Perhaps
A heavy silence hung inside the wooden lodge, built in the distinct architectural style of the elves.
"......"
While the view was certainly a feast for the eyes, I couldn't just stand here gaping forever. Exhaling a short breath, I finally broke the quiet.
"Well now, that's quite a body you've got there."
"...Th-Thank you...?"
Unaccustomed to standing bare before an audience, Nazareth Nemeth blushed crimson down to her collarbones, her slender toes wriggling self-consciously against the wooden floorboards.
"......"
Jokes aside, her physique was genuinely extraordinary.
A supple, feminine layer of soft fat coated tight, meticulously conditioned muscle, tracing curves that were both alluringly voluptuous and remarkably athletic. Like Muriel, faint scars marked various parts of her flesh, but rather than appearing grotesque, they lent her a fierce, captivating charm.
Naturally, what drew my gaze the most was the generous flare of her pelvis, the round, moon-like curve of her hips, and the bountiful swell of her chest, tipped with trembling pink crests.
"So, why the sudden strip show?"
"That is..."
Hesitating at my blunt inquiry, she trembled like a fragile reed in the wind, the flush across her cheeks deepening even further.
"...I could think of no other way to repay you."
"So you just stripped? Right here, right now?"
"Yes. I feared that if I did not act the very moment the thought crossed my mind, my resolve would waver..."
"Hmm..."
After a moment's contemplation, I brazenly swept my eyes over her body from top to bottom.
"Ngh...!"
True to her status as a Master, she flinched with acute sensitivity wherever my gaze lingered. Her arms jerked up by pure reflex to shield herself, but gritting her teeth, she forced her spine straight and endured the scrutiny.
...To be honest, it was a pretty damn erotic situation.
"Then by that logic, you're saying you think your body is valuable enough to settle the score?"
"...Pardon?"
Looking down at her dumbfounded expression, I offered a roguish grin, deliberately teasing her.
"Man, they say beautiful women know their own charm better than anyone, but aren't you being a bit too full of yourself? What did you plan to do if I just turned you down?"
"Ah...! Th-That is...!"
Evidently having never even considered the possibility of rejection, pure mortification dyed her face a fiery red. Unable to hold out any longer, she folded her arms across her chest to hide herself.
"Lord Alzen. That was exceedingly discourteous."
"Hm?"
Muriel, chiming in from the side, pinned me with an icy glare.
...Was she still holding a grudge over the time I turned her down back when she tried to persuade me?
"Good grief... It's just that I'm not used to this sort of thing."
"...Is that true?"
Nemeth blinked in mild astonishment, caught completely off guard.
...Right. One look at that expression told me everything about what kind of reputation 'Stanashila Aljen' carried. It had been quite a while since anyone so genuinely conflated me with the original noble delinquent.
"Lord Alzen. In this world, a woman offering her own body is tantamount to the greatest repayment she can bestow. A gentleman ought to accept it with honor."
"And I'm telling you, that's the exact mindset I can't get used to."
Shaking my head at the peculiar moral values of this medieval fantasy world, I turned back to look at Nemeth, who remained standing there in a daze.
"...At any rate, you intend to pay your debt with your body?"
"Yes."
"Hmm. Aren't you overestimating the value of your flesh just a bit? Trying to call it even with a single roll in the hay..."
"I-It is nothing of the sort!"
"Then what is it?"
"Th-That..."
Shyly averting her gaze, her voice dropped to a barely audible mumble.
"If you so desire... as many times as you wish, for as long as you see fit... I will serve you. That was the resolve with which I bared myself before you."
"...Oh?"
A chuckle escaped me, genuinely amused.
"Weren't you loyal to Arpe?"
"That and this are entirely separate matters."
"Is that so? What do you two think?"
Glancing toward Muriel and Rebecca, both of them gave solemn nods of agreement.
"Indeed. Allegiance and romance belong to entirely different spheres."
"She is right. In fact, I believe it is far rarer for the two to coincide."
"Really? Fascinating. Hmm..."
Having never stood in such shoes myself, it was a realm of emotion beyond my comprehension.
"A-Ah! F-For me, I think those two match... though!"
