Ch.228Towards the Sky. Peledias (7)

After riding horses all day, we gradually bid farewell to Saburo and exchanged brief greetings with the rising Maria.

How long has it been since I slept somewhere without a ceiling? Well, technically speaking, sleeping in a tent doesn’t really qualify as having no ceiling… but figuratively speaking, I suppose.

We, accustomed to the conveniences of civilization, spent a considerable amount of time just lighting a campfire, and it took even longer to set up tents and prepare meals with our stiff hands and bodies.

After our simple yet modest dinner, Simon began placing a sound-blocking barrier around our tent.

“It’s been quite a while since I’ve had to set up a sound-blocking barrier!”

“S-Simon, sir!”

“Hehehe… They say marital quarrels are like cutting water with a knife. Unless you’re planning to slice it with a monomolecular cutter, you’ll eventually make up.”

Simon set up the barrier around the tent I had pitched, wearing that typical old man’s grin.

As the barrier’s distinctive field surrounded the tent, Raisha’s face turned as red as a carrot, and she immediately clung to me, subtly rubbing her chest against mine.

We hadn’t been intimate since the whipping incident, so she must be quite heated up as well.

Ugh… Tonight I won’t let this female wife (redundant, but let’s move on) sleep until she’s begging for mercy between tears.

“Seriously. When will I get married and be lovey-dovey like that? I’m dying of envy. For real.”

As we awkwardly entered the tent, Lucia, who had just finished washing the dishes, returned and grumbled with her lips pursed.

“Sob… Why can’t I find a male elf who enjoys drinking…”

As Casia lamented the drought of male elves with tears in her eyes, Simon briefly rested his head on his staff and then muttered:

“What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you think of female elves?”

The only one who answered was Hawk, who was picking at meat with a toothpick.

“Purity, I guess? You know… when you think of elves, that’s what comes to mind. A kind of innocence that comes from living long lives without losing their chastity.”

“Hmm… elves certainly have that image.”

As the conversation suddenly shifted to why the elves in our party couldn’t find husbands, I carried my wife over to sit by the campfire instead of going into the tent.

“Right. Purity. Do those ‘things’ in our party seem to retain even a shred of elf-like qualities?”

“Hmm… not really.”

“I’m not even joking. I’ve never seen elves who love alcohol this much! Elves who can drink more than me should have their names recorded in history books!”

Good heavens. I knew they were heavy drinkers, but I never expected them to have a higher tolerance than dwarves, who are known for their drinking prowess.

I burst into laughter, then continued speaking while playfully stretching and squishing my wife’s cheeks.

“If they just enjoyed alcohol moderately, that would be one thing. But not many men would like an elf whose default is drinking until she’s completely wasted. It’s a matter of male pride.”

“That’s right. Throughout history, drinking capacity has been a point of pride for men… women who mercilessly trample on that wouldn’t be very attractive.”

“Hey! What’s wrong with having a high tolerance? It’s much better than passing out after just one drink!”

“Would more men be attracted to a woman who passes out after one drink, or to a woman who can empty an entire orc barrel?”

“Eeeek…”

Lucia began to puff up like a pressure cooker, but she was still far from matching my wife’s softness.

Hahaha. Do you see this? These endlessly stretchable cheeks? They’re on a completely different level from your alcohol-pickled, dry skin.

“Besides, women should be more demure. Who likes a woman who chatters loudly and fidgets all day?”

“…”

This time, Raisha remained silent.

The whipping really worked. There’s nothing like corporal education, I tell you.

“So drink less and act more modestly. Then you might be able to catch even an immature human man.”

“Damn it… why are there so many impossible things in this world…!”

“Why is quitting alcohol impossible…? No, never mind. Just stay healthy. You’ll have literally forever to find opportunities anyway.”

With those words, I carried my wife back into the tent and overloaded all the implants in my body for serious mode.

This time, I absolutely won’t lose…!

*

But as always, I was the one who got wrecked.

