by Fuse
Plying his trade across the villages wouldn’t be easy, but keeping his base of operations here, in Rimuru, would simplify a lot of things. A communication crystal could be activated by any of the shamans that every village had at least one or two of, so I decided to pass a whole bunch of copied crystals around. I could essentially duplicate them for free, thanks to the Great Sage’s backup. That was just a matter of processing the magic stones from monsters and crystallizing them to a high enough purity. I kept that a secret, since word going around seemed like it’d come back to bite me.
These crystals could always be stolen, of course, and there wasn’t much I could do about that. That was each village’s problem, and I didn’t see the need to babysit them that much. It’d be part of their normal lives to tackle, so they could handle it for themselves.
So taking in feedback from Rigurd and the ogre mages, we gradually sorted out the details behind Operation: Make Yohm a Champion. We may have had a contract, but he wasn’t exactly my underling—on the surface, we were working cooperatively with each other. Which was great, because it meant I didn’t have to pay him a salary. Really, we still didn’t have any outside currency, so if anything I oughta be charging him rent.
No point being so miserly, though. That was why I gave him room and board for free.
Another motivation of mine, speaking of this town, was that I wanted to advertise this place. I had heard about how people who have it tough in their local village head for the big city to try to make a living. Why not come here instead? I wasn’t expecting humans and monsters to be arm in arm overnight, but again, I was thinking long-term.
Several weeks later, all of Yohm’s equipment was ready. We finally had his horses and his communication crystals. Rounding up thirty-one wild unicorns was a huge ordeal, though. B-plus magical beasts, every one of them. Strong.
But this wasn’t the outlaw band from before. Hakuro had trained Yohm and his men up to the point where they were almost unrecognizable from a few weeks back. None were going to faint at the sight of a magic creature any longer. You could rely on these guys now—and with their brand-new equipment on, they had the air of brave, battle-proven warriors. More than worthy of accompanying a champion.
“Well, it’s been fun, pal. We’ll see you for now, Rimuru!”
And with that, Yohm set off, promising to use this town as a base for their future activities.
CHAPTER 4
THE ADVANCING MALICE
The magic-born Mjurran pushed her emotions deep inside as she walked across the forest.
Mjurran was once a witch, living in this forest. Persecuted by others, she had fled here three hundred years ago—quietly researching her magic, interacting with no human or magic-born. But those days were nearing their end. Extending one’s life with magic only worked for so long.
Facing death, Mjurran had some slight sense of regret. She had yet to even peer into the great, dark crevice that was the world of magic, and she had no successor to take on the knowledge she gained. She couldn’t help but ask herself what her life was even for.
In the midst of this impasse, she was greeted by the demon lord Clayman. He had been at that post for about three hundred years, and he was negotiating with the more well-known monsters and magic-born in the area at the time—or smashing them to bits, one or the other. He was building an army of subordinates at an astonishingly rapid pace, and that was what brought him to meet Mjurran today.
Seeking the witch’s magic, he made her this offer: “Let me grant you eternal time and a young body that will never age. In exchange, I ask you to swear your allegiance to me.”
Mjurran accepted it, and right now, she thought it was a mistake. She did indeed grow younger, earning the gift of eternal life—but in the process, she lost her freedom. It was a terribly unfair, uneven bargain. For the demon lord, swindling someone with as much magic knowledge and as little experience with the outside world as Mjurran was like taking candy from a baby.
The moment she made the oath, a cursed seal was carved into her heart. The so-called Marionette Heart was one of Clayman’s most secret of mystic abilities, allowing him to use a mix of fabulously expensive magical media with the magicules of the target to turn the receiver into a magic-born.
This skill was pulled off successfully, and Mjurran was reborn—and became a marionette, unable to defy the will of Clayman.
With the magical skill she already bore, Mjurran proved to be a fairly high-level magic-born. It was nothing that made the now-captive witch content. Ever since that moment, she was Clayman’s eternal puppet.
She could not understand people like Gelmud: magic-born who willfully wanted to be ruled over. She was always looking for a gap, a loophole she could use to free herself from the curse and strike back at Clayman. But her knowledge told her this was all but impossible. The moment she broke through Marionette Heart, the demon lord told her, she would revert to human form. Frozen time would start to flow for her again, and there would be little, if any, of it left to her natural life span. And there was another reason: Clayman was just so much more powerful than she was—enough to make her writhe in disgust.
So Mjurran continued to serve the demon lord, knowing she would never find it in herself to defy him and dreaming of the day she might be released from this detestable curse.
And now…
Clayman’s latest assignment for her was an investigation.
“I’m not sure I am suited for battle…”
“No. You aren’t, regardless of how high-level you are. So I want you to observe how those who serve another demon lord fight, and then record it for me. You won’t be in direct contact with them. I am sure you’re capable of that, yes?”
Mjurran was hoping she’d be asked to scout for new members of their fighting force. She was disappointed. Instead, the demon lord flashed a serene smile and gave her his orders.
