54 — 54

I headed out for my second reconnaissance of the day.

Since dawn was still far off, I judged I could fit in one more trip.

So I entered the forest from a different location than before.

Specifically, from the south side—near where I had discovered Number 8.

Even I thought this was “pushing my luck,” but at this time of night, the chances were high that she would be asleep.

Since she was currently a concern, locating her position early would not be a waste.

That was why I chose to advance from the south.

Well, “south” in name only—further southwest still stretched the old border.

But since rocky mountains and valleys lay that way, I judged no elves would be there, and saw no reason to go.

(I’ll need to be even more cautious from here on.)

Once in the forest, I activated my mimicry ability and blended into the surroundings.

Continuing forward while on guard, after about twenty minutes, pale-blue lights came into view.

Compared to the previous settlement, this one had more guards, giving off a more tense atmosphere.

It seemed being close to the river meant tighter vigilance.

I hid behind a tree, deactivated my farsight ability, and withdrew.

Since this was only the first day of reconnaissance, getting spotted immediately was to be avoided.

Having confirmed the settlement’s location, this was sufficient for now.

After all, the enemy was elves skilled in magic.

Not knowing what methods they might have, it was safer to pull back here.

Back at the main base, I wrote the settlement’s location on the map before I could forget.

The next morning—after a few hours of sleep, I finished a hunt and ate meat roasted on a long iron skewer, all while gazing at the map where I had marked the elves’ settlement the night before.

I traced a route between the two settlements with a free finger, considering how to move between them.

I chewed the meat and speared roasted carrots with the skewer.

(Yeah… maybe I should avoid going between these settlements directly? If I go deeper in, I’d need to circle around them, and that would make going south an even bigger detour.)

In conclusion, circling in from the north and finding water sources or potential vantage points for surveillance seemed the best choice.

I traced the route again on the map with my finger.

This map had an elven village marked, but whether it was accurate was unknown.

The settlements I’d noted weren’t written here, and the terrain might have changed, so I couldn’t rely on it fully.

Even if that village had once existed, why was there no information on water sources?

If smaller rivers or ponds were recorded, it would be easier. Did the Imperial Army simply fail to advance that far?

Perhaps they had been forced entirely on the defensive.

Considering the Empire had suffered multiple front-line breakthroughs, having even this map was already a blessing.

Once I finished my meal, I cleaned up and moved the map’s storage place from the warehouse to the room with the bookshelf.

I’d found a suitable container, so from now on I’d keep it there.

With free time, I began reading.

I still hadn’t memorized much from Edible Wild Plants.

Exploring the base’s surroundings with it in hand would be fine, but unless I learned at least some of it, I’d have to check the book every time I found a plant, which would be inefficient.

I had time, but I didn’t like wasting it.

At least the bare minimum knowledge should be committed to memory—yet before I knew it, I was reading a different book.

Truthfully, I couldn’t keep reading a book about wild plants I had no interest in for long.

So instead, I was reading a cookbook.

I checked only the ingredients and dog-eared pages with recipes that seemed feasible, but whenever I saw delicious-looking dishes, I found myself absorbed.

Even though I would likely never get to eat them again, just looking made me hungry. But for a body that had never felt hunger or fullness, what was “appetite,” really?

That aside, what struck me while reading this cookbook was: “None of these feel possible to make.”

Sure, the ingredients were available, but this “shio-kamabiyaki” cooking method—clearly an absurd overuse of salt.

Given my supply, I couldn’t possibly afford that.

In the end, I only folded the corners of five pages.

A single cookbook was enough to prove the Empire’s prosperity—I could only give a wry smile as one of its citizens.

Even so, those five were only “maybe manageable” recipes; unless I tried, I wouldn’t know if they were actually possible.

The phrase “a difficult road ahead” floated into my mind, and I let out a deep sigh.

Time passed like that.

As the sun dipped, I stepped outside to procure dinner—when I suddenly craved fish.

(Well, no one’s likely to come anyway, so it should be fine.)

As long as I kept watch on the surroundings, there shouldn’t be a problem.

So, arriving at the river, I checked for any sign of others… no one was there.

I immediately set about catching fish.

One, two, three—fish splashed onto the riverbank one after another.

Sometimes animals tried to snatch them, but today there were none.

Altogether, I caught twelve of various sizes.

I climbed out of the river and collected the fish I had tossed ashore.

Using the hatchet I had brought, I cleaned them, rinsed them in the river, and transferred them into the container inside the cooler box.

At that moment, I felt something off.

I paused and scanned my surroundings, but nothing seemed out of place.

Still, something was wrong.

Nothing strange within sight.

No unusual smells either.

And no suspicious sounds reached my ears.

