Reincarnated As A Villager – Strongest Slow-life – Chapter 11

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“Well, you guys, trial and error… think for yourself and try things out. I’m going to work a little.”

Hardship nourishes their future, so I’m not too worried.

They groan as I wave my hands and leave that place.

Well, in either case, I’ll create a barrier so that there is no chance they can harm the surrounding area and I’ll put up a barrier of concealment so the village can’t see it. They’ll be fine if I leave for a bit.

I head to the barn and pull out a wagon.

In general, the wagon is the size of a tatami mat. The wheels are not typical wood but wound dozens of times with sea dragon leather until it resembles a car tire.

The cart body is also low, and it’s also not a bench type, but a single seater type. Of course, it is homemade.

By lowering the body, it is more stable than a general wagon, with fewer vibrations thanks to the leather. It also helps a little with turning. Well, I pride it as my masterpiece.

Even if it’s loaded with five tons, you can pull it easily over 200 kilometers across a flat area. Yes, I’m gratefully I was born in a good place with these useful abilities.

I put it in front of the place where we piled up firewood, and I loaded the dry firewood in good condition on to the wagon.

While someone who can create fire with magic is standard in the countryside (mainly for house duties), no one would be able to sustain that fire (Sepuru is an exception). So naturally, firewood becomes the fuel.

Though, it’s not like many of those in the rural area would go out and cut down trees to fetch firewood. My village’s primary industry is wheat and dried fish, and that is taxing. Naturally, not all of the villagers make wheat and dried fish. There are the bakery and the general store. Those of us who live in the mountains aren’t in a place where we can make wheat and dried fish; however, the bakery and general store are gold. Because of them, those who live in the mountains often exchange firewood and charcoal for meat, vegetables, and even bread.

Of course, this doesn’t mean it’s easy to live in the mountains. There are clothing, agricultural tools, and pots that become difficult to acquire with firewood during bad weather. If that happens, I still go to the mountain and cut down trees. I try to plan it out so I’m cutting them down in a safe a place as possible (because there are monsters and beasts).

That’s why these simple daily jobs are important. Well, different places do different things. You can make cheese with goat’s milk, grow medicinal herbs, or make bamboo baskets you can carry on your back, although I can do all of them.

I’m doing everything I can. I make whatever I want. That’s why our house has a carriage in the first place.

But, not everyone can do such a thing. Everyone has their weaknesses. So the people living in the mountain help each other out. Of course, lazy people end up being pushed into the villages, but everyone struggles with something some times. In those times, the other houses can compensate for it.

Obviously, there are times when I think it’s a pain to interact with the neighbors. There are times they become unbearable and I try to tough it out and hope they go back to their work.  I’m human, it’s not like I have a heart like Bodhisattva. But if you’re going to live here, you need to help each other. Strong people never get stronger. Sometimes, they will be weaker. It’s important to form trust in those times. Above all, those with strange powers like me tend to earn jealousy, and a mistake could cause things to go wrong. I don’t want to be ostracized.

And for that, I gather more firewood than the others and share our abundant meat supply. During important ceremonial occasional, I force myself to go out. However, I do restrict myself from appearing weak or using flattery. That is why I’m strongly arrogant.

Well, though that may be true, I’ll curry favor as much as possible. I want to be seen as reliable. Sometimes, I’m a bit foolish.

Country living is tough, but I feel that I live a dozen times as much as I did in my previous life where I had no connection with people.

When thinking about such things, the firewood was piled up to the point it was overflowing from the carriage.

“— Mah, one more.”

I’ll happily share these. I have no complaints. Yup.

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Time and Place – Chapter 6

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“Can you stay out of trouble for one minute?” Marideen growled, flicking something that resembled a carrot as it floated by her face.

“This trip is taking forever, and there is nothing to do!” Danelle snapped back, munching on another vegetable that she had snatched out of the air.

One of the farmhands floated nearby with an agitated look on his face, trying to grab pieces of flying vegetable and put them back into a container. Every once in a while he gave the two sisters a dirty look before continuing on. Every other vegetable he grabbed for floated just out of his reach. After grabbing three or four vegetables, he’d try to shove them back into the container.

As the container became close to full, it became more and more difficult for him to keep them all. Each time he opened it, all of the carrots started to rise out like a slow motion eruption. He attempted to push them all in while adding even more vegetation.

He had been working for the last thirty minutes since Danelle had decided to open the container in the first place. It had been stuffed full, and as she forced the airtight top open, the carrots had exploded into the cargo room like a volcano. Marideen had volunteered herself and Danelle to assist the farmhand in cleaning it, but he had quickly dismissed their help and began cleaning it up himself.

She had the nagging suspicion that the farmhand liked an excuse simply to be angry at someone. They had been crammed in a small ship with less than 400 cubic meters of “livable space” for almost a week now. They should be approaching Vanderra soon, but the closer they got, the more agitated the crew seemed to become.

This ship itself was closed off and uncomfortable. Having no form of artificial gravity or a centrifugal chamber meant that even lengthy bouts of exercise were not enough to stave off muscle atrophy. More than that, the only quarters on board were taken up by the farmer, Marcell. The Lancers and other farmhands mostly slept in chairs where they could strap themselves down properly.

There were two such chairs in the cargo bay that they were currently floating in, adjacent to the small mess hall and kitchen. Most of the cargo bay was filled with containers just like the one the farmhand was filling, but the remaining space open for moving down the aisles was still roomier than the rest of the ship. With a crew of fourteen, the cockpit, the farmer’s off-limits quarters and most of the rest of the ship filled with cargo, being cramped was an understatement.

The ship didn’t even consist of windows to look outside. Most of the farmhands had grown used to this environment, but Marideen and her sister were quickly getting cabin fever. It was for this reason, partially, that Danelle decided to open one the container. Marcell had to give up several of his prospective farmhands in order to fit more Lancers on board. This had the unexpected effect that all of the farmhands had more work, as few of the Lancers had significant experience working on a transport ship before.

Despite volunteering for the mission, the farmer and his farmhands seemed to become quickly agitated with the Lancers, unused to the disruptions and problems that arrived from inexperienced crewmembers joining them.

One of the Lancers, Markus, did the best he could to bridge the crew of the Nevercan with the Lancers. Before becoming a Lancer, he was a farmer himself for many years. Markus had lost everything he owned in what he would only describe as bad politics. As Markus himself described it, he had spent several years wallowing in self-pity, and then another dozen years wallowing in deception and manipulation, before finally finding his way to the Lancers.

Markus was very comfortable on a transport ship, and frequently patted farmhands on the back, giving them a hand with moving, tightening or readjusting loads, and freely assisted in maintenance tasks. He often joked with the crew, using crude remarks that he made sure never reached Danelle’s ears.

There were seven farmhands and six Lancers on board the ship; the farmer, Marcell, rounded off the total number. Every single one of them, including Marideen herself, brightened whenever he turned their way. He had a kind of infectious quality of sincerity that grew on people. The Lancers liked him, farmhands loved him, and it was his actions alone that kept the crew from strangling each other.

