Volume 6 Chapter 118 Lanchester’s Laws
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
There’s this Lanchester’s law thing—ever see it pop up in isekai novels or whatever? Basically, it formalizes the idea that battles come down to numbers. It dates back a hundred years, before computers—[5]—when just trying to calculate fighting strategies was impressive in itself.
”What’s it good for?” I asked.
”Mainly when Shea-Shea pushes for war funds,” she said—”convincing the powers that be with numbers, with strength. When you can cite figures, it’s easier to sway them.”
Our country’s flush with cash—Princess Aurora practically faints from the profit margins—but budgets are limited. You have to prioritize and allocate wisely—or you’re bankrupt before you know it.
”That’s why Shea-Shea holds the purse strings,” I said. “She complains sometimes, but I’d be lost without her.”
”In Japan, it’s normal to track cash flow with proper figures,” she said, “but in this medieval-ish fantasy world? That’s revolutionary.”
”The merchants keep books,” I added. “Some officials do too, but it’s all rough estimates—rougher than the dons’ calculations.”
Handling such rough data, Shea-Shea—spreadsheet in hand—faces an enemy she can’t match.
”Apparently, the Grand Shrine and Merchant Guild were already using computers ages ago,” she said.
”Even cheating,” I said, “the trick is hiding it. That kind of cheat might be the most dangerous.”
Shea-Shea understands the importance of military spending. They prioritize it. But it’s never enough.
”It’s an enemy,” I said. “They don’t play fair or size up—you’re always fighting over resources.”
I’m a worrier—I want everything on standby. Waiting till trouble hits makes military buildup absurdly costly.
”So—how far should we push military spending?” I asked. “That’s where Lanchester’s law comes in—you imagine the enemy’s strength, then crunch the numbers.”
”Is it accurate?” she shrugged. “Endless meetings won’t change that there’s no perfect answer.”
”Gotta thank Lanchester-sensei,” I said.
”Well, if the enemy’s too strong, military costs blow past the national budget,” she said, “and if you go to war then go bust first? Game over.”
”Maybe the best move before everything collapses is just to surrender?” I suggested. “No fight, no shame.”
She shook her head. “Even so, accepting surrender’s hard. You shouldn’t lose a battle you could win, but losing—that’s unbearable.”
”So,” I said, “I guess I’ll have to persuade the Demon King. Can’t do much else.”
Talking it out with any enemy isn’t some naive ‘we’ll all understand’ nonsense.
”His goal,” I said, “probably involves Wall Barley.”
”There’s a facility buried underground in Holy Capital—like a control device for Wall Barley, the root of all this.”
”I’ve thought about breaking that device myself,” I admitted. “Wall Barley has its upsides, sure, but the downsides are massive.”
”Goblin Rin, Orcs,” I added, “too many severe Wall Barley allergies—and even giants. For them, it’s all downsides. Of course they want to destroy it.”
”brother Jirou, with his terrible pollen allergy,” I said, “wanted to clear all the cedar trees in Japan. To him, it’s a real crisis.”
* * *
”Basically, the Demon King’s probably allied with Wall Barley, right?” I said.
”If I’m there, the robots running the pyramid underground will cooperate—(協) strength, y’know,” I added. “I’m confident I can persuade Conqueror King too.”
”No, maybe that’s not enough,” I muttered. “I don’t need to borrow my own hand—even just the Demon King alone could probably hit the goal easily.”
”But with that, negotiations wouldn’t be on equal footing.”
”Should I use some kind of trick skill to browbeat him?” I wondered. “Eh, can I pull it off?”
”Pushing through with bluffing is way too risky. Do all con artists always walk this tightrope?”
”Thrill? I don’t need that. I just want to live steadily, that’s all.”
* * *
At the main gate, the Demon King’s ritual still droned on. How long would this go? Honestly, I wished they’d just keep pounding that drum forever.
”When that’s over, it’s finally battle time,” I muttered. “Bleh. I’ve done everything I could—still, with a fight this big, it’s weird if there aren’t casualties.”
Not just from swords, spears, or arrows. Even falling on the stone floor can kill you.
”There was someone who nearly died slipping off a tower during training,” I recalled. “Dragon God’s Herb saved him then, but in real combat, medics get overwhelmed fast.”
”If only Saint Tizzy were here now,” I sighed. “Uno’s nest should’ve finished birthing. El said she’d train the baby into a proper warrior, so she’s probably raising it together.”
”Not being able to participate as a father—it’s lonely. If only the Demon King weren’t coming…”
”Hmm? That Demon King’s performance—it’s kinda weird, isn’t it?”
