Traces of Civilization
After Schiagua's death, both the disappearances and the ghostly disturbances that had haunted the night finally came to a close.
The creature had been stalking humans all along, and once the culprit was gone, the story naturally reached its end. The outpost, which had simmered under a damp, oppressive atmosphere, grew quiet once more.
No one fretted over whether another Schiagua might still be out there. Having faced the thing already, no one was about to sit still and let themselves be taken if it ever showed up again. That said, people still kept their outdoor activity to a minimum — and strategically speaking, that remained the right call.
Melchior had done everything he could to find the missing, but the body of the vanished hunter was never recovered. In the end, the missing hunter was declared dead, and the royal court sent envoys to the bereaved family. They had failed to save a life, yet Melchior did not let himself despair. Despair would change nothing.
And so my first commission at the outpost was complete.
What I gained afterward, rather unexpectedly, was the wary gazes of soldiers who had grown afraid of me. Had I killed Schiagua a little too brutally? Still, watching it casually take bites out of people had left me with no room for mercy. One hunter had already died right in front of me — and then it had tried to kill another soldier on top of that. There was also a measure of gratitude involved. Without those soldiers, I would have spent the entire night exhausted, chasing the thing around.
"The Slaughterer, after all…"
But hearing that kind of title made me wince. It was so cringeworthy. I was the one who had done the killing for their sake. I shot a look at the soldiers clustered around the mess-hall tables, whispering among themselves. I just wanted them to eat their food in peace and leave.
My wishes, however, went unheeded. Once again, Melchior strode over empty-handed in the middle of breakfast and dropped himself into the seat across from me. Biopia, the royal scribe, came bustling in right after him, juggling two trays. Melchior had, as usual, left everything to his scribe.
Pina, who had been quietly chewing her salad beside me, offered a greeting.
"Good morning, Your Highness. You too, Scribe."
"Mm."
"Yes, Hunter — good morning. Your Highness, here you are."
Biopia set a tray down in front of Melchior. He studied the food for a moment, then spoke to Pina.
"Is the food any good?"
"Not really."
"Hmm."
The prince prodded a potato with his fork a few times, then pulled a small, slender canister from his pocket and sprinkled something over it. Knowing Melchior, that was not salt — it was sugar. Biopia swallowed hard at the sight and nudged her own tray a little closer to him.
"Your Highness, some sugar for me as well…"
"Eat it through sheer force of will."
"Your Highness~!"
Even as he said it, Melchior tapped a little sugar over her plate. When his eyes met mine, I let out a sigh without preamble. Melchior tilted his head.
"Do you need sugar as well?"
"No. I was just wondering why you're sitting here again."
Melchior shrugged at that.
"No need to feel burdened."
"Uh, sure."
"And well done."
I didn't think I had done all that much. The soldiers were the ones who had put in the real work. Honestly, I hadn't expected much from them — but they had held Schiagua in place brilliantly. If they had let it slip free, killing the thing would have taken far longer.
"The soldiers did better than I did," I answered.
"But the fact remains that you were the one who slew the monster, does it not? You deserve the credit."
"For a hunter, that's just the job."
Melchior murmured in a low voice.
"Is that so. Is it truly just the job. The moniker of Slaughterer is no empty title, it seems."
"…"
That again. I shook my head and chewed my bread without much thought. Breakfast was a dry salad and steamed potatoes — the kind of meal that stuck in your throat, so I had to chew slowly and carefully, and my plate barely seemed to empty.
Then Melchior pointed his fork at me.
"From here on, I believe we should devote ourselves to exploration."
"Exploration?"
"If we mean to push farther, understanding the surrounding environment is the first priority. And this land seems to hold some rather complicated history."
"…What kind of history?"
"There are traces of civilization."
Traces of civilization… Pina was so startled by the words that she blurted a question straight at the prince.
"Traces of civilization, you say?"
"Yes."
"Uh… some ancient kingdom, maybe?"
"Possibly."
The prince shrugged.
"Something we know nothing about is clearly hidden here. And whatever it is, it is almost certainly bound up with the fallen kingdom of this land."
"It sounds like an adventure."
"It is an adventure. Vast riches and treasure may well be waiting for us."
"Th-then… finders keepers?"
Pina's eyes lit up, money-lust practically gleaming in them. Melchior blinked several times as he looked at her.
"No? If anything of the sort exists, it would naturally all be remitted to the national treasury."
"Eh…"
"Of course, compensation will be arranged. How does the title of Hunter King sound? The hunter who claimed everything."
What a terrible title… And yet that blunt, heavy-handed moniker was strangely stirring.
Pina asked, "So you'd become like a hero from a fairy tale?"
"Indeed. Countless people would sing your praises. Wealth and renown would naturally follow the Hunter King."
"Haaah…!"
Pina gasped as though she might faint. She clearly yearned for stories like this — it was far too alluring for her.
Melchior regarded her calmly and said, "—Or so the novel goes."
"…Pardon?"
Pina's eyebrows shot up. I sighed and scolded Melchior.
"Your jokes are getting out of hand."
"It was a jest. In truth, we have no idea what awaits us at the end of the Anomalies."
"Ah… I see…"
Pina deflated completely. Melchior spoke as if trying to salvage the mood.