Every night, Markus would sit down and strap himself into a seat, made difficult by the lack of gravity. He would then proceed to tell an extravagant story of a place he had been to or a thing he had seen. Apparently, Markus had been very worldly during the years of self-pity. Danelle would always sit nearby with some kind of snack she had managed to sneak earlier from the mess hall, which also functioned as the dining area and at least partially for container storage.

The stories Markus told were elaborate, about strange beings that lived in space, alien species at the edge of the known universe, and the lost planet. Markus’s stories were for Danelle mostly, but Marideen would always sit nearby and listen with her sister. Many of the nearby farmhands would stop at their tasks to listen to the stories as well. Even Marcell came out of his quarters and listen to the stories.

Marideen was shocked the first night Markus had begun. At the end of it, he had received an ovation from almost half the crew. Markus enjoyed the attention, and Marideen often found herself wondering if he had been an entertainer during some of his life.  Whatever his history, Markus was essential to this mission; her father had made that clear.

It was Markus who had managed to get the Lancers in touch with Marcell  in the first place. Marcell had made his living as a farmer by having a little bit of foresight. When the political changes that ruined Markus came along, Marcell was lucky enough to have learned who the right people to bribe were. Marcell was never happy about the corruption Taerren’s took over his planet when they took control of the Vol system though. In his own words, he made ten times the amount farming under the Order of Vol than he did under the Taerrens selling the same goods to the same people.

Despite this, Marideen did not trust the farmer. He had a certain untrustworthy way about him. When agreeing to help them, he was originally only willing to allow three Lancers aboard, as if they could mount any kind of rescue that way. Despite helping the Lancers, Marcell still expected to make a profit, and wanted to earn as much money as he could. He loaded the ship with as much of his goods as possible, even at the expense of carrying more Lancers.

He had successfully argued with Marideen’s father that having a lighter than normal load would lead to suspicion, but Marideen had no doubt that Marcell intended to have his entire stock of food unloaded and the credits in his pocket before Marideen and her group made their move. Even now, his motivations for helping them were purely for profit. She simply could not trust a man who was motivated by monetary gain. Their loyalty was subjective.

The other three Lancers that were joining them were Kate, Maximil, and Beiromon. Kate was a quiet girl. She had a pretty face but was incredibly shy. She rarely spoke to those of the opposite sex without blushing. The few guys that did hit on Kate came into a big surprise when they found out about her hobby, explosives.

Kate loved to blow things up. It was often very unnerving to listen to her quite timid voice one minute, and see her laughing maniacally as she blew up a large quantity of landscape the next minute. She regularly blew things up, to the very point that whenever a loud bang was heard, nearby people would just nod and respond with, “That’s Kate for you.”

Marideen had managed to learn Kate’s history over a series of carefully placed questions. It seems that her family had been miners in the Kris System for their entire lives. The Taerren Empire had asked Kate’s father to sell their metals and ores to an alternate company, as the one they were selling it to was black listed. When Kate’s dad had refused, the government had retaliated. This is where her story got vague. Most of her family had died and she had been somehow trapped in a mine with her brother.

Kate never had explained how she made it out, but her brother did not survive with her. Years later, she began bombing unmanned drones, satellites, and ships. She became incredibly well known in the Kris system as the notorious Kris bomber. Her behavior had no goals and seemed self-destructive, which is when her father had tracked Kate down.

Eventually, a man was caught and accused of being the Kris bomber in her stead. Marideen was younger at the time, but she remembered Kate becoming very frantic to help the man. Her failure had taken her years to recover.  Marideen never knew what exactly had happened from that. She did know that the Lancers considered her one of them, but she secretly wondered if Kate every truly considered herself a Lancer.

The other two Lancers, Maximil and Beiromon, were as different as they were the same. Maximil was a large, broad, imposing man. He was foreign, having been born an Ertlander. She did not know much of his past, or of anything regarding Ertlanders for that matter. They had always been close mouthed about their culture to anyone who was not an Ertlander. However, he was always kind to her and was friends with Beiromon, which was enough.

Beiromon was her house’s sword master. He had long bushy sideburns that encompassed half of his face, curving down so they almost reached his chin. His hair was thinning and turning gray. He was a large man like Maximil, although it was difficult to tell if his size was caused more from fat or muscle. Both he had to excess. Despite his ridiculous appearance, he always held an air of nobility about him and had been a part of her family since before she was born. Every skill she knew, from how to survive in an inhospitable planet to how to fight hand-to-hand, was taught to her by that man.

Marideen trusted those two men with her life. They had, after all, saved Dairen, Danelle, and herself on more than one occasion. Maximil and Beiromon had been Lancers before the Lancers had had a name. When Marideen was eight, Beiromon and Maximil had found and rescued her and her sister. She had not yet begun training with Beiromon and Maximil was a complete stranger, but they treated her like family and kept her and her sister safe while Taerren soldiers raided the Cleefe estates.

The two then proceeded to amount a rescue to save Dairen. At the time, Dairen was a Taerren politician. By all accounts Maximil, already a revolutionary, had little reason to protect him. However, he had heard radio broadcasts where Dairen had fought vehemently for rights for the outer systems. He had known that change was needed, and decided to approach Beiromon with a plan to protect his friend and master.

Markus floated in as the farmhand grabbed the last of the vegetables from the air, deciding against reopening the container to try to put them in. He bowed to the farm hand, an act that by all accounts should look ridiculous floating in midair, yet somehow looked regal coming from Markus.

The farmhand smiled, “Well, you managed to come just late enough to miss all the work!”

“I excel at that, why look at these hands, do these look like the hands of manual labor?”

The farmhand snorted, “Those look the hands of man who hasn’t been with a good woman in a while, and I’d believe they’d seen quite a bit of manual labor.”

Danelle snorted a laugh as Markus and the farmhand chuckled together.

Markus nodded at Danelle, “I’d assume she is to blame for the work.”

Danelle painted a very convincing face of abject indignity. Marideen herself might have thought Danelle innocent had she not known the girl.

“Ai, she decided we didn’t have enough work to do, so she decided to give me a new duty,” the farmhand nodded to the girl, a dark look on his face in response to her innocent shrug.

“Well, the thing about finding a good woman is that they seem to come hand-to-hand with a sudden increase in manual labor,” Markus chuckled.

“I think I’d like a few years of peace yet before I have a woman on my side for more than an evening,” the farmhand mumbled, brightening up a little.

Marideen scowled at the farmhand’s back. He seemed to feel it as he shrugged, bided Markus goodbye, and left the room hurriedly.

Markus floated towards Marideen and Danelle.

“Oh lighten up, I think I remember you once said men are only good for three things, and weren’t capable of doing a single one of them without a woman.”

Marideen barked a laugh, “It was my mother who had said that. Smart woman, she was.”

