Ch.86Cannibalism (7)

Once, a wise man who lived on Earth said:

“The winner of a negotiation is determined before it even begins.”

And that power is the most crucial element in negotiation.

Of course, that wise man was an orphan with a three-syllable name living in South Korea.

But despite being an orphan, he was a man beloved by all for his brilliant mind, polite demeanor, and excellent character that won everyone’s favor.

We can easily understand the truth of his words. No matter who the opponent is, negotiations become simple when backed by overwhelming power.

So my decision was not wrong.

My opponent is Isla’s twin.

But she is also a Shapeshifter and a hunter newly accepted into the Three Tribes.

A hunter who might be even more skilled than Isla, a being whose powers remain unknown.

Such a being greeted me. I couldn’t tell what her purpose was.

The fact that she didn’t attack immediately suggested she wanted to talk.

So what should I do?

That’s when the wise man’s golden words came to mind.

The winner of a negotiation is determined before it begins, and power is the best negotiation tool.

That’s why the explosive sound rang out.

Selma, was it? That’s why Isla’s twin sister, the presumed hunter, went flying.

The only difference was:

[Repeated Commemoration]

[Mourning]

[Time Remaining: 120 seconds]

Repeated Commemoration activated before the mourning time could decrease by even one second.

And the dagger that pierced the leg I had extended to kick her face.

It wasn’t just casually stuck there. Nor was it thrown.

The sense I’d gained from reaching 3 points of proficiency bonus told me. This dagger was embedded at the exact moment of impact.

As blood poured out and both Lorian and Isla were equally shocked.

I watched Selma twist her body in mid-air and land on the ground.

“That stings.”

A flat, emotionless voice. She quickly realigned her broken nose with a cracking sound, and it rapidly regenerated.

A type of regeneration Isla hadn’t acquired. A regenerative ability comparable to that of a homunculus like myself.

I pulled the dagger from my ankle as I stepped on the ground.

A formidable opponent. I knew it from just that one exchange.

There was no time to hold back.

I expelled the sacred blood that had been swirling around my heart to the outside of my body.

First covering my hands and feet, then my neck—a vital point—gradually increasing the output until it covered my entire body.

Maintaining full vigilance, I spoke to Lorian.

“Find Ortemilia. I’ll buy time. After that…”

“That won’t be necessary.”

A voice both familiar yet somehow strange.

Not Isla’s. She was still in shock.

As I shifted my gaze, I saw a woman standing at a distance.

Still wearing just a thin shirt and leather pants, a woman who looked remarkably identical to Isla.

That’s why there had been resistance when I kicked her. I had barely managed to suppress it thanks to the power of Mourning.

If I fought seriously, could I ignore that feeling? Arms naturally bend inward, and it’s in my nature not to treat harshly those I care for.

I didn’t know. To make matters worse, I didn’t even have a weapon.

Though my hands and feet themselves are weapons in a sense. Still…

“Hey.”

The voice interrupted my thoughts. In the direction I looked, I saw the woman crouched low to the ground.

Her wide, surprised eyes gradually narrowed. As she rose, her expression returned to a blank face similar to Isla’s.

But there were differences. Selma, Isla’s twin, had a cruelty about her that Isla lacked.

“You serve Mother too, don’t you?”

The woman smiled.

It was a vivid smile unlike Isla’s. An expression that somehow conveyed cruelty.

With such an expression, the woman said:

“Shall we talk?”

*

“I’m sorry. Because of me…”

“It’s not because of you, so don’t worry about it.”

Ortemilia was fine.

She had had a knife in her neck, but as a necromancer, Ortemilia was quite resilient.

I knew this well, having already experienced the “Ortemilia Flesh Effect.”

So she wouldn’t die just from having a knife in her neck. It was a different kind of regenerative ability from mine.

Unlike me, whose regenerative powers decrease when stabbed in the neck.

Although her combat ability was negligible compared to her renowned name.

I had realized something when I kicked Selma earlier. She was a more skilled hunter than Isla and a powerful opponent capable of exchanging blows with me.

If she had intended to kill, Ortemilia would have been dead long ago.

In that sense, fortunately, Ortemilia was relatively unharmed.

Whether it was because she had some use for her or had other purposes, I didn’t know.

Only after receiving Ortemilia back and handing her over to Lorian could I hear Selma’s demands.

“I want to talk alone with you.”

“And if I refuse?”

“You know.”

Selma, Isla’s twin sister, spoke in exactly the same way as Isla.

Briefly, containing only the essentials, condensing things to the point where a moment’s thought would reveal the answer.

I wasn’t sure if Isla had influenced Selma or vice versa, but having spent about a month with Isla, I had no difficulty understanding.

If I refused, we’d have to fight to the death.

And I wanted to avoid that. At least for now.

No weapons, no armor, and hadn’t the leader of the subjugation team said Selma would come looking for Isla?

It probably wasn’t with good intentions. Then there would have been no reason to warn us.

So fighting was premature. At least not now.

Moreover, the woman before me knew things I didn’t. If I was going to fight, it wouldn’t be bad to do so after obtaining all the information.

“I’d like Isla to join us.”

“Sister is fine.”

In stark contrast to her apparent readiness to fight to the death if I brought in Lorian or anyone else, Selma seemed unconcerned about bringing Isla along.

So that’s what we did.

We left the laboratory and went underground.

It was right for us to move, if only to buy time for the alchemist to pack up and relocate to the temple.

And the basement of the tavern was already a place with deep connections.