The demon lord Clayman, the Marionette Master himself, could manipulate his underlings like puppets and grab the very hearts of those he encountered.
Only a very small subsection of people could call themselves his friend. The rest of his force were mere tools, incapable of resisting until they were worn to nothing. If they wanted to live, their only choice was to carry out the jobs they were given. This mission, too, was already set in stone, as far as Clayman was concerned. If Mjurran said anything else, it would just anger him.
“I understand,” she said, suppressing her own emotions. She had to follow him. All she could do was nod.
Such a regret, she whispered. Some memories of her past, when she was free, were making her sentimental.
Snapping herself out of it, she refocused on her mission, spreading the illusory skill Detect Magic around the local area. The magic was used to sense the magicules around her, but when combined with the extra skill Magic Sense, she could read information from an even broader radius.
Mjurran’s centuries-long life span was not the result of good luck. It was built on the back of sheer ability. She was, indeed, weak at direct combat, but not because she was powerless. She was a wizard, a master of three different systems of magic. While none of it was suited for battle, in terms of usefulness, she was at a far higher level than Gelmud could ever hope to be. Clayman understood that all too well, making sure to assign her the exact jobs she was suited for.
Any reaction…?
With the spell came a vast amount of data that streamed into her mind. She had examined it all from moment to moment, and now she detected the presence of another magic-born—one with a vast store of magical energy.
She braced herself. She must have been near the territory she was asked to observe. Focusing her mind as intensely as she could, she turned her eyes toward her target…
She was greeted with a strange sight.
A large number of monsters were chopping down trees, then processing them in assorted ways. The larger trees were transported away, the smaller ones disappearing into thin air—some spatial skill, she thought.
They appeared to be building a road. Behind this crew was a well-built path which, from her viewpoint, seemed to extend to the far horizon. Some on this team were digging up large boulders buried in the earth and pulverizing them into pebbles; others would then take these away and blanket them along the ground. These were then further crushed and distributed evenly by large, heavy-looking cylinders, like logs made of iron.
These iron logs were a type of road roller that Rimuru had ordered. It was being pulled by man power—well, monster power—but there were handles on the front and back, with three crewmembers assigned to each end. It was heavy work, but with a steady stream of heave-hos, the crew easily pulled the roller forward—and behind it, they left a well-tended path of crushed gravel.
A higher-level monster served as foreman for this crew, and everyone appeared to be working together to lay this road out. It was like nothing Mjurran had seen before.
All this was being carried out by high orcs, one of them higher level and emitting an unusual aura from under its full-plate armor. This must have been the mass of magicules she detected earlier.
So the orc lord won…and he evolved.
That was Mjurran’s judgment, but it was not her role to draw conclusions, so she abandoned the thought. All an observer was tasked to do was watch and record something she continued to do over the next few days as the crew rolled on.
As she observed and chronicled what she saw, she began to wonder what lay at the end of the completed road.
Hmm… It might be best to continue observing the targeted monster, but I suppose I should broaden my information gathering a little.
Clayman was a wary, worrisome demon lord. He would no doubt ask. Knowing him as long as she did, Mjurran could easily imagine it—though she couldn’t deny that she also wanted to flee the stress of continually observing a magic-born stronger than her without being detected.
So she stepped away from her assigned job and began to move. Taking a detour through the forest, she stealthily traveled away from the crew and onto the gravel road. Then, seeing it unfold before her, she dashed along it in the opposite direction from the construction team. She was invisible thanks to perception-blocking magic, and she stayed that way as she ran uninterrupted for several hours.
Now Magic Sense was telling her something else.
This is…a pretty high-level presence coming up. Is that…Phobio, the Black Leopard Fang?! Carillon must be serious, if he’s sent one of the Three Lycanthropeers…
This was a massively powerful magic-born, one Mjurran would have no chance against. Not even the orc lord would give it much of a workout. But what was odder was Phobio’s movements—he was traveling right past the orc lord’s position and toward somewhere else. The place Mjurran was going. The roads must have been connected.
She began to wonder what was so important on the other end of this road.
Her intel-gathering mission meant she wasn’t allowed to come too close to her target. With her magic eyes, however, she didn’t need to. She could see them well enough from far away, and her curiosity was driving her to track Phobio now. She continued doing so for a while, until she finally caught sight of a large, open area up ahead. It was still too far to be seen without magical support, but apparently that was where Phobio landed.
So that’s where he went. The orc lord’s stronghold, perhaps? Perhaps he wanted to smash their headquarters first.
Mjurran wasn’t sure what to make of it—until she turned her “gaze” toward Phobio’s landing point. She immediately regretted it.
The… The demon lord Milim?!
It was an absolute wave of violence, unleashed by that girl with the platinum-pink hair.
The girl was grinning, this infallible presence that dominated the other demon lords.
Milim, the Destroyer herself, was there—and despite the distant point Mjurran was observing her from, Milim still noticed her. With a smile, she rolled her eyes toward the faraway spy. Mjurran hurriedly turned off the spell, even as fear shook her, even though she knew it was likely too late.
