opening the gate to hell.

※※※

There was a woman named Seiren Garmena.

Even before the academy festival and the calamity that unfolded there, she’d been at least somewhat known. But afterward, no one connected to the academy didn’t know her name.

Not because of the Kuzunoha Company. Not because of Raidou.

No, she was known as a fool. A truly spectacular fool.

Seiren was a researcher employed in the academy’s laboratories. Naturally, she had the brains for it; her intellect was first-rate.

So, why was she so widely regarded as stupid, an idiot even?

Before the festival, Seiren was simply a woman whose looks drew a modest degree of attention. She wasn’t particularly stunning, not someone you’d single out as extraordinarily beautiful.

It sounded almost like a riddle, but the answer was embarrassingly simple.

Seiren Garmena was the only woman Raidou, the temporary instructor at Rotsgard Academy, had ever confessed to.

Before the mutant incident plunged the city into its worst nightmare in living memory, she had been one of the few clues people had when it came to guessing Raidou’s type.

Now that people were beginning to understand who Raidou really was, and what his company truly represented, her name was spoken in a very different way: as the idiot who let the chance of a lifetime slip through her fingers. The woman who missed out on the ultimate golden ticket.

The Academy City was currently throwing itself wholeheartedly into reconstruction, pushing forward step by step.

Unfortunately for Seiren, the cleanup after the mutant incident was far from over.

She was sitting in a stylish little tavern called Lavidor, near the spot where Kuzunoha had once had its store.

It wasn’t as if Seiren had any romantic interest in Raidou, nor was she the sort to turn into a stalker. But this was the place he, Shiki, and the other members of Kuzunoha had frequented in the past.

These days, with their shop relocation and everything else keeping them busy, they almost never came by anymore.

In a certain sense, Seiren was actually quite similar to Raidou. In the way misfortune followed them like an annoying younger sibling, and in the strange, unreasonable twists of fate that always met them.

“Master, another Fizz Ark!!!”

Fizz Ark was what Raidou always ordered whenever he came here.

The barkeep, who knew that (plus the fact that Seiren had liked this drink before Raidou ever did), let a faintly troubled look cross his face as he started mixing the cocktail.

What an unlucky woman, he thought.

Judging from their taste in food and drink, he’d even wondered if the two of them might have gotten along surprisingly well, if they’d ever actually tried dating. But he never said that out loud, because he knew just how low that possibility really was.

Once, he’d tried casually steering the conversation with each of them toward the other, dropping a hint here and there.

To his shock, Raidou hadn’t remembered Seiren at all. Not even as “that woman from back then.” Nothing.

Seiren, on the other hand, was a bit of a face girl. She liked good-looking men and wasn’t shy about it. She didn’t harbor anything like romantic affection for Raidou.

However, she was drawn to the many things attached to him—his power in battle, his wealth, his rising fame.

Right now, with every fiber of her being, she regretted the way she’d bolted from him at full speed that day.

If, in that moment, when Raidou had, however briefly, turned his feelings toward her, she had just nodded once…

Just once.

How much could she have gained?

She couldn’t stop herself from wondering.

The growth of the students who took Raidou’s lectures was actually terrifying.

She still remembered the shock she’d felt when she saw it with her own eyes.

The one she’d found particularly astonishing was a boy named Izumo.

In one of his spells, he’d made some kind of adjustment inside the incantation itself.

As a specialist in chanting, Seiren had seen it at once. There was something revolutionary there.

If she’d managed to become Raidou’s woman, she would have had the chance to learn what it was. She could have drawn the details out of Izumo.

If it turned out that Raidou or his assistant Shiki had been the ones to teach him, she might even have gained access to the fundamental techniques behind it all.

As these thoughts chased themselves through her mind, a cocktail glass slipped neatly into her field of vision, set down in front of her.

“Seiren-san, this will have to be your last one for today,” the master said.

“You’re cutting me off? You’re kicking me out, too?!” Seiren snapped, eyes going wide.

“The other places will calm down before long. Right now, everyone’s just a bit overheated, that’s all. The woman who turned down a hero like Raidou-sensei, and so on. But we would never throw a customer out of here, so please don’t worry about that. I’m only a little concerned about how much you’ve been drinking.”

The Kuzunoha Company had played an ace-level role in resolving the mutant incident. Countless residents had witnessed their might firsthand.

It wasn’t rumor or hearsay. People had seen it with their own eyes.

The impact of that event was enormous.

Everyone now understood that they possessed power on par with the heroes of legend.

And Raidou was the representative of Kuzunoha.

At the moment, his brilliant students and employees were throwing themselves into the city’s reconstruction at his command, holding nothing back. Day by day, their accomplishments were mounting.

Raidou himself was using his personal fortune to procure a wide array of necessities from the surrounding cities, making sure the town never ran short of everyday goods.

Supplies that were urgent and in high demand could, naturally, be sold at a correspondingly high price. Any sensible merchant would have done this.

Yet the goods Kuzunoha brought in were the cheapest thing around, unless you counted the free aid coming from the Lorel Union, the Kingdom, and the Empire.

Anyone could see they were operating in the red on those goods.

It was proof of both their wealth and their goodwill. And everyone had seen that too.

The brighter the light named Raidou shone, the more cornered Seiren felt.

Wherever she went, she found herself being greeted by stares laced with contempt or pity, snickers of derision, or even baseless hostility.

She’d already been driven out of bars and restaurants more than once. If she counted the times she’d been politely but firmly encouraged to leave, the number was actually quite high.

That was how much of a hero Kuzunoha and Raidou had become to this city now, especially in the eyes of its young students.

There were very few places in this city that didn’t have some connection to academy students. Add merchants to the equation and… well, it went without saying.

Which meant that right now, Seiren had nowhere to run.

“Honestly,” she said, slumping forward, “why doesn’t that man remember me? Isn’t it weird? ‘If you’ll be my first, I’ll give you marriage, money, whatever you want.’ That’s what he said to me!”

“…”

Outwardly, the barkeep said nothing. Inwardly, he was nodding furiously.

“And then? I gather up all my courage and go see him, and just a few months later, he looks at me and goes, ‘Who are you again?’ What? What is that? Is that even possible? Hey, does that sound normal? Is that edible?”

“…”

Of course, the master also couldn’t help wondering, Who bolts from a confession at full sprint and then goes back later expecting a clean slate?

If it were him, he knew he’d never restart anything with that kind of woman. He’d told himself that several times over.

Naturally, none of that made it anywhere near his mouth, or even his face.

“At least… at least let me hear him talk about chanting theory… just a little,” Seiren mumbled.

And with that, she nodded forward and slid into a gentle sleep.

Seiren’s specialty was chant-language theory and chant efficiency.

If she ever learned how Raidou performed his chanting, she would ignore every single one of his unfortunate physical features and beg him to marry her.

Because Raidou was the only hyuman alive who understood nearly every chanting language, the distinctions between them, and even the methods of improving magic itself.

Imagine a spell whose incantation was “a–i–u–e–o.” Now imagine the upgraded version was “ai–ai–u–e–o.”

Why was it that instead of “a–i–u–e–o a–i–u–e–o”?

Why not “double a–i–u–e–o”?

Could “a” be replaced with another syllable at all?

Why did it have to be five syllables in the first place?

These were the kinds of painfully fundamental questions Seiren researched. They were anything but glamorous, and there was no immediate payoff. Which meant she had few supporters and even fewer patrons.

That was why she’d been one of the earliest people in the academy to approach Raidou in the first place.

“So, she’s asleep, huh?”

Raidou-san’s not the sort to pick up on hints, the master thought, looking at Seiren’s slumped form.

“I suppose, when the time seems right, I’ll just talk to him myself. I’ll make things really clear.”

It had been a mistake on Seiren’s part not to nod to that confession.

There was no undoing it now, and all his years behind this bar told him the odds of those two ever getting together in the future were essentially zero.

Even so, watching Raidou and his entire company throw themselves so completely into the city’s reconstruction, he couldn’t help thinking (and he knew it was wishful thinking) that if Raidou ever learned the whole story, he would reach out to Seiren in some way. That he was that kind of man.

“After all, even a tiny little place like this was one of the first things he worried about,” the master murmured.

Lavidor, too, had taken heavy damage in the recent disaster. Most of the building had been destroyed.

When Raidou saw the state it was in, he smiled faintly, bringing a finger to his lips. “Let’s keep this between us,” he’d said. And then, in an instant, he restored the entire building that housed Lavidor.

He hadn’t built something new.

All the time the master had spent here as its owner, all the traces that proved that shared history—the nicks in the countertop, the stubborn stains, the places where the wood had darkened with age—were left exactly as they were.

It was as if he’d turned back time itself. A supreme restoration technique like nothing the master had ever heard of.

No one else had seen it happen.

So, he told everyone that the place had simply come through unscathed. That it had been spared from the calamity by sheer luck. He never once mentioned Raidou’s name.

Ever since the bar’s earliest days, when customers were few and far between, Seiren had come by several times a week, as faithful as the ticking of a clock. She was one of his most valued regulars.

He was glad she was visiting more often now. But he also pitied her because he knew why.

“It’ll be all right. I’m sure things will work out,” he said quietly. “Just like this city’s future. I’m sure of it.”

This city had Kuzunoha. That alone was enough of a foundation for his belief.

Rotsgard would change. For the better.

The master of the bar, who had lived here longer than Raidou and Seiren combined, watched the sleeping face of his poor customer and let himself dream of the Academy City’s tomorrow.

Chapter 7

“Hah! I’m done. I can’t move. I won’t move.”

I hit the grass flat on my back, panting hard.

That familiar exhaustion wrapped around my whole body.

Back in Japan, I could feel like this whenever I wanted.

Yeah. This. This is it.

Without this, it just doesn’t feel right.

“Young Master… this should be sufficient… yes?” Tomoe asked between slow breaths.

“Yeah. Thanks, Tomoe,” I managed.

“In that case… Fuuu…”

Tomoe pitched forward from where she sat cross-legged, slumping onto the ground.

At the same time, the pressure crushing my body vanished, and I suddenly felt light. Talking felt like far too much work, so Tomoe and I just lay there in silence for a while as dusk deepened around us.

I knew I was pushing her too hard. But this was one thing I couldn’t give up.

Recreating the environment of my original world. Japan.

That ramped up the strain on my body to an entirely new level.

At first, the duration was too short to be useful for training. But as Tomoe got better at it, the time kept extending, until she could now maintain it for around six hours.

From that point on, whenever it suited her schedule, I asked her to help me with bow training under those conditions.

For the record, today we kept it up for just under ten hours, thanks to the mana I’d transferred to her.

The first time we tried this in the demon lands, when I gave her a large amount, much more than I had with Mio or Shiki, Tomoe’s appearance began to change, too.

Specifically, her hair turned silver.

Mio and Shiki had told her something like this might happen, and she’d been delighted, convinced she’d finally get to have black hair.

She was overflowing with excitement the first time she tried it, then looked in the mirror she’d prepared ahead of time—and the expression on her face was something to behold.

“Why am I the only one getting further away from looking Japanese?” she wailed, in truly spectacular fashion.

That night was the first time I’d ever seen Tomoe drunk off her feet.

“I needed this,” I said when the peak of the fatigue finally passed. “Even breathing feels like a chore, my body doesn’t move like it’s mine anymore, and pain and numbness are throwing a wild party everywhere.”

As soon as the environment returned to normal, I felt my recovery speed up. Part of me almost wished the exhaustion lasted a bit longer. This felt like a waste.

I actually liked that feeling: pushing myself to my absolute limit, then just lying there, drained to the bone.

Ever since I came to this world, no matter how long I trained, I’d never managed to reach that state.

Deep down, I was afraid my body and my technique were slowly deteriorating.

I’d gotten used to working myself over thoroughly back in Japan, so feeling like I was taking a tiny step backward every day? That terrified me.

However, I didn’t want everyone worrying over nothing, so I tried not to let any of that show on my face.

Still, every time I saw Jin and the others collapse after a lecture, part of me was honestly jealous.

“I, on the other hand, feel unbearably sluggish for an entirely different reason,” Tomoe muttered, turning just her face toward me without even bothering to wipe the sweat from her brow. “I was under the impression such roles would be entrusted to Shiki henceforth, you know.”

She’d burned through a huge amount of mana, and for Tomoe, this particular job was exhausting in a way she hated. Did I mention she really didn’t like it?

When I first asked if she could at least do it once a week, she’d actually flung herself backward in shock at how often that sounded.

As far as I was concerned, having her do it every other day would’ve been ideal. Or maybe even every day? Would that be asking too much?