“The smartest, so I’ve been told. As I understand it, she could tongue-tie your father like a hog for market,” Markus smiled comfortingly.

Danelle began tossing a carrot back and forth between her hands, feigning disinterest as she listened to them talk. She had been very young when her mother had died, and did not remember her at all.

“We are in radio range with the station. We are preparing dock procedures soon. You may want to find a seat and strap yourselves in. In about five minutes it is going to get kind of rocky,” Markus told them.

“Finally, it will be nice to feel gravity again,” Marideen responded.

“Well, make sure to take it slow. You will need an hour or two before we can get moving with the plan. You will feel pretty weak in the legs, even with the exercise, but it is the price we have to pay to travel,” Markus nodded at Danelle before leading himself back through the door.

Danelle and Marideen strapped themselves down in nearby chairs. It was still some time before they felt the rumbling of landing. Every couple of minutes Danelle sighed and threw back her head, before proceeding to wait again. Suddenly, Marideen could feel a weight pushing down on her. It was very unsettling to suddenly find herself heavy.

Marideen’s hair flopped down around her, suddenly lifeless. Her hair was most likely a tangled mess; a quick look at Danelle gave her a good idea of what it would look like. They had both been told to tie their hair up in braids, as was the custom, but it sometimes felt good to let your hair float loosely. The sudden increase in gravity suddenly made her feel very uncomfortable just staying in her seat. She put as much of her weight as possible on her seatbelt, still straining to keep herself upright.

Fortunately, she had good chest support, but it seemed painfully insufficient. Her back quickly began to ache and even her head felt heavy in relation to her neck. Danelle next to her grunted as well. With a little bit of effort, Marideen looked over at her. Danelle’s body was in the same hunched position as her own. The ship jerked as she could hear the docking clamp click into place. They had landed.

After a few minutes, Marideen could hear movement in the cabins around her. With a great deal of willpower, Marideen unbuckled her seatbelt, collapsing out of her chair. Danelle made an alarmed sound, but Marideen quickly assured her she was alright. Marideen grabbed the side of a container and slowly willed herself to stand. Feeling this heavy certainly wasn’t good for her self-esteem. Was she always this heavy?

She began pacing back and forth slowly, using the containers as a makeshift crutch. Danelle still remained in her seat, however; she seemed a little less hunched as time went by. She periodically stretched out her legs, and then brought them back, sighing a bit each time. It wasn’t that either of them were unaccustomed to space travel, however, they were not used to being weightless for such long periods of time. Most of the ships they had been on were larger ships, often with a centrifugal chamber for artificial gravity.

After a few more minutes of pacing back and forth Marideen was a little more used to the gravity. It was still exhausting, but tolerable. Several of the farmhands walked past her and began to unfasten several of the containers, ready to start work. Most of them were used to this kind of travel on a regular basis.

They had spent relentless hours working out with exercise tools and resistance straps when they weren’t performing the rest of their tasks. Marideen herself regretted not spending more time keeping her body tone. She felt particularly weak.

The three Lancer men walked up to them with relative ease. Maximil smiled at Danelle, who was still refusing to stand. He leaned over and unstrapped her belt as she let out a noise of protest. Grabbing one of her arms he lifted her into a standing position, forcing her to use her legs.

“Up you go,” Maximil smiled encouragingly, “It’s good for you, it gets the blood flowing.”

“Puts hair on your chest,” Beiromon grunted beside him, winking.

Danelle stifled a chuckle as she tried to give Maximil and Beiromon the dirtiest look at her disposal.

“Are you doing good, Birdy?” Maximil asked Marideen, continuing to hold Danelle erect as she started supporting herself.

“I feel about fifty pounds heavier than before I left,” Marideen grunted, finally letting go of the container she was using to stand upright on her own.

Maximil barked a laugh, “You’ll be fine, you really should have spend some time sparring with me, we aren’t often afforded the opportunity to practice weightless combat. I expect you to work harder on the return journey. I won’t have a pupil of mine out for weeks because she felt like being lazy.”

Marideen grunted and forced a smile. She suspected that Beiromon meant what he said. He was not the kind of man to say things without meaning them. She didn’t doubt that her return journey would be exhausting and instructive. She dwelled on the Landers a bit more as her legs steadily regained strength. The rest of the farm hands were waiting for the opening of the landing platform.

“Are you ready for this?” Maximil asked, a worried look appearing on his face, “I can’t say I approve of your father sending the two of you on this mission. You both could use more experience.”

Marideen took no offense. Maximil meant exactly what he said, and it was because he cared for the both of them like an uncle.

Markus growled, “I can’t say I approve of this mission at all…”

“What does that mean?” Danelle asked, finally standing without Maximil’s support.

Beiromon gave Markus a sharp look, but he continued on anyway, “This mission has holes in it. There is something wrong here, Deiron usually isn’t this sloppy. It’s just… that I wouldn’t have planned things this way.”

Maximil sighed before responding, “Deiron made this plan with the input of dozens of others. If this plan wasn’t sound, do you think he would send his own daughters on it?”

“I don’t know,” Markus looked down at his hands for a moment, “It just doesn’t feel right, his daughters included.”

“You know as much as I that Danelle and I are the only two people capable of making it through the checkpoints.” Marideen tried to interject, “Almost every other Lancer is wanted for crimes against the Taerren Empire. And we are also the only people present who know how to hack Taerren security terminals.”

“We could have found someone else who knew how to use Taerren computers. I wish Deiron had never had you trained in that particular skill. Danelle is just a little bit.” Beiromon responded, his eyes losing a little bit of steam as he saw Danelle glaring at him.

Markus shook his head. It was clear he wasn’t satisfied with that answer. At a glance from Beiromon, he decided to remain silent.

“You know Father. He will do whatever it takes. He prefers that things be done in pairs. ‘Every good plan has a contingency for failure’,” Marideen quoted.

Markus sighed in resignation, “We have trusted your father this far, so I suppose we will just have to continue to do so. Remember, we move out in one hour, so get your legs under you and get ready. This day has just begun. We will move in separately. Danelle, Beiromon, and Kate will trigger the explosion. You, Maximil, and I will recover Berret and any other sympathizers. This space station is an international hub, and the political prison is a small part of that. It is not exactly high security, but most of the people we would be freeing should be glad to see the Lancers.”

“Hmm, a bunch of pencil pushers, huh?” Maximil responded.

“They are a bunch of intelligent, influential men, Max. Gaining their influence would help our movement. It will be the difference between the systems seeing us as a Terrorist group or a Government Reform. The public being on our side is essential. Rescuing political prisoners is a great step in that direction.” Markus explained.

Maximal barked a laugh, slapping Markus on the back.

“You have a great deal of insight for a farmer Mark,” Maximal chuckled.

“I’ve been many things, farming is only one of the things I am good at,” Markus responded.

“I bet it is. Relax, we’ve been through this before, I know the reasons.” Maximal barked another laugh, then looked over at Marideen and her sister, his voice growing serious, “Be ready, find your legs quickly, you will be needing them soon enough.”

