Surviving in the Wild (4): In This World, Padrips Are Humanity's Exclusive
In this world, padrips are humanity's exclusive domain. At least, it's a culture that has never been passed down to the current generation of humanity—or rather, to the beastmen. Did the humans of a hundred years ago believe such immoral language held no meaning when used against beasts? Or is it the kind of human profanity that must never pass the lips of a beastman? No matter how furious or disgusted a person becomes, they might hurl insults, but they don't squat like a monkey and fling their own feces. Of course, a padrip isn't quite that filthy. If I had to classify it, I'd call it an act of character assassination. Yes. Character assassination.
That bat had insulted me by calling me a leather sack after seeing my outward appearance as a sheep beastman, but I insulted him as a sentient being. In a single phrase: "You're not even human." It was simply more appropriate to his intellectual level, even if it came out rather intensely. Influence? No major issue. Lines like that had already been thoroughly vetted by Bastet and Silmarion. They were merely one entry in the repertoire known as The 108 Statements of a Human Slave That Reduce Beastmen to Mere Beasts. I'd even toned it down somewhat. The result—
"Kuhk...!"
Whether his mind had snapped or the rage had sent him into shock, the bat beastman Icaris dropped to his knees and slammed his forehead into the ground.
"He fainted."
A perfect knockout. It wasn't the verbal abuse that did it, but the pain from having his wing broken. He should have passed out the instant the wing snapped, but the fuel that let him cling to consciousness was pure fury. Like a mother bear who lost her cub charging a car even after being shot, the primal anger of a living creature had remained. It simply took the form of verbal abuse.
"Whoa, you over there. That's pretty impressive."
I was trying to moderately regulate my magic when a dragonman swaggered over from the other side with a lazy gait.
"Stop, Kromhart."
Vermilion moved in front of me to block him, but Kromhart simply rested his scorched spear on his shoulder and stayed put.
"Fine, fine. I surrender. Let's call it a win for the princess and her interesting friend."
"Surrender...?"
"Yeah. Surrender."
"You're declaring defeat without even fighting?"
"Even without fighting, the outcome is obvious. Against the Vermilion Bird's daughter, I might manage a single cheap shot for the win, sure. But only after my entire body is burned and broken, barely able to lift my spear. But..."
Kromhart grinned at me.
"After that guy goes toe-to-toe with the Vermilion Bird's daughter, I don't think I'd win easily. Heh heh heh."
His judgment was sharp. He clearly had pride in his own strength, but his ability to read both power levels and battle conditions was exceptional. If he hadn't surrendered? He would have kept fighting Vermilion. Then I would have stepped in to support her, and the fight would have ended instantly. Even if I'd simply watched from afar, the spar's result wouldn't have changed. No matter how miraculously Kromhart won according to his own ego, the exhausted wreck he became would never beat me.
"More importantly, where'd a guy like you roll in from? Mercenary background?"
"Somewhere rougher than a mercenary company."
An island where civilization meant nothing but language.
"Huh, for real? I figured you came from some mountain range or wasteland."
"Does birthplace matter? Skill is what counts."
"Heh heh, I like that! I'll remember those exact words and deliver them to your blue dragon buddy."
"......."
Did I just cause Corvalt some minor trouble? No. It was simply that this dragonman called Kromhart had a short circuit between his brain and mouth.
"Now I see why you're definitely in Class 1."
"What?"
"I'm not saying this because I'm in Class 13, but if you're going to fight Corvalt, at least don't charge in like a mad bull. Otherwise you'll end up just like that guy over there."
"......You're not on Corvalt's side?"
"Being in the same class doesn't make us eternal allies."
Vermilion might feel a little hurt, but this needed to be said clearly.
"If a path opens for me to claim the Dragon Symbol, and Corvalt stands in my way, I'll crush him and take it for myself."
"What...?"
Kromhart's eyes narrowed. The fury burning in his pupils was even stronger than the bat's after hearing my padrip. He looked ready to snatch up his spear and run me through.
My stamina was fine. The problem was magic power.
It's a little tight.
I wouldn't know exactly how strong Kromhart was without fighting him myself, but if he was stronger than the careless Icaris, my remaining magic felt precarious. And it wouldn't end with just Kromhart.
"......."
Vermilion. Arms crossed, white fingers tapping her own arm, she was clearly deep in thought, dissecting my words. She would realize soon enough—that not only the dragon symbol, but the chicken symbol (what they stubbornly insisted on calling the "bird symbol") was no exception.
So.
"Well, the same would go for you."
I wrapped it up with a moderate compliment.
"The same for me? What does that mean?"
"......."
I didn't say the cruel part—that Corvalt would have understood instantly.
"It means if you try to take the sheep symbol from me, I'll kick your head clean off your shoulders."