Just then, Lampon Pashtra, who had been quietly watching the room, shot her hand into the air and began bouncing on the spot.
Bounce! Jiggle!
Because she was standing right beside me, those colossal mounds of soft flesh rubbed vigorously against my cheek.
"Is that so, Lampon Pashtra?"
"Huh? Ah, um, yeees... W-Wait. Is this a confession...?! H-Hold on! Uuuugh...! Th-That's right! It was! That's how it is!"
Watching her play both the drums and the cymbals by herself, agonizing in confusion before sheepishly admitting it with pure, lovable airheadedness, I couldn't help but laugh.
"U-Um... I do not harbor feelings as deep as love, but..."
Nemeth, who had been staring blankly at the chaotic exchange, offered a timid protest. Muriel, however, shook her head with absolute finality.
"That argument lacks all credibility in your current state, Nazareth Nemeth."
"Wh-What...?!"
"You were neither coerced nor threatened, nor was this your only available recourse. Yet here you stand, baring your unclad skin before Lord Alzen. That alone serves as undeniable proof that you harbor affection for him."
"It is absolutely not like th—Wait, or is it...?"
Watching her fall into tangled confusion, I waved my hand dismissively.
"Feelings aside, Nemeth, I have no intention of claiming that repayment right now."
"Ah... I-I apologize. My body must not have been sufficient. You already have so many alluring women by your side..."
Seeing her shoulders slump in despondency, I quickly waved my hands to clear the misunderstanding.
"No, it's not that. To be honest, I haven't gone all the way with the women beside me either. I have my own personal circumstances."
"I-Is that true...?"
Looking thoroughly surprised, she tilted her head and glanced between Muriel, Rebecca, Cacciola, and Lampon Pashtra in sequence.
"...Whew."
"Mmh..."
"Ahem..."
For some reason, excluding Lampon Pashtra, the other three women flushed with indignation and embarrassment under her gaze, their brows furrowing sharply.
Sensing an ominous premonition that the brunt of their irritation was about to be redirected at me, I swiftly took the initiative.
"So for now, just pour my drinks. That'll be more than enough."
"...Understood."
As she bent down to gather her discarded garments, I raised a hand to stop her.
"No, stay naked."
"......"
She narrowed her eyes into a flat glare, but I weathered the look with an unperturbed, sly grin.
"What? I want to enjoy you with my eyes and hands at least. Got a problem with that?"
"Haah... No. Come to think of it, perhaps I should consider myself fortunate."
What on earth she considered fortunate was beyond me, but exhaling a resigned sigh, she approached gingerly, took a seat beside me, and lifted the liquor bottle.
"Allow me to assist as well."
"M-Me too!"
"Ahem... Well, suppose there's no helping it."
"Huh? Huh? Why is everyone stripping? Do I have to take mine off too?"
As if it were the most natural course of action in the world, the other women began shedding their clothes one after another, pressing their bare skin brazenly against mine.
Seeing the sudden turn of events, a flustered Pashtra hesitated for a moment before setting her jaw with determination and tossing off her own garments as well.
"......"
"......"
"......"
Pashtra's physique was nothing short of an explosive hazard, drawing involuntary stares even from the other women in the room.
"I-I'll pour drinks for you too!"
"Heh. Go right ahead."
The women's faces, twisted in comical expressions of bizarre defeat, served as the finest tavern snack. Chuckling to myself, I continuously tossed back the liquor poured by Pashtra and Nemeth.
That night, amidst a strangely heated and intoxicating atmosphere, our drinking session stretched late into the hours as many stories were shared.
The blight devouring the World Tree had been purged in one fell swoop.
The spiritual contagion spreading through the elven population was eradicated by the roots.
And the deep emotional chasm that should have formed between the elves and dark elves had been bound instead into a tight, unshakable alliance under my mediation.
From Sukra's perspective, the grand scheme he had painstakingly nurtured for so long had been abruptly derailed into an absurd, infuriating fiasco.
And Sukra was never the sort of demon possessed of the patience or composure to swallow such an outcome quietly.
"Wh-What is that?!"