I listened. Drum echoes bounced from every direction.
”Is it some supernatural thing like tanuki-bayashi [raccoon dog music]?” I asked. “No, that’s not it.”
From far away, close up, all directions—crazy acoustics. The little units scattered around were playing simultaneously.
”This isn’t really a mystery, but do they have to deploy troops just for this? What’s the motivation? Is the Demon King into music?”
Suddenly, I realized. “Ah, a relay signal—that’s it!”
Relay signal—(繋ぎ狼煙)—means a smoke signal relay. Legend says Takeda Shingen used it; it appears in Romance of the Three Kingdoms.
”If used properly—(運) luck—you can quickly pass info over distance. Not just smoke, but instrument sounds too—the same concept.”
”So I see,” I said. “Thought it was just a ritual, but they’re communicating with distant units. Demon King’s no pushover.”
I hoped I could decipher the message.
Mind communication skills usually auto-translate languages, but this time it seemed impossible.
”Is it because the skill doesn’t recognize it as language? No idea.”
Some linguistics geniuses claim they can decipher ancient scripts and military ciphers easily.
”A linguistic genius, huh? Sounds familiar.”
Maybe I just wanted an excuse to see Ms. Nina.
”Do I really need a reason to meet my wife?” I wondered. Well, I’d be pretty embarrassed otherwise.
Plus, it’s an emergency now. If I visit her without reason, the soldiers might freak out.
”May I ask your business?” Ms. Nina asked frostily.
Floria-san beside her chuckled wryly.
Is Ms. Nina a tsundere? Not prickly enough and hardly ever genuinely sweet—it’s hard to tell. But yeah, there’s a possibility.
”The Demon King’s drum is some kind of communication device,” I explained. “Thought maybe you could decipher its contents.”
She tightened her face, voice sharp.
”Even if you say that, it’s problematic.”
I nodded. The world isn’t that generous. Even geniuses are just human.
”Sorry. Guess it’s pretty difficult after all.”
”No, really, not that hard. I grasped the general meaning, so…”
What’s this pattern? I’ve seen it before. A stubborn Dwarf craftsman? Might be easy pickings then.
”As expected of Ms. Nina. Anything’s fine—just if you have the tiniest hint, please tell me. No, I mean, please.”
”Can’t be helped,” she sighed. “I’d rather not talk about uncertain stories, but…”
Okay, I caught the drift. She’s probably dying to talk about it.
I understand how boring and meaningless my own stories seem to those uninterested. So I hold back.
I’m the same—totally get it.
Just listen carefully? No. Gotta watch for one thing—blabbing without understanding is not okay. If someone finds out, they’d be furious. That’s a huge insult.
To show sincerity—reckless against a genius—you have to bite into the conversation with all your (力) strength.
If I don’t understand a thing, I might get dumped—but I won’t miss a single word of Ms. Nina’s talk. I’ll do my best.
* * *
”Oi, they’re coming—gobs of goblin, a few orcs, and nothing but scraps,” I called out.
Outside Holy Capital’s wall, a stone fortress encircles the royal city. Along its upper section, wide enough for carts, a walkway runs. Each tower’s top holds a revolving ballista.
Once wooden watchtowers stood there too—now mostly rotten. The Hero team endures the howling wind.
Still, when monsters appear, no point whining about cold.
”Not just random weaklings. Some are max level,” someone noted.
”It’s just goblin, right? As long as we’re careful, no big deal. Are you using a telescope? Lend it here.”
It’s an ornate telescope. Dwarves—any race, really—pour soul into decorative things with no practical use. That’s why they’re expensive, sure—but more than that, they satisfy possessiveness.
”Don’t break it. It was expensive,” I warned.
”Dwarf-made, huh? Wow—I see clearly. So it doesn’t show (力) strength or anything?”
”I’ve got a friend with a rare skill like that,” he said, “but it’s pretty useless.”
Recently, Dwarves had started producing Galileo-style telescopes. The lenses were Japanese-made.
Of course, they couldn’t read the kanji for 力 [strength].
”Great magicians, huh—how about dropping some wide-area destruction magic right on that army? Just one big blast,” someone jeered.
”Nah,” Yamada replied. “If I fumble, I die.”
”Wait—you’re a magic-user and haven’t locked in your death-recall skill yet?” another asked, incredulous.
When you die in this world, it’s like a game—you respawn at your registered revival point. But—there’s always a risk. A real one. You could lose everything. Disappear. Vanish…
Managing your status to keep the loss probability at zero percent? That was standard knowledge among summoned Heroes.