So, I compromised and insisted on once every ten days as an absolute minimum.

Anything beyond that depended on Tomoe’s schedule and mood.

In a perfect world, I’d handle all of this myself, but when I used Realm to recreate the environment, my concentration on the actual training tended to waver.

As long as this was just muscle training, I could more or less manage on my own, so I decided to accept it as good enough for the time being.

“This is the one thing only you can do for me, Tomoe,” I told her. “I’m counting on you from here on, too.”

“And how long do you intend to continue this training, Young Master?”

“How long? What do you mean?”

“The same regimen, over and over. Build muscle, sharpen focus, and simply loose arrow after arrow. I have been wondering, quite seriously, what technique this is meant to acquire, and when it will reach completion.”

“There isn’t anything like that.”

Strength training. Running through the eight stages of shooting form again and again. I did it to face myself and my bow more deeply, so there was no finish line.

I’ll be doing it my whole life.

“It ends nowhere?” Tomoe asked.

“Nowhere,” I said, nodding my head.

“Then you push yourself to such extremes only for the sake of repetition?”

“It’s not just repetition. I am moving forward,” I assured her. “Bit by bit. Probably.”

“Probably?!”

“Yeah.”

Tomoe’s face twitched.

Right. She runs through the basics of swordsmanship endlessly, too, but for her, the main purpose is learning and polishing actual techniques.

From that mindset, what I was doing might not make sense, but I was sure that someday, she would understand.

If she truly loved the sword the way I loved the bow.

“So, you believe you’re advancing, and yet you say you have no goal?” Tomoe pressed. “Then what are you aiming for?”

“Aiming for? I don’t think anyone’s ever seen the peak, not even any of the masters who came before me. Or if someone did reach it, for whatever reason, they never wrote about it. I’m pretty sure I’ll never see it either. But that doesn’t matter.”

“I think I understand why you sent me flying so easily those first few days after we came to this world, Young Master. In a vague sort of way.”

“Really?” I asked, forcing my still-heavy body to move and pushing myself to my feet.

If nothing else, my bow training, whether in Japan or here, had always been at the core of who I was.

I really did owe Tomoe a lot.

“If you’re heading back, please go on ahead,” she said. “I don’t think I’ll be able to move for a while yet.”

Her hair, now back to its usual blue, stirred faintly as she watched me and urged me on.

“Nah, I’ll wait,” I assured her. “We can go back together. I still have to put the arrows away and clean the gear.”

“…”

By the time I finished packing up, Tomoe had recovered enough to stand on her own. Which, she informed me, took every spell she had.

Of course, I’d told her I didn’t mind looking after her, but I guess this was one of those things that brushed up against her pride.

Well, I was lucky to have someone so reliable.

Once we got home, Mio’s overenthusiastically prepared dinner would be waiting.

When I think about it, I might actually be pretty happy right now.

Surrounded by good people, with more than enough to fill me up.

※※※

Dinner was over, and I was in my study with Shiki, just the two of us.

I leaned back in my chair, eyes moving over a stack of documents on the students. Not the applications from the kids who wanted to join my class, but the files on Jin and the others.

“Here you are,” Shiki said, setting a cup of tea down in front of me.

“Thanks, Shiki.”

Mm, milk tea? A pretty strong sweetness wafted up with the steam, but it was definitely tea… Right?

Just in case, I gave it a light stir with the spoon.

Good. It mixes normally.

So, it wasn’t something like ‘cream with a dash of tea blended in.’ I’d gotten suspicious for nothing.

“Today I tried recreating a drink from your world, Young Master,” Shiki said.

“From mine? Huh, really.”

Not that he needed to recreate anything; this world already had milk and tea, so any attempt at milk tea should’ve ended up more or less the same.

I wasn’t picky about tea at all. As long as I could drink it, I was satisfied. When it came to milk tea, my knowledge boiled down to whether you poured milk into brewed tea or brewed the tea in milk.

Well, I’ll know once I try it. It’s not the kind of drink that can go terribly wrong anyway, so I’m safe enough.

“…!”

You’ve got to be kidding me. That is sweet.

Is it honey?

He wouldn’t tell me if it was from the Al-Elemera, would he?

More than the whole ‘brewed in milk’ question, it was just too sweet, period.

It felt less like milk tea and more like chai.

Weird drink. Interesting, but weird.

On a day like this, when I’d really pushed my body, I could see it tasting pretty good. But for everyday use, it might not be my thing.

“I thought the sweetness was just right, and that it would warm you up nicely,” Shiki said by way of explanation.

“Just right, huh? Shiki, what is this exactly, anyway? Milk tea?”

“I believe it was called silver tea. You don’t recognize it?”

“I don’t remember ever drinking it, and the name doesn’t ring a bell either,” I said, frowning. “Where the heck did I even learn about it?”

It was black tea, not to mention it was pumped full of milk and sugar, so it probably wasn’t from Japan. Maybe I’d picked it up from a travel show or something. But if I had to reach back that far, the odds of me remembering clearly were pretty slim.

“Hm, quite. Silver tea is a drink finished by combining a small amount of black tea with milk and honey,” Shiki explained.

Wait, so at that point, does it even count as tea anymore?

I’d never imagined there’d come a day when Shiki was the one teaching me about food and drink from my original world.

“I see. I’ll… take my time with it,” I said.

The stuff was so overwhelmingly sweet that I wasn’t confident I could even finish what was already in my cup.

A single serving felt like a whole Mont Blanc–sized mountain in front of me.

“There’s plenty more if you’d like a refill, so don’t hesitate to ask,” Shiki said pleasantly, already sipping his second cup.

I’m not getting a refill. Absolutely not.

“Yeah. Anyway, about Jin and the others’ abilities,” I began, setting the cup down.

“How do they look?”

“They’re incredible. I mean, they’ve grown too much. At this point, I feel like their strength is already well above what I’d planned for.”

“It is,” Shiki agreed. “If we push them one more tier higher, one-on-one might still be difficult, but if they all attack together, they should be able to put up a good fight against Lime.”

“That’s overshooting the mark.”

“…”

“I give up,” I sighed, putting my head in my hands. “I really underestimated them—their talent, their whole elite potential. Ideally, I’d like to talk them into staying on as instructors only.”

“Young Master. About that,” Shiki said, hesitating for a moment. “What if… we simply brought them into Kuzunoha itself?”

“You mean hire them?”

“Exactly.”

Jin and Abelia already worked part-time at our store, and they did a decent job. It didn’t seem impossible.

If we went around insisting we didn’t discriminate against demi-humans, yet never hired any hyumans, that would end up looking like discrimination in the other direction.

Hmm…

“Up until just recently, you agreed with me about slowly putting some distance between them and us,” I said. “What made you change your mind all of a sudden?”

“As those documents note, their growth and abilities,” Shiki replied. “To be perfectly honest, they are extremely appealing research subjects. Allowing them into the Demiplane may be difficult, but if we employ them at the company and keep them close at hand, I would very much like to observe their development.”

So, it looks like his researcher side has kicked in.

Trust a former lich to go down that route instead of awakening as some kind of noble educator.

I glanced back down at the reports.

My students’ listed abilities really were impressive. There was no doubt their growth had veered into the irregular.

First was Yuno. I thought back to what I’d seen in the preliminary data. In her case, it went without saying: that suit.

When I pressed Mio about it, she confessed she’d handed it over. Apparently, the suit fit Yuno remarkably well, and she had insisted on being allowed to keep wearing it.

To be fair, as equipment (put a question mark on equipment), it suited her fighting style.

When I had them show me the specs for that suit, the configuration turned out quite different from mine, and the performance was noticeably toned down.

As long as she didn’t really understand what it actually was, she wouldn’t feel any particular shame wearing it, which made the whole thing… awkward.

Looking more closely at the file, I noticed there was a written plea attached: an earnest petition asking that Yuno be allowed to continue using the suit. At the bottom, it was signed Patrick Rembrandt.

Seriously, that man’s initiative is something else.

Next were Shifu and Abelia.

Rather than combining multiple spells on their own, they’d learned a technique for fusing their magic with someone else’s, reducing the burden on each individual while massively amplifying the end result.

If that method ever made its way into the hands of one of the nations, it could easily boost their overall magical capability across the board.

That was how solidly those two had grown along the axis of perfectly completing their magic.

Abelia, on the other hand, hadn’t made much progress with the bow. Beyond the improvements from her boosted physical abilities, there wasn’t much to see. Her accuracy had gone up a little, but it was still within the margin of error.

Then there were the guys.

Izumo had started altering his chants.

You could call it a kind of irregular reuse, I guess.

He was already pretty deft at splitting an incantation into several segments and recombining them to cast, but in the last lecture he’d gone a step further. He took a chant that should have already been used up and reused parts of it in the incantation for his next spell.

It was the sort of thing that was hard to even wrap your head around.

Shiki said it was purely individual talent, but it was obvious he’d taken a real interest.

Daena’s trump card was originally a sort of ultimate technique in body strengthening—a move that massively boosted his physical abilities. According to him, that was his “second stage.”

The duration wasn’t very long, but for a short, decisive fight, it was extremely effective.

His growth had been in pushing that even further.

While he was in that second stage, he’d found a way to force himself one more level up.

The original inspiration apparently came from Jin’s instantaneous boost technique. It really came down to stacking buffs, plain and simple. But even so, it was an obnoxiously effective strategy against just about anyone.

Of course, the strain it put on his body looked brutal, but I think he understood, deep down, that his own flesh and blood were the foundation of everything. You could tell just by looking at him that he was steadily building that foundation even now.

Figuring out the right training method on their own, without being taught… that’s impressive.

Now, the two main dishes.

First: Mithra.

Before the academy festival, his trump card was a technique that looked like he was ignoring pain altogether, ready to trade blow for blow in a mutual knock-out if he had to.

Naturally, I’d sealed that one away for safety reasons.

Then Tomoe got her hands on hers and played with it, and in the middle of that, Mithra happily evolved that power of his.

Shiki dubbed it Damage Delay. Just as the name suggests, it lets him postpone the damage he took. As long as he didn’t get hit by something instantly fatal, he could keep going.

Could, in theory, at least. Ever since he learned the technique, he (unsurprisingly) hadn’t actually taken anything on that level of damage.

At first glance, it seemed pointless. You were just postponing the injury, and you’d still get hurt later anyway. But that was where this skill’s real absurdity started.

Roughly half an hour after Mithra took the hit, the damage would come rushing in. However, in that thirty-minute window, he could receive healing magic. Which meant that if the treatment finished on time, nothing happened when the time ran out.

All that queued-up, waiting-to-be-processed damage was wiped out by the magic before it could be applied.

It was a bizarre power.

You could wave it off as talent and end the conversation there, but there was no question; it wasn’t the sort of ability just anyone could reproduce.

Shiki’s personal opinion was pretty much the same as mine on that point. Naturally, he was extremely interested in Mithra’s ability as well.

The final course was Jin.

That guy had apparently noticed my Realm (or at least a portion of it) and then tried to recreate it.

The technique he used on Ema’s illusion during the mock battle was that attempt.

Obviously, there was no way he could completely copy an ability he didn’t fully understand. At best, he managed an imitation. A spell similar on the surface, but fundamentally different.

Jin interfered with the space around him to create various effects.

The catch was that the effects had to be things he understood and could clearly conceptualize, and there were several other limitations, too. Even so, it was fair to call it a spell very much like Realm.

On top of that, the deployment itself barely taxed his mana at all. The strain apparently only hit when he started layering effects onto it.

For now, the only thing he could use over a wide area was gravity manipulation, but… he was still terrifying.

He’d tried to explain it as “you know, making things heavier or lighter and stuff,” but I honestly wanted to ask him why he could do that as his baby step.

I turned to Shiki. “They’re a downright frightening fighting force, if you ask me.”

“I agree entirely,” he replied.

“As they keep growing, they’re going to draw attention. And whether they’re employed by us or not, I’m pretty sure the major powers will come trying to poach them.”

“That is a certainty.”

“The two Heroes have that whole charm people and draw them in thing going on too. The worst-case scenario isn’t exactly impossible, you know.”

“It is not such a low probability that we can call it unthinkable. There is a very real chance they may choose to side with another faction.”

“And even so, you still want to observe them?”

“… Yes,” he said after a beat. “If that worst-case scenario does come to pass, I will handle it myself. If you permit it, Young Master.”

I let out a slow breath.

“Jin and the others have the right to choose their own future,” I said. “They go to the academy by choice. They’re chasing strength that hard; of course, they’ve got ambition. They can only grow so much at Kuzunoha, you know?”