"Real treasure may well be waiting. But if there is treasure, there will almost certainly be a monster even greater still. Or perhaps there will be nothing at all."
Melchior shrugged.
"With no leads whatsoever, we must suspect everything. Uncovering the truth is your objective as hunters. So go and find out. Speak to the scribe for any supplies you need — she will see them issued."
At those words, Biopia — who had been gnawing miserably at a potato beside him — nearly jumped out of her seat.
"Me, Your Highness? I believe you may have forgotten something rather important. I am a scribe."
"Have you not managed well enough so far? And there is no one else suited to the task."
"That may be true, but… I only have one body. Would it not be better to entrust this sort of work to someone else from now on? I am a scribe, after all."
Biopia declined as tactfully as she could. Melchior looked unimpressed, sighed, and then addressed her.
"Upon our return, I shall review your promotion."
"See? There really is no one quite like me, is there?"
"I shall repay you twofold later."
In my estimation, Biopia was a woman overflowing with ambition. Not a bad thing — it meant she had a clear sense of her own worth. Clear enough to negotiate with a prince, no less.
Biopia smiled, satisfied, set down her potato, and rose from her seat.
"Shall we be off, then?"
"You have not even finished eating. Where do you think you are going?"
"Why, to issue the supplies, of course."
Melchior snorted as if the idea were absurd.
"Do not go off thinking you can snack on jerky. Finish your meal here first."
"…Ah. Caught."
Biopia's brow furrowed sharply as she sat back down. Melchior's eyebrows twitched slightly at the sight.
"You have a tendency to speak your inner thoughts aloud from time to time. If you could only fix that, you would be quite something."
"I say them on purpose."
Biopia declared it without a shred of shame. Melchior was silent for a moment, then replied,
"Your promotion is denied."
"Your Highness, this potato is truly delicious! It must be because you sprinkled the sugar yourself."
Incredible. So this was what an elite royal scribe looked like. Biopia polished off her potato with genuine relish, her expression never so much as flickering. Melchior stared at her as though he could not believe it.
"Dizzying."
I nodded inwardly at Melchior's words. Meanwhile, Pina poked me in the side. I looked at her questioningly.
"…But there will be treasure, right?"
Pina was still hungry for money.
The supply warehouse was stocked with all manner of goods for the hunters and the kingdom's garrison stationed here. Most of it was equipment, and nothing with a short shelf life was present. Even the jerky Biopia had been eyeing was well accounted for.
In any case, taking too many supplies would only become a problem — they would likely just turn into dead weight. Still, I had heard that the wasteland, unlike Antico, made foraging for food from the natural environment extremely difficult. Easy prey was scarce, and even grass grew only in sparse patches.
Biopia, rummaging through the warehouse stores, remarked offhandedly,
"Hunters say that when ingredients run short, they roast insect monsters and eat them. The wasteland has plenty of those."
"Eugh…"
"Apparently they taste decent? Like butter-grilled, or so they say…"
Pina recoiled, shaking her head hard. Back when we had been active in Antico, we had never eaten insects. But if survival demanded it, there was no refusing. And according to this body's memories, insects had their own kind of flavor. The bugs of this world were large enough that the meat beneath their shells was surprisingly plentiful. That said, I had never gone looking for them — I only ate them when circumstances left no other choice.
Biopia finished her idle chatter and set the load down.
"Everything you asked for is packed in here."
We had not needed much. A block of jerky. Compact, lightweight cooking utensils. Basic materials for setting up a safe camp. Essentials for starting a fire. Blankets for traveling the sand-blown wasteland. And Waterburst Fruit, for cooling off under the midday heat or replenishing moisture. The Waterburst Fruit proved itself a versatile staple even out here.
"Is this enough on its own?"
"Yeah."
"…Well, if it starts to feel insufficient, come back. And make sure you think ahead about what supplies you will need for the return trip."
Biopia said it with genuine concern for us. I appreciated the thought, but we were veterans in our own right — that kind of worry was unnecessary. Still, I thought well of her for it.
"We have been building a shared map of the wasteland as we go. It is incomplete, but you should take it and use it for reference."
"That helps."
"If there is anything else you particularly need, just say the word."
We carried the supply crate back to our lodgings. We did not set out immediately. First, I familiarized myself with the map.
I may have walked this land dozens or even hundreds of times in the game, but most of that had been through the minimap. I did not remember the finer details. So I concluded that I needed to decide our destination in advance.
The wasteland occupied the center of this land. This vast territory could be broadly divided into five terrains. The wasteland cut straight through the middle. To its left lay a great jungle and a tundra; to its right, a volcanic region and a pebble-strewn coast. That such diverse ecosystems existed in one place was because Miteraos's own power was incomplete, and the surroundings had been thrown into a chaotic jumble. All of it was the distortion of time itself.
I would have liked to confront Miteraos right away, but I did not know the creature's location. It was the kind of encounter that only triggered as an event — no path simply led to it. In ordinary terms, it was a monster you could not meet by normal means. Still, I was certain it was hiding somewhere in this place.
The method for drawing it out was simple enough. Kill the monsters in the area, and keep killing them, and it would reveal itself of its own accord. Just as it had in the game.