Arc-7 Ch-52

 The sound of something approaching.

I don’t know how much time has passed since I’ve been confined to this place.

I can’t even remember the last time I tasted water just to ease my thirst, let alone meat to fill my stomach. No matter how much my intellect and physique might surpass those of my kin, the fact that I haven’t starved to death yet is no mere coincidence.

From the rhythmic thudding against the metallic floor, I can tell the source of the noise is running, and that it’s either a “Two-Legs” or a “Long-Eared Two-Legs.”

The moment I perceived this, my heart leapt.

Back when I used to curl up in a winter cave to hibernate through the bitter cold, I managed to survive on the bare minimum of breath and heartbeat; ironically, my current situation isn’t much different. My racing pulse sends blood surging through my entire body, and I can feel strength slowly returning to my limbs.

I’ve been given neither water nor meat since I was locked away. In this situation, where it’s a miracle I’m even still alive, anything that approaches me is my prey.

I calmly suppress my surging instincts and simply continue waiting for the prey’s arrival.

In this place covered entirely in metal, where not a single blade of grass can grow, the “Long-Eared Two-Legs” forcibly embedded something into my body.

After enduring the agonizing pain that felt as if my very blood and flesh were about to explode, I understood one thing: while I am still myself, I’ve become something entirely different.

Back when I lived in the forest and led my tribe, I wasn’t even aware there were things I “didn’t know” or “didn’t understand.” I spent my days hunting, killing, and devouring prey simply to survive. My sense of time was sluggish; I lived by the rising and setting of the sun, only noticing the changing of the seasons as they quietly passed me by.

I used to sense the habits and behaviors of my prey through intuition alone. It was only after the “Long-Eared Two-Legs” did something to me that I became able to comprehend the social structures of their herds and the positions they held within them.

However, even if I feel a sense of joy toward my awakened power, I don’t harbor even the slightest gratitude toward the “Long-Eared Two-Legs.” To begin with, it was obvious that those creatures looked down on me.

Ever since I was in my mother’s womb, I’ve understood that I am the absolute predator. Even if I’m captured by “Two-Legs” or “Long-Eared Two-Legs,” that realization hasn’t changed in the slightest.

Thanks to the sharpened intellect I gained after that thing was embedded in me, I’ve started to understand the general meaning behind the cries of the “Long-Eared Two-Legs.”

It seems the herd of “Long-Eared Two-Legs” is on bad terms with the herd of “Two-Legs.”

In itself, something like that isn’t unusual for creatures living in forests or open plains; disputes over territory or struggles to decide the clan leader are common. However, the way these two groups fought over this place made entirely of metal makes them feel like strange creatures to me.

After the “Long-Eared Two-Legs” embedded that thing into my body, my frame grew noticeably stronger just by sleeping and eating. My senses sharpened, my thoughts began to grasp details with far greater precision, and my physical structure transformed into that of a species entirely different from the one I had been in the forest.

Before I knew it, my body gained thickness horizontally, the shape of my front leg joints and the way the muscles attached shifted into something else entirely as the digits lengthened, and I changed so that moving on my hind legs became the easier way to travel. I can’t remember exactly when I realized that I was becoming a form quite similar to a “Two-Legs.”

Evidently, this place covered in metal is the territory of the “Long-Eared Two-Legs.” This metallic cave, lit by lights that shine unlike the sun, is nothing like the forest caves I once knew—it feels like being inside the belly of a great serpent.

I can’t understand the sight of those “Long-Eared Two-Legs” carrying metal sticks that spit pebbles, constantly coming and going while releasing an unpleasant odor I’ve never once smelled in the forest, and the sight fills me with rising rage. Above all, I loathe the fact that those fragile “Long-Eared Two-Legs” believe they can force me into submission through strength.

It’s infuriating, but the fact that I was defeated by the schemes and power of the “Two-Legs” is undeniable. If that’s the case, the wise choice is to wait until the “Long-Eared Two-Legs” reveal an opening. If one keeps unilaterally overwhelming prey, every living thing within the territory will eventually grow cautious; one could say that pretending to be submissive in order to lure the opponent into lowering their guard is a highly effective hunting method.