“You underestimate them, Young Master,” Shiki said quietly. “There are already those among them who wish to seek employment with Kuzunoha.”

“Seriously?”

Sure, we could guarantee them food, shelter, and a decent income. A stable life.

However, when it came to promotions or big upward career paths, we didn’t have much to offer.

On top of that, more than half of our current business was with non-hyumans.

If we wanted to respond properly whenever something threatened to put us at a disadvantage, it would probably be better to hire at least a few hyumans. Appearances could matter quite a bit.

We’d have to keep them away from the deeper secrets, of course, and if they ever did something truly unacceptable…

All right. I’ll at least try to think about it in a positive light.

“I’ll give the employment idea some thought,” I said at last. “But what do you think, Shiki? You want us to hire them, right?”

“Yes,” he answered easily. “If we do, I’ll make sure they are prepared in such a way that we can erase them at any time. So please, rest easy on that point.”

Erase them?

I couldn’t tell whether he’d grown attached to the students or not.

A smile tugged at my lips as I let out a breath and lifted the cup to my mouth.

Ugh. It had gone cold.

Didn’t know that happened. Once it’s cold, the aroma disappears and the sweetness levels up instead…

Oh, right. The ocean trial should be wrapping up about now. The interview sessions were coming up soon, too.

So sweet.

Even trying to push my thoughts in another direction didn’t help; it was no use.

Watching Shiki cheerfully polish off cup after cup until the pot was empty, I found myself thinking that maybe we just weren’t compatible when it came to drinks.

It was all I could do to finish my first cup.

※※※

Back in my office, I was still buried in paperwork for my students.

Since the topic of hiring some of them had come up, I decided to talk with Shiki a bit more about Jin, Abelia, Shifu, Yuno, Izumo, Mithra, and Daena.

Shiki had told me that Jin was the kind of kid he’d want as a research apprentice. Personally, I didn’t quite see it that way yet.

The force field Jin had developed after intuitively guessing at my Realm was, to put it simply, a form of gravity manipulation that could make his opponent heavier or himself lighter.

He couldn’t do both at the same time, but if he kept the field small and centered on himself, he could reduce only his own weight. Conversely, he could center it on an area that excluded himself, making only his target heavier.

You could say that particular application was only possible because Jin was unfolding it as a spell, not as Realm. Realm is loose enough that I could get it to fire with pretty vague commands.

Aside from where it originated and how much mana it ate, his spell handled almost exactly like Realm.

When I asked Shiki why the effect ended up being heavier / lighter, he told me that, in Jin’s mind, that was simply the easiest way to visualize interfering with space.

In Jin’s understanding, an object moves because a force with a direction acts on it, and when you factor in gravity, friction, and all the various loads that come into play during movement and then blah blah blah…

Shiki looked like he was having far too much fun while he gave me this highly detailed explanation, but I decided to stick to understanding the outline and let the details wash past me. Maybe that’s the difference between a normal person and a researcher, I thought.

If I had to put what Jin was doing into my own words, he was creating a field that changed the multiplier on how much force it took to move.

Amazing.

Listening to Shiki talk, I felt like I’d wandered into a physics lecture.

Physics wasn’t a subject I hated, but I can’t say I ever really liked it either. It was one of the classes my report card always said there was room to improve in.

In a world where that kind of science barely existed in any proper form, I honestly couldn’t figure out how Jin had arrived at that sort of thinking on his own.

Shiki was just as shocked when he found out. He’d even dug out my old physics textbook and flipped it open to the section on vectors. His conclusion was that Jin might be intuitively grasping that sort of thing.

When I thought about it, Jin was a student at Rotsgard, a school that drew the elite from across the nation. And he was a scholarship student on top of that.

So, he was either a prodigy or just plain brilliant.

“Still, Jin as a researcher, huh?” I mused. “Hard to reconcile with the image I have of him, rushing in at the front lines with two swords swinging.”

“On that front, Jin would just be very good,” Shiki said. “As a researcher, however, he might well discover one or two truly revolutionary principles. He has more than enough potential to become exceptional.”

As a researcher, that is.

When you considered that Jin wanted to work for Kuzunoha, it got complicated.

“He’s going to be pretty shocked if he ever hears that,” I said wryly. “Not as a store clerk, not as a warrior, but as a research apprentice, huh… So, Shiki, are there any other students who’ve caught your eye?”

Like Abelia, I thought, but didn’t say it.

It’d be kind of funny if the next time Shiki brought it up, it wasn’t ‘I want a disciple’ but ‘I’d like to see her in a wedding dress.’

If it were that kind of person, I’d be willing to consider letting them into the Demiplane, too.

For the moment, the only ones of us with any real possibility in that direction were Shiki and Lime. Whatever you said about their personalities—and in a lot of ways, they were very different—the two of them were the right age to marry, and more importantly, they were both popular.

“Let me see…” Shiki folded his arms. “Regardless of my personal evaluation, I imagine Shifu and Yuno will end up working at the shop as employees sooner or later. Because of our ties to Rembrandt-san.”

I grimaced. “Ah. Well. Yeah.”

“Neither of them has any particularly remarkable abilities, but they’re generally well-disposed toward us, and there should be no problem using them as employees of the company. They’ve both clearly stated that they intend to pass the Merchant Guild exams before they graduate, so they’ll be useful if we ever open branch stores.”

“So, their motivation’s solid. And Rembrandt-san’s all for it too, of course.” I sighed. “All right, next?”

“As for the others… Izumo has not consulted me about his future at all. I suspect that, in his heart, he wishes to return to his homeland of Lorel. There seem to be… circumstances, but since he has not spoken of them, I assume he intends to handle things himself. It’s possible he’s caught up in a dispute between the main house and the branch family; in that case, it would be better for us if he resolved it on his own. My view is that we should essentially leave him be, and if he reaches out to us, we hear him out. No more than that. As a mage, his raw power is neither especially strong nor especially weak, regardless of the theory he’s using. There’s nothing about him that makes me particularly want to recruit him.”

He hasn’t consulted you…

The way Shiki phrased it, he sounded like he already knew everything.

Main house and branch house. The kind of messy, tangled family drama that existed back in Japan, too.

Definitely not the sort of thing I wanted to go sticking my nose into.

“What about Daena?”

“He’s already married, and he’s mentioned hoping to find a position at the academy,” Shiki said. “One time when we were out drinking, he joked, ‘If you’re planning to pick a fight with the academy, let me know early so I can run.’ His eyes were quite serious, however. Like Izumo, he has a path he wants to follow. He’s not the kind of talent we need to forcefully recruit.”

“Did you hear that his wife is pregnant?”

If she was having a rough time with morning sickness, part of me wanted to tell him to skip my lectures and stay by her side. But he hadn’t said anything, and it was a delicate topic, so I couldn’t exactly bring it up from my end.

“Yes. He specifically asked me not to let it reach your ears until things stabilized,” Shiki said. “He was afraid you’d tell him to take time off your lectures.”

“And you just casually spilled it,” I muttered.

“Her morning sickness has subsided, and she seems to be doing quite well now,” Shiki replied smoothly. “She came to us several times for advice about her condition, but she hasn’t needed to lately.”

“I see. So, while his wife was suffering from morning sickness, he was just going to class like normal.”

Doesn’t he feel bad leaving his wife alone?

If they’d needed anything, I would’ve happily had it all delivered straight to their room.

“Well, Daena is a scholarship student,” Shiki reminded me. “He’s going to feel compelled to devote himself to his studies and try to get results.”

“I guess that’s just how it is,” I muttered. “All right, what about Mithra and Abelia?”

“I find Mithra’s Damage Delay extremely intriguing,” Shiki said, eyes flicking toward another set of papers. “I’d like to have it fully analyzed by the time he graduates. Tomoe-dono has taken a liking to him, and I imagine she’ll keep training him until she gets bored. If he wishes it, employing him wouldn’t be a bad choice.”

“Why did you pause before you said that? Is there some kind of problem?”

“His parents appear to be fervent devotees of the Goddess. They’re hoping Mithra will enter temple service, or even find a permanent position there. He just scratched his head and looked troubled when he told me, but I suspect that if things go on as they are, they’ll simply push him along into the temple.”

“Ugh,” I groaned. “‘Fervent devotees of the Goddess.’ That phrase just kills my mood.”

“He’s passive by nature, both in personality and in fighting style. If he’s already resigned himself to drifting along with the current, then it’s his life. He’s free to do as he likes.”

“Yeah,” I said quietly.

“I did at least inform him that the temple and Kuzunoha are fairly likely to end up at odds someday,” Shiki added, almost casually. “So, I imagine he’ll be agonizing over it from now until graduation.”

“Yeah, that’d keep anyone up at night.”

“If he goes on drifting like he always has, and then learns that a future in the temple means facing you as an enemy down the line, Young Master… he might finally start swimming against the current for dear life. Which to choose, you or his parents? It promises to be an entertaining decision to watch.”

For a split second, I caught a wicked little smile tugging at the corner of Shiki’s mouth.

“You’re pretty dark sometimes, Shiki,” I told him.

“My apologies,” he answered smoothly.

“So, Abelia?”

The fact that he’d left her for last made me wonder if he was treating her a bit special. Or… the opposite.

“Abelia is a jack of all trades, master of none,” Shiki said. “She has no particularly outstanding skills. She has already received a preliminary offer from the Gritonia Empire, with a place in their knight order on the table. She herself says she’d prefer to work for us, but there’s no real benefit to us. I don’t see any need to go out of our way to hire her.”

“Ah, I see.”

Scouted by Gritonia, huh.

That was a pretty big deal.

“So, nobody’s thinking of heading to Limia?” I asked.

“Limia has yet to make any moves,” Shiki replied. “So, I imagine they haven’t considered it a real option. However, His Majesty did personally offer them words of praise, so it seems the nobles of that country are at least keeping an eye on them. Shifu, Jin, and Yuno aside, I would say the other four could very well accept if Limia extended an invitation.”

If it came down to Gritonia and Limia, I’d pick Limia in a heartbeat.

“Even Daena and Mithra?” I asked.

Daena’s wife lived here in the city, and Mithra’s parents were obsessed with getting him into the temple, weren’t they?

“If Daena were promised that his family’s home would also be provided for, I believe he’d be quite open to going elsewhere,” Shiki answered. “Beyond that, he would likely weigh the hassle of relocating against whatever he’s offered. As for Mithra, Limia has the Goddess’s chosen Hero. That alone gives his parents more than enough reason to be satisfied.”

Hibiki-senpai.

If his family were that devoted to the Goddess, they’d probably see helping a Hero as some glorious sacred duty or something.

“Makes sense, I guess,” I murmured, although I couldn’t relate at all.

Even so, Shiki really was cold about this.

Abelia had been approaching us pretty aggressively (well, approaching Shiki, really).

Abelia, I’m not seeing much potential for us here…

Not that I could honestly say I was desperate to hire her either.

“Young Master, are you interested in Abelia?” Shiki asked suddenly. “Is there some field in which you feel she particularly deserves attention?”

For some reason, he asked that with a strangely solemn face. So, that’s how he interpreted my reaction.

“Mm, not really,” I replied. “It’s just… she seems pretty attached to you, or rather, to us, and she’s working part-time at our store, right? So, I got a little curious, that’s all.”

“Attached is perhaps too strong a word,” Shiki said calmly. “There are plenty of girls just like her at the academy who have shown at least as much interest in me. However…”

Just how popular are you, anyway?

Maybe I should send Shiki to the academy alone sometime and have someone tail him all day.

He and Lime both, if they kept going like this, would crash and burn over women sooner or later. I kind of wanted to sit them down and tell them to take a page from Rembrandt’s book. That man loved his wife and only his wife.

So yeah. Sorry, Abelia.

I had no intention of standing in the way of someone’s love life, but I wasn’t about to get involved either.

“However… Abelia… It is true,” Shiki said suddenly.

He pressed a hand thoughtfully to his chin, as if something had just occurred to him. Maybe it was my imagination, but he was acting suspiciously theatrical.

“Yeah?” I prompted.

Wait, is this some kind of surprise second-chance route for her?

“As raw material for a hyuman-based chimera, she has considerable appeal,” Shiki said calmly. “Her elemental affinities and overall stats are nicely balanced at a high level. It’s a field in which I have very little data, so I was thinking I’d like to flesh it out further.”

“Wow.”

I kind of wished I hadn’t asked.

“Tomoe-dono has given me some fascinating documents,” he went on, “but live experiments are irreplaceable.”

“Yeah, no, that’s… a bit much,” I said, grimacing. “It’d probably be safer to send her off to one of the great nations as a proper member of the elite.”