After Markus, Maximil, and Beiromon left Marideen began to pace back and forth again. Danelle performed odd little squats, stretching her legs the best she could. Periodically, a farmhand walked by, sometimes carrying a container.

Eventually, Marcell came out of his quarters. He looked at both Marideen and Danelle up and down with a sour expression on his face.

“Don’t you have a mission to be on?” he growled at them.

“We have a few minutes before we can get going,” Danelle piped in.

The old farmer grumbled under his breath before walking on. Marideen could hear him shouting at a farmhand moments after he was out of sight down the cargo hold paths.

“We probably should get moving, the sooner we get started, the sooner we are done. I-” Marideen lost her breath as Danelle rammed into her, embracing her tightly.

Marideen returned the embrace.

“I feel like something big is about to happen. Be safe, will you?” Danelle asked with worry in her voice.

“I should be saying that to you,” Marideen smirked.

“Just promise me you will be careful.”

“I will, but you need to promise me the same.”

“Please, I’m always careful.” Danelle scoffed.

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Reincarnated As A Villager – Strongest Slow-life – Chapter 10

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No, is this not enough for you guys?

The genius of these kids is too much to be wasted.

Living in the rural countryside, it could be said to be more than enough.

It’d be enough if you create fire to heat a cup of coffee of create ice to use in a refrigerator. If sister’s powers were used on a goblin, he’d be turned to ash or made into a statue of ice in a flash.

Tota’s wind and thunder are similar. His blood would boil and he’d be cut to shreds. Even Orcs would die.

Moreover, that could be considered excessive even if my power is ten times greater.

Really, what kind of people are they. Aren’t these kids a bundle of possibility? No, they’re a chunk of talent. My honor and dignity is seriously in crisis here, enough to make me cry. Without my three skills, I’d be completely outclassed!

“Big Brother?”

Oops. Calm down, me, Calm down. Think cool, be cool. I’m the embodiment of a person who can do anything. I’m their teacher. I need to make myself look resolute and composed.

“Hm… barely passible.”

I’m not jealous. As an older brother, I must always keep a firm tone with my siblings. Don’t get me wrong.

“Well, today, I’ll teach you image control.”

“…Image… What kind of thing is that?”

“?”

Both of them were tilting their heads to the side. Fuck. I just used words that don’t exist in this world again.

There is also the difficulty of teaching an eight-year-old and a five-year-old with easy-to-understand words, but there is a limit to the vocabulary of this world. Because there is no substitute word, it becomes difficult to talk with people in the village when it comes to words from my previous life. When I saw blank looks I’d say “This world sucks sometimes.” No, it was probably the same in my previous life.

“Oh, that’s right, it’s a lesson where think in your head and make it move.”

Neither face shows any understanding. Seriously, this education sucks.

“Well, the best thing to do is show you.”

Pointing my finger upward and concentrating my magical power at my fingertips, I created fire.

“You can now convert magical power into fire and wind, but that is only the first step. Something like a newborn goat standing for the first time. It’s a mere step in the path of magic.”

The path to dignity is also performed one step at a time. They’ll need to learn more than their brother first!

“First up, Sepuru.”

Saying this, I moved my index finger from right to left, creating a line of fire. I moved it down. Then I moved it from right to left, and continued on.

The square is completed with fire.

“I previously taught you how to release magical power from your body… the Application of it… this can be done by changing that power. Tota, look at this whirlwind.”

Although, he could see the whirlwind in my right hand, I swayed my right hand uncertainly.

“Well, look!”

I erased the square of fire, and I created a streak of wind like a thin CD with the power to slice (taken from a certain anime character with a crane head) this time.

I threw it like a disk into the blue sky.

“And, well, if you train, you could draw a picture in the air or fly with the wind, but first you must think about what you want to do with that fire or wind in your head, and manipulate the magic to do it. First, think about it on your own.”

“You’re not going to teach us how?”

“Don’t be foolish. It’s not possible to teach. You must try and fail. You’re not a goblin, think using your head first.”

If I told you, you’d accomplish it too easily,___ *cough* I mean, my younger brother and sister, the way of a thousand miles starts with the first step.

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Time and Place – Chapter 5

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Marideen cracked her neck, her left hand pushing on the side of her head, steadily raising pressure until she felt that little snap. She sighed and then began to push her head the other way. She sighed one more time for good measure. Her father seemed to ignore her as he continued on with his speech.

The room was incredibly plain, consisting of four metallic white walls, a giant touch screen in the front, and a small grouping of chairs. The chairs stood in a semi arc towards the front of the room where her father stood. Most of the chairs were empty, and no one seemed to sit directly next to anyone else.

There were around a dozen other people in the room, of them, only two hadn’t heard the plan yet and most of them would not even be coming on the mission. The others looked almost as bored as she.  It wasn’t that is was not important to hear it again. It would seem that everything depended on the details being just right. Nevertheless, after the fifth time she had to hear the in depth report, it began to chafe at her resolve.

Her sister sat at her side, cuddled up in her chair quite comfortably with her head leaning against Marideen.  Danelle was younger than she, and Marideen had always made it her duty to carefully watch after her little sister. It irritated her that Danelle would be allowed on this mission. It was too dangerous; she was too young, only 16 years old.

It wasn’t just the need to protect Danelle that drove Marideen to want to exclude her. Danelle was a bit of a hot head. She could potentially cause problems on this mission. Regardless, Dairen, her father, insisted that every hand available be used. She knew she would never forgive him if Danelle was hurt.

She couldn’t blame Danelle for wanting to come along, she was young, and many of the people they would rescue were people she knew and cared about. However, Dairen could have put his foot down, could have ensured her safety. Of course, that was always how it had worked between them. Her mother, may she rest in peace, cared for the children and ensured their safety. To Dairen, the rebellion always took precedence over anything else.

Danelle murmured something and quickly turned her head away, taking pressure off of Marideen’s shoulder. Marideen quickly shifted herself. Staying in that position for so long so that she did not disturb Danelle’s sleep was starting to cause parts of her body to go numb.

“We will have to move quickly, we won’t have much time, failure is not an option,” Dairen concluded.

This was the end of the speech. Dairen ended it the same every time. It was a bit of a relief. Two of the men who had been sitting stood up and approached him, asking questions either to clarify parts one more time or display questions they hadn’t thought of the first few times he had gone over the plan.

Dairen was always the planner. He certainly did possess the presence necessary to command a group of men. He was a good speaker, and what he said, people listened to. Dairen had structured this plan with the advice of two of his Lieutenants, who now argued intently with him over perceived last minute changes to the plan. However, these were simply the details. The primary plan for the Lancers, the name of this revolutionary group, had already been set months ago.

