War on the Horizon
"Ughhh~!! Ahh~"
Waking up feeling great, I stretch refreshingly and sit up in bed.
Tsk tsk, did I wake up earlier than usual today?
I glance around Amelia's empty room before climbing out of bed.
It's already been almost a month living in her room. Like clockwork, I head into the bathroom and splash cold water on my face.
"Yeah, my body's definitely in better shape now."
Thanks to her constant care, I've stuck to a regular schedule and balanced meals. And those squats with the steel shield on my back? Way more effective than I thought. Not just my upper body—my legs, core, everything feels packed with power.
But above all, I don't get tired at all even after blasting two loads into her mouth every single day.
I proudly thump my solid chest before stepping out of the bathroom.
Normally, I'd wake up like Pavlov's dog when she brings breakfast—that's how my mornings start. But today, for some reason, I beat her to it. So I decide to head down to the kitchen for the first time in ages.
With light steps, I descend the stairs to the kitchen.
It's bustling with morning prep as always. But the one person I want to see, Amelia, isn't there.
I call out to Kali, the chef whose name I only recently learned.
"Kali, where'd sis go?"
"Huh? Isn't she with you?"
"Nah."
"Oh dear, then big sis hasn't come down to the kitchen yet?"
"Really?"
Kali nods while finely chopping onions.
"Ah! She might be in the guild master's office."
"Gasp!! Th-the branch manager's here?!"
The guild master's office!! I jump out of my skin for real. And why not? The branch manager here is the one who holds my actual ownership—the real owner of me.
But while I'm freaking out, Kali finishes chopping the onions, transfers them to a bowl, and keeps giggling to herself like it's the funniest thing.
"Why're you laughing like that?"
"Ah... haha, sorry. I always thought you were a bit oblivious compared to other guys, but I never imagined it'd be this bad."
Her words hit me like a truck. Me, oblivious? Smith here—the ultimate survivor who can read any room, the manliest of men—oblivious?!
"Hahaha, if you're wondering why I said that, just go check the guild master's office. Oh, and if big sis isn't there, come back to me."
"...Got it."
I had a million things I wanted to argue about being called oblivious, but she looked swamped. Even if I'm basically a NEET, I'm sharp enough to know when to bail.
"But seriously, do we even need a guild master's office?"
Up on the fourth floor, I stare at the office across from Amelia's room and think. No one's using it anyway—maybe I should seriously pitch turning it into my workshop.
"Ahem, ahem, ahem!!"
I clear my throat a few times, then cautiously knock on the antique wooden door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I wait for a response from inside, but nothing comes through.
Maybe the door's too thick and she didn't hear?
I knock again, harder this time.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Amelia's voice comes from inside, sounding seriously pissed.
"It's me, sis."
―I'm busy. Go back to the room.
"Yes, ma'am."
Her tone softens once she realizes it's me, but I get this gut feeling something's going down in there that I shouldn't know about. So I hightail it back to her room.
"What's going on?"
Thanks to my massages lately, her temper's mellowed out a ton. She still beats the crap out of adventurers every morning, but that's because they ask for it, so whatever.
Point is, if even she's on edge, something serious must be brewing inside.
I sit obediently in a chair, waiting for her to return.
"What the hell? Shouldn't you be eating breakfast? What's with hanging out here?"
"Waiting for you, sis. My mouth's spoiled now—can't settle for anything but your cooking."
"You lunatic."
She snorts at my dumb joke as she opens the door.
"Wait there. I'll whip something up quick."
"Uh, if you're busy, a sandwich or whatever's fine."
"Brat. You'd die before telling me not to cook, huh?"
She leaves with a pleased undertone.
She comes back way faster than I expected.
"A real sandwich?"
"Problem?"
"Nah, actually been craving one. Thanks for the grub."
I dig into the sandwich and cool milk in front of me. This combo's the best.
Amelia, sitting across from me with half a sandwich in her mouth, speaks up.
"Hey, Smith."
"Yeah, sis?"
"You remember those reserve silver-rankers? The stuff you promised to make for them."
"Oh, the Night Fairy?"
"Yeah, that."
My gut tells me she's about to drop something big, so I set my sandwich down.
"Can you make one with the same durability to wear on top?"
"Hmm."
As long as it doesn't stray from the 'stockings' base, I can tweak the shape however. I recall full-body stockings exist.
"Yeah. Might need a bit more material, but doable."
"Good... So if someone from Ardella's side comes asking about something like what I mentioned, say it's tough or needs ridiculous amounts of material."