Even the worst case, which would probably be going to Gritonia and ending up as fodder for Tomoki’s charm magic, still sounded better than being turned into Shiki’s lab rat.

“Is that so? Well, in any case, this is all still far in the future for them,” Shiki said mildly. “Even now, they’re earning more each month than most working adults. I doubt they’ll choose a lukewarm path for themselves.”

Yeah, that’s true.

Jin and the others were already getting a pretty substantial monthly stipend from the academy. If they became clerks at my shop, they would be taking a pay cut.

Oh, right.

What about the person at the center of all this, Jin himself?

“So, does Jin even want to come work with us?” I asked.

“He told me he isn’t considering any other future,” Shiki replied.

Okay, so he’s serious.

“Even though he’d be making less money,” I muttered.

“Jin used to be very strongly upward-oriented,” Shiki said, “but lately, I’ve noticed a bit of a change.”

“Yeah?”

“From the moment we met him, he was always very dry and pragmatic about weighing pros and cons. And once he made a decision, he clung to it quite stubbornly. That much hasn’t changed at all.”

“So, why would a guy like that want to work for us?”

In terms of profit and loss, he’d obviously be losing out.

“Jin understands,” Shiki said. “He knows that the experience he’ll gain at Kuzunoha will be priceless. And he knows it’s the kind of experience he could not find anywhere else.”

Experience as value… So, his cost-benefit calculations included that kind of thing too.

That, I could understand.

The things you can only experience there. The things you can only learn from that person.

If he factored all of that into his calculus and made a cold, rational choice, then I could sympathize.

Heh. For the first time, I kind of feel like I get Jin.

“The Demiplane aside, the staff who go out on assignments basically play at being adventurers half the time anyway,” I said.

“It will still take Jin quite a lot of time to catch up to Aqua and Eris,” said Shiki. “But I believe he wants to grow stronger at Kuzunoha. His desire for strength comes across very clearly.”

“Wait, stronger?”

Shiki bowed slightly, looking apologetic.

“I do not know why he wants to be stronger,” he admitted.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Even if you did know, I wouldn’t want you to tell me. If he ever feels like talking about it, Jin will tell me himself.”

“Got it.”

I had the same vague impression I had when we were talking about Izumo earlier—like Shiki actually did know something—but I decided to stop that conversation before it started. I guess all the students had their own thoughts, their own reasons.

And Abelia, in particular, was in a situation where she kind of needed to hustle.

She wasn’t completely out of the running yet, so she might still have a chance. Maybe.

However things turned out, I didn’t see myself ever getting close enough to any of them to show them the Demiplane. Nor were they the sort of people I needed to count as a threat.

Still, as the teacher who’d been involved with them through my lectures, I did hope they’d all be able to walk the paths they wanted.

Ah. So that was it.

That was probably why Abelia’s talk about wanting a job with us had stuck with me a little.

I wasn’t willing to strong-arm things to the point of forcing her into the company. That just wasn’t who I was.

“Well then, Young Master.” Shiki gestured toward the mountain of documents he’d brought back from the academy. “Before you leave for Limia, shall we do a bit of preliminary selection on these candidates?”

“You want to start now? Can’t we just do it when we get there?”

The stack was at ‘this mountain’s summit, success rate is not high’ sort of level. It was impressive, in a depressing way.

“Of course, the final review can be done on the way to Limia,” Shiki answered. “But we should at least make some progress beforehand.”

“Right,” I sighed.

We couldn’t exactly haul all of this with us, and leaving it in the Demiplane wasn’t really an option this time either.

“In that case,” Shiki said, handing me a block of papers about as thick as a box of tissues, “why don’t you start with these?”

I hefted the papers. The pressure I felt coming off them was heavier than the actual weight. So, this was the portion I needed to look over first.

Can I even get through all of this?

“And as for that pile over there—”

Shiki snapped his fingers, and the mountain of documents erupted into flames.

“?!”

Fire.

We were going to have a fire.

“Hey—!”

“Don’t worry,” he said calmly. “It won’t spread.”

“Right. Of course it won’t,” I muttered.

“All of those were already rejects,” Shiki added with a pleasant smile. “So, I thought I’d dispose of them with a bit of flair.”

He really did have a talent for doing terrible things with a very nice expression.

Next time, at least warn me, okay?

I mean, come on, we were on the second floor of the shop, inside.

“So, that means… this is all of it?” I asked, glancing back at the thick bundle in my hands.

“Yes,” Shiki confirmed. “It’s a fair amount, but after seeing that mountain, I imagine this feels just barely manageable.”

“Yeah. Kinda does.”

Shiki’s ability to set just the right expectations was impressive.

“There were quite a few hazardous materials in that first pile that felt like they would contaminate my brain just by reading them,” he added blandly. “I dread to imagine what might have become of you if you’d seen them, Young Master.”

Wait, hazardous materials?!

Those were just application forms from students who wanted to take my class, right?

“What I’ve just given you isn’t all perfectly sane either,” Shiki went on. “But at least you can treat them as experience. Let’s call them ‘just barely within the range of things you can handle without emotional damage.’”

“The way you’re talking about this is making me afraid to even start reading,” I muttered.

And what do you mean by “as experience”? What does “within the range I can handle” even imply…

“I got a bit high from the all-night death march myself,” Shiki said, smiling. “So, there are a few entries with decent entertainment value mixed in. I think you’ll enjoy them on the trip to Limia.”

So, they were bad enough that even Shiki started to wobble a little if he had to deal with them without sleep.

I couldn’t even imagine it, but I braced myself anyway.

“R-right. Good work,” I said, doing my best to keep the laughter out of my voice.

But… Limia.

As I thought about it, I realized I still hadn’t decided who I was taking with me.

Normally, Shiki would be my first pick for something like this, but this time I figured I should probably leave him here. There were too many things I needed him to handle on this side.

There was also the fact that he and Hibiki already knew each other.

“Well then, I’ll go check on how things are at the sea,” Shiki said, and I could hear the lightness in his voice as he turned to leave the room.

“Ah, Shiki. About Limia,” I called.

“What is on your mind?”

“If I’m going to take someone with me, who do you think would be better, Tomoe or Mio?”

“Mio-dono,” he answered.

Instantly.

I mean, there was zero delay.

“Shiki, why are you looking away?”

He wasn’t just averting his gaze; his eyes were darting all over the place.

Could you be any more suspicious?

“I believe Mio-dono would be the better choice,” Shiki said stiffly, but he still wouldn’t meet my gaze.

“Shiki?” I pressed.

Did something happen between him and Mio behind the scenes?

“W-well then, the sun is still high here in the Demiplane, so I think I’ll go enjoy a bit of swimming for the first time in a few centuries! In a bikini brief, perhaps!”

“Bikini?!”

No. No. That is absolutely a trunks situation.

Wait, no, that’s not the point.

“Please inform Mio-dono that I was the one who recommended she accompany you alone! Excuse me!”

Leaving those words in his wake, Shiki bolted out of the room like a rabbit fleeing a wolf.

“Shiki?!”

Inform her, huh? Inform who, exactly?

Mio.

Between this and the business with the transformation suit, he was clearly plotting something. At least I was certain it wouldn’t harm me. But still, the idea of going to Limia was suddenly making me a lot more nervous.

Side Story: The Dawn of Kaleneon ~Kuzunoha Arc~

Outside the city of Kaleneon, snow fell in absolute stillness. No wind, no sound, just white.

Kaleneon was technically a country, but in practice, it was still nothing more than a single city. Take one step beyond its walls, and you're in unclaimed wilderness. The danger level spiked instantly. Anyone without the strength to fight wouldn’t last long out here.

Right now, the only place in this newborn nation that truly belonged to the people was the narrow strip contained within its city walls.

“So, you mentioned local specialties?”

“Yeah, overlooking unique products is certainly a blind spot. I’m surprised we haven’t considered it yet.”

“A blind spot, perhaps… or rather, we’re not exactly at the stage where we can talk about that yet.”

“On the contrary. It’s exactly the kind of thing that sounds like our Young Master.”

A small group moved quickly over the vast snowfield, its deceptively beautiful surface broken only by their tracks.

They chatted in a relaxed tone, but their alertness never wavered. None of them was letting their guard down.

Two highland orcs, one man and one woman. A single winged folk. A single dwarf.

They were traveling in a direction opposite the one currently being explored and developed by the Adventurers’ Guild.

In other words, while it was possible that the demons who had originally ruled these lands had done something to this area, no citizen of Kaleneon had ever set foot here. It was still untouched, unexplored land.

The party belonged to the Kuzunoha Company—a lifeline of Kaleneon and a name every citizen knew.

Today, these four were moving under a specific directive.

The highest-priority order within Kuzunoha: an operation based directly on the will of their representative, Makoto Misumi.

Before heading to the demon lands, Makoto had wandered alone out into the snowfield.

And there, in the middle of the endless white, he had spoken a single line:

“Is there anything that could become Kaleneon’s local specialty?”

Everyone who heard that question had gone completely blank.

Of course, they had. Kaleneon was still at the stage where everyone was pouring everything they had into surviving the winter and stabilizing everyday life.

Things like specialty products or famous local goods had no business being on the agenda right now.

Even the highland orc Ema, who quite possibly knew more than anyone about Kaleneon’s current state, was unable to answer Makoto’s question. From one angle, it was the kind of answer that could only come from a third party with considerable distance, and therefore, considerable breathing room.

From any point of view, it was a topic the nation simply didn’t have the capacity to address yet.

Even if you bent over backward to interpret it positively, the question looked far too far into the future.

After a brief, stunned silence, Makoto announced he would speak with Eva Aensland, the woman fighting day and night to become the de facto prime minister of this fledgling nation, then left.

A few hours later, he returned, only to head straight out into the snowfield.

“And of course, he finds something,” said Yuehn, the highland orc woman, letting out an exasperated laugh as she scratched lightly at her temple.

“Even Ema never managed to draw that information out of Eva,” groaned her fellow highland orc warrior, Serand. “Childhood memories, hazy and half-remembered, are often wrong besides. And yet…”

He wasn’t groaning out of frustration, but from sheer disbelief at what their master had brought back.

“They say it was the supreme flavor of Kaleneon in the old days. Forest delicacies like the rare beast Mangarl Orc and the phantom wild vegetable Stove Corn, weren’t they?” said Shalo, the young male winged folk, his black wings rustling as he spoke the names aloud.

Yuehn nodded, repeating the fresh intel to herself like a mantra.

“According to Eva’s vague recollection, they couldn’t be raised or cultivated. You could only get them through hunting and gathering.”

They had only learned this much after Makoto left, when Ema pressed Eva for whatever she remembered.

“Yet Young Master said both livestock and cultivation were possible,” rumbled Kumato, the elder dwarf blacksmith-warrior, fingers brushing through his beard. “He even mentioned it casually, saying someone had told him so. The question is, who exactly told him?”

His voice carried something faintly ominous.

Makoto presided over not only the Kuzunoha Company but also its parent domain, the Demiplane.

He was, quite frankly, an anomaly. A man who communicated naturally with every being that lived there.

The native beasts of the Demiplane: the wolves, the bears, the rocs. The first settlers: the orcs, the lizardfolk, the spider-type monsters known as arachs. And the later additions: the forest ogres, the gorgons, and the winged folk.

How, exactly, did he manage such a feat of cross-species understanding? And just how far did that power of communication reach?

All of those questions were wrapped up in the words Kumato had just spoken.

“Since Young Master didn’t say so directly, this is only my guess,” Serand said, gaze drifting off into the distance. “But… he probably just talked to them. Face to face.”

Shalo gave a wry nod of agreement. If he knew anything about Makoto, Serand was right.

“Yeah. After all, we’re here to pick them up, right?”

That was their mission: to go and bring them in.

Makoto had strolled back from his little outing, dropped by Kuzunoha’s newly opened shop in Kaleneon with all the nonchalance of someone returning from a walk, and casually mentioned the names Mangarl Orc and Stove Corn.

Then he’d roughly indicated where each of them lived and said only, “Send someone to go fetch them,” before leaving Kaleneon again.

It wasn’t a lot to go on, but from his actions and the few words he gave them, they could make a reasonable guess.

Makoto had listened to Eva’s childhood memories, narrowed down a few possibilities, then gone off alone to explore Kaleneon’s territory. He’d found those two species himself.

Then, using his unique ability, he’d communicated with them and successfully negotiated.

That was why he’d been able to say they could be raised and cultivated.

That was what the group believed.

Makoto, king of the Demiplane, was not the sort of man to make baseless claims out of sheer arrogance.