In this metallic cave, there’s no way to sense the passage of time. There’s no method other than guessing through the intervals at which I’m given chunks of meat. I can’t distinguish what kind of creature the meat comes from by taste alone; all I know is that each time I devour it and the “Long-Eared Two-Legs” tamper with my body, I transform further into a different kind of being.

Around the time my body, which once moved on four legs, became able to stand and walk like a “Two-Legs,” the prey I was urged to hunt by the “Long-Eared Two-Legs” changed to the “Two-Legs” themselves. It seems the “Long-Eared Two-Legs” are trying to use me to drive away the “Two-Legs” who intrude upon their territory.

Comparing the two races, there didn’t really seem to be much difference in strength between the “Long-Eared Two-Legs” and the “Two-Legs.” At the very least, so long as they aren’t producing phenomena like fire or lightning, their abilities appear to be roughly equal. In other words, the “Long-Eared Two-Legs” are probably trying to manipulate me in the same way the “Two-Legs” once tamed the wolves.

The instant I understood the intent behind why the “Long-Eared Two-Legs” brought me here without killing me, a fresh surge of rage began to boil inside me. However, the moment I attacked and devoured the “Two-Legs” that had entered my territory, my thoughts were suddenly dyed with a shock that went beyond even that anger.

The “Two-Legs” had always tasted exquisite, but the physical changes that came from eating their flesh were far more incredible than anything I’d ever experienced before. Every part of my body underwent a powerful, almost overwhelming transformation; my thoughts, which had grown dull in this place of little stimulation, turned sharply vivid, and I was even able to instinctively grasp how to efficiently control my ever-changing body.

This was a talent that had awakened within me, one meant to accumulate the power necessary for a counterattack against the “Long-Eared Two-Legs.” With the strength I understood purely through instinct, I would turn both the “Long-Eared Two-Legs” and the “Two-Legs” into torn scraps of flesh and devour them all.

After making that resolution, I maintained a submissive attitude toward the “Long-Eared Two-Legs” and kept repeating the process of devouring the “Two-Legs” who occasionally came into the territory in order to gain even more strength. Eventually, the day of execution arrived. Waiting for the moment when the “Long-Eared Two-Legs” had gathered together, I bared my fangs of rebellion and swung my claws, running wild exactly as my instincts drove me.

However, my life-risking rebellion ended in failure, and after swallowing only a small amount of the “Long-Eared Two-Legs’” flesh and blood, I was confined to this place. My strength had indeed surpassed that of the “Long-Eared Two-Legs”; the pebble-spitting sticks they wielded could no longer injure my body as they once had, and I managed to take down several of them.

But by the time I realized that the prey around me had disappeared while I was biting and tearing through the fleeing “Long-Eared Two-Legs,” it was already too late. I still remember that after my escape route was blocked, I inhaled air carrying a strange odor; my body went numb, my movements were restrained, and my consciousness grew hazy.

After that, the “Long-Eared Two-Legs” brought in even more of those sticks that spit out a massive number of pebbles; I was used as a target, and while writhing in pain and bleeding all over my body, I was dragged to this place and left behind.

By all rights, it wouldn’t have been strange if I had died, but I have a faint sense of why I am still alive like this.

The thing embedded within my body, the thing that transformed my form into something entirely different, is what’s keeping me alive. I can clearly feel my body being rebuilt into a new vessel beneath my scarred hide, like a charcoal-black chrysalis, but in my current state, I can’t do anything to stop it; all I can do is focus on not dying.

Even in this state where I can’t tell whether I’m alive or dead, the reason I chose to survive was to devour the “Long-Eared Two-Legs” once again.

I won’t fail next time. I’ll surely and swiftly kill them, feast on them, and then escape from this place. Holding onto that single desire, I continue watching for an opportunity to rebel.

