80

Relieved that my belongings were intact, I let out a sigh of relief and used some water I had taken out to wash off the splattered blood.

After checking the contents and confirming nothing had been stolen, I considered preparing some responses in advance in my notebook and picked up a pen.

However, there weren’t many questions I could predict.

I already had notes prepared for the usual questions, fully intending to reuse them, so there wasn’t much need.

I jotted down a few that might work for different scenarios, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it would end up being pointless, and my motivation flagged.

With little else to do, I needed a different way to kill time.

With no choice, I went hunting, but unsurprisingly, after that many orcs had moved through, I couldn’t find any big game at all.

After nearly two hours, the only catch was a single rabbit—by far a new personal worst record.

Well, at least it killed some time, so I headed toward the city.

As soon as the city walls came into view, there was visible commotion on the other side.

As I lumbered closer, I spotted soldiers on the walls pointing at me here and there.

The number of people gathering on top of the walls kept increasing; it was clear they were on high alert.

(Hmm… does this mean the word hasn’t reached them down there?)

As I got closer, I could make out their movements even without using any enhanced sight.

I spotted them readying crossbows and muskets to greet me.

Just what had the rescued women been doing?

Assuming something happened, I considered the possible scenarios.

They dismissed any negotiations with a monster; thus, nothing was said.

The information was suppressed before reaching command.

They couldn’t make it back and became orc food again…

Those were the three that came to mind immediately.

(Ah, there’s also the possibility that “they reported it but weren’t taken seriously.”)

That one was starting to feel the most likely.

No matter how much communication was possible, I was still a monster.

And right now, the Furon Council was fighting monsters called orcs.

As I gazed distantly and thought, “Maybe it was too much to hope for,” a gunshot rang out—the bullet struck the ground right in front of me.

For the moment, I reached out to see what kind of ammunition they were using, dug the bullet out of the ground, and sighed when I saw the deformed round lead ball.

I had expected it, but the technological decline still hit hard.

To think that the Empire, once so glorious it seemed at its peak, had descendants using weapons like these—it made me want to weep.

I exhaled deeply and stood still.

It wasn’t disappointment per se, but seeing how they responded to me raised the uneasy thought that perhaps no remnants of the Empire remained.

If it had been the Empire I remembered, the citizens would have gone into high gear shouting things like, “Whoa, what’s with that monster!? It can talk!? What the heck!?”

They would have stormed the government halls for the fun of it, demanding, “This looks interesting, give us more updates!” simply out of boredom.

Then the mass media would have filmed them, the news would have gone viral, and before I knew it, I’d have starred on TV.

Then maybe I’d have ended up on a slightly risqué show, there’d have been a wardrobe malfunction, and—

(Aaaaaaaah! Why? Why has everything declined this much!?)

The frustration nearly made me want to chew a handkerchief, but thankfully, my emotion-suppression function kicked in.

My emotions had gotten far too messy, so I was grateful for it.

Given how far my thoughts had gone off track, it seemed the shock before calming down had been quite severe.

At any rate, since they were firing, I couldn’t just not respond.

As a monster, there were parts of my pride I couldn’t back down from.

If I let them underestimate me, some fool was sure to do something stupid.

To prevent that, I’d have to make them accept some losses.

Besides, since they’d shot, they should have the resolve to deal with the consequences.

“GAAAAAAAARRR!”

I lowered my backpack and let out a roar before sprinting toward the walls.

A volley of gunfire erupted, but since I had increased my speed right before, none of it hit.

A few grazed me, but my body wasn’t weak enough for that to matter; even if they had hit directly, it wouldn’t have caused significant damage.

I leaped at the ten-meter-high walls, kicked off them to climb higher, and reached out with my arms.

Before they could even react, I had climbed atop the walls. Muskets spat fire at me, but my tough hide blocked them, leaving only an itchy warmth.

I even found myself scratching my belly where a bullet hit—it was that harmless. At least the power was definitely above a crossbow’s.

For the hardest parts of my body—shoulders and back—it felt no more than “Oh, something bounced off.”

For now, I smacked the nearest soldier behind me with my tail and grabbed the one in front of me.

Being shot from behind wasn’t painful or itchy, so I ignored it.

But being shot in the front—even if the belly was fine, I wanted to avoid the face.