Despite all the nuances and details, the plan was really quite simple. They would dock in a supply vessel on route to the Vanderra space station. Once boarding, they would have some of the men unload supplies; the rest will mount a rescue of several of the inmates. They will ignite an explosion to take out engine support grid that keeps the station in orbit. In the confusion, they will take escape pods and blend in with the thousands of other escaping people on board the station.

Their engineers insisted that the station would take approximately two hours to crash so they would have plenty of time to evacuate before the station hit the atmosphere and tore itself apart. If everything went perfectly, the Taerren government wouldn’t bother to rescue the inmates and would be blamed for the slaughter of hundreds of men, that is if they never realized that the inmates had already left. One couldn’t hope that a plan would go that smoothly, but Dairen was a man for plans, although in the back of her head Marideen feared that they would be in some deep trouble if the plans changed.

It didn’t particularly seem honest to Marideen. The Lancers ultimate goal was to work towards reforming the current Taerran government, which consisted of a great deal of favoritism and too much power in the noble class. However, defaming the government through lies seemed counterproductive to their goals in Marideen’s mind. However, she trusted her father’s judgment and the men he chose to listen to.

Of course, the cost would be completely worth the gain, If there was truly a Lord and Lady that watched over the Taerren people, Marideen hoped that they made sure that everything went to plan at least until they freed Berret. Berret was the man they had set up this plan to free. He was Dairen’s friend and practically family to Marideen and her sister. During a botched mission some months prior, Berret and a handful of other men had been captured. Those that were noble, like Berret, were imprisoned aboard the political prison on Vanderra. Those that were common were executed.

His capture was an unfortunate hit to the Lancers, and Marideen hoped that he was OK. She knew that once he was freed, no matter how things went, he would ensure that they got out of there.  She had always admired him, and his strength. He used to say that he wished that he had had a son so that his son could marry her. After that, he would always wink at her and tell her his son would hate him for the demands Berret would make on him so that he might be worthy of Marideen’s love. Whenever Berret said that it always made her blush.

She shook off the memory and stood up. Danelle’s eyes were open and she was starting to stretch, unfurling herself from the tight ball she had wound her body into. Marideen herself wobbled a bit, her legs still a bit sleepy from a long time sitting.

“Is…is he finished?” Danelle murmured, her eyes still a bit glazed over from sleep.

Marideen nodded, glancing over at her father as she spoke, “It seems that he wants us to be right on the front lines. He says that we are less likely to get hit than some of his more seasoned men.”

Danelle’s eyes rose slightly before Marideen continued, “According to him, armed men are less likely to gun down two young women, and thus we will cause them pause. Those few seconds of hesitation can make the difference between success and failure.” Marideen’s mimicked her father’s deep voice with that last statement, a momentary burst of anger quickly suppressed.

“I don’t mind, it would be nice to be the ones freeing Berret, where would you rather be, sitting behind with the ship unloading vegetables?” Danelle said.

“Yes, I would. It would be nice to be somewhere safe, where I can keep a watch over you; and I know that the next second we won’t walk into a trap we both won’t make it out of…” Danelle rolled her eyes as Marideen replied. “and don’t look at me that way, we both know that the people going on the rescue mission have the least probability of making it out again. I suppose that is why dad picked us, because we have a greater probability than most, but I would like him to just once see us as his daughters and not another statistic in this war.”

“But those people that are going with us will include Max and Beiromon, if there was anyone who could keep us safe, anyone you’d trusted more…” Danelle placed her hand on Marideen’s shoulder, a comforting look in her eyes, “I know you and dad don’t always see eye to eye. But what he says makes sense, and you and I both know that if he started giving you and me special treatment, you’d find yourself opposed to that too.”

A little bit of stress left Marideen as she took a deep breath. “I suppose we’ll just have to watch each other’s backs carefully.”

“Of course,” Danelle mused,” I have to keep you out of trouble after all.”

Marideen let out a wry chuckle that Danelle joined her in. It was forced, but in anticipation of this mission, any call for laughter was a much-welcomed one. As the laughter quickly died out, the two of them nodded to each other and walked up to the front of the room. Dairen turned to them, the lieutenants having left the room with the majority of the others.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” Darien asked, his voice devoid of the affection it could have had. Marideen remembered a time when it had been softer, easier. She thought it was around the time her mother had died that his voice had taken an edge to it.

“As ready as we can be… do you know which ship we will be on?” Marideen responded, stifling the growing irritation that started every time she attempted to talk to her father.

“It would seem that the transport is named the “Nevercan”,” Dairen responded, checking the notepad in his hand first as if he didn’t already have every detail of the plan memorized.

“Oh, what an optimistically sounding ship,” Marideen quipped before grimacing at her father’s unamused look.

Danelle giggled slightly before jumping at Dairen, embracing him in a hug. After a brief flash of shock, his face seemed to morph a little softer. Marideen could never figure out exactly how she did that. How did she know exactly what to do to break that hard exterior, it seemed to be her specialty.

When Danelle’s embrace ended, Dairen looked around awkwardly, his features quickly returning to the mask of concentration and thought that he presented the rest of the world. Dairen was a hard man, and even Danelle’s charms only could break it for a second.  She beamed another smile at him, seeming to almost brighten the entire room, before turning and trotting away. A flicker of a smile touched the side of Dairen’s mouth until he glanced back at Marideen, her hands on her hips and a dark look on her face.

“She shouldn’t be on this mission…,” Marideen began before Dairen spoke up.

“Don’t start this again Mari, the both of you are perfectly skilled in combat and are more likely to get through this than anyone else. I know you don’t like your little sister in danger, neither do I, but we all have a part to play and this is your part.”

“The mission would be fine without her…”

“We all have a part to play, even her. If anyone of us don’t play our part there will be more lives lost than necessary,” Dairen slapped his hand down on the podium as Marideen attempted to speak again, “Do NOT be sulky with me, we will all play our part in the times to come, do your job right and you sister will make it out safely, understood?”

They had frequently repeated this conversation over the last couple of days since he had announced her sister would be coming along. Marideen didn’t doubt that her sister would be able to handle herself. She was very skilled in marksmanship and hand to hand combat. When Marideen and Danelle sparred, Danelle was able to hold her own and even win some of the matches.

At one point and time, Marideen might have considered holding back when sparring with her little sister, but Danelle enjoyed exploiting that weakness to her advantage and quickly taking control of the fight. Marideen had painfully learned not to underestimate her little sister. Although, Marideen’s little sister was miserable with a sword.  That skill seemed to have skipped her sister entirely.

“Mari, there is no reason for you to become pouty; this is the way it has to be. The Lord and Lady will watch over all of us. Between you, Maximil, Beiromon, and Markus; I am sure we can keep her safe.”

Pouty? She wasn’t being pouty. She quickly smoothed out her lips, hiding another slight grimace. “Yes, father”.  It was father, never dad or daddy.  It was a victory she kept in her head. Always using the formal title, she was able to separate that he was never a dad to her, merely a father.

