9-1 License To Kill

Antonio had finally and splendidly become an S-rank adventurer.

But I couldn’t believe that the empire had given up meddling with us because of this.

Above all, there was no way that Marquis Flash-God Nielsen would quietly withdraw.

Right now the Bernstein Empire was dominated by hardliners like the Emperor and the second prince.

It seemed the crown prince, the heir who wasn’t eager for war, was treated as little more than air.

Work harder, Your Future Majesty.

At this rate you won’t become emperor.

More importantly, they had been planning an attack on this Beast-Ear Garden.

So our Beast-Ear Kindergarten was currently conducting extensive KY (danger prediction) drills.

Just in case, I also increased the number of adventurers.

Through Guildmaster Armon’s connections, we secured two reliable B-rank adventurers.

“Heh, so the opponent is that Flash-God?”

Both of them sounded excited.

They were two B-rank adventurers named Beryl and Johnson.

Both in their late thirties, experienced high-rank adventurers.

According to Armon, they were quite formidable.

They had a calmness somewhat similar to Ed’s and were reassuring.

Ars, meanwhile, was his usual self.

Saying things like, “Right. If they come, we’ll welcome them,” while smiling brightly.

This guy was the scariest of all.

I still didn’t know what he was capable of.

If I did, I’d boost him with modifications like Antonio.

If the time came I’d just modify him without permission.

Hopefully he had resistance to my lack of restraint like Antonio did.

In that sense, that man really was exceptional.

Come to think of it, he went to his territory with his wife.

He said to come visit anytime.

Though now wasn’t exactly the time.

I had to develop celebratory baby supplies.

Maybe I should help develop his territory a little.

What if I installed silk-reeling devices or knitting machines?

A sewing machine right away might be risky.

I’ll consult him someday.

The principle of knitting machines is simple, so a household model is easy anytime.

Trial and error while looking things up would work.

We had one at home before, so I’d tinkered with it.

Its structure wasn’t as complex as a sewing machine.

But it was a full lump of metal, huge and stupid heavy like transporting a disassembled heavy machine gun.

Disposing of it was a nightmare.

Did household knitting machines go extinct due to declining demand even before plastics took over?

The boom probably shifted toward hand-knitted sweaters and scarves as gifts for boyfriends.

Industrial-scale ones are complex in climate control but basically the same principle as the toy knitting machines I made for the kids.

Originally it was a machine from local Nishi-Mikawa, and I’d seen one displayed at a Nagoya machine-tool museum and photos online.

My image-creation skill was amazing, so manufacturing should be possible.

Ah, I wish I could shop online like in some fantasy novel.

Since my skill was built scientifically by a logical old man, I didn’t have god-type skills like that.

Apparently there are no real gods in this world.

Though not necessarily absolutely none.

Perhaps this planet also had “them” just like Earth.

On a life-filled world like this, those guys usually exist.

Anyway, I decided I’d personally scout toward the Empire.

The main base defense was thick: one S-rank, two B-rank, twenty C-rank, and one unknown powerhouse— a magic homunculus.

Mari said she could use magic.

Well, she herself was practically a lump of magic.

And I’d stuffed a large amount of my dangerous spells into her item box.

I also embedded magic into her bracelet.

“Do you think I can start calling myself Demon King from today?”

Mari laughed as she said that.

“Yeah, sure.”

I also crammed in piles of combat pods, barrier pods, and even nurse pods into her bracelet’s item box.

“What exactly are you planning to make me go to war against…?”

She said that, but I ignored it and added 100 trillion MP worth of Besmagil as batteries.

With this much entrusted, even she wouldn’t lose to an Empire S-rank.

I also built another building as barracks for the stationed troops, doubling as a safehouse.

Behind it I set up a shooting range and trained soldiers with magic-gun-type carbines.

Of course these didn’t use Besmagil or magic metals.

They used high-purity magic stones infused with my mana.

I also gave them spare “magazines”— spare magic stones.

Those too were shaped like real gun magazines, so easy to use.

The selector lever switched the spell type.

Stun, Stone Bullet, Ice Lance, Fire Arrow, Magic Arrow, Air Cutter, Air Bullet.

All familiar beginner spells, but they could fire endlessly, and power could increase if mana consumption didn’t matter.

Even adventurers unable to use magic could fire magic without personal mana limits.

They were loaned items and restricted to the assigned user.

Trying to disassemble them would cause serious trouble.

They had a teleportation-magic homing function, with Mari’s item box as home.

Mari herself could retrieve them at will.

Because of homing, visual confirmation wasn’t required.

These were things I shouldn’t release, and didn’t want to, but children’s safety came first.

If Guildmaster Armon heard, he’d probably breathe fire in anger again.

If nobles or foreign forces tried to meddle to obtain these, they’d learn why I’m called a noble killer.

Now then, scouting meant a long-overdue trip to the Empire.

They already knew I had teleportation magic anyway.

I could wander freely, but this time my goal was to learn Flash-God’s movements.

So I’d quietly sneak around.

Excuse me for intruding.

As usual, I teleported directly into the Nielsen Marquisate residence.

Invisible and other stealth effects were active.

Using Dissearch, there was no chance of detection.

Marquis Nielsen was in his office, sitting in a chair.

And… he was dozing off.

Must be nice.

Well, he was retired.

At least from the military.

If retired, he should behave like it— troublesome old man.

But I couldn’t wake him by interfering.

Suppressing the urge to write “meat” on his forehead, I rummaged and copied documents freely.

Materials about invading the kingdom and attacking us.

They appeared in droves when searched on MAP.

Even those in the hidden safe were stored in my item box and copied safe included.

Then I returned everything perfectly.

If magical alarm devices existed it’d be dangerous, but safes here apparently lacked such things.

Ah, grandpa.

Please keep sleeping.

I returned cheerfully with my harvest.

According to the documents, the invasion of the Albatross Kingdom was abandoned.

There were bold opinions like “cowardly!” and “the kingdom is nothing!” but leadership unified on probing attacks instead.

They wanted to destabilize from within, since recent anti-corruption measures improved the kingdom’s internal climate and made traitors harder to produce.

War isn’t only frontal clashes.

A so-called irregular war.

Sorry— that was all my doing.

In short: “crush me.”

Since direct confrontation like last time wasn’t possible, they’d attack stealthily.

Kidnapping children and various schemes to mentally corner me were listed.

If this were Japan, threats would go unanswered, police smiling and drinking tea.

They’d even threaten you for bothering them.

Not a threat case, but I once received an actual threatening call despite being the victim.

A man claiming to be a police director barked, “Yes you’re the victim, but bother me and I’ll treat you as the perpetrator!” (nonfiction).

But this wasn’t Japan.

“You may eliminate them.”

Rather, not doing so would be condemned.

Self-defense forbidden in Japan.

There, evil walks proudly while citizens suffer.

Courts kind to evil, cold to victims.

But here, justice could be carried out under the king’s name.

To me, the Empire was already guilty.

In information warfare, we had overwhelming advantage.

I’d show those muscle-brained boar-empire idiots Earth’s way of fighting.

I compiled copies of the documents and presented them to the king in audience.

His Majesty frowned upon reading them.

Then I frankly asked:

“Your Majesty, may I go all out?”

“Mm, permission granted. In the name of this king.”

I had successfully obtained a license to kill.