(I don’t know… but something is warning me that something’s wrong.)

I dropped the fish and shifted into alert, scanning the area.

Still nothing.

But the sense of unease only grew.

(This… I shouldn’t stay here.)

I stepped back.

My hand reached for the cooler box, preparing to leave—when—

“――――!”

Suddenly, on the far bank, an elf appeared, staff in hand.

At first glance she looked like a woman in her forties—meaning she was quite old for an elf—but what shocked me was how she had suddenly appeared in a place empty moments before. My reaction lagged.

The staff she thrust forward shone, and the light rushed through me.

I instinctively crossed both arms in front of my face to defend, but nothing seemed to happen.

Cautiously lowering my guard, I saw the smirking middle-aged elf woman before me.

I understood: it seemed she wanted to die.

But jokes like that were only acceptable from kids or beauties.

“――!”

The woman shouted—but of course she was excluded.

I didn’t know how she had hidden herself, but since her attack had failed, she had to be prepared for the consequences.

So I took a step forward—and found my legs unmoving.

No matter how much strength I put in, I couldn’t move.

In fact, not even a finger would obey.

(Paralysis!? A spell to seal my movements, not an attack!)

I wanted to shout, “Magic really can do anything, huh!”—but realized I couldn’t even make a sound. Panic surged.

I searched for something—anything—but even my eyes began to lose freedom of motion.

“――!”

My mind clouded, thoughts dulled.

(Wait… every time that hag speaks, my…)

“――”

The smirking hag gestured with her hand: “Come here.”

Against my will, my legs carried me into the river.

My thoughts grew foggy.

I crossed the river and walked straight up to her.

“―――!　―――”

The hag raised her voice in delight.

Somehow, I understood that clearly.

(Of all things… why a hag? Why not a voluptuous elf beauty?)

Even as my consciousness faded, I protested that much.

Then my awareness went black.

That should have been my last memory—yet when I woke, I was in an elven settlement.

I was surrounded by elves, standing vacantly.

(It’s better not to move rashly here. Wait—can I move?)

I tested, and found I could.

My eyes moved fine, so I focused on gathering as much information as I could… but of course, I understood nothing.

(So… I was brought here by magic. But maybe, since I saved Number 8, they want to reward me?)

No—that couldn’t be. They wouldn’t use magic if that were the case.

As I desperately sought clues, the hag opened her mouth.

“At last you’ve shown yourself. You certainly took your time…”

“We have our circumstances. You can’t expect me to come the moment you call.”

An adult elf, approaching from out of sight, responded irritably to her words.

(…Wait.)

“Circumstances, you say! More pressing than the case of that monster that devours the Forest’s Nightmare? I’d love to hear it!”

The hag laughed nastily—but I understood the words.

Apparently, her magic had let me comprehend the elves’ language.

(That seems the only explanation… I can’t believe even this is possible. Magic really can do anything. The Imperial Army truly deserves respect for fighting such foes.)

At any rate, being able to understand was a relief.

I decided to stop calling her “hag.”

If she offered more perks, I might even call her “onee-san,” but for now she barely ranked up to “obasan.”

“Lady Kirishia. Your zeal and passion for research are impressive. But taboo is taboo.”

“Ha! Taboo, you say? If I hadn’t continued my research, what do you think would’ve become of this village? That creature had already come near. The monster that eats the Nightmare! If it entered the village, how many lives would have been lost? Tell me!”

So, this obasan had nullified me with magic considered so powerful—or so evil—that it was forbidden.

But who could have predicted that eating that octopus monster—the so-called “Forest’s Nightmare”—would mark me as a threat, leading to all this?

Clearly, they recognized my danger accurately, enough to resort to illegal methods.

Also… they knew I’d approached the settlement? How?

(Guess I’ll ask later.)

As soon as I thought that, I realized how careless I was, now that I understood their words.

Still, if communication was possible, there were ways to handle this.

I also seemed to have regained bodily control, but for now it was better to focus on their conversation and gather information.

“Can’t answer, can you? Then I’ll tell you. All the men slaughtered, women and children devoured. A monster that can eat that much in one sitting. With elves, scrawny as we are, every last one would fit in its belly.”

I was being described as some insatiable glutton, but I wasn’t a food fighter.

Sure, I ate more because of my size, but that was malicious exaggeration.

Even if she was justifying her “forbidden magic,” that was going too far.

I had intended to cut her some slack as thanks for the language perk, but with phrasing like that, my image would only worsen.

As I thought, “She should choose her words more carefully,” the man spoke.

“Regardless of reason, to revive and wield the forbidden magic of ‘Domination’ is a grave crime!”

So the magic used on me was called Domination.

(So… Domination, huh.)

I took it back. She was a damn hag after all.