The footsteps are gradually drawing closer; if nothing goes wrong, they’ll reach this spot soon.

Since being locked away, the “Long-Eared Two-Legs” have only come a few times, and only to check whether my wounds had healed; they’ve provided neither meat nor water. The fact that they’ve treated me as if I were something already forgotten is, in truth, a blessing. The only time a “Long-Eared Two-Legs” comes anywhere near this place is to peek at my condition.

I can tell from the impatience vibrating through their footsteps that something unexpected has happened to the “Long-Eared Two-Legs.” Moreover, it’s obvious that only one of them is approaching.

To think such luck would fall into my lap—the pounding of my heart, racing with anticipation, is almost irritating.

Still, I mustn’t let my guard down. There have been many hunts where I underestimated weaker prey, only to suffer an unforeseen counterattack and fail. For now, I must feign weakness just to lure the prey within reach of my fangs and claws.

A section of this inescapable place shifts, and at that same moment, someone intrudes, and light pours in from above. It’s a light entirely different from the sun, but it’s still light all the same. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen the sun even once since I was brought into this metal cave.

In the dozens of seconds it takes for my long-dormant eyeballs to regain their function, I use my ears, my nose, and the hairs across my body to scrutinize every detail of my opponent.

From the scent of sweat drifting through the air and the high-pitched cries, I know it’s a single adult “Long-Eared Two-Legs.” I can’t sense any trace of its kin nearby, so it’s definitely alone.

At the same time, I catch the smell of metal and something like rotten eggs; it’s undoubtedly carrying one of those pebble-spitting sticks.

Attacking right now would not be wise. No matter how overwhelmingly superior I am compared to a “Long-Eared Two-Legs,” a body weakened by hunger and thirst could still suffer a fatal wound if struck by an unexpected counterattack. My priority is to wait for my vision to return and watch for an opening.

Since that thing was embedded in my body, I’ve become able to roughly understand what the cries of the “Two-Legs” and the “Long-Eared Two-Legs” mean. Something writhes deep inside me, as if trying to tell me I’m becoming more like a “Two-Legs” myself.

It seems the “Long-Eared Two-Legs” have lost to the “Two-Legs,” and they’re planning to use me, the one they kept locked away, to defeat them. I loathe the attitude of these “Long-Eared Two-Legs” who underestimate me at every turn, yet I suppress my emotions and continue to feign a weakened state.

By the time my vision finally returned, I could feel the transparent barrier separating me from the “Long-Eared Two-Legs” shift. At the same moment, I began observing the approaching creature using every one of my sensory organs.

Endure it a little longer. The opponent is still on guard, its pebble-spitting stick aimed straight at me. If I attack now, it might slip away in the opening created when the pebbles strike my body, and I’d lose my chance at rebellion. I continue to pretend I’ve lost the strength to resist and am simply waiting for death, carefully gauging the reaction of the “Long-Eared Two-Legs.”

Approaching hesitantly, the “Long-Eared Two-Legs” poked my body several times with its stick. It must’ve failed to see through my act of complete unresponsiveness, because it started venting its raw emotions, kicking my stomach repeatedly with clear irritation. The only reason I didn’t reflexively strike back was to stop it from fleeing. Had it not been for my previous failure, I would’ve already torn it apart with my claws.

The moment the foolish “Long-Eared Two-Legs,” who didn’t even bother hiding its impatience, turned its back, I poured strength into all four limbs and leapt. My stiff muscles could barely produce half the power they once had, and I could hear my bones grinding with every movement.

My target was the upper corner, a small opening where air was flowing in. I clung there, hooking my extended front limbs into the hole; it seems these fingers, so similar to a “Two-Legs,” are well suited for gripping things. My posture is unstable, but not bad. I’m waiting for the moment the “Long-Eared Two-Legs” turns back in shock, creating an opening.

The unsuspecting “Long-Eared Two-Legs” turned around once more. At that exact instant, I released my front limbs and kicked off the wall with all my strength. The prey’s confused face only registered my presence when the sudden shadow loomed over it. But it was already too late.

