144

Information was extremely important.

The more accurate it was, the more reliable my inferences became—and the more it degraded, the more likely I was to make choices based on false premises.

It went without saying what that led to, and in time, people stopped hesitating to spend vast sums on “information.”

Tracing the path of experience others had taken, I listened to the noisy audio data over and over again.

I kept listening to the static-laced recording, searching for anything I might have missed.

And as a result, one suspicion surfaced.

“…This wasn’t a solo operation, was it?”

When it came to elven weapons, the first thing that came to mind was the bow.

In fact, I knew they ran freely through the forest with bows in hand, and it had also been confirmed that they possessed weapons called “magic bows,” which carried pressure similar to a Spirit Sword.

With that in mind, I considered this:

“The gaps are too long if multiple people were firing bows.”

That was what raised the suspicion that the preserved combat record might have been “the work of a lone elf.”

(I remember hearing somewhere that a small group disappearing and wrecking the rear lines made the artillery useless and forced it to withdraw.)

I didn’t think I was underestimating elven combat power—the same combat power that had even overturned overwhelming numerical disadvantages.

But the idea of a single individual striking a unit and inflicting massive casualties was beyond what I’d expected.

It was still only suspicion, but it was more than enough speculation to raise the threat level the Republic posed in my mind.

“…If I could’ve confirmed it with video, I would’ve preferred that, but there’s no point wanting what I don’t have.”

I exhaled deeply and stored the data away on a shelf in the room.

Then I sealed the entrance to this room—where electricity was available—tightly with rubble.

That should prevent anyone from ransacking it.

As long as there was still a chance of playing video, it was probably better to hide it than to carry it around and risk breaking it.

When I went outside, the sun was already slanting, and given how many meals I’d had yesterday, it was about time to hunt for dinner.

With a body that didn’t feel hunger, it was easy to forget, but no matter what shape you were in, you were still a living creature—if you didn’t eat, you’d die.

No matter how advanced Imperial technology was, “fine without food or water” wasn’t possible.

I had endless theories I wanted to work through, but I ran through the forest in search of prey.

The trees were a bit denser on this side, making it a hassle, but I successfully secured three wild birds.

If there were birds, that meant flying stakefish didn’t live around here.

They were still a creature whose habitat range I couldn’t figure out.

And so came “feather-plucking time,” also known as preparing dinner.

By the time my meal was ready, night had fallen completely.

Still, it unquestionably tasted worth the effort, and aside from the small portion, it was a satisfying meal.

There was no bed, but I spent the night in a walled area, and when I woke up, the sun was already high.

I was surprised at how deeply I’d slept, but looking back at everything I’d been doing lately, it wasn’t hard to understand.

This body didn’t feel fatigue easily, but fatigue probably still accumulated without me noticing.

“I really do need to take care of my body,” I reaffirmed, reminding myself not to overtrust this overpowered physique.

This former economic animal no longer had capital besides his own body.

I had to cherish what little I had left.

I didn’t know what I’d had in the first place, but I probably had at least something you could call the result of education.

Anyway, once I was awake, the first thing to do was breakfast.

I went hunting and ate.

After that, I’d spend another day exploring this theme park, then set out again in search of the hot springs that had been my original goal.

I could theoretically make this place a base candidate, but I had absolutely no desire to deal with the huge pile of goblin and orc corpses.

If I caught sight of the grotesque traces of slaughter spread everywhere, the stench alone was enough to make me nauseous.

Clean this up alone? What, was this some kind of punishment game?

For that reason, I had no intention of making this a base right now—but I also couldn’t bring myself to cleanly give up the advantage of having a place where electricity could be used, so here I was again, continuing the search.

Nature’s encroachment was less advanced than I’d expected, making movement easier, and with good visibility, the exploration itself was going smoothly.

However, given the sheer number of goblins and orcs that had occupied the place, there were few intact areas, and human structures were generally too small for me.

“This huge body really isn’t suited for scavenging,” I muttered as I pushed rubble aside and searched for whatever might still exist.

That was when I found something eye-catching inside a collapsed shop.

“For a display, this is ridiculously extravagant.”

A reinforced-glass display case stood out as being in far too good condition compared to its surroundings, suggesting it had been heavily protected.

Inside was a fancy-looking pocket watch—hardly a rare item.

“…A clock that runs for a thousand years, with every component obsessed over and crafted by artisans, huh.”

That was essentially what the description inside the glass said.

As a limited-production item from a famous watchmaker, the price was an outrageous upper six figures—and it even said it was 30% off, which really drove home that the upper class lived in a different world.

All right, then—let’s see if that “usable for a thousand years” claim is true.

I didn’t hesitate and went to solve it with brute force, but the glass was harder than expected.

“Yeah, goblins and orcs wouldn’t manage this,” I nodded, then shattered it with cracking force and picked up the pocket watch.

There was no twist like “it was only a display model,” either. With the premium item in hand, I opened the lid and tried turning the stylish knob on top.

When the second hand started moving, I couldn’t help letting out a small, impressed sound.

“So it really works…”

Imperial craftsmanship was terrifying.

Since there was still a working clock elsewhere, I’d go set this one to match later while I was out exploring.

I didn’t know how much it would be off, but since I was already someone for whom knowing exact time had no real meaning, it didn’t matter.

I continued searching the area where shops lined the paths, and this was what I picked up next:

A small alarm device, a bit smaller than a human fist, with a tiny button. It was broken, of course—but it wasn’t completely silent. It made a limp little hyupon-hyupon sound to “alert” the surroundings that I was in danger.

The sound was fairly loud, too—so even from a bit away, I could still hear it.

Thinking it might work as a security item, I stuffed it into my backpack, and there were no further finds here.

After that, I shifted my search south and finally made contact with the orcs—and then trampled them.

Negotiation or bargaining with these things was a waste of effort.

I’d make them understand exactly who was stronger and crush them so thoroughly they’d never come near this place again.

Facing my brutality—like I was telling them, “From today on, this is my turf. Get out”—the orcs had no answer but to flee.

Driven off like that, they’d head south and end up becoming the Council-State’s problem.

I remembered that orc meat was processed and used for fish farming.

I hoped they’d be hunted down and used to the fullest so it wouldn’t go to waste.

As an aside, goblins and orcs weren’t suitable as meat, and in the Empire they were generally processed into feed for something else. But due to cost, it wasn’t profitable, and because they were such awful pests, they were being exterminated instead.

That said, if they vanished, fiction would just find new ways to use them—so for all how fragile they were, these races were oddly persistent.

I found the ruins of a bookstore while exploring, but there weren’t any books here featuring them.

In a wholesome leisure facility like this, it seemed there was no place for them.