"Th-They're coming! Just as the Avatar of Nature foretold! They're comingggg!"
It began with a sickly violet blight that stained the very fabric of space with an ominous aura.
Warping and twisting dimensions to distort all sense of depth and perspective, the corruption transmuted the lush, abundant forest itself into hostile, feral abominations.
Trees and flora abandoned their natural functions, digging crude, newly formed limbs into the soil to march across the earth.
Small vermin like insects and rodents burrowed into the bark of these vegetative horrors, taking root to serve as sinew, muscle, and bone.
Meanwhile, medium and large beasts and monsters acted as living vectors, spewing clouds of violet pestilence in every direction.
—SKREEEEEECH!
—GRAAAAUUUUUGH!!
The agonized roars of wretched creatures whose very lives had been defiled echoed thunderously across the canopy.
It was a sudden onslaught, but having faithfully heeded my advance warning, the elves were already fully prepared.
"Loose!!"
At Latipi's commanding shout, a dense volley of arrows suffused with mana and primal nature attributes rained down upon the surging horde.
Imbued with immense power, the arrows did far more than simply pierce through the monsters' hides.
Frost erupted upon impact, freezing the ground solid and locking limbs in place.
Furious tempests whipped into existence, shredding everything caught within their vortex.
Scorching blasts erupted with thunderous concussions, scattering white-hot flames across the vanguard.
Crackling arcs of azure lightning spread like spiderwebs through the ranks, scorching living tissue to cinders and causing instant necrosis.
That barrage alone was a terrifying catastrophe, yet it was merely the opening gambit.
"Hold your composure! Do not let the magic circles waver! Focus your mana calmly! Those who have completed their chants, hold on standby!"
Under the unified command of Archmage Benoite, the elven mages operated as a single synchronized organism, breaking into heavy sweats as they deployed massive, overlapping magic arrays.
When the dense smoke and dirt settled, the gruesome aftermath of the slaughter was laid bare.
—KRAAAAGH!!
—SKREEEEEEEE!!
Yet the abominations did not perish so easily.
Cloaked in the space-distorting violet haze, a second and third wave surged toward the village like an unending tidal wave.
"Deploy magic circles!"
Watching the advance with a narrowed, wrathful gaze, Benoite let out a ringing command. Instantly, an immense magic circle vast enough to encompass the entire settlement flared with blinding brilliance.
A breath later, silent lightning branched out in all directions.
The bolts were as pitch-black as the deepest abyss. Devoid of sound or presence, the pitch-black lightning utterly erased everything it touched from existence, leaving not even ash behind.
"Oh... An Archmage lives up to the title after all."
Having witnessed 2nd Class magic for the first time since arriving in this world, an involuntary exclamation slipped past my lips. In terms of circle magic from conventional fantasy settings, this was equivalent to an astounding 8th Circle spell.
While Benoite could have cast it entirely on her own, with the coordinated support of her fellow mages, she could unleash it repeatedly—literally all day long if necessary.
"Ugh, *sob*...!"
"Aaargh, ahhhh...!"
"Our forest...!"
"The blessing of the World Tree is being twisted...!"
Despite their overwhelming tactical superiority, the elves showed no joy. Instead, tears streamed down their faces as they wept in agony.
It was understandable.
To watch the forest that formed their very identity get corrupted into grotesque monstrosities by a damnable demon—and then be forced to destroy that very forest with their own hands—was no different from a human having to slaughter their own family turned into zombies.
"...Hmm."
Taking in the entire battlefield, my eyes searched the chaos for any sign of Sukra.
Yet the bastard showed no indication of revealing himself anywhere.
"Tsk. Does he intend to drag this out into a war of attrition? He should know better than anyone that it's completely useless..."
I had said it multiple times, but the elves were an absurdly powerful force. Unless Sukra stepped onto the field in person, petty wave assaults like this wouldn't overcome them in a hundred lifetimes.
"......"
Was he plotting something else, or had he lost his mind to the point where rational thought was impossible? Recalling his character lore and weighing the possibilities, I let out a deep, heavy sigh.
Just maybe, there was an unforeseen variable at play that I hadn't accounted for.