Almost everything he taught them had some foundation, and it was extremely rare for him to be significantly wrong.

“He can talk with those wolves—the ones so terrifying they made Agarest shake,” Yuehn said. “So, convincing one or two local species to cooperate isn’t out of the range of possibility.”

“I also heard that the cattle the Gorgons were having so much trouble with… calmed down a lot after Young Master spoke with them,” Serand added.

In the Demiplane, the Gorgons oversaw livestock. Early on, they’d had a particularly hard time with a beast called a cow.

The meat was delicious, the milk incredibly useful—on paper, they were a perfect species to raise. But their temperament was wild and vicious.

The Gorgons, who had already been doing well with sheep, threw themselves just as seriously into raising cattle, but even so, they found themselves dealing with an endless string of injuries.

Then one day, Makoto wandered into the pasture.

He walked one loop around the grazing grounds and left.

From that day on, the Gorgons found the cattle surprisingly easy to handle.

There was also the case of the wolves, forest-dwelling magical beasts that had driven the Demiplane’s elite combat unit to the brink of annihilation. Makoto had gone alone to their forest, spoken with them, and returned with an agreement.

Shalo sighed as he gazed at the path ahead of them. “Still, there sure were a lot of them who tried to jump him.”

He beat his wings lightly, calling up a gust that blew away the top layer of snow from the field, revealing scattered patches of color.

These were the remains of Makoto’s attackers. All that was left of the creatures that had ignored his warnings and tried to eat him. Under each stain of bodily fluids lay a corpse felled with a single blow.

At the moment, those corpses were also serving as convenient landmarks for the party.

“This region hasn’t seen much exploration or development yet,” said Kumato, crouching to inspect one of the bodies. “To these beasts, hyumans and demi-humans must look like prime prey. There are quite a few powerful monsters mixed in here. If the Adventurers’ Guild avoided this place and started its work from the relatively easier side, they made the sensible choice.”

Makoto, on the other hand, chose a dangerous route indeed, he thought, with a nod of admiration.

“Apparently, the woman commanding their direct unit has extremely sharp instincts,” Shalo noted. “Her combat abilities and her leadership are both rated very highly.”

“A good sign they’re truly committed to helping us,” Kumato said.

In Kaleneon, the most dangerous monsters nested in the mountains. Next came the forests, then the ravines, and finally the open snowfields of the plains, where the danger level was comparatively low.

The unit with Serand at the front was currently advancing across a snowfield bordering the forest. In terms of danger, it was one of those ambiguous zones, hard to categorize definitively as safe or unsafe.

However, through the eyes of an elder dwarf warrior like Kumato, this area clearly ranked alongside the forest as a high-risk zone.

“No sign of those snow lions that were reported in the mountain region,” he murmured, scanning around them. “But we’re seeing a fair number of Great Yuki Beasts and Snow Birds. As for Snow Rollers and Ares Birds, I doubt any of them would’ve been foolish enough to challenge Young Master, so…”

“They are present,” Yuehn confirmed. “I’ve been picking up traces of them as we’ve been scanned for the markers.”

Serand sorted the information from Kumato and Yuehn in his head, organizing the details they’d need to pass on to the Adventurers’ Guild.

“I see,” he said. “Then when we get back, we’ll warn them not to wander into this area looking for those targets.”

Snow Rollers and Ares Birds were two of the monsters that Kaleneon’s adventurers were taught to hunt first. As long as one followed the proper steps and precautions, there was almost no chance of losing to them.

They were considered among the weakest monsters, and adventurers were starting to recognize them as basic practice opponents for gaining initial combat experience.

Still, that didn’t mean you could afford to be careless.

If you ignored the presence of other monsters in the area, you could die very easily.

Serand had been escorting Kaleneon’s adventurers more and more often lately. Compared to the Demiplane’s fighters, their training and discipline were still lacking, so he paid close attention to that kind of danger.

In particular, the Great Yuki Beast, one of the region’s largest magical creatures, was a top predator in the food chain of Kaleneon’s snowfields and forests. Even the warriors of the Demiplane preferred to avoid a one-on-one fight with a fully grown adult of the species.

Though from the point of view of their master, Makoto… Well, the state of the snowfield made it quite clear that such beasts weren’t worth worrying about in the slightest.

At the spot where the four stopped walking, seven Great Yuki Beasts lay dead—almost all in the same place.

“One-hit kills,” Yuehn said quietly. “And he said he’d never fought in snowfields before. Poor things.”

The others fell silent as the wind swallowed his words.

This wasn’t an arena.

There were no convenient rules here, no such thing as “If two fighters of equal strength are dueling, no one interferes.” Here, one always had to be ready to face multiple monsters at once.

Which was exactly why lone actions and overextending were strictly forbidden.

For normal people, anyway.

“A little less than a kilometer to the north-northwest, there’s an open patch with no snow,” Shalo reported, pointing ahead. “I’m also picking up multiple beast signatures there.”

“The Stove Corn cluster, then…” Serand narrowed his eyes, tracing the direction with his gaze. “It is a fair distance from the city, but if we’re following in Young Master’s footsteps, it shouldn’t be too hard to reach. If we’d stuck to the planned development routes, this discovery would’ve come much later. As it is, we’ve moved the timetable up quite a bit. And the beasts with them must be Mangarl Orcs, right?”

Kumato, who’d been examining the Great Yuki Beast carcasses, rejoined them at the rear.

“Sorry to keep you,” he said. “At this size, they’re not worth taking. Interesting material, sure, but a bit low-value to be stocked in the Demiplane. Let the forest have them. Once the Kaleneon folks can hunt them on their own, they’ll make fine materials for them.”

And so, the four of them set off again.

They were all so used to marching through snow that they steadily shaved down the distance to their destination without any trouble.

If it were a blizzard, that would be one thing. But in mere snowfall like this, it was barely an inconvenience for four people who had adapted to the world’s far edge and had been with Kaleneon since its earliest days.

This was what people called “being used to it.”

Before long, they arrived.

When they saw what lay there, they all sucked in a breath.

Makoto had already told them what to expect. And what they were seeing now matched that explanation perfectly.

Even so, the sight shook them. Whether it was a simple reflex at the rarity of the scene, or a fresh reevaluation of the man called Makoto, they couldn’t quite say.

It would be an exaggeration to say it stretched to the horizon, but well over half of their field of vision was taken up by bare, brown earth. A patch of exposed ground spread out before them, sprinkled generously with lush green plants.

In this snow-smothered forest, a patch of bare earth lay open like a bad joke.

Early spring can sometimes bring a phenomenon called root thaw, where snow melts faster around the base of trees. However, Kaleneon was in the dead of winter. And this wasn’t just a small melted ring at the roots, either. The snow had vanished cleanly from the entire area where these plants were growing.

Dark brown soil, almost black, shiny, and wet with snowmelt.

“It’s not just our imagination. It really is warmer here,” Kumato said. “So, the Stove Corn is what’s generating the heat.”

He pulled out a small instrument, took a reading of the air, and his eyes widened.

“Outside, it was around minus fifteen,” he said slowly. “Here, it’s about three degrees above freezing. Plant power can’t be underestimated. Somehow, this reminds me of the Wasteland.”

“According to Eva, Stove Corn was classified as a ‘phantom mountain vegetable’ that only grew once every few years when certain conditions lined up, and ripened in winter,” Shalo recalled.

Oddly, his words didn’t match what they were seeing at all.

Here, the Stove Corn was growing en masse.

You might get the odd natural cluster even with wild vegetables, but this was nothing short of astounding.

“Young Master said the key is the soil created by a certain combination of trees,” Kumato went on. “And after that, low temperatures and the right amount of moisture. From what he told us, it’s closer to a mushroom in nature. But unlike mushrooms, it’s an annual plant you can propagate with visible seeds.”

“How many cycles of trial and error do you have to go through to figure all that out?” Shalo muttered.

At their core, both Kumato’s explanation and Shalo’s question carried a quiet fear, or more like awe, toward their master.

At the very least, none of this had been known in Kaleneon before its fall.

Even if they threw themselves into it wholeheartedly, they’d be looking at experiments on the scale of centuries. Hundreds of years of repeated failure, so vast you’d lose count, all to piece together this kind of knowledge.

“If we asked him, the answer would probably just be, ‘Oh, I talked to the Stove Corn, and it told me in a few minutes,’” Kumato said dryly. “After all, we are talking about Young Master.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Shalo agreed.

In any case, at this very moment, the ‘phantom mountain vegetable’ from Eva’s childhood memories had just been reborn as a powerful candidate for Kaleneon’s future specialty product.

A crop that warmed the land around it this much (and promised to taste good on top of that) was something they would be fools not to cultivate.

On top of everything, it was a winter seasonal.

“It sounds like it’ll take some work to cook properly, but that’s the kitchen crew’s job,” Kumato said. “They’ll suffer, but they’ll be delighted to try. Let’s see… hmm. It’s warm to the touch, but not hot enough to burn. That’s a blessing too.”

Serand reached out and plucked one of the thick, corn-like ears from the stalk.

Stove Corn looked, to Makoto’s eyes, like a fatter, shorter version of the corn from his old world.

The biggest difference was the heat; the entire plant radiated warmth you could feel just by getting close. Other than that, though, it was basically a stocky, squat ear of corn.

When Serand peeled back the husk of the rugby-ball-shaped mutant corn, he found exactly what they’d been expecting underneath: large, glossy kernels, tightly packed, all a deep, vivid red.

“Looks good,” Serand muttered under his breath.

The kernels gleamed like gemstones and, at the same time, stimulated the appetite.

“It doesn’t have any dangerous toxins,” Shalo said, “but supposedly it’s not recommended to eat it raw, so—”

“Then let’s see if it kills me or not, and have a taste!” Serand cut in, sinking his teeth into a piece with hearty enthusiasm. After a few chews, he doubled over in agony.

“Urgh?!”

A chorus of sighs and lukewarm stares rained down on him from the others.

Male highland orcs were all bulging muscle and dense bone, like bipedal boars sculpted for battle. In other words, they screamed raw strength. It was perhaps surprising, then, that so many of them held a fondness for vegetables.

Serand was no exception. He was one of the self-proclaimed veggie lovers who considered the Demiplane-grown bamboo shoots the pinnacle of all flavor.

Even so, he was still an orc. His appetite was enormous, and faced with something that looked this tasty, he just couldn’t resist taking a bite.

He did, however, seem to have learned absolutely nothing from the time he’d chomped into a huge bamboo shoot without waiting for the bitterness to be leeched out, and paid dearly for it.

“So… how is it?” Yuehn asked, looking down at the crouched Serand with an icy gaze and a question that she very much knew the answer to.

“It’s insane.”

“Hmm?”

“Insanely… spicy!!!”

“I see. Just so you know,” Yuehn said coolly, “that’s precious food. You’re going to finish it. If you take a bite and toss the rest, I won’t forgive you.”

Ignoring the warning that it wasn’t suited for eating raw, taking one test bite, then throwing it away—no highland orc raised in the Wasteland could ever accept that.

Before they’d been invited into the Demiplane, before they’d come under the protection of Makoto and Tomoe, they’d lived at the edge of the world, gnawing on roots and scraping by on whatever they could hunt.

Those memories were still strong in both Yuehn and Serand.

Eyes round and tearful, Serand nodded several times, then tucked the half-devoured Stove Corn carefully into his coat.

There was no way he could finish it as it was, but he fully intended to have it cooked later and eat it. Not that he was looking forward to it; after experiencing that violent burn firsthand, it was hard for him to believe this stuff could ever become tasty, no matter what people said.

Nearby, Kumato knelt down and pressed his fingers into the soil, analyzing the local plants and the feel of the earth.

“So. An annual that germinates in late autumn, under low temperatures and moderate humidity, in soil produced only by a specific mix of trees, and fruit in mid-winter, when the snow’s deepest,” he murmured. “If I’m right, there probably aren’t many places in this region where late autumn gives it both the cold and the moisture it needs.”

“If the germination rate’s low on top of that, it really would seem like a phantom,” Shalo said.

“And by late winter it’s withered and buried under the snow,” Kumato went on. “No wonder they called it a phantom mountain vegetable.”

He finally stood.

“In any case, we’ll gather a decent amount to take back. Next up is…”

He trailed off, looking up as a rustling came from within the Stove Corn thicket.

One after another, tiny beasts pushed out through the stalks.

They looked, for all the world, like extremely peculiar pigs.

“Young Master’s term ‘sheep-pigs’ really does fit them,” Serand said, now recovered enough to speak, his tone reverent.

Because what stood before them was exactly that: pigs wrapped in sheep’s wool. Wool orcs.