Ah, this is why hunting is so pleasurable I can never stop. Tormenting a frightened prey with claw and fang before delivering the final blow as an act of “mercy” makes me feel like an absolute predator; it’s exhilarating. Just as satisfying is watching the face of a dull-witted prey, who couldn’t even understand it would die from an opening it left, twist into pure terror.

And this prey is one of the “Long-Eared Two-Legs” that confined me here. I think I’ll enjoy this completely before I feast.

GYABYU!!

I thrust my head forward, aiming straight for the throat of the “Long-Eared Two-Legs.”

If one wants to finish a prey with absolute certainty, this is the best spot.

The moment I bite into the neck, I use the full crushing force of my jaws to break the cervical vertebrae with everything I’ve got, a surefire technique that, if successful, guarantees death for any prey. By crushing the neck bones, I seal their movements, and by sinking my fangs in to pierce the throat, I cut off their breathing. There has never been a single prey I failed to kill this way.

However, this “Long-Eared Two-Legs” continued resisting desperately, even trying to point its pebble-spitting stick at me. There was nothing wrong with my hunting method; this was the result of my body being completely emaciated. My internal fluids were so depleted that not even saliva formed despite the prey being right in front of me, and because of hunger, even the slightest movement caused an overwhelming buildup of fatigue.

At this rate, I’m in danger.

Feeling that, I gave up on crushing the neck bones. Instead, I shifted to a method of repeatedly driving my fangs in to mince the throat and rip open holes. My fangs sliced through the arteries in the “Long-Eared Two-Legs’” neck, causing a massive amount of blood to seep out and spray across the surroundings.

My mouth was moistened by the flowing blood, and with every gulp, I could feel the liquid, overflowing with the prey’s life force, restoring my parched flesh.

Delicious. Was the “Long-Eared Two-Legs” always this exquisite?

During my previous rebellion, I had managed to kill only a few “Long-Eared Two-Legs,” and it had ended with me consuming only a few scraps of meat. This time is different. Having learned patience and become even more cunning since then, I can surely finish off and devour every last one of the “Long-Eared Two-Legs” and the “Two-Legs” alike.

If I devour them to strengthen my body and sharpen my thoughts, it will eventually be well within my power to rule this land.

Releasing my jaws from the carcass of the "long-eared two-legs" that had already expired before I even realized it, I let the body slump down onto the metallic floor.

Next, I shall devour the organs, those soft, boneless pockets brimming with nourishment.

With fresh meat and blood laid out before me for the first time in ages, my thoughts are soaked in rapture; in this moment alone, I feel no inclination toward restraint.

Awoooooooo!

Ah, the way my howl echoes through this metal-clad cavern is intoxicating.

Has eating always been this magnificent?

The prey’s blood, flesh, viscera, skin, and fur blend with my own, becoming one.

This is what it truly means to be alive.

But it is not enough. Far from enough.

Surely, there are more "long-eared two-legs" deeper within this metallic cavern.

I will not fail again. I will devour every last one of them.

Lapping up the blood staining its muzzle with a long tongue, the beast released another howl of pure jubilation.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

"Hey, stay still and let me bind you."

"……"

Using the ropes and medical bandages stored inside my backpack, I bound the elves’ hands.

Ideally, metal shackles would’ve been better, but there was no way I could haul such heavy gear while exploring these ruins. Instead, the rope I had brought for exploration, never once used for its intended purpose, had been cut apart with a knife and was now serving to restrain the elves.

Half of the elves made no attempt to conceal their hostility; the others were either stunned into exhaustion or too overwhelmed by their injuries to even summon anger.

The fact that some still retained their fighting spirit was proof that their wounds were relatively light. Among the severely injured, there were likely those who would carry those disabilities for the rest of their long elven lives.

And that was assuming the higher ranks of the Holfort Kingdom even allowed them to live.

These people had plotted a rebellion against the Kingdom around twenty years ago. Even after receiving a pardon from the new King, they had the nerve to scheme treason once again.

