112

Let me put it plainly.

If they asked, “Did you take it from them?” I could only answer, “Yes,” and I hinted—ever so slightly—that I had “eliminated a dangerous threat.”

“If a monster can wield gear that large… was it an ogre?”

“A large orc.”

As she glanced at the note I showed her, looking thoughtful, I began writing a somewhat longer explanation.

When Number Six saw me start writing, she simply waited in silence for me to finish adding details.

“There were no orcs in this area. None to the east either—that much I confirmed. With such a huge stretch of land inhabited mostly by goblins, it was easy to accept that ‘this whole region is goblin territory,’ but the reality was different. Orcs had gathered in the southern part of the forest—so many that their number was nearing ten thousand. Ruling them from the top was an orc boss—wielder of those very weapons.”

Not wanting to keep her waiting too long, I tore off the page there and handed it to Number Six.

While she read, I continued writing the rest.

The pen had once felt too small for my large hands, making tiny letters a chore—but after this much practice, I had improved.

My Elven script should be getting better too. It might take time before anyone says, “Your handwriting is elegant for someone your size,” but that day wasn’t far off.

“The problem was that this orc horde had turned south, waging war on a human nation. If we let them be and allowed their sphere of control to keep expanding, the forest’s resources would eventually be exhausted. Even without that, conflict would become increasingly inevitable. So I crushed the head that held them together—while it could still be struck.”

Number Six’s face clouded as she read the next page I handed over.

“So this is what comes of leaving the forest to nature…”

As an elf, she must have had complicated feelings about the consequences of non-intervention.

In fact, Number Six’s expression was openly pained as she pondered.

“Normally the goblins and orcs would fight and keep each other’s numbers down, so things wouldn’t escalate like this. But this time, a unifier appeared on the orc side. We have knowledge of what happens when a unifying individual appears among goblins—but what happens when it’s orcs?”

Orcs didn’t multiply as fast as goblins, but in the right conditions they could still grow in number frighteningly fast.

Unlike goblins, however, orcs required far more specific conditions; in Imperial history they were rarely seen—uncommon unless created intentionally.

“So even for us elves, an unfavorable situation was beginning to take shape… that is what you mean.”

With that, the conversation ended.

I watched Number Six stand and leave, then considered sleeping underground—but a worry occurred to me.

(If I’m the only one sleeping below, they could always bury me alive.)

I didn’t think they would, but they certainly could. So that night, I stayed outside, training magic till morning.

Fortunately, I had slept normally the night before, so there was no problem.

Still, I had better keep a bit of distance from the elves sleeping on the surface.

It was only natural that nearly all of them were wary of me; if I stayed too close, they might not get proper rest—and that would hurt tomorrow’s work.

Thus the night passed quietly, and before I knew it, the sky had grown light.

I had trained with full focus, but I still couldn’t feel any visible improvement.

When I returned to the base, the elves were already bustling, lowering the devices they had brought into the underground level.

As one would expect, they handled them with the care of people moving precision instruments.

From my perspective, it was a height I could reach with a small hop and outstretched arms, but for the elves it was about as high as a two-story building.

They strapped each one with ropes so it wouldn’t drop, signaling between above and below as they eased it down.

One unit had apparently already been sent down; I could see three still above.

Catching sight of me, Number Six gave a small nod. I pointed and offered, “Want a hand?”

She waved lightly and answered, “We’re fine.”

They were treating them like delicate machinery; clearly, they didn’t want me handling them.

Waiting around was dull, so I headed out to hunt breakfast.

At their pace, just getting everything underground would take quite a while.

I should have time to eat.

So I secured some game, dressed it, and flowed straight into a solo grilled-meat party—when I felt the workers’ eyes on me from across the way.

(Even elves want meat after hard labor, huh…)

I limited my own portion and left some for them.

I’d once done short-term grunt work just to get a limited edition item, and I could still remember how amazing grilled meat tasted after that.

For the record, I used magic to ignite the fire this time.

Controlling a small flame had become easy enough for me.

At this rate, I’d soon have no need for that little fire-starter tool.

So I grilled and snacked at a leisurely pace while practicing magic, and without any trouble, the elves finished moving all the equipment underground and returned to the surface.

I beckoned them over and pointed at the griddle and the thinly sliced meat I’d saved.

“No, we’re not eating.”

One of the men said casually.

I tilted my head at him like I couldn’t believe it, but the women pleaded,

“Please let them rest.”

Not enough youth in these guys, I muttered inwardly—but then, elves lived three hundred years or more.

They also spent a long stretch looking young; it was obvious they weren’t the age they appeared. It was entirely possible they were in the middle-aged cohort—the sort who chose rest over meat.

In that case, I wouldn’t push. I grilled what was left and polished it off myself.

After cleaning up, I noticed they were about to start the devices, so I called for a halt.

“Did we forget something?”

At Number Six’s words, the work stopped.

Choosing my words carefully, I put pen to paper.

“I want to see what’s down there. I have a pretty good idea what it is, but I want to see with my own eyes what the elves deem ‘forbidden’—to decide whether it truly deserves such fear. Sorry for the trouble, but could you bring it up?”

Everyone frowned at that.

I said I could come along into the underground as well, but their expressions stayed uniformly opposed.

I thought persuasion might take time—but here Number Six relented.

Apparently, not everyone present had seen the spider-man failure, and she had judged that “everyone should see it at least once.”

There was also, it seemed, a hope that if I held “old Imperial values,” I would understand. Whether Number Six was being guileless or calculating in saying that so frankly was hard to judge.

With a word from the person in charge, the whole group began moving downstairs.

We were abandoning a base that—even if only a little—still had electrical power.

I had my reservations, but the small number of usable appliances meant its practical value wasn’t high, and with no guarantee how long the generator would last, we had to consider cutting it loose.

It was simply “a choice we would have made eventually,” made now.

I told myself that to make peace with it, but this was still the place where I had spent the longest stretch since taking on this form.

I couldn’t pretend I felt nothing. I found myself wandering the rooms without purpose, stretching my hand to touch things as if by reflex.

Since it was all going away anyway, I told them, “Take anything you want,” being generous. Everyone except the few sent to secure the spider-man failure began picking through the place.

They had been curious, as expected; most obviously, the bookcases were stripped bare.

…Hey. Which one of you took the adult magazines?