Ogre (1)
Beatrice nestled in her master's warm, comforting embrace, eyes closed. Her reason, ensnared in the most luxurious cradle imaginable, had cast aside even the chains of her existence as a mere tool, freely indulging every desire. Her master was the god and religion she served. Her master's touch was a blessing beyond compare to anything in this world. Her master's words were truth itself, an absolute law. Neromeltia di Isis was her everything.
This same master had affirmed and accepted all of her clumsy, shameful shortcomings as a tool. Instead, she treated Beatrice as a precious individual in her own right, declaring her equal to the other lives that remained by her side. She had no intention of treating Beatrice any differently from the other living beings around her, and had told her not to belittle herself. She had whispered that even though Beatrice was nothing more than a created doll, she was the same as everyone else. Only Beatrice remained—the one who had shed the shell of a tool and now received her master's grace as someone precious to her.
With all the chains of restraint cast off, she no longer had any reason to hide her heart. If what she needed to conceal was her love for her master and the desire that every ounce of her reason and emotion cried out for, then the urge to hide it vanished completely. When she lifted her gaze and took in her master's gentle, smiling face looking down at her, the longing only grew fiercer. An inexplicable thirst parched her throat, and she even felt as though her unchanging body temperature was burning away. Those deep, vivid crimson eyes looked as though they had been meticulously carved from gemstones. Her white, flawless skin appeared soft to the touch, and seemed to carry an alluring fragrance. And those moist lips, flushed with beautiful color. If only she could taste them…
Beatrice slowly began to lean toward her master's lips. She could hardly bear to wait even a moment longer for the kiss that would surely be sweeter than anything else. Yet reality shattered the moment.
Rustle. Neromeltia was no longer looking at Beatrice. From far away, faint footsteps had begun to reach them. It seemed Neromeltia had detected the sound before Beatrice, for her eyes already gleamed with clear interest. Her gaze held joy, yet it felt different from the affection she had shown Beatrice. Beatrice knew she ought to affirm whatever pleased her master, but deep within her artificial ego, she had to forcibly suppress the killing intent boiling up.
The uninvited guests who had ruined the critical moment with their poor timing were the very ones Neromeltia had been waiting for.
“W-who goes there!!”
Soon, three figures emerged from the dense undergrowth. Green skin, massive frames reaching five hundred mentols in height. Arms as thick as the trunk of a century-old tree. Muscles so solid and powerful they could repel even a steel axe. Their upper and lower fangs were so long and thick that they protruded past their lips. A large species blessed with innate strength capable of contending with the massive hellhounds of the Underworld. They were Ogres.
“A-answer quickly! Who are you people!!”
“Hey…! F-first, lower your weapons! They look like Demonians!”
“Demonian or not, how can we not be wary of outsiders! Answer who you are right now!!”
One Ogre burned with aggression amid extreme tension. Another tried to calm his companion's belligerent nature while cautiously observing the strangers. And behind them, a third Ogre simply nodded confidently at whatever was said, agreeing with everything. The sight made Neromeltia chuckle softly. Seeing the Ogres living so healthily eased a great weight from her heart.
“I am the Demon Lord, Neromeltia di Isis. I have finally succeeded in resurrecting and now stand before you. Will that introduction suffice?”
“D-don't make me laugh!! We heard the Demon Lord disappeared hundreds of years ago!! Don't try any tricks!!”
“…This is troublesome. Since this is unfamiliar territory with insufficient information, I didn't want to display my power like I did at Under Barkus…”
Neromeltia frowned at the Ogre's hardline attitude. If she released her Luina, even the most foolish being would have no choice but to kneel before the awe ingrained in their instincts. Any existence living beneath the Luina could not possibly fail to recognize the Demon Lord's authority. However, releasing her power without thought risked instantly exposing her presence if any Humians were nearby. It was a method she could only choose once she had clear information about the surrounding situation. With the reconstruction of Hemonigent not yet even properly underway, she wanted to avoid giving the enemy any information and was thus hesitating.
At that moment, Beatrice raised her head and looked down at the Ogres as she spoke.
“Have you grown stupid from living off nothing but fruit?”
“W-what did you say!?”
“You're nothing but scraps of meat stuck between a dragon's teeth.”
Her expression remained utterly dry, yet the slightly furrowed brow and arched eyebrows made it clear how much she despised them. Even before her expression, the icy chill pouring from her glowing green eyes and her piercingly cold gaze alone conveyed her loathing in full. It was the blatant look of disgust one might give a foul-smelling pile of horse dung fallen on the roadside or a tomato blackened with rot in the corner of a kitchen.
“Y-you… what did you just say!? You little wench no bigger than an acorn, you've got some nerve!!!”
“And you, with that impressive size of yours, seem to have a brain the size of a speck of dust. Has your brain been buried under all that muscle and stopped functioning?”