Dairen nodded before turning to speak with one of the remaining few attendees who stayed behind to speak to him.  It wasn’t that he was a bad father. He always took care and watched out for his children, but Marion felt that he never loved them.  He always gave them exactly there due, never one ounce more. If one of them got left behind or injured; Dairen would treat them as any other soldier under his command who suffered the same fate.

It would be nice to see Berret again though. She hoped that he was OK. She hoped that having been imprisoned for the last few months didn’t take away a lot of the life and charm he possessed.  While father was a man of presence, Berret was a man of charm. Many of his friends and colleagues often said Berret could charm the skirt off of an Akari.

Berret never bragged about his sexual conquests, so it was never particularly known whether he had charmed many women to his bed. He kept any bedroom play to the bedroom and never kissed and told. Despite this, he was a flirt, but in a generous and good-natured way, never pressuring or making people uncomfortable.  The only thing he valued more than his charm was with his intense loyalty to Dairen and the cause.

Berret believed as Dairen did, the cause that all of the Lancer followed. The Taerren Colonies deserved a government that worked for them. The current government not only supplanted the rule of other planet’s internal governments but felt their dignitaries and bureaucrats were immune to the same laws they force others to follow.

Lost in thought, Marideen stopped just short of running into someone. She blinked when she looked up.

“Ma….ahem…Ma’am?” he spoke in a gruff voice awkwardly. She hadn’t met him before. It was a young Lancer with hazel eyes and brownish messy hair. Although he was actually a little bit older than her, she realized after quickly thinking about it. Even though she was quite young, she frequently saw others as her younger. Perhaps a consequence of the immaturity of most men, or a sign she should take better care of herself before she gets gray hairs by the age of 30. He looked rough as if he had seen a fair amount of action himself.  He was looking at her oddly, she must have been mumbling to herself.

“Excuse me, I wasn’t paying attention…” She gave him a quick nod before moving to his side. Before she had gone more than a step he put his hand on her arm, stopping her.

“I…I’m sorry,” He said, suddenly pulling his hand back as if shocked.  His face changed, looking more melancholy. “I really am sorry.”

Marideen blinked. Was he hitting on her? It had been a long time since she had been flirtatious with a boy, but she wasn’t sure if she knew how to read the signs right.

“It’s OK, you’re fine, I mean…It’s my fault.” The Lancer smiled slightly, but his eyes didn’t seem to change from their sad overcast.  He pulled his eyes away from hers and slowly walked passed. Her eyes followed after him.

She suddenly felt a tugging on her arm, she looked to her side to see Danelle there.

“Who’s that?” She asked.

“I’ve never met him before” Marideen responded.

“Oh, well he’s cute, you should ask him out.”

“Dani!”

“Maybe, Berret could give you some pointers once we break him out?”

Marideen rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion. Danelle broke into giggles…

“You do need a man. He seems like the brooding type, I know how you like the brooding type.”

“Oh and I suppose your type is better,” Marideen retorted,”a man who has lips…”

“And a butt, don’t forget a nice buttocks” Danelle retorted.

“Buttocks?” Marideen asked.

Danelle shrugged, “That’s what Max told me to call it.”

The two of them broke into giggles as they started walking down the hallway. After the giggling subsided their conversation halted into an awkward silence. They made a turn and began walking down the next hall, moving at a leisurely place towards their quarters.

The hallways were not as sterile and white as the room they had come from. The walls were done with a checkered mosaic of brown wallpaper while the ground consisted mostly of dark blue tiles.

They were in a small town located on a small moon named Terres. It revolved around an uninhabitable gas giant named Paris. It was the farthest colony still sitting in the Kru solar system. This was one of the smallest towns and was one of several towns built around a rich farming community that covered the habitable parts of the planet.

The moon’s revolution and orbit around the planet lead to roughly 40 days of darkness followed by 40 days of continuous light over most of the planet. Farming was often an odd process on planets such as these, which depended on specially modified vegetation to grow in the odd light schedules.

About 10-15 days before the end of the dark cycle, farmers would plant all of their vegetation, then harvest near the end of the light cycle. The farmers kept busy year round, never having a lull period. During the initial stages of the dark cycle, where the temperature could drop to below freezing, many farmers would transport their goods to the inner colonies themselves, looking to gain the best perspective deals on their goods.  They would then use whatever money they had made to purchase any rare or unavailable goods for the next 60 days before returning back to prepare for the next cycle.

It was on board one of these transports that the Lancers hoped to gain entry into the floating prison. One of the farmers who had managed to strike a deal selling food to the prison was a Lancer sympathizer and offered to help several of them gain entrance to the ship during his drop.

They continued to walk on in silence, nearing their quarters when Danelle said: “We’ll be alright, won’t we?” Marideen looked over at her.

“A lot of things could go wrong. We might not be able to find Berret. We might not be able to ignite the explosion. We might not be able to make it to the escape pods. We might not make it away in the chaos of landing escape pods. I’d have to say that our chances are acceptable,” Marideen explained.

Danelle glance back, “You know how to instill confidence, you know that?”

“Don’t start Dani, I make no allusions to a perfect plan. It’s dangerous, and I don’t want you to forget that for a second.”

Danelle assured her that she did not. A smile broke out on her face again before she grabbed Marideen in an embrace.

“What was that for?” Marideen cautiously asked.

“Just a thanks, I know you will be looking after me,” Danelle smiled.

Marideen sighed, put her arm around her little sister, and walked into the small room they shared.

“Someone has to; you’re all kinds of trouble…”

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Requiem to the Stars – Chapter 12

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The banquet occurred in a mansion at the edge of town, pressed against the edge of the dome-like barrier which maintained the atmosphere of this colony. The nobles typically gravitated to the outside edge of the dome, as Clippy explained, to quickly be able to protect themselves should anything go wrong. Their places of living made escaping the dome, likely through secret underground passageways that led to off-site launch platforms, considerably easier, as well as allowing them a strong defensive position should riots occur. It also likely allowed them to deal in black market deals and exchanges that avoided customs and public notice.

The outfit Requiem had ended up wearing was a formal jacket, a neck piece, and black pants. This had used up the majority of his remaining funds, and he would likely not be able to stay another night at the Requiem inn if he did not win this supposed tournament. He had felt that the expense was too great, however, as he grew closer to the mansion and could see various people filtering into the party, he started to feel like he might be underdressed instead.

In these colonies, colors seemed to be a big part of their hierarchy. Whether man or woman, they dressed in extremely bright colors. Each noble seemed to be trying to outdo the others in bringing attention to themselves. Requiem would have assumed that this was some sort of dress up party had Clippy not informed him that this was the standard formal wear for nobles.

However, it wasn’t the nobles that caught the eye the most. It was the servants. Each noble seemed to bring a retinue of servants, and their dress, or lack thereof, was the most notable thing here. Many of the servants of both sexes wore the bare minimum necessary to be called clothing. However, even these were flamboyant, the small piece of cloth that barely covered a woman’s breasts were laced with gems, and a swath of cloth covering a man’s genitals appeared to be stuffed and covered in gaudy white lace.