Most of the ringleaders would likely face execution. At best, they would be condemned to life imprisonment, spending hundreds of years of their extended lives behind bars.

Perhaps it would have been more merciful to simply kill them here.

I shook my head from side to side, as if trying to deny the cold, cruel nature of my own thoughts.

"Father, are you finished?"

"Yeah. How’s it going on your end?"

"I can only manage to stop the bleeding. Neither I nor Lionel can use recovery magic."

"That can’t be helped. As long as we don’t end up with any more casualties, that’s enough."

"…Is there even any point in saving these people?"

Ariel spoke the words that felt like they were echoing my own inner thoughts.

The expression my daughter cast toward the elves restrained in the room was clearly filled with anger and hostility. It was the same kind of look the elves were giving us, and that realization cut right to the core of me.

Defeating an enemy and killing them may seem similar at a glance, but they are completely different acts. At least, that’s how I’ve always felt about it.

　If people found out that a man like me, someone who earned a noble title through battlefield achievements, possessed such a temperament, I’m sure there would be those who’d laugh in ridicule.

But I simply can’t bring myself to enjoy killing, even if the targets are the very people who once tried to kill me.

"Our goal is strictly to secure the ruins and restore Angie to her original state. The orders from the big shots in the Royal Capital were only to investigate whether the elves were plotting a rebellion. We haven’t been granted the authority to go beyond that."

"I suppose that’s true, but..."

"Besides, there are other extremist elves who despise humans, and these people are their leaders. If we kill them, the rest might come after us seeking revenge."

"Hmm, I see. I guess that’s a real possibility."

"So, for now, just making sure they don’t escape is enough. Once we get Angie back to normal and the Kingdom’s army arrives, let’s hurry up and head back to the mansion."

"...I feel incredibly exhausted today for some reason."

"I’m even more tired than you are. I haven’t had a proper rest since we arrived at the elven village."

If I could, I’d return to the Bartfort domain right this instant.

I wanted to soak in a hot spring, eat my favorite food, and sleep soundly in my own bed until it was nearly noon.

Of course, I’d have Angie there in the same bed as me, acting as my body pillow.

The current small and cute Angie is certainly charming, but she’s so thin I feel like her body might snap if I applied even a bit of real strength; she’s lacking both muscle and body fat.

But the adult Angie is well-fleshed; the texture of her skin feels like it’s clinging to my fingers, and the sheer presence of that soft touch is so overwhelming that I could easily hold her all the way until morning.

Occupying this central hub and getting Angie here so she can be restored as quickly as possible is the top priority. At the same time, I’ve got to identify the dangerous parts of these ruins to make sure neither the elves nor the Kingdom’s army can end up misusing them.

Regardless, there are simply too many things that need doing. It’s honestly agonizing trying to decide what to prioritize for maximum efficiency.

If there were someone around who could act as an administrative assistant, I’d even be willing to hire them at a premium.

『Have you finished the post-battle cleanup?』

"Are you just going to stand there watching, you damn Sphere? Why don’t you try helping out a little?"

『I am currently downloading information provided by these ruins. Due to the effects of aging, many sections are only available in fragments, and I expect the analysis will take some time.』

"Did you find anything that might be useful to us?"

『I cannot say. Your highest priority is likely the restoration of Angelica Fou Bartfort’s physical body; if that is the case, you should simply ask the ruins.』

"To be honest, I can’t fully trust the consciousness of these ruins. Since we’ve been together this long, you’re at least the lesser of two evils."

『What a coincidence. I also recognize you as a being with significant utility among the New Humans.』

We were just trading barbs, but in this situation, the Sphere was still more trustworthy than the ruins.

It’s an irritating thing that only speaks in blunt truths, but it doesn’t lie. Having known it for over ten years, that was the one thing I’ve more or less come to understand.

On the other hand, the fact that the usually talkative ruins had suddenly gone silent was starting to weigh on my mind.