[Warning. Implant overload. Operation halted. 3 hours until reactivation.]

Damn it… why can’t I win? My skill and level should definitely be higher!

“Urrrgh…”

I groaned as I tried to move my stopped joint enhancers with pure muscle strength.

The cold wind on my hardened skin told me it was just before dawn, with the sun about to rise.

“Hehe… Master…”

“Time to get up now.”

I kissed my wife’s forehead and splashed some water I had set aside on her private parts to wake her up.

After cleaning off the traces of our intense battle with water I had prepared the night before and getting dressed, my trembling body gradually calmed down. The winter dawn’s cold was fierce enough to make even an Aura user shiver.

“It’s certainly comfortable without armor.”

I muttered while stroking my hardened skin.

The sensation was less like human skin and more like the bark of a sturdy oak tree. Completely different from the firm, fatty feel of muscles.

Plus, with synthetic armor attached to the inside of my skin… even if I’m relaxed now, anyone who isn’t an Aura user would find it impossible to land an effective hit on me.

Of course, if someone came with anti-armor weapons like ballistas or cannons, I’d have to give it my all, but at least against trolls, this should be more than sufficient.

I’ve heard that in developed cities, there are people who have so many implants that they have more metal than flesh. Now I understand why they’re so obsessed with implants.

Not having to wear armor, being able to eat poisoned food without worry, seeing hidden people, destroying buildings with bare hands—who wouldn’t be obsessed?

And I’ve added the power of Aura and the sun on top of that, making me incredibly powerful.

If the current me were to return to Parcival, I could easily kill not just 50,000, but probably 500,000 enemies.

The Adventurers’ Guild must have raised me to “Gold” rank—where the strongest among mortals belong—because they recognized this strength.

“Hey! You sex-loving couple! Come out quickly! We need to eat and go troll hunting!”

“Seems like she has no intention of practicing what she heard yesterday…?”

“I think it would be scarier if she were actually trying to practice it…”

Fearing that my image of elves might be completely replaced with that of alcoholic archers, we went outside.

As she said, it was time to go hunt trolls.

*

“I can see them over there.”

The troll horde was visible after walking about 30 minutes after our meal.

They were easy to spot due to their size and their impressive number—nearly 80 of them.

“There are more than reported. Either another group joined them or they’ve been breeding.”

“Hmm… There aren’t many young ones. Trolls usually only breed after building nests. It’s more likely that another group joined them.”

Simon’s explanation seemed more plausible. I had killed ogres and yetis before, but never trolls.

Ah… it feels like just yesterday that I nearly died fighting a yeti before awakening my Aura and surviving.

“So what would be the best approach?”

“When facing this many enemies, we need a simple strategy. I have just the thing.”

“Oh. Let’s hear the party leader’s opinion then.”

As all eyes turned to me, I cleared my throat once before speaking.

“First, Raisha and I charge in. Second, Berkman and Hawkman follow, firing flames and grenades. Third, Lucia and Casia position themselves appropriately and shoot arrows. Fourth, Simon casts spells.”

“That’s a damn simple plan.”

“I thought we had a social agreement to call this mindless attacking rather than a strategy.”

“Do we really need to strategize? Our weapons can penetrate troll hide, so what’s wrong with frontliners going to the front and backliners eliminating as many enemies as possible from the rear?”

After I said that, my party members ran out of objections.

It’s just that I’m not good at explaining. Isn’t it the basics of all combat for the vanguard to engage while the rear provides damage?

“Alright. The concern is being surrounded by enemies, so let’s split the backliners into two groups. The dwarves with shorter range will follow behind us, and the elves will provide covering fire from that high ground over there. Simon, stay with the elves and cast some spells.”

“I can’t think of a better alternative. Let’s do that.”

And so, the Iron Walker party temporarily became the Iron Runner party, and Raisha and I, brandishing sword and spear, began charging toward the troll horde with battle cries to draw their aggro.