"...If that's what you say, sis, I'll do it. But can I at least hear why?"
I trust her completely, but Ardella's been good to me too, so I want the reason.
She scratches her head at my question.
"Things are gonna get noisy soon."
"Noisy how?"
Like a monster horde or something?
"Small scale: territory war. Large scale: full-on war."
"Whoa...."
Bigger than I thought.
"Out of nowhere? Did a king croak or something?"
"That'd be a relief, you punk."
Holy shit. Worse than a king dying?
Did the emperor drop dead?
"You know what the Demon Realm is, right?"
"Kinda. The empire's northern border, the only link to the demon continent, yeah?"
"Right. That's the only way to cross between continents."
"Problem there?"
"You could say that."
She shoves the rest of her sandwich in her mouth. I quickly do the same with mine and gulp it down with milk.
"You desert boy might not know, but the demon continent and Tulliuss Empire have a 100-year cycle truce every 50 years. But this time, they pulled it forward."
"Uh... sis, maybe I'm missing something, but isn't a truce good?"
She gives me that 'knew you'd say it' look, propping her chin on one hand and eyeing me slyly.
"Listen up, Smith."
"Yes, sis."
"How many countries on this continent?"
"Uh... dunno."
"Figured. No need for details anyway. Excluding those disgusting elf bitches, there are four including the empire."
I nod like a good student soaking it in.
"If the chick next door's doing better than me, it pisses me off. Think countries are different?"
"...Nah."
"Exactly. Humans wanna strip each other bare at the first chance."
Is that normal psychology?
I just nod quietly.
"Land's secondary—managing all these man-starved women is a headache for the top brass. Peace held because no one knew when demons might push through the Demon Realm."
Nothing unites like a common enemy.
"Better me robbing them than some other bitch. That's the vibe. So countries kept up the fake smiles. But with a demon truce?"
"...Eyes on the neighbor's stuff again."
"Bingo. No backstabber from behind means you can safely loot the fuller bitch."
"But sis, is the truce trustworthy? And why truce at all if you're not even fighting?"
"Yeah, our dumb Smith. Starting to wonder what you even know."
She sighs with a 'should've known' smirk.
"Truces invoke their gods' names. Who'd break a divine oath and get abandoned?"
"Huh... makes sense."
Gods carry weight here.
"And idiot, you don't get it, but the Demon Realm's been grinding for 80 years—limbs flying from unknown bitches."
"...Pardon?"
"War's been pushing and pulling with demons non-stop for 80 years."
Elite kingdom troops and criminal slaves get sent yearly to the Demon Realm for endless bloodbaths.
"Not confirmed, but word from the capital branch says battles there are in stalemate."
"So..."
"High chance the whole continent blows up. Problem is, your invention becomes a huge headache."
"Kidnapping... like that?"
Amelia, Ardella, Kernax, Siron—they've all warned me about it.
But she shakes her head.
"Pre-truce, maybe. Post-truce? Kidnapping's the least worry. Heretics too—hell, they'll back off more."
"...??"
No clue why she's so sure.
Some god-decreed 'no kidnapping men' edict?
"Don't need to know now—just remember. And why it's trouble? Your gear risks breaking the power balance."
"Balance?"
"Yeah. Too damn good. Stockings now, but slice for arms, wrap the body, shield coating—tons of ways."
"Oh...."
Mind blown—totally viable.
"Already versatile, but full-body versions sold en masse? In equal soldier matchups, victory goes not to commanders or knights, but who has more of your gear."
"That big?"
Not even Siron's full upgrade—just basic Night Fairy mk.1 with 1kg iron deciding wars? I've never swung a sword, so even as maker, it sounds like someone else's problem.
"That big. War's unpredictable, sure. But sis here doesn't wanna see the balance tip because of your stuff, Smith."
Four years with her, and this is the most serious she's looked at me.
I sheepishly scratch my head.
"Don't worry, sis. I get the gist."
"...Good. Even roughly is progress."
She sighs and chuckles.
She stacks the empty plate and glass on a tray and stands.
"I'm slammed today. You stay put in the guild, got it?"
"Uh, then..."
"I'll send word to the girls."
"Ah, roger. I'll behave."
"Good. See you at dinner. Lunch solo."
"Yes, ma'am. Take care."
She ruffles my hair lightly and leaves with the tray.
Alone, I rub my full belly, lean back in the chair, stare at the ceiling, and think.
"Wonder if Giena's in her room."
Time to show her the Comforting Bow.