91

East of the elven domain—back in the underground facility of the former Fullretos Empire where Genetically Enhanced Soldiers were once experimented on, and which now served as my base.

There was much to think about on the road, but everything depended on the trial I was about to undertake.

First, however, came an obstacle: with this massive body of mine, I couldn’t move freely inside the facility. I had to destroy parts of the outer walls to make a path wide enough to pass.

And this was an underground facility—one wrong move could cause a collapse. I had to work carefully, and for that I needed internal information first.

I searched for a signboard to guide me, but before that, something caught my eye.

A box I didn’t recognize, with a letter stuck on top.

If anyone came here, it could only have been the elves.

As I suspected, it seemed Dame Oppai had revealed this location.

The trap notice was gone, so she herself may have visited too.

“Let’s deal with this first,” I muttered, stepping closer and taking the letter.

It said, in short: “I came to see you, but you weren’t home, so I left this note. The contents of the box are a gift.”

Opening it, I found it filled with fruit of every kind.

“Much appreciated,” I said, immediately grabbing one to bite into.

Its cool freshness was surely thanks to magic.

In times like this, I couldn’t help but admire: “Magic really is convenient.”

I finished the first apple and reached for a second, checking if anything else was inside—nothing.

It was only natural they had looked around here—but had they found my hidden treasures? I went to check.

The result… safe.

It seemed they refrained from the rude act of rummaging through someone else’s home.

I thought they might’ve taken things back, but aside from a single missing porno magazine on the bookshelf, nothing else had changed.

(Wait… who took that?)

I’d expected Number Six to visit—but no, clearly one of her escorts, a man, had secretly taken it.

“Well, in that case, so be it,” I decided. But it was possible Dame Oppai herself was the culprit.

Imagining how that might end brought an evil grin to my face, but I wasn’t in the mood to enjoy it.

Shifting my gaze deeper into the facility, I considered how to expand the narrow passageways.

(Spider-man was quite large himself… with legs spread, he’d be bigger than me. Wide corridors must have been his paths.)

What I needed was the facility’s signboard.

If I knew the destination and the passages, I could then widen them.

I soon found what I was looking for and began memorizing the facility’s layout.

But the chambers where test subjects likely slept were deep inside.

This would take time. Pulling down ceiling panels, I set to gouging the walls with brute strength.

Following the map, I avoided risky sections while expanding the halls.

As the passage widened steadily, my mind drifted into unwanted thoughts.

For instance, about that scientist—in the dream, he had said his motive was “revenge,” and stressed “casualties had occurred.”

(So, someone dear to him must have died, and he sought vengeance…?)

But the Empire itself was gone, let alone his enemy.

Everything ended in futility; the hatred remained two centuries, only to bring despair to the subjects.

The system, which made subjects fight each other and punish the thief of his technology, assumed they would face one another after losing reason.

But now that premise had crumbled, it no longer worked.

If I’d learned this within three months of awakening, like I had, there might still be time.

But what of him—the one who looked like an orc?

Already partly bereft of reason when I met him, when had he learned this truth?

Depending on the answer, it might be unbearably cruel.

(Could it be… that ruined city I saw…?)

If so, he had searched in the wrong place.

Worse, he had rallied forces and waged war against the Furon Council, showing his mind was far from sound.

Perhaps someone inherited the knowledge, but that was too risky a gamble.

Far better to scour the forest with hordes of orcs.

(In other words, he had been too far gone to even realize that… If he had been active for years, then losing all reason took time. A gradual erasure of self as a human. A cruel fate indeed. Was his hatred that deep?)

Realizing that he endured the terror of slowly losing himself, I resolved to avoid that fate at any cost.

My hands paused as I imagined the suffering of the one called Emperor.

Thinking of it striking me one day made my hands tremble—but my emotional control function suppressed it, letting me think clearly.

(Do everything possible. If it fails…)

Before the worst came, I would end it myself—or ask someone else.

That would surely mean relying on the elves.

I chuckled bitterly at how troublesome this overly durable body was, and returned to work.

Slow work, since I couldn’t do it sloppily.

Bit by bit, rubble piled up as I carved through the walls.

Carrying it back, I wished for proper tools.

And each time my eyes caught the box, I ended up grabbing more fruit.

Perhaps leaving it in plain sight wasn’t wise.

By the way, the note revealed Number Six’s real name.

She was “Rusheru Forshna.”

It gave me the same thrill as learning a girl’s email address in school.

My hand froze over the fourth fruit.

Was this her way of saying, “Come see me”?

Or perhaps it was an opening to ask the elves for help.

After all, I was the one who slew their greatest nemesis, the “Nightmare.” Surely they wouldn’t refuse me.

(Time-wise, I still have some leeway. Efficiency first, but consider contingencies. Contact them… No, not yet. Revealing myself now would be inconvenient.)

If I needed a pretext, the letter was enough.

And the woman from the Natural Harmony Committee would surely accept my request.

But if I asked a favor, I’d need a gift.

Though I hadn’t slain the Nightmare for them, knowing the truth left me feeling guilty, not proud.

I had no intention of revealing it, but I would make use of the fact.

“Best if it’s something material,” I murmured, stroking my chin, but as a man with a gray youth, nothing came to mind.

“Let’s at least search,” I thought, heading to the storeroom for something a woman might like. But of course, nothing of the sort.

Instead, I noticed the sugar I’d transferred to a container and never touched since.

Opening the lid, I saw movement writhing in the colored sugar. Silently, I closed it and pretended I hadn’t.

(Of course… it came from an undeveloped refinery. Leave it too long and this happens.)

I had checked it when I last left base for long, but… disappointing.

I picked up another item but again judged it unsuitable.

What would elves want, anyway?

As I rummaged, an idea struck.

“Yes. Books.”

All my books were Imperial-made—written in Furon language.

But that was perfect.

I knew someone fluent in Furon.

Likely the woman under Number Six—probably a headache for her.

Then I’d give her work.

Number Six would assign chores to an idler while gaining Imperial knowledge.

I’d be thanked, and my favor repaid—two birds with one stone.

And Dame Oppai would weep tears of joy at the blessing of labor.

“Brilliant,” I congratulated myself, browsing the shelf—only to find nothing suitable for women, or for elves in general.

If I gave them my collection, they’d recoil for sure.

Maybe I’d need to visit a town.

(No—there was somewhere else first.)

The Kingdom of Canaan—the place I killed Spider-man.

I had little hope, but I needed to see his corpse for myself.