Their base coloration was either black or white, with the occasional mottled specimen mixed in.

Both males and females were covered, without exception, in a thick coat of tightly curled wool over most of their bodies.

The colors varied wildly: white, brown, black, gold, and silver.

Even after Serand’s group arrived at the Stove Corn patch, the beasts didn’t run. On the contrary, more and more of them slowly gathered, watching the four from a cautious distance.

It almost felt like they were waiting for something.

“No doubt about it. Those are Mangarl Orcs,” Shalo said. “They match every detail Young Master described.”

“According to Eva’s intel, they’re extremely wary,” Serand added, brow furrowing. “She said most of them spend their time in the mountains, and seeing them in the forest is rare at best.”

Here, though, there was not the faintest sign of fear or skittishness.

And this area was definitely not mountainous.

“Eva did her best to gather information while juggling her duties,” Yuehn said, letting out a small, rueful laugh. “We can forgive a bit of inaccuracy.”

She remembered all too clearly the sight of Eva being mercilessly hounded by Ema as she scrambled to collect data.

Why is he suddenly asking for gourmet information at a time like this~?!

Half in tears, Eva had been running all over the place. The sight was honestly pretty adorable.

Of course, when she’d started muttering complaints about Raidou under her breath with glazed eyes partway through, even Yuehn’s expression had tightened as she decided some discipline would be required later.

If they brought back these pigs and this grain, though, Yuehn hoped Eva might finally start to understand what kind of man Makoto really was.

To realize he was not someone she should have used as a point of comparison for herself in the first place.

After all, the “gourmet information” she’d grumbled about was now on the verge of changing Kaleneon’s entire situation.

“Hmm, the meat is supposed to be delicious,” Kumato murmured, eyeing the herd. “But this wool looks like quite the material as well.”

The Great Yuki Beasts hadn’t rated more than a passing glance from him, but now, the craftsman’s gleam lit up his eyes.

Yuehn jumped on it immediately.

“Think it could be used for clothing?” she asked.

Ever since she’d heard from Makoto that they were “pigs with wool like sheep,” she’d harbored a secret hope that the fibers could be turned into a textile.

Even if it was a little outside his usual field, if a material could impress an elder dwarf, one of this world’s top masters of craftsmanship, it was only natural for expectations to rise.

“Clothing?” Kumato mused. “Yes, that’s certainly one use. Even processed as-is, it should provide excellent insulation. But rather than using it alone, I suspect it would be better to mix a certain percentage of this wool into another base material.”

“That sounds promising,” Yuehn said. “In a place as harsh as Kaleneon, it’d be incredibly valuable. But the way you’re talking, it sounds like you’ve already got some other idea in mind.”

“Right you are. Armor, to be precise,” Kumato replied. “The first thing that comes to mind is cloaks. With our techniques, if we handle the wool properly, we should be able to achieve a fairly strong camouflage effect. And on top of that, a cloak made from it would likely let you survive a night in a heavy blizzard. Decent cold resistance, decent defense, both in a single garment.”

“That sounds like something people would kill to get their hands on,” Shalo said quietly.

“No doubt,” Kumato agreed. “However, if we’re using it for that purpose, we’ll need far more wool than if we were just making everyday clothes. The work will be that much more complicated, too. Honestly, if our numbers don’t increase, the dwarves might drop from overwork. We’ll probably be stuck in a prototype phase for quite a while. I can only hope our labor shortage improves before then.”

He ran his fingers through a Mangarl Orc’s wool, eyes bright with fascination, his expression a mixture of concern and delight.

Anyone watching from a step back would clearly see which side was winning.

He’d gotten his hands on a new toy. Of course, he was happy.

Shalo raised a tentative hand, drawing three sets of eyes to himself.

“Um, I was thinking,” he began.

“About what?” Yuehn prompted.

“These two species. Doesn’t it feel like, once we get the livestock and cultivation stabilized, things are going to get crazy? Like, they won’t just be local specialties or famous products anymore, will they?”

He had taken Makoto’s words at face value. When their master had first brought up Mangarl Orcs and Stove Corn, Shalo had mentally classified them as future specialty items, something like tourist draws.

Now that he’d seen them for himself, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they far exceeded the role of a tasty local attraction.

The sheer potential of what they could become was slowly sinking in, and the realization had spilled out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“When you think about it,” he went on, “local specialties and famous products are originally things that grow out of a region’s climate, land, and culture. They become specialties precisely because they fit that place better than anything else.”

“If we’re going to call something a Kaleneon specialty, then in Kaleneon it has to be something ordinary,” Serand said, picking up Shalo’s thought. “Something that’s just… there.”

“More than that,” Kumato added, stroking his beard, “it must be commonplace and easy to use, if it is to be truly worthy of the name.”

Sure, there were always the manufactured specialties, the things slapped together after the fact for the sake of regional branding and town revitalization.

True specialties, real local products, were those that had taken root in a region and been loved by its people over long years.

In other words, livestock and crops that adapted naturally to the local climate and land could become specialties and famous products. And beyond that, they might even grow into core industries that shouldered part of the nation’s future.

Realizing this anew, Shalo spoke again, a cold sweat prickling down his back.

“As expected of Young Master?”

Yuehn only gave a wry smile and shook her head.

“I’m sure he just tossed it out there casually, thinking of it purely as a tourist resource,” she said.

“Probably,” Serand agreed. “But either way, these two finds are going to bring huge rewards to Kaleneon. The grain can become a staple food, and the livestock gives us meat and enough clothing to withstand this brutal cold.”

“And on top of that,” Kumato continued, “we’re talking about top-class cold-resistant gear that would make any adventurer drool. The Aensland sisters’ stock is going to skyrocket again. Watching them scramble to keep up with their constantly rising reputation feels oddly similar to watching our Young Master operate outside the Demiplane.”

If Kuzunoha’s master continued to insist on staying out of the spotlight, then in future histories of Kaleneon, the Aensland sisters would likely be treated as near-divine figures, credited with miracles.

This discovery alone was enough to justify that kind of reverence.

Assuming, of course, that Kaleneon managed to survive for the next few hundred years.

For a brief moment, a solemn silence settled over the four of them.

“A-anyway,” Yuehn said at last, clapping her hands lightly. “The Mangarl Orcs are waiting. Let’s take them home. First, we report to Ema and Eva. Serand, Shalo, I’ll leave the Stove Corn to you two. I’ll lead the Mangarl Orcs, so Kumato, you take the rear and watch our backs.”

“Got it.”

“Understood.”

“I’ll handle it.”

The Mangarl Orc herd, who had been waiting quietly this whole time, numbered around forty.

Despite supposedly being timid by nature, they started walking obediently the moment Yuehn took the lead.

The march across the snowfields didn’t bother them in the slightest.

Even after they left the Stove Corn patch and the temperature dropped again, they didn’t seem to mind. They plodded forward, full of energy. They did live in Kaleneon, after all. Both species had naturally high cold resistance, a precious and incredibly useful trait.

After about half a day of travel, the four of them, the forty beasts, several clumps of Stove Corn plants, and over ten kilos of harvested ears finally reached the capital of Kaleneon.

Not hunted carcasses, but living livestock.

Not wild produce, but cultivatable grain.

On that day, Eva Aensland, who stood at the head of Kaleneon’s government, learned firsthand just what it meant when Ema called Makoto’s offhand whims “enough to split the earth.”

※※※

You could say they were Kaleneon’s equivalent of Alba’s white truffles in Italy.

Or matsutake in Japan.

Before Kaleneon’s downfall, Mangarl Orc and Stove Corn had occupied the same level of rarity and prestige there.

Of course, even after the country’s rebirth, their scarcity hadn’t changed.

If anything, given the knowledge and experience needed to find them, calling them phantoms was no exaggeration at all.

Given how little leeway Kaleneon currently had in any area, it was only a matter of time before those two completely vanished from the people’s memory.

Even if the country’s reconstruction went smoothly, their rediscovery would have been years away at best.

The Kuzunoha Company representative, Raidou, accomplished it in a single day.

What he’d done wasn’t just a rediscovery.

He had, in effect, taken white truffles and shown how to turn them into black truffles. Or taken matsutake, and pointed out the path to making them into shiitake.

Once called black diamonds, Earth’s black truffles were far rarer and more valuable in the past than they are now. But when humanity learned to cultivate them, they became something many people could afford to taste.

Shiitake mushrooms, too, were considered more valuable than matsutake up until the Edo period—a luxury ingredient so prized that dried shiitake were one of Japan’s major exports. Once log-based cultivation methods were established, however, they came to grace ordinary dinner tables and became a beloved everyday food.

Mangarl Orc and Stove Corn, which Raidou had brought back, were not once-in-a-lifetime delicacies to be served and forgotten.

He brought with him the basic know-how to domesticate and cultivate them.

It would be no exaggeration to call that a miracle.

In fact, revolution might be the more appropriate word.

Even Ema, who had seen the real things with her own eyes, had fallen silent, her mouth half-open.

As for Eva, she’d literally gone slack-faced. If you wanted to be brutally honest, the simplest way to describe it would be ‘like a clay haniwa.’ She was a hollow shell, struck completely speechless.

Alongside wheat and rice, corn was a grain that could serve as a staple food.

In Kaleneon, they’d been cultivating a type of summer-harvested wheat as their primary staple, but its yield was nothing to boast about, and they had always depended heavily on grain imports from other nations.

Food supply had been one of Eva’s biggest headaches. She had steeled herself to spend the rest of her life wrestling with the problem.

If they could manage stable, large-scale cultivation of Stove Corn, the situation would change overnight. And on the livestock side, the value of the Mangarl Orcs was immense.

Their meat, of course, but also their wool and various other parts were all first-class materials. In the old Kaleneon, they had been cherished as a phantom beast of the highest order.

Hunters and adventurers had practically gone bloodshot searching for it, and if they managed to bring one down a handful of times a year, that was cause for celebration. Even specialists had struggled with its wary nature, and it had been nothing more than a quarry for hunting.

Now, that phantom pig could be raised by ordinary citizens.

They were once traded at such outrageous prices that people called them jewel pigs. And because so many hunters had died chasing them too far, Mangarl Orcs had earned another nickname as well: hunter-killers.

The idea that, in the future, Kaleneon might secure enough of both meat and wool every single year sounded like a fantasy too convenient to believe. But it was reality. Undeniable, physical reality.

Eva Aensland had been living every day like every minute, every second mattered, chained to her work and studies.

Which was exactly why, when Raidou had asked her about “local specialties” and “famous products,” irritation had boiled up inside her.

Does he see this place as a winter resort? she wondered.

How could he possibly think rare mountain plants and unusual animals are important to Kaleneon right now?

She’d never have dared say such things aloud—not in front of Ema, who’d taken on the role of teacher, or the rest of Kuzunoha’s people assigned to help them—but while she rummaged through old records and documents, Eva had been venting that anger toward Raidou over and over in her heart.

How much time could she spare for collecting gourmet trivia? Not even a single second. But now, Eva was speechless.

The dozens of strange pigs Kuzunoha’s exploration team had brought back were clearly Mangarl Orcs, the very same beasts she vaguely remembered from long ago.

Back then, though, all she’d seen was a carcass.

This was her first time facing them alive.

Mangarl Orcs were supposed to be extremely wary, but these ones had docilely followed the team all the way back to Kaleneon’s city.

Crowds of citizens gathered, staring at the unfamiliar animals with wide-eyed curiosity.

And yet, not a single one of the pigs tried to run.

Raidou was the kind of man who, even in a field where he barely knew the basics—still wobbling at the level of a toddler’s first steps—could casually accomplish something that, in any normal frame of reference, counted as a great feat.

“Yes-yes?” Eva’s voice slipped out like a delirious murmur. “So, this is sensei’s ‘Yes-yes’…”

Ema, catching the words and glancing sideways at her, felt her own shock all over again, then gave the smallest, most deeply satisfied nod.

Ten-odd minutes after the exploration team finished their report on the Mangarl Orcs, the Stove Corn, and the area they’d scouted, they withdrew from the office.

Luria came sprinting in at full speed.

She all but pitched forward over Eva’s desk, leaning in so close her words were practically sprayed across her sister’s face.

“Big sis?! Those are Mangarl Orcs, right?! And that thing the orc from Kuzunoha was carrying, that was—that had to be Stove Corn, right?! I’ve never seen it in person, but you have, haven’t you? Hey, tell me, was it real?! The real thing?!”

For Luria Aensland, this was an unusually breathless, rapid-fire barrage. She was so excited she’d abandoned any pretense of composure. If she could have, she probably would have climbed right onto the desk.

