"Not done yet?"
"It's already finished, don't rush me!"
In the human tribe, Arthur, Riku, and Merlin were holed up together in a small hut.
Riku translated the intelligence gathered from the Werebeasts, while Merlin handled the recording.
It was hard to believe, but Riku had gradually come to trust them—or at least tolerate them. Even with his reputation as Britain's most social butterfly—ah, no, Britain's most socially shameless person—Arthur still hadn't earned Riku's full confidence. Perhaps even after Arthur, self-proclaimed Britain's most socially competent man, stooped so low as to debate the matter of "eighteen-year-old virginity," Riku's guard remained unshaken.
Still, from their behavior, their ignorance of this world's common sense, and their inability to read the languages of any race, Riku could at least accept that they truly were outsiders—humans from another world.
(Though if we set aside Merlin and Merry, can the other three—the Red Dragon, the Son of God, and the Killer Whale—really be considered human?)
Well, that was a debate for another time.
Even so, Riku's wariness never faded completely. Outsider or not, Arthur had openly declared his aim to conquer this world. That alone gave Riku no reason to help him.
But trade—trade was another matter.
Which was why they now worked together on intelligence translation.
Riku got access to some of Britain's resources, while Arthur obtained crucial knowledge about the Werebeasts. Both sides benefited, and thus Riku had no reason to refuse.
"...The Dwarves' weapons depot was attacked by the Werebeasts. Because of your plan, they retreated safely, leaving no trace behind." Riku read aloud.
Almost at the same time, Merlin finished his transcription, rendered it into the language of Britain, and handed the report to Arthur.
Troublesome, perhaps, but for Arthur this method was best. Reading it directly allowed him to digest and refine the entire plan at once, far more efficient than piecing things together through half-heard sentences.
After scanning the document, Arthur tapped one paragraph.
"[Zhilun], is it? The ultimate weapon—rumored to slay even the Old Deus. As expected, when war breaks out, all this talk of racial rankings becomes meaningless." He shook his head with a smile. "I can already guess what the Dwarves are scheming. And the Elves... interesting."
"The information on [Marrow Explosion] came from the wreckage of a goblin aerial battleship last time. I didn't expect it to already be developed." Riku's expression grew serious.
The last time—that was when he had met Skadi. Then, [Marrow Explosion] had still been only a theoretical project. Feasible, yes, with several samples produced, but not yet in mass production.
With Dwarven efficiency, though, completion was only a matter of time.
But the problem was their chosen testing grounds—right on the edge of human territory.
Now, armed with advance notice of these experiments, Riku would have to start preparing to relocate his people.
"Hmm. If the Werebeasts' lands are used for experiments, they won't sit still. And if the Elves catch wind of it... perhaps I won't even need to act." Arthur's lips curved in amusement.
"My king, should we cancel our plan involving the Elves?" Merlin asked.
"No. Proceed as usual. In two days, the Dwarves will surely attack them. Their weapons depot was destroyed—if they don't retaliate, they'd betray the centuries-old hatred between their races."
After dropping this tidbit in front of Riku, Arthur rose with deliberate leisure, intelligence document in hand, and sought out Artoria.
"Sister, please take a look. What do you think of this report's authenticity?"
For Arthur, Riku's help was valuable, but not to be trusted without verification. A single altered line during translation could completely change the meaning of the intelligence. Too risky to accept at face value.
For that, he needed a certain... plug-in.
"Let me see." Artoria didn't bother to take the paper. Instead, she simply closed her eyes, searching her intuition. "Yes. It's fine. I think it's fine."
The Pendragon family's ancestral cheat code—unerring intuition. A skill praised by all who had faced it.
(As an aside: if Riku ever learned of this ability, he would surely go to absurd lengths to recruit her. Not that there was any chance of success.)
Five days later, in the Elven capital.
Unlike the Dwarven cities, with their sprawling arrays of magical machinery, the Elven capital lived in harmony with nature. Vast, twisting trees, countless strange plants, and a thick presence of spirits—magic itself—formed a pure, advanced magical civilization.
A civilization like this, capable of checking even the Dwarves' [Marrow Explosion] and perhaps even landing a decisive blow, was nothing to scoff at.
Simply put, the Elves were strong from the start, and they had never fallen behind since.
Among the races drawn into this war, few were so adaptable.
Far better positioned, certainly, than the Werebeasts or Seirenes.
And yet—it only made one sigh at the power of the superior races.
Today, an elven girl named Fiel Nirvalen had not bathed or combed her hair in over twenty years. She lived as a recluse, surviving on food delivered by her juniors, her life utterly dependent on their care. And yet, despite this eccentric isolation, she had endured.
But now, at long last, Fiel's brows furrowed in irritation, her vigilance forcing her to stir. For the first time in two decades, she was compelled to leave her room.
No—it would be more accurate to say she was forced out.
For Mr. Assassin had brazenly walked into her home and loitered there with provocative intent. To ignore him any longer, even as an otaku, would be impossible to justify.
Besides, the purpose of her twenty years of reclusion had nearly been fulfilled.
"Nina. Something has invaded our home." Fiel turned and warned the other 'girl' in the room.
At once, Nina panicked. "Is it me he's after... or Senior? Which one?"
Her fear was natural.
Between the two of them lay a tremendous secret.
A secret known only to Fiel and Nina—a secret that, if revealed, would shock the Elves and indeed all the races embroiled in this war.
The truth behind the Elves' most powerful technique—Flower Crown Lord.
-End Chapter-
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