So I used the captured soldier as a shield while steadily walking down the narrow wall.

The soldiers packed tightly together hurriedly fell back, but the path jammed and caused a traffic block.

I didn’t want anyone dying from a ten-meter fall, so I reached out, grabbed soldiers, and tossed them back to clear the jam.

The ones I threw screamed pitifully, but even an adult would lose control of their legs being tossed around at this height.

And so, clearing obstacles, I arrived at the top of the city gate.

Unfortunately, my massive body meant I couldn’t go inside, but from outside I grasped the basic structure.

(Hmm… maybe their technology is slightly better than Canaan’s?)

I hadn’t seen Canaan’s tech directly, so I couldn’t be sure, but I had a rough estimate based on intuition.

While casually swatting aside obstructing soldiers with my tail and flicking gun-wielders away with a finger snap, I observed Furon’s reaction. The gunfire ceased, likely because they realized their attacks weren’t working.

I thought, “Great, now I won’t have to scratch,” but then—

“Aim! Volley fire!”

At the officer’s order, over a dozen muzzles flashed.

Reacting to the voice, I covered my face with both arms, but the bullets concentrated on my chest and belly, making me so itchy that I dropped my guard to scratch all over.

In front of the dumbstruck soldiers realizing it wasn’t working at all, I made a show of letting out a huge yawn.

“Don’t mock us, you monster!”

An older man, apparently the commander, drew his saber and charged at me alone.

He ordered his troops to retreat, so it was likely a decoy, a suicidal distraction.

Like he was trying to throw away the resolve of this dashing bearded middle-aged man, I caught his full-force strike with two fingers, removed his hat with my free hand, and found his scalp bald.

Feeling sorry, I quietly put his hat back and gently patted the shoulder of the man futilely trying to wrestle his saber free from me.

For some reason, he took offense, let go of the saber, and swung a fist at me.

Naturally, punching me only hurt his hand, so I ignored it. Behind him, soldiers who couldn’t fire with him in the way stared on with troubled expressions.

I had intended to mess with them a bit more and make them hurt, but I decided to forgive them here out of respect for this man’s bravery.

However, the man himself got too heated, and I looked up at the sky, wondering what to do.

Given the time that had passed, some people began realizing “Something’s not right.”

More and more soldiers stopped attacking and just watched; only the older man’s shouting echoed.

At first he was yelling things like, “A monster like you!” but maybe his fists had reached their limit—he started kicking my shins while shouting, “What do you know about my problems!?” venting about his bald spot.

Once again, I patted his shoulder gently as if to comfort him.

Then he picked up his dropped saber and slashed, but it snapped cleanly, so I let it slide.

For now, I decided to use this older man as my contact window and abducted him.

Holding him, I jumped off the walls and ran to where I had left my belongings.

The poor man’s hat flew off somewhere as he made pitiful noises. I set him down and pulled out my prepared notebook from my backpack, thrusting it before his eyes.

“I freed thirty-eight women captured by the orcs and escorted them back here. Do you know about this?”

The older man’s eyes widened as he read the note.

“No way… you understand our language?”

I nodded at his mutter and showed the next note.

“I want to talk with your commanding officer. I secured a promise to arrange such a meeting in exchange for escorting and returning those women.”

“Wait, what’s going on!?”

The older man shouted after reading the note, but I ignored him and wrote a new one.

“It’s exactly as it says. I raided the orc fort in the rear, freed thirty-eight captive women, and negotiated with them. The result was a promise to arrange a meeting with your commanding officer—or someone equivalent—on the condition that I escorted them safely back to this city.”

Reading it, the older man muttered, “I can’t believe it…” but I wasn’t sure which part he meant.

(Maybe all of it, but this is probably a normal reaction when dealing with a monster.)

Though he looked at me suspiciously, since I’d spared his life, he likely believed at least “there’s some truth mixed in.”

“For now, I’d like you to go back. I’ll wait here until sunset.”

I handed over the note and let the older man return.

He looked back at me several times on his way, but I ignored him and sat down on the spot.

I sighed, hoping this would lead to some progress.

At the same time, I realized there was still quite a bit of time until sunset and regretted, thinking, “Shoot, maybe I should have set a tighter time limit.”