The ruins, which until now had been masterfully manipulating the elves into cooperation and had only recently attempted to recruit us as new allies, were now silent and subdued.

I don’t know who decided that tools don’t have wills of their own and simply follow their master’s orders. Even though thousands of years must have passed since they lost their Old Human masters, both the Sphere and these ruins have begun acting on their own, trying to stir chaos in the present world by subjugating us descendants of the New Humans and the elves created by the Old Humans.

If the Old Humans of that era were still alive today, I’d give them a hell of a punch; I wouldn’t go easy on them even if they were women or children.

"……How are the injuries?"

"Everyone except the ones who escaped is wounded, aren’t they? You could’ve held back just a little more, Father."

"I didn’t mean them. I meant you and Lionel."

"I’m fine for the most part. It was easy work, just shooting the monsters attacking the elves from behind."

"That’s good, then."

"Lionel looks like he’s feeling a bit sick, though."

"Is he in pain somewhere?"

"I think it’s more his heart than his body."

I let my gaze drift around the room until I spotted the blonde boy, then I quietly walked over to him; Ariel followed behind me without saying a word.

In the place where Lionel stood, the carcasses of the monsters we had shot down were still scattered about, and nearby, the remains of the elves who had been killed by those monsters were lined up.

It was a sight that, well, from an educational standpoint, was extremely poor. Even I feel like I might lose my mind if I keep staring at scenes like this; it must be even worse for Lionel, since today was his first real battle.

If I keep neglecting my duties as a father, my children will eventually abandon me. As it is, the time I spend with my family is already shrinking because of my work as a feudal lord and the unwanted positions I’ve been forced into, and it’s only decreased further since the two of them entered the Royal Academy.

Especially at a time like this, I have to make sure my children don’t end up emotionally scarred.

"Are you alright, Lionel?"

"……Father."

"You look pale. Well, it’s certainly not a pleasant thing to look at."

"…………No."

"If you feel like throwing up, you’d better just do it. There’s no need to force yourself to hold your emotions in."

"Is that how it works?"

"Even if enemies died because of a plan I came up with, that’s my responsibility. There’s no need for you, who simply followed orders, to worry about it."

If I could have avoided it, I wouldn’t have wanted to kill even those extremist elves who hate humans. Even the Holfort Kingdom and the Temple likely wanted to avoid any deaths that would worsen relations between humans and elves.

That said, I’m not such a soft-hearted "good" person that I’d let myself be killed by people who attacked me. I’ve got the resolve to stain my hands with my enemies’ blood if it means protecting my family.

At the same time, I can’t ignore the possibility that my actions might cause future discord in human and elven relations.

　Not all elves are human-haters. There are those like Yumeria-san and the village elder’s faction who want coexistence while keeping a certain distance, and others like the current chief who want active engagement and profit.

Even if the relatives of the elves who died today didn’t originally hate humans, this could easily become the spark that turns them against me, the one responsible for their family member’s death, and the Holfort Kingdom that ordered the investigation.

My mood sinks a little as I think that far. Why is it that so many things in my life just don’t go smoothly?

Even if the worst-case scenario is avoided, some level of sacrifice is unavoidable. No matter how much I try to minimize it, I can never eliminate it completely.

The big shots and the Saintess expect far too much from me. At the end of the day, I’m just an ordinary man who happens to be somewhat decent at fighting.

I’m certainly not a Saintess who can end a war without a single casualty, nor an invincible hero who can wipe out enemy armies.

"I felt sick and threw up the first time I shot someone during the war, too."

"You had a time like that as well, Father?"

"Is that so surprising? Well, I suppose it’s only natural you’d think that, given how many of my subordinates treat me like a hero. But ever since way back, I’ve hated getting hurt or hurting others from the bottom of my heart. I’d be perfectly content just avoiding trouble as much as possible and living a fun, easy life."

These weren’t just words meant to comfort my son; they were my true feelings, held since long ago.

Living modestly as a commoner, harvesting enough food from the fields to feed a wife and children, that was the life I truly desired.