All of the servants were exceptionally attractive men and women. As Clippy nervously explained when Requiem pressed her, nobles used the servants as a form of competition. Servants were the ‘art’ that nobles would bring. Most of them, if not all, were slaves that were dependent entirely on the noble. They dressed them up and paraded them around in from of the other nobles as a status symbol. Whoever had the most attractive retinue gained more status. Requiem was starting to notice that he could spot which servants belonged to which nobles based on the theme of their livery.

“Stop looking, master!” Clippy protested.

Requiem was merely observing. He was an advanced AI system, he was hardly the type to be tempted by the flesh of another person. However, as he turned away from the scantily clad women, he found his eyes drifting back numerous times. His face also felt flushed in a way he wasn’t used to. Had he been able to see his face, he would have noticed that his cheeks were red in embarrassment.

Clippy suddenly appeared in front of his vision, blocking the source. He snapped out of it, shaking his head. She had her hands on her hips and was puffing out her cheeks while looking at him with a dark gaze.

“Ooo, master is such a womanizer!” She snapped.

“That doesn’t seem like the appropriate word…” Requiem answered nonchalantly. “Let’s just get inside.”

Requiem skillfully tried to steer the conversation away from the servants. He also hastily wrote a program that censored his eyes so that this wouldn’t happen again. This body was continuing to act in awkward ways, and he struggled to keep up.

“Name?” a guardsman snapped when he made it to the entrance.

“Requiem,” he responded as he handed over the admittance token.

“Just… Requiem? No other name?” The guard looked at him suspiciously as he scanned the coin.

“Ah, master, it’s considered customary for nobles to mention their family name and honors.”

“No family name.” Requiem explained.

The man grimaced. “A merchant then. Any honors you want to impress the nobles with.”

“I was once called the Great Calamity.” Requiem responded dryly.

He had meant it as a sarcastic rebuke, but the man nodded and wrote it down. He grimaced at that, but it seemed too late to take it back. After a moment, the guardsmen nodded and ushered Requiem indoors. There was a small entry way and a line of people. They were being announced one at a time before being allowed to enter the main chamber.

“Master… you’ve mentioned this before, what is the Great Calamity?” Clippy asked questioningly.

“Nothing important.” He stated, then his eyebrow rose and he turned slightly towards her. “Did you manage to download anything mentioning a Great Calamity?”

Clippy shook her head and Requiem gave a sigh. He really did have no reference towards where he was. This place was a completely different world. It felt almost archaic and lawless compared to the old order. Nobility? Deathmatches? You keep what you kill? These were not the kinds of things that represented the Terra he remembered.

Requiem finally moved up next to an old servant. Fortunately, he was dressed in attire not unlike Requiems, rather than the bare livery of the majority of the servants. As he peaked into the room, he was glad to see that there were a few men who had dressed similar to his own. Looking at it, these were all men that were quite low socially. Rich merchants, friends of nobles, those who were the lowly exceptions and should be thankful they were invited at all. Well, Requiem was already aware he was an unusual exception, but he was comfortable knowing he dressed the part.

“Introducing Requiem, the Great Calamity!” The servant announced.

A few eyes shot Requiem strange looks as he walked into the room. Had Requiem had the ability to feel embarrassed, he might have run away and covered his face. As a machine, he lacked those kinds of feelings. At least, he should have, so he felt it strange that he subconsciously lowered his head and walked in quickly to shake off unwanted attention.

“Is Master okay?” Clippy asked in concern.

“I’m not sure. There is a lot I don’t understand about this body. It might be best to abandon it, after all.”

“…”

Clippy didn’t really understand the situation. Then again, she had only ever known Master as Master. She had no point of reference to know what was strange, erratic, or abnormal behavior from him. Requiem had always been a master of his own domain. Nothing went outside his notice.

“The Great Calamity, is it?” a woman’s voice came unexpectedly from behind, causing a chill to run up his spine.

Requiem spun and glanced over at the woman in front of him. She wore a long red dress that gave off her feminism. She had long blond hair that ran down her bare shoulders. She had large breasts, although not to the extent of the android who had given him a token. Still, the dress was tight to the extent that her breasts seemed barely contained. Oddly enough, she only wore a glove on one hand. Either way, she was an undoubtedly beautiful woman who looked to be around twenty.

“Me?” She laughed, “Why, I am… Lady Darsis… fiancée to the Lord of this manor, Lord Saphire.”

More notable than her introduction was the way she did it. She paused various times, as if she was saying something she memorized by rote. Her hands always twitched, as if she was fighting back the desire to burst into movement. It wasn’t the same as nervousness, like someone who was unused to social situations. Instead, it felt more like a façade, like she was hiding her true nature.

“Requiem, was it? Might I ask, how did you earn the name, the Great Calamity?”

Requiem tilted his head to the side, and after a brief second decided to answer honestly. “By dragging five galaxies into a realm of chaos, summoning the Nightmare Dream, and crushing humanity with its power.”

Requiem answered this way for two particular reasons. The first is that if anyone had heard anything about the Great Calamity, the five galaxies, or the Nightmare Dream, it would be a noble. He was looking for any sort of recognition in her face. The second reason was to end the conversation quickly. If she thought him strange or mad, then he wouldn’t be forced to engage with someone in such a high position. Requiem didn’t want to risk offending these nobles.

However, the response given by the Lady Darsis was not remotely expected. A light flicker of a smile appeared on her lips, her there was a glint in her eye, and heart started to beat faster. However, once again, this was not from any sort of recognition, but for some inexplicable reason, what he had said had excited Lady Darsis.

Before she could stop herself, she reached out and grabbed Requiem’s hands, pulling them up to her chest as she looked into his eyes in a very familiar way. “That is so cool! I’m… ahem.”

Suddenly, she coughed and let go of his hands, straightened her back, and regained control of her faculties. However, there was still the glint in her eye. That was when Requiem noticed something odd about her, and blurted it out before he could stop himself.

“It seems that the responsiveness of your artificial eye is 50 milliseconds behind the correct eye. You could probably improve upon it to increase your visual acuity.”

“How did you…” the woman’s voice suddenly changed into a deeper and throatier sound and she reached up to her left eye.

It was not something any normal person could notice, but her left eye wasn’t real. It was artificial machine. The work was incredibly well done. Had she not stared directly at him, he wouldn’t have noticed the difference. She didn’t respond well to him noticing. It wasn’t quite anger, but she seemed to bristle at the comment.

“Very well, Great Calamity.” The woman in front of him sniffed, her voice returning to its original volume. “You win this round. But remember, the Dr… Lady Darsis always wins in the end.”

She turned away, her hair lashing, and she walked away with a stiff back. Requiem was left with a confused look on his face. He had considerable programming on social situations. He would have even thought himself well versed on the behavior of women and able to predict those actions. However, this girl left him completely flummoxed.

“Hmm… Master flirting some more…” Clippy whined.

