35

After a night of thinking it over, I finally decided: first, I would prioritize improving my living conditions and food supply.

The opinion of my “inner councilman” that “entertainment should be enriched only once there’s surplus leisure” had carried the vote.

So first, I would fix the situation where I felt dissatisfied with every meal.

Then, I would focus on enhancing this main base, transferring supplies to other bases, and gradually creating comfortable environments across multiple locations. That became my new goal.

At dawn, I got up and went hunting for breakfast.

I butchered my catch, grilled the meat, stored some portions in containers, and boiled enough water.

Chewing on roasted meat, I descended underground to prepare for departure.

After checking my gear one last time, I shouldered my backpack and surfaced.

Just in case, I shut the lift door leading back underground.

Locking up was important.

My destination this time was the highway where I had previously attacked that caravan.

Understanding what goods circulated there would likely be useful for my future activities.

If I could get what I needed there, great; if not, I’d move on to another place.

As long as I had a rough idea of what flowed where, I could narrow my search.

By now, I had gotten quite good at running through the forest, and I couldn’t help but praise myself as I ran in silence.

Honestly, weaving this huge body through the trees was no easy feat.

That I could now manage it as if it were natural was something worth applauding.

It was far harder than a salaryman navigating a crowded train station without bumping into anyone.

I paused for a short break just after noon.

I checked my supplies and containers to ensure nothing had broken.

Seeing everything was fine, I sipped some water and scanned the surroundings.

Any abnormalities in sight?

Anything strange caught by hearing or smell?

(…No problems.)

I stayed alert for a while longer, but nothing happened.

It was a short break, but restful enough. I resumed my journey.

Before long, I noticed the trees changing species.

Perhaps I had crossed the border.

If the forest continued like this, it meant I was heading in the right direction.

In a forest this vast, where only the sun gave bearings, keeping my sense of direction was no small feat.

Chances were, I wouldn’t manage it next time.

(A compass would be useful. Would I find that in a stationery shop? Or a kids’ toy aisle?)

I had never seen one in person, so I wasn’t sure where to look.

Well, next time I visited a shopping mall, I could check.

Thinking such things, I ran out of the forest.

Another forest lay ahead, but I recognized this as the highway connecting that town to Glenda.

The sun was already setting, and the woods were dark.

I circled around while resting, but found nothing of note.

Encounters with people were rare here anyway.

Since this was a highway, goblins were surely culled, and man-eating monsters thinned, so nothing happened.

“Boring.”

I snorted, before running on toward my goal.

For the record, even in forests I could run at the speed of a car.

If I hit a tree, I wouldn’t be injured—in fact, thinner ones might topple.

On open plains, I could easily hit 100 kilometers per hour.

What had the Empire expected when designing a monster with these specs?

(Maybe not just for war, but as anti-dragon measures…?)

They gathered data from war, then used it to refine new applications—in other words, I was the prototype.

Mass-production would follow.

(Damn, just hearing “prototype model” gets me fired up.)

Then I cooled down.

“That’s just robot anime stuff.”

(Still… it feels a little too possible.)

There had been that Spider-Man. Who was to say there weren’t others like me?

The idea of “same-type clashes” was every boy’s dream—it made the imagination run wild.

By the time I finished entertaining those thoughts, it was completely dark.

I kept running, not slowing even in total darkness.

After climbing a mountain, I turned due east.

If I kept on, I’d reach open plains; from there, I would slip into the eastern forest.

Moving under cover of darkness meant no one would spot me.

I descended the mountain, adjusted my course on the flatland, and stomped into the forest ahead.

Even with short rests, I had run nearly all day, so mentally I felt tired.

But my body hardly felt it—this physique really was abnormal.

I pressed deeper into the forest, searching for a potential base site.

When a wild bear roared nearby, I smacked it with my tail and scolded, “Don’t be a nuisance.”

The bear fled, and I continued.

I found a fallen tree and sat.

The seat was uncomfortable, and since the trees here weren’t tall, my posture bent badly.

A minus.

I was about to move deeper when I caught a sound.

(The same direction the bear ran…)

I hurried that way and, as expected, found a small stream.

So small I questioned calling it a “river,” but flowing water was a river enough.

Its width was shorter than my arm.

I tried it—the water was cold and delicious, no problem.

(Easy water access is good. Let’s find a base site nearby.)

Dawn was still far off, plenty of time to explore… but nothing.

Even after searching all night, I found no suitable spot.

“Well, sometimes that happens.”

I said, gnawing on roasted meat I’d prepared before departure while sitting on a rock.

While eating, I studied the plants around me and suddenly craved vegetables.

I realized I’d only been eating meat and fish.

I’d heard somewhere that “as long as you drink blood you’ll be fine,” but now I wondered if my nutrition was lacking.

(If I want vegetables, I should target caravans between villages and cities.)

I might even get spices that way, so no need to move yet.

By the time I finished the meat, dawn had broken. For exercise, I went hunting.

I caught a rabbit, drained its blood, butchered it, and buried the scraps.

A shovel was a true tool of civilization.

A bigger one would be nice, but no use being greedy.

I salted and grilled the rabbit—just the right size for a snack.

Using my pinky nail as a toothpick, I noticed it had grown longer.

So I took my magic sword and tested whether it could act as nail clippers.

It failed—I cut my finger instead.

Only a little blood, but instinctively I put the finger in my mouth. The bleeding stopped quickly, and the cut already seemed sealed.

As I had suspected, my recovery ability was abnormal too.

While killing time like that, morning fully arrived.

From the forest, I began heading south along the highway.

Sneaking about for prey, I spotted a caravan in the distance.

(Three wagons total… but only one guard visible. Something happened?)

The more I looked, the stranger it seemed.

The wagons weren’t moving, as if stuck.

The lack of guards might be related. If they couldn’t move, then they were easy prey.

Even if they spotted me early, they couldn’t escape. I could approach them openly.

(Alright then, let’s take a look at those three wagons.)

I put down my pack, covered it with some branches, and strode boldly toward the halted wagons.

When I got close, one man shouted, and suddenly everyone piled into a single wagon and bolted.

Apparently one wagon was still operable, and they fled without looking back.

It was such a clean, refreshing retreat that I almost admired it.

The instant I thought that—I sensed something.

I hadn’t heard anything, yet somehow I knew.

(Anyway, let’s check the wagons.)

The tied horses were pitiful, but I wasn’t going to eat them, so I hoped they’d wait patiently.

I approached a wagon and started rummaging.

Inside was nothing but dried meat with a strong chemical smell.

(…I walked right into this trap, didn’t I?)

Even as I thought that, I kept checking.

Then I really did hear something.

Clear this time.

(Earlier than I expected.)

Half impressed, half annoyed, I checked another wagon.

Again, dried meat reeking of chemicals.

I exhaled deeply, stood, stretched, and looked toward the sound.

(Numbers… from what I see, about 300. Which means over 500 total.)

At the front rode several heavily armed knights.

Behind them marched infantry and mercenaries.

A small force, but unmistakably—troops of the Kingdom of Canaan.

Well, things had gotten troublesome.