And yet, by some twist of fate, I’ve been saddled with a frontier territory and am playing the role of a feudal lord I never wanted. Seriously, how did it come to this?

Since I have become a lord, I need to provide a proper education for the son chosen as my heir, regardless of his own wishes.

That said, it’s not in my nature to berate a son experiencing real combat for the first time. If he’ll feel better by venting his weaknesses, it’s obviously better to let him do so.

That was the extent of what I could do for him.

"How unexpected. To think you had a phase like that, Father."

"...On the contrary, I’d like to ask how Ariel can be so unfazed," Lionel countered.

"Well, isn't that just the talent gap between you and me?"

"............"

"Besides, I’m a girl. I’m somewhat used to blood."

"Stop saying such unrefined things for a young lady. You’ll run out of houses willing to take you as a bride."

"...Hmph."

Why does my eldest daughter lack the grace and daintiness expected of a noble lady?

Perhaps my own uncouth nature and Angie’s strong will both manifested in her genes. Either way, as your father, I’m worried about your future.

I have no intention of forcing her to marry a man just for his status or assets, but neither I nor Angie are cold-hearted enough to leave our daughter to lead a lonely life.

Isn't there some eccentric man out there who would take our eldest daughter as his wife?

It’s quite fatal for the daughter of a high-ranking noble to have no marriage prospects at this age, so someone please help me out.

"More importantly, Father, there is one thing that concerns me."

"Did something happen?"

"I’ve checked the corpses of the monsters and the remains of the elves. The number of elves present when we first entered this room does not match the number of elves currently in this room."

"……What?"

"Aren't you just miscounting? I mean, look, there are bodies in pieces..."

Due to the plan I’d devised, the monsters had fallen upon the elves.

The state of the elven corpses, attacked by monsters that far surpassed humans, possessed multiple arms, and hungered for human flesh, could only be described as gruesome.

Heads were severed from torsos; limbs had been easily torn off and lay scattered across the floor; and from torsos ripped open by claws and fangs, blood-stained viscera spilled out.

It was a scene so horrific that even a medical examiner would struggle with an autopsy. It wouldn't be strange for there to be a counting error.

"It’s precisely because the remains are scattered that I was late in noticing. I’ve checked multiple times, but there’s clearly one elf missing."

"……What does that person intend to do?"

"I don’t know if there’s any way to break this deadlock, or if they might be trying to bring back the extremist elves outside as reinforcements."

I had been careless. To be so intoxicated by victory in battle that I neglected to confirm the headcount... There’s no greater folly than getting lectured by Lionel on his very first day of real combat.

I forcibly dragged my dulled consciousness back into motion and began desperately running through worst-case scenarios, when suddenly, I thought I heard something.

...Awoooooooo!

It was clearly different from the metallic scraping of the room’s air conditioning; it was a cry that could only come from a living creature.

Just hearing it made my skin crawl. A violent chill surged through me, and sweat began to pour from my entire body.

The battle isn’t over yet.

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Authors Note  

┻━⁠━━━━⁠━━⁠━━━⁠┻  

This post ended up being quite delayed. (Currently in deep reflection...)

The "Monster-kun" appearing here has been modified using a certain object that also appears in the original work. Since it isn’t a "monster" [spawned from the dungeon], it’s set as a creature of this world whose body remains even after being defeated.

Originally a four-legged carnivore that couldn’t even use magic, it has now become a monstrosity through the combined tinkering of the elves and the ruins.

From the next chapter onward, expect a development where the monster side holds the advantage, much like a kaiju movie. Good luck, Bartfort family!

Postscript:

At the requester's request, Osuwani-sama, BOCA-sama, and Gamja-ssak-sama have provided illustrations. Thank you very much.

Osuwani-sama: Pixiv (Warning: Adult Content)

BOCA-sama: Pixiv (Warning: Suggestive Content)

Gamja-ssak-sama: Pixiv

I would really appreciate any opinions or feedback as encouragement for the future.