Her position was known, and she had to flee, no matter how futile she felt it was. If there was any silver lining to this, it was that Milim was in no hurry to take action. She was willing to let this “observer” go.
“‘Don’t interfere with anyone’—that was the deal, right? I suppose I owe my life to that,” she said to herself.
Slowly, Mjurran stood up. Locking eyes with Milim came as a shock, but they had both seemed to tacitly agree not to interfere. Very well, then.
Some of the mystery magic-born she was shown in the images were near Milim as well—they must have survived, too, along with the orc lord.
How should I report this to Clayman…?
Wondering to herself, she left the site.
After finishing her report to the demon lord, Mjurran hefted a deep, depressed sigh. His first response to it was harsh—“Spotted by your observation target? That’s far too sloppy for you.” Just recalling it disgusted her.
“If you can’t even perform the job I assign you, you really have no value to me. I can’t have you just up and dying on me, so please, try to be more careful in the future. Continue observing and wait for your next orders,” Clayman spitefully continued.
To him, Mjurran had no value, just like Gelmud. That was the kind of man he was. The Marionette Master was, as his nickname suggested, an excellent commander of other people’s work—but he never treated his servants as anything special. It was a master-slave relationship.
I failed. I completely failed… Why did I have to pledge my faith to a man like that…?
Pushing her emotions back, Mjurran turned her focus elsewhere. If she wanted to live, she couldn’t afford to fail next time. She had only been tasked with intel gathering, but against the demon lord Milim, that was a tall order. Continual observation of her would be suicide. She knew Milim was not at all unintelligent—her temper often made people misjudge that, but it was true. What’s more, her instinct for picking up on other people’s thoughts made it all but impossible to hide things from her.
Another concern for Mjurran were the “next orders” Clayman had for her. Something told her that continuing to follow his commands would be far from a good idea. Forget about following in Gelmud’s footsteps, she thought. Her situation wasn’t good. If she continued to stand by idly, she feared it would be the end of her.
This is awful. But—
She was prepared for what might come. She had no hope, but in some way, Mjurran thought this could also be her big chance. Serving the demon lord as long as she did, she felt she could read his thoughts a little by now. She was aware that Clayman was planning some kind of new, large-scale operation—one that, she predicted, she’d have to serve as a sacrificial lamb for.
If she couldn’t escape from Clayman’s rule, then death was waiting for her. Maybe she could fake her death and beat him to the punch…or maybe she could free herself from the Marionette Heart and regain her freedom. Those were the hopes Mjurran was betting her life on.
If she could find some piece of information that would please Clayman, that would be perfect. If it was juicy enough to earn her freedom, even better.
Regardless, she wanted to make it look like she died, as in her initial thought. Doing so might arouse suspicion, but having the demon lord Milim around actually made it more convenient. If Milim decided to kick up some dust, it’d attract attention from all corners. It’d be more than enough to attract Clayman’s eye, and after that, Mjurran would mean little to nothing to him.
She had made up her mind.
She couldn’t read what Milim might do. But if the Destroyer was on the move, that would be one large stone she was throwing into the pond. The more ripples that resulted, the less Mjurran’s presence would stand out.
There was no need to hurry on this. Clayman was not a demon lord to trifle with. He would see through a half-baked plan of action. For now, she needed to remain in obscurity, fa
ithfully carrying out her orders.
So Mjurran sat there quietly, waiting for time to continue onward.
The demon lord Clayman closed his connection to Mjurran and sneered.
He had been a bit harsh with the witch, but so far, everything was still according to plan. Given Milim’s behavior at their summit, he presumed that she would head right into the forest. Based on that, it wouldn’t be good for her to think that he was uninterested in these mystery monsters. He was the one who hatched and supported this plot in the first place.
What Clayman wanted was a demon lord who’d serve as his faithful puppet—and now that some uncertainties were making themselves known, supporting whoever survived as a future demon lord seemed dangerous to him. They would be too hot to handle, much less make into one of his underlings. If he could grasp some kind of weakness inherent to his target, that was one thing, but Clayman had no intention of dominating with sheer force, the way Carillon would.
But there was no need to spell all of that out. Just indicating that he was interested, or making Milim think as much, would work fine without planting any seeds of doubt in her mind. Plus, his true mission was to entice Frey to join his side, and as long as that was so, keeping Milim’s attention focused on the mystery magic-born freed up his own movements a little.
He was sure Milim was gloating right now, laughing about how much of a head start she had on him. Thanks to her keen sense of intuition, any attempt at deceiving her usually ended in failure. That’s why he needed Mjurran to take her assignment as seriously as possible—and if Milim took care of her in the process, that was no great issue, either. The moment Milim spotted her, Mjurran’s role in his life was over. Having Milim rub her out wouldn’t hurt Clayman at all.
“By this point, Mjurran’s a pawn I can stand to get rid of. I’ve obtained all her knowledge. She’s largely useless in battle. It was about time to dispose of her anyway. This works well for me,” he mused coldly.
