48

Since her reactions were the only clue I had, the moment the surrounding elves moved to calm down No. 8, I knew this little game was over.

I would have liked to see her fluster a bit longer, but I risked exposing my position, so I pulled back.

Of course, moving normally would give me away, so I deliberately made clacking sounds with my feet as I retreated.

No. 8 seemed very distracted by the noise I was making, but the other elves were scolding her, so she ignored me.

(Hmm… judging from the situation, they must need the strength of this blind woman for some purpose. And since the other elves are armed, that suggests their enemy is “something invisible”—and strong.)

I tried to think of monsters or animals that fit those conditions, but nothing came to mind.

Elves rarely considered any monster “formidable,” and adding “difficult to see” or “with mimicry ability” narrowed it down further.

Yet—such a monster was right here.

(Yeah… I fit that description perfectly.)

So, was this group assembled to defeat me?

But why?

Could it be that my peeping had been discovered?

In other words, the elves had withdrawn from the river because of the “voyeur monster” that was me, and had now mustered a punitive force?

“No way in hell.”

I muttered as my hands and feet tapped out a nervous rhythm.

No. 8 pointed at me with a startled expression, saying something, but the armed elves scolded her again.

A beautiful woman sulking like that was a nice sight.

In truth, though, I knew their target wasn’t me.

Because all of the armed elves were staring upward.

That meant they were wary of an enemy that attacked from above, like the snake earlier.

‘Could it be that thing again?’ I thought. But elves wouldn’t fall behind against a Shadow Viper. It was far more likely another type of monster.

Curious what kind of creature warranted an elven strike force, I decided to watch them from afar.

Once they finished this hunt, they’d surely return to the river. I needed to see the outcome.

But a problem arose quickly.

Perhaps because I had teased her too much, No. 8’s concentration seemed to be faltering.

‘At this rate, you’ll be ambushed by an unseen enemy,’ I scolded her in my mind, all while keeping my footsteps deliberately audible to subtly remind her of my presence.

Still, I couldn’t keep it up forever.

My mimicry ability wasn’t unlimited.

So I cut my line of sight completely, released the ability, and withdrew further to observe.

From there, her ears no longer picked up my sounds, and she seemed to regain her focus.

Then, something moved in the corner of my vision.

I couldn’t identify what it was.

(A mimicry ability on par with mine… No wonder they’re cautious.)

The way it blended into its surroundings was so complete that even I almost lost sight of it without focusing my telescopic vision.

It moved astonishingly quietly too. From where I was, I couldn’t hear a thing.

No. 8 still hadn’t noticed, nor had the armed elves around her.

The mysterious creature crept steadily toward them.

I strained to make out its outline, but its mimicry was nearly flawless—perhaps even better than mine.

(I don’t think they can avoid this ambush…)

Judging from their behavior, the elves had already suffered casualties.

That must have been why they brought No. 8—but she still hadn’t sensed it.

I didn’t know the creature’s effective range, but I was certain someone would die.

I considered revealing its position to them, but watching the elves’ performance would be more useful.

So I stayed put where I had the best view.

If things got dire, I could at least help No. 8 escape. But with a well-armed group like this, surely that wouldn’t be necessary.

As expected, the mysterious creature struck first.

Lying in ambush along their path, it attacked just as No. 8 finally detected its presence.

She shouted a warning, but too late—an armed male elf was snatched and lifted into the air.

(Ah… it’s probably a monster similar to that aquatic species.)

I wasn’t familiar with its ecology, but its traits matched enough to make a guess. Still, it seemed quite different from what I knew.

The elves tried to save their comrade with magic and arrows, but none of their blows landed effectively against an unseen enemy.

Soon, the captured elf disappeared from view—swallowed whole.

With its position exposed, the elves concentrated their attacks on one spot.

But that didn’t harm the creature. Suddenly, another elf was seized from behind and lifted skyward.

One elf slashed with a sword, breaking part of the disguise.

Others tried to rescue the captive, but he coughed blood, writhed in agony, and finally went limp.

Likely crushed to death.

One by one, the elves were either eaten or slain, without any chance to turn the tide.

(What the hell are you doing!?)

Frustration made me curse aloud.

Protecting No. 8 was praiseworthy, but their performance was pitiful.

Apparently, magic had little effect on this monster, forcing the elves to rely on bows and swords.

‘A monster resistant to magic, huh,’ I mused, even as their numbers dwindled by half.

For elves, whose main strength was magic, it was a nightmare matchup.

At this rate, No. 8 would soon be its prey.

Reluctantly, I decided to intervene.

“Damn it… elves being saved by an Imperial soldier? Unbelievable,” I grumbled, but I rose and sprinted forward.

Even unseen, I knew where the monster lurked. I leapt at it.

At the same time, No. 8 was hanging upside down in the air, her white underwear flashing.

I body-slammed the invisible monster, dragging it from the trees to the ground.

(This texture… just as I thought!)

Realizing mimicry was useless, the monster revealed itself.

It was an octopus-type monster, an enormous mollusk with eight legs, each easily ten meters long.

Pinned to the ground, it thrashed violently, its tentacles lashing at me.

I didn’t fear being grabbed, but I reached for the tentacle that held No. 8.

The slimy surface made it hard to grip, so I dug my short claws in and pulled. Then I bit down hard.

The tentacle writhed as the octopus tried to shake me off, flinging No. 8 into the air.

She flailed helplessly and collided with me, clinging tightly to my arm.

And in that moment—my consciousness drifted elsewhere.

A pure white void.

I stood alone in that empty world when suddenly a hand tapped my shoulder.

I turned instinctively.

There was my father—not with his usual frivolous grin, but wearing a serious expression.

He nodded.

Thumbs up, smiling, before fading away.

I reached out for his retreating shadow.

“It’s fine.”

That was the last thing I heard.

“…Father.”

Helping elves, the sworn enemies of the Imperial army, would have been madness.

But the Empire was long gone.

Perhaps my father had appeared to free me from those chains.

(Besides… this is No. 8 we’re talking about.)

Maybe even No. 9, if I was lucky.

That overwhelming mass was now pressed against my arm.

“Be honest.”

With those words pushing me forward, I turned my back on the direction my father vanished and faced the octopus.

I had no doubts left.

Back in the real world, I stepped forward to protect the elf.

(Damn, this makes me look like one of those manga characters who say, “Only I get to defeat you!”)

Smirking at the thought, I charged the octopus.

Battling its tentacles was pointless—I had to hit the core.

Keeping No. 8 secure in my arms, I bit through the tentacle I’d clamped onto.

When I tried to spit it out, I froze.

The slimy outer layer peeled away, leaving chewy flesh beneath.

I chewed thoroughly and swallowed.

(…Wait. This is actually delicious?)

Octopuses weren’t exactly appetizing in appearance, but I’d heard some people loved eating them.

The suckered tentacles still clung to me, but I felt no threat.

In fact, it seemed unwilling to flee—a blessing for me.

The more I thought about it, the more the octopus looked like food.

(New objective: this thing is my prey.)

I gently set No. 8 down, freeing her.

Now I could focus entirely on securing my prize.

In my excitement over this new delicacy, I completely forgot one crucial fact.

The elves had gathered here precisely to eliminate this “octopus monster.”

So what would happen if an even greater threat appeared?

I hadn’t considered that at all.