The maid rebuked the Ogre without the slightest hesitation despite his rough fury. Neromeltia felt a twinge of fear at seeing Beatrice, who always showed only her gentle, devoted side to her, now wearing such a ruthless expression while scolding someone else. The problem was that to the Ogres, who knew nothing about Beatrice, it was merely a sight that stoked their anger further. The blizzard-like coldness and contempt in her gaze only fanned the flames of their rage higher.
The Ogre's nostrils flared with heavy breaths, and every muscle in his body swelled to its limit. Thick veins pulsed visibly across his now even larger, more imposing frame. His lips twisted into a vicious snarl, fully baring his thick, sharp fangs. Then the impatient Ogre raised his log-like club and brought it crashing down toward Beatrice with a roar.
“I'll turn you into jerky!!!!!”
BOOOOOOOOM!!!!
The impact was so powerful it seemed as though the ground itself might sink, and a thunderous crash rang out loud enough to make one wonder if a landslide had occurred. The wind pressure from the swinging club sent the surrounding undergrowth whipping about as though it might be uprooted. It had been a heavy, crushing blow that looked capable of shattering anything. Yet the one who had delivered the attack was now drenched in cold sweat. The club had stopped before it even touched the ground. Instead, it had been blocked by something solid, and the shock of the swing had traveled straight back through his arms, bringing with it a sharp pain. But even the numbing, throbbing agony was nothing compared to the reality before him. His full-powered strike had been rendered nonexistent far too easily.
“All that size, and you're nothing special. Have you been starving?”
“A… aghhh…!!”
The slender woman standing before him had stopped his log club with a single hand. She had nullified his ferocious attack simply by catching it, and she even appeared relaxed, as though she had felt no impact at all. Realizing that something had gone terribly wrong, the Ogre tried to step back. But even that was no longer possible.
“Where do you think you're going after attacking someone? A gentleman should take responsibility for his actions.”
“Ughhh……”
The log club caught in Beatrice's hand refused to budge, making retreat impossible. No matter how many times he poured his strength into it, the club wouldn't move an inch, so he even tried throwing his full weight into pulling it. Yet even when the five-hundred-mentol muscle-bound Ogre of a large species exerted both his full power and body weight, the club showed not the slightest tremor. Faced with a strength that was unmistakably that of a superior being, the terrified Ogre released his precious weapon and began backing away empty-handed.
Meanwhile, Beatrice gradually reined in her killing intent and began to calm her heightened emotions. She let out a small sigh, and her expression returned to its usual emotionless mask. The Ogres' absurdly weak strength had drained her energy, and she found it ridiculous that she had gotten angry at opponents like them. It was true that she had been furious at the audacity of beings living beneath the Luina failing to recognize her most precious master, and at how they had ruined the mood at such an important moment. However, she considered it undignified to vent anger on the weak, so Beatrice decided that if the Ogres simply complied with her words, she would show them leniency and let the matter pass without further action. She intended to explain the situation once more in her master's stead as a servant, then ask for their understanding and cooperation.
Beatrice addressed the Ogre with a composed air.
“The one standing here is the true Demon Lord, so—”
Thud.
Beatrice's words were cut off before she could even finish half of what she meant to say. Feeling her center of gravity shift slightly, she looked down with unease. It was as though the magical engineering computational system that handled and managed all information had been paralyzed—Beatrice's mind began to grow distant. She kept telling herself inwardly that it couldn't possibly be true, yet her sensory circuits were not so dull as to fail to properly perceive such a vivid sensation. It was merely the artificial personality that had gained emotions repeating the unnecessary act of denying reality.
Beatrice herself had emerged unscathed from the Ogre's powerful club strike, but the shoes she wore had not. Since Beatrice wore maid uniforms, she typically donned low-heeled short boots that allowed freedom of movement, so ordinary impacts would never damage them. However, withstanding an Ogre's attack had evidently been too much—the sole of her shoe had burst apart and crumbled under the impact. Upon confirming this with her own eyes, Beatrice's pupils shook violently. Warning messages indicating loss of control flickered erratically across her high-performance lenses. Emergency alerts blared endlessly within her mental framework, yet her entire mind processed only a single piece of information.
The precious shoes her master had gifted her were broken.
“You piece of trash!!!!!!!!!!”
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!
In an instant, before Neromeltia could even stop her, Beatrice delivered a devastating kick to the Ogre. A tremendous explosion erupted as though gunpowder had ignited, and the Ogre's body crumpled pathetically before being sent flying far into the forest. It struck several trees along the way, shattering them into splinters, and the Ogre vanished from sight. At the gruesome scene, Neromeltia merely pressed a hand to her forehead, closed her eyes, and quietly muttered a single phrase.
“…Good heavens.”