The names of the two ingredients that had suddenly arrived in Kaleneon today were ones Luria knew (at least in theory).

Mangarl Orc, she’d actually tasted once.

Stove Corn, she’d only ever seen in a picture. Never on a plate.

Even for the daughters of a former lord, it was rare for such prized delicacies to make it to a child’s bowl. The fact that she’d gotten even one of them in her lifetime put Luria in the lucky category.

Eva, on the other hand, had tasted both. That was a privilege reserved for the firstborn daughter of a noble family.

“Yes,” Eva said quietly. “But first, calm down, Luria.”

She drew in a slow breath.

“You’re right. It’s unbelievable, but there’s no doubt. Those are Mangarl Orcs and Stove Corn. The real phantom ingredients.”

“…”

Luria snapped her mouth shut and swallowed hard, her throat bobbing audibly.

“We’d lost not just the recipes, but even the methods for gathering and capturing them,” Eva went on. “And yet somehow, right now, both of them are sitting in the castle. In quantity.”

Her eyes were focused on something far away—not crushed by the awareness of how much extra work this was going to create, but…

More like someone halfway through giving up on trying to understand the kind of miracles she’d been forced to witness recently. It had happened several times of late, but that didn’t make any of it normal.

“It’s amazing,” Luria said, her breath catching. “With that many, we can really show everyone how good they are. I’ll do it; I’ll figure it out. I’ll absolutely establish the proper way to cook—”

“No.”

“?”

The flat, unambiguous refusal made Luria blink in surprise.

Eva’s eyes were steady and serious as she met her sister’s gaze head-on.

“I said I’m not allowing you to cook them.”

Luria’s confusion only intensified.

Yes, they were rare, but they were still ingredients.

Given that she worked primarily as a cook, her sister’s refusal to let her prepare them made no sense.

“Um… but, big sis? The people from Kuzunoha went to all that trouble to bring them back…”

“Raidou-sensei’s the one who did it,” Eva said quietly.

“Ah. Yeah. Anything goes with him, as usual,” Luria sighed.

To march out into an unfamiliar land like Kaleneon and return with long-lost phantom ingredients in hand—

Yes, that level of result deserved to be called ‘anything goes.’

Her little sister still didn’t understand. She had no idea what this miracle actually meant.

Eva drew a breath and began to explain.

“According to sensei, Mangarl Orc and Stove Corn can both become Kaleneon’s specialty products.”

“?”

Luria tilted her head in silence, her expression full of question marks. What exactly counts as a specialty again? was practically written on her face.

“Of course, you don’t get it. I didn’t either,” Eva said. “What he actually said was this: Raise Mangarl Orcs. Cultivate Stove Corn.”

“The treasures of the forest? Huh? If that were possible, the old Kaleneon would’ve done it ages ago. They’re precious because you can’t raise them by hand, because they’re phantom ingredients.”

Exactly.

They were ingredients you only had a chance to obtain if you risked your life to get them. That was why even the lord of the land hadn’t been able to acquire them easily.

If anyone had been able to raise or grow them, of course, they would have.

In fact, people had tried. But Mangarl Orcs had never grown tame. The seeds of Stove Corn scattered near hyuman settlements had never even sprouted.

They had already experimented. Again and again.

In the end, everyone had given up on that dream.

Of course, maybe a few eccentrics had kept trying in obscure corners. But at the very least, right up until the nation fell, there had been no results.

“Here. Read this,” Eva said, sliding a small stack of papers across the desk—just heavy enough to feel substantial in the hand.

“Eh—ah, yes… Umm… huh? For Now: Basic Mangarl Orc Husbandry and Stove Corn Cultivation Policy? Wh-whaaaat?”

Luria’s eyes went wide at the handwritten title, which was almost certainly in Raidou’s own scrawl. As she flipped through the pages, her chatter faded away, and soon she was reading in total silence, eyes glued to the text.

It didn’t take long before she lifted her head again and looked at her sister.

Eva gave a small nod. “That’s why I said you can’t cook them yet.”

“Don’t tell me this was written by Raidou-sensei, too. Is he… a god?”

“Technically, those are notes one of his employees jotted down based on what he said aloud,” Eva explained. “The title’s apparently in his actual handwriting, though. By the way…”

“Yeah?”

“Raidou-sensei first learned the names Mangarl Orc and Stove Corn this morning.”

“Come again?”

Luria tilted her head, wondering whether “this morning” had somehow acquired some deep, hidden meaning she wasn’t aware of.

“So,” Eva continued, “before he left on company business for a distant region, he pulled some half-baked details out of my childhood memories, went into the forest with that, found the Mangarl Orc and Stove Corn habitats in about an hour, and then persuaded them to come live with people.”

“…”

“And then, apparently, he asked them directly about their growth patterns and lifestyle. That’s how he knows.”

“…”

“The fact is, the Mangarl Orcs followed the exploration team back to the city without bolting, and if you read the Stove Corn notes, it even lays out the special germination conditions and the exact kind of soil they like. I should laugh when he says, ‘I asked them directly.’ But I can’t.”

“…”

“If everything written there is true, and if we can make it work exactly as described, then Kaleneon will definitely be able to turn these two into specialty products. Our flagship exports. On top of that, Stove Corn can apparently be stored for long periods after harvest. It could become this country’s staple food. Every day, Stove Corn on the table.”

“That’s what really drove it home for me. That man is fundamentally different from us. He’s so far removed that even comparing ourselves to him is meaningless. Just like you said, Luria, Raidou-sensei might be closer to a god than a person.”

Some of the problems they should have been struggling with for decades had been solved right before her eyes, in the span of a few hours.

Using nothing more than a handful of gourmet trivia she’d handed over without much thought.

All she’d done was recite what was written in some old materials, matter-of-factly. And yet, somehow, the whole situation struck her as absolutely ridiculous.

It was so absurd she could only laugh.

Lately, fatigue and strain had become more or less permanent features on Eva’s face. Now, suddenly, a smile broke through.

Up until this morning, when she thought of grains Kaleneon could harvest itself, the only thing that came to mind was wheat.

One of her short-term goals for the country had been to expand the arable land as much as possible, increase the yield of that summer wheat even a little, and stockpile it as insurance for the winter.

Even short-term, in this case, meant that they would lose people to hunger through several winters before they could get there. That much was obvious.

She had accepted that as the burden she would have to carry as a ruler.

You can’t run a country on pretty words alone.

They needed all the hands they could get. Infinite manpower would have been nice. But if they grew the population, Kaleneon’s food would definitely run short.

It was an impossible problem, a dead end.

There would be sacrifices. That was unavoidable.

Whenever Ema or Yuehn heard those words from Eva’s lips, they showed naked disappointment. Because they knew there was at least a provisional solution.

It would put Kaleneon massively in debt, but if they borrowed power from the two organizations currently helping them, they could probably reduce immediate casualties to zero.

Yet even if they miraculously survived the coming winters with the help of the Adventurers’ Guild and the Kuzunoha Company, Eva saw that as nothing but dependence.

It would be an indulgence—and worse, a seed for future disaster that might one day threaten the nation’s independence.

Of course, even now, Kaleneon was already slung over the shoulders of the guild and Kuzunoha. It was far too late to pretend otherwise. She had no dignity left to protect.

In this case, without even realizing it, Eva had been clinging to a stubborn pride—an unconscious insistence on steering the ship by her own power. In a way, she’d been enamored with the tragic image of a future where sacrifices were inevitable.

It hadn’t come to that this time.

If Eva had kept narrowing her vision without ever recognizing that streak in herself, Ema would eventually have cut into her with mercilessly sharp words and forced a correction.

Suddenly, Luria raised her head, as if some thought had finally surfaced. “God. Speaking of gods…”

“Mm?” Eva prompted.

“There isn’t a single Goddess Temple or Spirit Temple in Kaleneon, is there?”

“…”

“So, what are you going to do, big sis?” Luria asked quietly.

“There will be no Goddess Temple in this country,” Eva said. “Not in Kaleneon. We’re not building one. Not now, not ever.”

“I see,” Luria murmured.

“Yes.” Eva spoke for the whole nation of Kaleneon, none of whom desired a temple.

Now that she thought about it, Luria realized her sister was right. After all, she worked at the central cafeteria, the little nation’s most important gathering place. If anyone had her finger on the pulse of its citizens’ desires, it was Luria. And these adventurers were not particularly religious folk.

Other than the two sisters themselves, every citizen of Kaleneon had been brought in by either the Adventurers’ Guild or Kuzunoha.

Every so often, Luria felt a strange sensation, as if everyone here, including herself, were being observed from the palm of someone’s hand.

Every time that feeling rose up inside her, she shattered it with her own will.

I don’t care whose schemes brought us to this point, she thought. Because the words my sister—no, the words we wished for have become reality.

Someone’s will was at work here, and it was absolutely not the Goddess’s.

Maybe it was the god she’d mentioned just a moment before.

Raidou.

Even so, Luria didn’t mind.

Ever since she’d come here, the memory of her life in the Academy City—and before that, those memories she didn’t even want to recall—had been growing fainter and fainter, washed out by the days piling up in Kaleneon.

If life was going to go on like this—dense, exhausting, full-throttle—then Luria figured it didn’t matter whose palm they were standing on.

“Right. For now, let’s just be grateful to Adventurers’ Guild–sama and Kuzunoha-sama,” she said lightly. “Oh, about raising the Mangarl Orcs and cultivating the Stove Corn. I’ll scout people from my side, but how many can you spare, big sis?”

“People. Yes. People…” Eva rubbed at her temple. “To be frank, we’re at the point where everyone would have to do it as a second job.”

In other words, their labor shortage had just gotten worse.

“I’d really like people who know about cooking,” Luria mused. “We might have to ask the Adventurers’ Guild to list anyone with the right skills and then go talk to them one by one. As for Kuzunoha, I heard Mio-sama’s very knowledgeable about cuisine, but do you think we could ask to borrow her for a full—”

“Spare me. Absolutely not,” Eva cut in, shaking her head vigorously. “If we need someone on the culinary side, we’ll look for a cook, not her. Mio-sama has already shown that she’s the kind of woman who can retake a country with just a handful of elites. She’s a heroine.”

“I’ll at least try asking sensei. But yeah, it’d be tough. You don’t just tie down a top-tier adventurer for cooking duty.”

She didn’t realize.

Under normal circumstances, no, that would have been impossible.

Even if they went through formal channels and hired Mio via the Guild, the reward would be astronomical, wildly disproportionate to anything they’d gain.

If they put in that kind of request, the money it would take to secure Mio could probably summon a hundred first-class chefs on short notice and still leave change. No joke.

Kaleneon had just gained two ingredients Mio had never seen before.

Both were discovered by Makoto. Both were confirmed to be delicious.

With that in mind, it would be perfectly normal for Mio to show up of her own accord.

For free.

If Makoto happened to murmur, “Those ingredients look really good, don’t they?” she would come to Kaleneon without fail.

Differences in values can be terrifying.

“Ah!”

Eva, who had been muttering to herself with a frown on her face, suddenly raised her voice and stared at Luria.

“What? Did cooks and pro farmers just sprout out of the ground somewhere?”

Luria’s joke came from a place of grim understanding. Now that she’d grasped just how hopeless their manpower shortage really was, she could finally relate a little to her sister’s frustration.

“Talking about Heroes reminded me about Tomoe-sama,” Eva said.

“Oh, did she really split the border?” Luria leaned in, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “I’ve never gone to see it, but all the adventurers keep saying it’s this insane cliff, like, what kind of skill do you even use to make something like that?”

“Yes, that Tomoe-sama. Not long ago, she sent word that she had a few candidates for citizenship here and asked if she could send them over.”

“If they’re recommended by Kuzunoha, that shouldn’t be a problem, right? Even if they’re demi-humans, they’re more than welcome. From what I’ve seen, there’s no real discrimination here anymore. We even have a few hyuman–demi-human couples already.”

“Of course. I’m all for welcoming them too. It’s just…”

“Just?”

“She said, You wouldn’t mind if a few blue-skinned ones slipped in, right?”

“Blue… skin?!”

“At the time I thought, There’s no way she’d just snatch them from those people by force and send them here,” Eva said dryly. “So, I told myself it had to be one of Tomoe-sama’s jokes and let it go.”

Luria’s expression tightened a little.

“R-right. There’s no way they’d be demons…”

In Tsige or Zetsuya, it might have been a different story. But for someone who had only ever lived north of Rotsgard, demons were not a people you coexisted with.

With the recent incident in Rotsgard being largely blamed on them, it would have been a lie to say she had no resistance to the idea.