"...Oh!"
When I offered the more considerate version, he finally clapped his hands and his anger vanished in a flash.
"I see! If that's how it is, then it can't be helped! Heh heh heh. But what about you? If I end up with the sheep symbol, I won't back down either, you know?"
"Don't you think the same goes for the dragon symbol?"
"...As expected, you're fun. Ha, damn it. Maybe I shouldn't have surrendered?"
He sounded genuinely regretful. Among all the beastmen I'd met so far, he fit the label of "most simple-minded" perfectly. That was why he was in Class 1. His raw combat ability was real, but by human standards from a century ago, he could be a "threatening monster" yet never a "monster that tramples human dignity."
If Class 1—the ones who supposedly received the most intellectual education—look like this, there's no point even talking about the other beastmen.
Talking about proper upbringing might be meaningless. In that case, joining them might actually be the smarter move.
"Vermilion. What will you do now?"
"Pardon?"
"I'm planning to link up with Class 13. There's still time before the sparring period ends."
I pulled out my student notebook and pointed at the two target names that had been crossed out.
"The spar is over. No additional missions seem to have been issued, so I think today ends here."
"Until five o'clock..."
"Until five it's free time, right? Like how kids who finish their homework early get more rest."
"Hey."
Kromhart called out to me.
"Spar's over, so why are you heading to Class 13?"
"...Are you actually asking because you don't know?"
"Yeah."
"Weren't you eavesdropping while you approached earlier? Class 13 is currently operating as Group 4, hunting together. I'm just joining the pack."
To be honest, I simply wanted to talk with people I could actually communicate with. Vermilion? She was fine. But no matter how adult she was, constantly dealing with someone who asked "why why why why why" like an endlessly curious child was exhausting. There was also the gaze from above.
"Hmm... I was thinking we could just rest separately, but... understood. Your name was Sapien, right? Remember this well. The name of the next Dragon King—Kromhart!"
Whether he intended to leave or not, Kromhart declared war on me and walked toward Icaris.
"You're going to help him up yourself?"
"Of course. For now he's my partner and we're both in Class 1. ...Hm?"
The moment he reached down to support him—
"That's...!"
Crack. Crunch.
Icaris's body, the center of the explosion, began to swell. His lower half remained human, but the upper body that tore through his uniform and kept growing was that of a bat—no, something closer to a devil.
"Oh my god, beastification...!"
Vermilion covered her mouth with her hand as if she'd witnessed something unbearable.
"Kill him... I'll kill him...! You leather-sack bastard, I'll kill him...!"
Saliva dripped from the bat beast's mouth. His bloodshot eyes gleamed with murderous intent that surpassed mere anger, and his elongated fangs spread wide, sharp as if thirsting for blood.
A beast. An existence that had abandoned reason—no, humanity—and chosen to become a mere animal instead of a beastman. Of course, someone from Class 1 would probably regain their sanity after fainting in beast form, but at this moment he was nothing more than a monster obeying pure instinct.
"I knew about werewolves turning into wolves, but I never imagined a bat beastman would turn into a giant bat."
"It's dangerous! We need to call the faculty immediately...!"
"No need."
They wouldn't intervene anyway.
"If they were going to intervene, they would have done it already. The fact that they haven't descended even after a beast appeared means they've judged they can't handle that thing themselves."
"Intervene...!"
Vermilion looked up at the sky. But the birds that had been gliding overhead watching us were gone.
"Hah."
Did they abandon their duty as faculty and flee? Or had they gone to call for reinforcements? Either way, if those birds truly wanted to appeal to Vermilion, this choice had ruined their chances forever.
If they had said, "From here on, the faculty will take over" while facing a two-legged bat giant now over five meters tall, they might have earned some points. But Kromhart was already retired. Vermilion—
"Please run away."
She stepped in front of me, flames igniting in her hands.
"For now, I will—"
"No need."
I grabbed Vermilion's shoulder, pushed her aside, and stepped forward.
"Do you know why I looked down on that guy as weak?"
"Well, that's..."
"The reason I insulted him even though he only lost a spar."
"...What is it?"
"It's simple. This isn't about race—it's about the source of power."
I reached into my inner pocket and pulled out the item.
"That guy is a warrior. Among bat beastmen and vampires, he's the successor of the bat clan that specializes in claw attacks."
"Wait, that's a staff...?"
"And I am a sheep, but."
I thrust the staff with the magic stone embedded in its tip forward.
"I am a mage."
Click.
"Magic Cannon."
⟨ MAXIMUM OUTPUT ⟩
"If you're a person,"
Kwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaang!!!
"You should feel ashamed for getting beaten by fists."
The brilliantly rainbow-colored bombardment swallowed the bat beastman whole.