“Is that what you got from that?” Requiem tsukkomi’d.

Requiem seriously hoped that all the nobles at this particular mansion weren’t like this, or this night would be a very long one.

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Reincarnated As A Villager – Strongest Slow-life – Chapter 9

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Although I promised I’d teach them magic, it’s not like I was taught by a mage or anything.

You can do it. You can do it if you try. If you don’t think about it too much, your spirit can feel it out. The ground moves as I command it with the wave of my hand.

Although it’s ridiculous, I can’t really help that. This is reality and there is no helping it.

Well, back when I was about three-years-old, I did not understand much about this world. I tried to use magic like I remembered in anime and manga, but only later did I learn the difference between magic and witchcraft (information from a traveling mage).

Magic is the law of all things which creates a phenomenon when you maintain an image in this world of demons.

Witchcraft is a method to embody the phenomenon by solving the reason using magic.

Don’t get it?

Basically, it’s a feeling, don’t think about it.

No, there are no schools in this countryside area, nor do they sell grimoires that even a monkey could understand. I figured this out on my own.

However, according to the rule of thumb, if it is a human species (other species like humans are called beast races or dwarves), either one of them should be usable.

Though I got my magical talent from three wishes, I could use fire and water magic properly. My younger sister and younger brother also could use them (although theirs are weaker).

However, since magic uses magical power, there is a limit. You could say there is a limit to solving with reason.

Even if you can imagine a fire, why does it burn? That’s why if you can imagine fire ignited on firewood, the strength of the magic increases.

Even I do not understand much about the principle of combustion, however, I was able to burn a large tree to charcoal by imagining the presence of oxygen.

… Apparently, this level of magical power might cause someone to faint from surprise…

By the way, it seems like the barriers come from something different from magic and witchcraft, it is a mysterious power born from the unknown.

Anyway, that’s it. You can do it. You can do it if you try. Do not think about it. You only have to feel it. There is no problem, as long as you understand that.

“Well, first let’s review. Sepuru, fire from your right hand, ice in your left.”

“Fire and ice, got it!”

A fire of exceptional size and a lump of ice the size of watermelon were born.

“Well, next, Tota, wind on your right hand, thunder in your left.”

“Okay!”

In the right hand is a cyclone of wind, in his left hand between the thumb and forefinger is a streak of electricity similar to a stun gun.

It’s possible for them to do this because of my instructions. Probably…

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Reincarnated As A Villager – Strongest Slow-life – Chapter 8

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“… I’m home…” My brother said while he came to my side.

In his left hand, he had the bow I made, in his right hand, he had one gray rabbit.

“I caught one!”

My younger brother had a timid personality where he was the kind of person to say the bare minimum necessary, however, he had a pleasant face and was thus really popular.

“You caught a large one, with one shot?”

He nodded in joy as soon as I said that.

“Wash your hands first before you get breakfast.”

He nodded and ran to the outdoor sink.

“Tota is a wonderful hunter, he catches something every day.”

These lines seemed to have come from mother.

But, generally speaking, it was abnormal that a five-year-old could hunt gray rabbits.

Compared to the rabbits of my previous life, it is quick like a cat and has brutal nails. As for hunting them, it wouldn’t be easy even for an experienced hunter.

I had given Tota the bow and taught him to hunt, from there his talent grew. He was able to hit his target in only five days. When I taught him throwing knives his talent bloomed again. This time, it only took three days. I was stunned by this, but mother was good with the bow and arrow so it must be inherited.

… Well, there are various races in this world, ranging from humans to human-like monsters.

“Hunting is good, but it’ll be more than we can eat if you hunt every day. The storage is already full.”

Hunt one in the mornings. Two or three animals throughout the day. Even if they didn’t need them now, they could save them for later.

We saved this much in case there was a famine, but perhaps we have saved too much? There is a storage room in our house, but it’s about the size of a gymnasium…

“Well, then I’ll take it over to granny.”

Some of the food is going to expire soon, and they needed firewood. Perhaps they should head to the village today?

As I thought about it, Tota washed his hand and arrived at his seat to eat breakfast.

When breakfast was over and I was drinking some medicinal tea, Tota opened a drawstring bag towards me.

When I took a look inside, I saw the ear of a goblin was in it.

It’s not a great sight just after we ate, but it didn’t upset me too much. If you live in a world with swords and magic for ten years, goblins become a daily event. Sometimes it’d be nice to see a dragon (not a real dragon, but a dinosaur-like creature the size of a rhinoceros) come out every once in a while.

“Spring has come.”

“No, goblins have nothing to do with spring.”

It was a sharp jab from my reticent younger brother. Truly, my bother can do anything.

“How many of them were there?”

“There were three.”

With three of them, is that a scout? Well, it seems possible that there is a larger group.

A standard goblin group for hunting would be around ten members. I‘ve heard stories (from adventurers) that certain hunting groups can grow to as many as thirty. If there are three, there could be a hundred, or if we’re unlucky two hundred or more.

“That could become a stampede.”

Demons such as goblins (things with intelligence are called demons) outbreaks are treated as natural disasters. If you know about them, the only option is to run. If you didn’t know, death.

Reporting to local nobles? I’ve considered doing this before, but they’d probably just abandon everything. The local lords’ army is less than one hundred soldiers. Though they are just goblins, they may be in a berserker status and with over two hundred the damage would be extensive. That’s only if they’re unskillful. If the situation was bad enough, the local lord may even sacrifice the village as a certain army tactic (a slave tactic).

You could always request for adventurers to help, though if the local lord had given up, there would be no reason they’d want to put their lives on the line. Well, even if an A-rank party accepted the request, there were less than 10 high-ranking parties in this country and even then, this village doesn’t have the kind of money to pay them.

Well, it’s good we knew. Immediately running away — at least, that’s what most of the general populace would do. However, regarding this village, no, this place has changed me with its warmth. I think about these things in silence.

“Well, it’s a good time then.”

Lately, I’ve been thinking I wanted some poison taste testers. Well, even though the goblins eat very poorly, if I want to understand poisons I’ll have to endure it. It’s also the season for bandits so I might get lucky and catch one.

“Tota, tomorrow we’ll go and investigate their location and numbers.”

“But, you promised to teach us magic!”

Ah, did I?

“Grr! Brother always forgets easily.”

Lately, my siblings started taking an interest in magic. They were already showing signs of being talented in magic too. Seriously, what kind of blood does my family carry?

Incidentally, neither Suppor nor Tota cared much about the impending stampede. After all, they’ve seen me massacre a group of club-wielding ogres and break large rocks in half. They experienced scenes that lacked common-sense and now they lacked common-sense as well. They’re already underwhelmed by the stampede.

“Ok, then, I’ll show you guys until noon. I’ll teach magic throughout the morning. Is that fine?”

“Yup!”

“You as well, Suppor?”

“Mm… that’s fine.”

Having obedient siblings makes this bother happy!

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