“But you know, Luria,” Eva continued slowly. “Demons are, without question, the species best adapted to life in extreme cold. If you think of it that way… personally, I find the knowledge they have incredibly tempting.”

If accepting demons meant a dramatic improvement in their way of life, a leap in the progress of their development, then throwing that chance away because of personal feelings would be a terrible waste.

For someone who intended to inhabit the world of politics, it would be a major self-inflicted handicap.

Of course, another part of her protested just as strongly: Letting demons, the root of all our troubles, back into this country would be the height of absurdity.

“I do get it,” Luria said with a small, uneasy laugh. “But, haha… for me, I don’t think I’m there yet. Not right now. Still, as I said earlier, I am all for more people. So, about assigning them, let’s talk tonight, okay? I’ll come by after work.”

“Thank you, Luria. In any case, the Mangarl Orcs and the Stove Corn are already on the list of top priorities. We’ll be moving fast. I know I’m asking a lot from you yet again, but… I’m counting on you.”

“You ask for too much every day, so it’s fine. All right then, say hi to Ema and the others for me.”

With that, Luria spun on her heel and dashed out of the room.

※※※

“So, this makes twice.”

Tomoe paused at the treeline and glanced back toward the newborn lake they’d begun calling Star Lake.

Her barrier was holding. She could feel it doing its work, quietly turning away any stray travelers. From the lakeshore, she stepped into the forest without hesitation.

The place she was headed for wasn’t far.

Thanks to the very barrier she’d laid down, there was almost no chance an ordinary person would ever blunder their way to it.

—At least, that was how it was supposed to be.

“Hm. Were there this many here before?” she muttered. “Well, it has been some time since the incident. Even a hermit’s village will change its face a bit.”

Sensing the nearest hyuman presence, Tomoe turned toward it and walked straight toward it, unhurried and utterly unconcerned.

She’d been here once already.

Back then, her master had ordered her to investigate. She’d posed as a member of a wandering merchant company, out to see the world.

This time, there were clearly more people around. But that didn’t bother her.

The people living here were, to her mind, perfect candidates to be thrown into the new nation of Kaleneon. She was certain of their suitability.

As long as that didn’t change, the exact numbers weren’t worth worrying about.

“Heh. How fortunate. The same presence as back then,” Tomoe said, lips quirking in amusement. “If I recall, a former Limia soldier.”

She deliberately made no effort to hide her presence as she stepped out.

The man noticed her and stopped in his tracks. Tomoe simply kept walking and closed the distance, then greeted him as if bumping into an old acquaintance.

“It has been some time,” she said lightly. “You gave me some valuable stories back then. I’m with a traveling trading company; do you remember me?”

“Yeah. I remember,” the man replied, studying her. “If you’ve come to this place twice, then you must be another one who saw the Wicked One that day.”

He nodded as if it all made sense now.

From that one line, Tomoe understood why this settlement had grown large enough to be called a village.

I see. Those who survived the birth of Star Lake and ‘converted’ must have set their sights on this land afterward. They came here, settled, and some portion of them were accepted into this village…

“Unfortunately, no,” she said with a shake of her head.

“No?”

The man was a veteran soldier, and it showed now in the faint tension and confusion that slipped into his posture and voice.

His hand settled on the weapon at his hip, but Tomoe knew it wasn’t something that could harm her. And the way he lived now, so different from the life he’d had before, was not something she found displeasing.

The wariness turned toward her almost felt endearing.

So, instead of being offended, Tomoe let a calm smile soften her face.

“I’m not one of those who saw the Wicked One create the lake,” she said.

“…”

“Allow me to introduce myself properly,” she went on. “My name is Tomoe. I serve the representative of the Kuzunoha Company, which maintains shops in Tsige, Rotsgard, and Kaleneon.”

“Kuzunoha Company? And Kaleneon?” he repeated. “I’ve never heard the first name, and the second sounds strangely nostalgic, but…”

“Strictly speaking, it’s New Kaleneon. But never mind that. Such details mean little to you folk as things stand.”

“…?”

“Listen well, one who offers prayers to Star Lake. My master’s name is Raidou. And among certain beings, he is also known by another title…”

She let the pause stretch for a heartbeat.

“The Wicked One.”

“—!!!”

The man’s eyes flew wide.

Quite literally, it looked like his eyeballs might pop out of his skull.

His body went rigid. He simply stared straight at Tomoe, a statue.

Tomoe reached out, took his hand gently, and placed something in his palm from within her sleeve.

At first glance, it was nothing more than a plain red ring: simple, unadorned, the kind of thing you might find at some small stall in town. But to the people who lived in this place, who knew the Wicked One, this object held absolute meaning.

Tomoe’s earlier words had contained no spell, no compulsion, no trick. They were just words.

With this object, there was no need for anything else; it was proof with the greatest possible power of persuasion.

“Ooh… Ooooh…”

The man remained as he was, the ring resting on the back of his hand.

Then he brought his left hand over to cradle it, both hands together, his voice breaking out in a rough, awed groan as his knees buckled.

He sank to the ground and bowed his head deeply to Tomoe.

Tomoe narrowed her eyes as she watched the man.

There was satisfaction there.

Outside of the Demiplane, it was rare for a hyuman to show what she considered the proper reaction to her master.

Yes, she thought. This is how it should be.

Makoto himself never actively sought such reverence, so his movements on the surface were kept relatively modest and low-key.

Just like the other retainers, Tomoe couldn’t help feeling a certain irritation at the attitude most hyumans took toward him.

“To be allowed to meet one who stands so close to him… what a miracle this is,” the man whispered, voice trembling.

“The name you people began using, Wicked One,” Tomoe said, her tone almost fond, “that title now echoes through the Kingdom, the Empire, even among the demons themselves. I was impressed, you know. You chose well. It suits my master perfectly.”

“!!! My deepest thanks for your praise,” the man said, bowing his head even lower.

“Now then. I’ve come today to make all of you an offer.”

Yes, they were her goal.

The ones who called Raidou “the Wicked One,” and who lived their lives offering prayers to the lake he’d created, their races varied, their experience and skills were all over the map, but most of them had seen the battlefield at least once.

Of course, she knew relocating all of them at once would be difficult.

More than anything, the Aensland sisters, who were supposed to be the ones binding Kaleneon together, still harbored deep-seated resentment toward demons.

After speaking with Eva and Luria, Tomoe had accurately read their hearts.

They still need time.

Even so, demons were arguably the race most perfectly adapted to life in deep snow. Tomoe believed that sooner or later, Kaleneon would need them.

When she’d asked herself where she could most easily acquire some demons, this place had come to mind.

Those who offered prayers to the lake created by the Wicked One would hardly balk at living in a nation created by that same man.

They weren’t likely to stand in the middle of that country and shout their devotion to the Goddess or the spirits either.

At the same time, they could serve as a wedge to ensure Kaleneon never tilted, even by accident, toward the Goddess’s side.

That was Tomoe’s calculation.

“Before anything else,” Tomoe said, “know this: what I am about to say is only a proposal. Even if you choose to remain here, my master Raidou will never condemn that decision. I swear it.”

“Raidou-sama…”

Still kneeling, the man raised only the hand bearing the ring, waiting in a half-bowed posture for her next words.

“My master has recently reclaimed the former lands of Kaleneon, lands that had fallen to the demons, and decided to found a nation there,” Tomoe continued. “It was done, in part, to grant the wish of a certain pair of sisters who, in their own way, are wholly devoted to him. He will not rule with iron chains, nor does he seek to smother the place with his will.”

She smiled faintly.

“However. No matter whose hands shape it, a land without people is no country at all.”

“…”

“And so,” she went on, “with my own tongue I advised him, and I have come here to extend an invitation. I intend to draw, little by little, volunteers from those who live in this village and invite them to Kaleneon. If any among you wish to change the place of your prayers… to live closer to our lord… then come.”

“Y-you mean… you would allow us to live in the Wicked One’s own country?!”

“It is a harsh land,” Tomoe warned. “You will not be guests, and that place is not a paradise. You will have to live each day in earnest, face many trials, and endure hard days ahead.”

“Oh… ahh… !”

Emotion twisted his voice, somewhere between a sob and a laugh.

“Go on, then. I’ll follow at my own pace,” Tomoe said. “Show that ring to the people of the village and repeat my words. And what is your name? I permit you to give it.”

The man swallowed audibly.

“Rejin, Tomoe-sama. I cast away my family name before coming to this place.”

“I’ll remember you, Rejin,” she replied. “And it’s fine if all you do is go to see the country. You needn’t shoulder any grand resolve just yet. Simply go and listen.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

The man who had abandoned his family name sprinted off in a straight line toward the heart of the settlement.

“They’ll make good citizens,” Tomoe murmured to herself. “Even so, there still won’t be enough people. That country is the first offering Mio, I, and the denizens of the Demiplane have dedicated to our Young Master. We’ll have to tend it properly.”

Hands tucked in her sleeves, Tomoe began walking after Rejin, just as she’d said—unhurried, step by deliberate step—as her thoughts turned to the nation they had presented to their master.

※※※

After more springs than anyone could count had come and gone, a great nation stood at the very edge of the world.

People called it a miracle of the far north.

Perched on barren, frozen land, it was nonetheless rich in agriculture and livestock, and blessed with an abundance of tourist attractions. It was also famous among scholars for another reason: the number of mysteries buried in its history.

According to the records, the country had once fallen after not quite two hundred years of monarchy, a period later called the Royal Era. Yet little more than a decade later, it suddenly rose again and ushered in a brilliant age of prosperity under a new system, the Republican Era.

The century or so that marked that dawn was strangely obscure. Whether by design or neglect, almost no documents survived from that span of years.

It was also known to be the time when many of the great facilities that formed the backbone of the great power were built, and when several critical resources were first discovered. For that reason, the missing century of the Republic’s dawn had long been a favorite hunting ground for historians and researchers.

There was Stove Corn, the grain that served as the nation’s primary staple, equally valuable as a crop and as a spice.

There was the Mangarl Orc, a beast that could only be raised in this land: the source of an exceptional fiber, and of meat adored by the citizens without end.

There was the abnormal speed of frontier development, and the explosive growth in population.

From the very start of the Republic, the country enjoyed strong support from the Adventurers’ Guild. Despite sitting in the heart of what had once been demon territory, it showed clear traces of foreign trade and thriving commercial activity from surprisingly early on.

Small wonder that the story of the sisters said to have first led the nation in its Republican Era was sometimes whispered about as nothing more than legend.

Luria and Eva Aensland.

Survivors of Kaleneon’s Royal Era, and recognized founders of its Republican Era.

In the south, the Tsige City Alliance.

At the center of the continent, the Kingdom of Limia.

And in the far north, the Republic of Kaleneon.

How had these two women, once merely the surviving daughters of a minor noble house, managed to lay the foundation of a great power?

Why had no proper records accompanied the miracle they wrought, leaving only the results behind in the Kaleneon of today?

Were they truly hyuman at all?

The Aensland family, which still held a heavy presence in the Republic as one of its elder statesmen lineages, refused to reveal that history.

They were an old house, one that clung to a number of curious customs.

In the Kaleneon Research Institute (now counted as one of the three great academies in the world, alongside Limia’s Royal Academy and the strictly neutral Rotsgard Academy) the head of the Aensland family always took the post of chief librarian, managing the archives and working tirelessly to acquire rare texts.

The family also insisted that a few members of each generation become chefs, honing their skills, aggressively expanding their repertoire, and dedicating themselves to constant refinement.

These inexplicable rules, quietly upheld across the centuries, were among the many small mysteries of the Aenslands—and of Kaleneon itself.

Beyond any doubt, the multiethnic Republic of Kaleneon existed.

A solid, undeniable great power on the world stage.

A bearer of peace.

The enigmatic nation of Kaleneon still endured—alive, and very much thriving.

Author: Azumi Kei

Was born in Aichi Prefecture. In 2012, Kei began serializing Tsuki ga Michibiku Isekai Dōchū (Tsukimichi: Moonlit Fantasy) on the web. It quickly became a popular series and won the Readers’ Choice Award at the 5th Alphapolis Fantasy Novel Awards. In May 2013, following revisions, Kei made their publishing debut with Tsuki ga Michibiku Isekai Dōchū.

Illustrations by Mitsuaki Matsumoto

http://transparnaut.web.fc2.com/

This book is a revised and published version of the work originally posted on the website “Shosetsuka ni Naro” (http://syosetu.com/)

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Kappa: a turtle-like yokai (spirit) from Japanese folklore, often depicted with a water-filled dish on its head.

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