A space filled with the scent of blue grape narcotics or wine made from blue grapes.

The basement, which had already been smashed to pieces during my previous leap, had long since been restored to its former state with new plywood and flooring.

There, I sat with Isla beside me, facing Selma.

“Name?”

That was the first thing Selma asked.

Name, huh? Is she really trying to get friendly?

After a moment’s hesitation, I opened my mouth.

“Luwellin.”

“Luwellin. A name I’ve heard before.”

My subjugation had been just the day before. The subjugation team consisted of tribespeople under her command, and I had achieved victory by killing most of them and their leader.

Wouldn’t she want revenge? I immediately dismissed the thought.

No matter how much they were her former tribespeople, she was someone who had killed them one by one without hesitation. She wouldn’t have such thoughts.

Sure enough, I was right.

“I ordered them to subjugate you, but they failed.”

“Are you going to continue trying?”

“No. They passed the test anyway.”

Test.

Though her sentences were brief with only context, I could understand what she meant.

The act itself was a test for her tribe.

It wouldn’t be strange if she had formed the subjugation team to see if the newly recruited forces were loyal.

They were new personnel who could be sacrificed, and I suspected the key figure was the woman before me.

I hadn’t noticed when we first met, but there was something strangely familiar about her whole body.

I didn’t need to try hard to recall where I had felt this power before.

It was the power I could feel flowing through my own body when using Mortal and when Repeated Commemoration accumulated excessively.

That fact alone confirmed several hypotheses.

Selma was favored by the being called “Mother.”

Repeated Commemoration and Mortal were abilities related to “Mother.”

She likely had similar powers.

“So, why did you want to meet privately?”

In response to my question, Selma picked up one of the bottles stacked in the tavern basement.

Inside the bottle, wine made from the pulp of blue grapes was sloshing around.

A luminous wine that swirled and submerged when shaken.

She pierced the cork sealing the bottle with her thumb, which had grown into a claw, and pulled it out.

“This tastes good.”

Then she took a sip. The liquid flowed down her open collar, wetting her cleavage, but she didn’t seem to care.

A typical Three Tribes behavior.

Just as I was about to press for an answer:

“Let me ask you something.”

Selma put the wine down on the table and said:

“Are you my sister’s?”

“Selma, you—”

“Sister, be quiet.”

Isla was visibly anxious. It was cute how she kept glancing at me.

The intention was obvious. If I said no, would she ask me to be hers instead of her sister’s?

It was predictable. I folded my arms and raised my chin.

“What if I am?”

“Ah.”

Not Selma’s words. Turning my head, I saw Isla with a very regretful expression.

An expression as if something had been taken from her.

Huh, what? Was I the only one who thought that? Did she think I wasn’t interested?

The confusion didn’t last long.

“Really?”

Selma said. When I turned my head, there was a face identical to Isla’s.

Selma licking her lips and smiling.

“That’s good.”

“Good…?”

Was it not what I expected?

Was she purely concerned about her family?

Faster than such thoughts, Selma leaned forward.

“It’ll be worth taking you away.”

Only then did I understand Isla’s expression. It was truly an expression guarding against being robbed.

Additionally, things Isla hadn’t mentioned came flooding to mind.

Probably things Isla and Selma experienced in childhood.

Selma arbitrarily taking things Isla cherished.

Isla crying and Selma smiling maliciously.

Just imagining that strengthened my resolve. Though the crying little Isla I conjured in my mind was kind of cute.

This must also be “Mother’s” influence. I’m not a pervert who finds crying children cute, after all.

“Do I look like such an easy man to you?”

“Yes.”

“…”

When she answers so firmly, I have nothing to say.

To show my firm resolve, I took Isla’s hand.

My first companion, whose words had noticeably decreased since meeting Selma.

A woman who would gladly risk her life for me and who said she would continue to like me.

When I grabbed her hand, Isla wagged her tail. I could feel her tail, moving almost instinctively, wrapping around my arm.

Isla still trusted me. I did too.

“I’m Isla’s, and I have no intention of being taken by you. Even if your faces are identical, it’s Isla I care for.”

But despite my bold declaration, Selma’s spirit remained unbroken.

“…Now I really want to take you.”

It even seemed counterproductive.

Selma wore an expression that seemed almost intoxicated with pleasure.

I grimaced and opened my mouth.

“My turn. What do you know about ‘Mother’?”

“…I haven’t answered yet. But you’ll hear it anyway.”

A strange statement.

It felt as if the reason she wanted to meet privately wasn’t “because she wanted to take me.”

Rather, it seemed related to “Mother.”

I quietly glared at her, and Selma laughed carelessly under my gaze.

“Mother has many names.”

Selma then methodically recited names I knew.

“The Hungry Beast.”

The first was the title used by the Frost Tracker tribe. The name Isla and Selma originally knew.

“The Emperor’s Shadow.”

What followed confirmed the reason my sister had fled to the New World after being framed for treason.

These were unsurprising statements. But the emptiness in her words prevented me from pressing for the main point.

Sure enough, she smiled and uttered words that couldn’t be dismissed.

“Providence.”

Providence. A religious expression commonly used to refer to the laws of the world.

Additionally, the reason black mages were originally called the Exploration School.

They were mages who explored and delved into providence.

She smiled, seeming to notice I had understood.

“Netel.”

With that word, she fell silent.

I could only recall the memory of seeing the game cover art in the store page.

Specifically, a line of text in the game introduction.

[Join the adventure in the dark fantasy world of Netel!]

It was the name that referred to this world.