”Magician-type jobs already have it rough just trying to switch careers,” someone muttered. “No room left in their stats, y’know?”
”Really… you weren’t all that impressive after all, huh?” another scoffed.
”Stop being stupid,” said a grim-faced man. “Maybe you don’t get it yet—magician stuff is serious. They die carrying grudges… and they’ll drag everyone else with them.”
Men around the robed figure quickly stepped back.
Even if someone’s called a Hero, not many had true grit.
Then—
”Gathering newbies just to bug the magicians for no reason… pointless,” one of the strategists muttered.
A gang sprawled across a plush sofa, half-privatizing one of the castle towers. They lounged lazily, a luck-infused 運 [luck]-pull talisman resting between them, as they spied on the summoned Heroes.
They fancied themselves the top strategists.
”Anyway, the rearguard training flopped,” one of them said, disinterested.
”Yeah… the way magic misfires? Cruel as hell,” another added.
”Medics and buffers don’t get any love either. Only job anyone respects these days is probably Sage, huh?”
”You guys don’t even realize how hard it is to book a Sage Telepo Taxi, do you?”
”Strategy guys—we’re just buffers, really. Me? I wanted to lead armies, like some ancient war general,” one sighed.
The job titles and what they actually let you do—huge gap. The Conqueror King’s so-called strategic officer? Total clown.
”Oh, please. The way deception skills boost command ability—most people wouldn’t even notice.”
”I saw some potential too, but if my life’s on the line… can’t exactly go picking a con-artist class, right?”
”And even if I switch jobs later, I’m stuck on the original skill tree. Same as in the real world.”
”Don’t say another word—I just remembered some nasty stuff.”
The self-proclaimed top strategists exchanged glances. Their faces clouded.
”Forget the past. We’ll make a name for ourselves. Rise up. Now’s the time.”
”At least give me a captain-level command. I wanna lead a unit.”
”Y’know, captain’s a high-ranking post.”
”In this world? Feels like a knight’s rank. That sound about right?”
”Don’t dream,” another said flatly. “It’s over the second those holy-sword Heroes go berserk. Those musclehead cheats—there’s no room for strategy with guys like that.”
”Just unload max power from the start—that’s the logic. Don’t you know Lanzhou’s Law?”
”Wasn’t that the siege tactic—tenfold power on first strike?”
”Not quite. It’s about overwhelming force solving everything—too easily. You can’t even get an achievement for it.”
”Let’s shoot for first strike.”
”Wait for the command. Stay on standby, yeah?”
”What do I care?” one of them muttered, voice low. “I wanna leave a mark on history. If I keep fading into the background… what’s the point of being alive?”
* * *
Fueled by reckless energy alone, a stone bullet clicked into the barista’s weapon—clack—and fired toward the gob Rins just outside range.
”Mock me? Fine,” the shooter growled. “Lemme show you an extended-range skill that actually—”
The fist-sized stone hurtled forward… and bounced off an unseen field, clattering to the ground. A barrier. A projected ward.
Right on cue, a gob Rins squad charged forward, shields up.
All arrows loosed from the castle side struck the same invisible wall. A single fireball darted past—snuffed out midair.
Then came the wind magic—countless gusts hammering the castle wall in unrelenting waves.
No one was seriously injured, but anyone watching from the ramparts could feel it. The imbalance. An overwhelming 力量 [strength] gap. They knew. They couldn’t win.
Behind the barrier, the gob Rins calmly prepped the battering ram.
The magic bag didn’t produce some random log—it yielded a finely crafted ram, metal-tipped, engraved with a beast’s snarling head. A true work of art.
The gob Rins discarded their shields, split left and right, and grabbed the ram.
Then charged.
At the exact moment of impact, the ram’s tip flared blue-white. On the castle gate, glowing glyphs pulsed like veins. Both tools—enchanted. Both built for 力量 [power].
But in the clash, the ram lost.
It shattered. Wood and metal splintered like brittle glass, scattering into dust.
Unfazed, the gob Rins pulled another ram from the bag and launched a second charge.
Castle defenders finally reacted—stones and spears rained down from kill slits above. But every strike was blocked by the barrier.
A third battering ram. Another shatter.
And then—the gate itself crumbled.
The ram, drained of its durability, dissolved into flecks. Useless. Trash.
The gob Rins at the front stopped mid-charge, staring.
A young man stepped through the shattered gate, just as stunned.
Average height. Average looks. Wore a plain leather vest. Two swords crossed on his back.
”That was solid,” he said, nodding. “Honestly? Even as an enemy, I gotta respect that. I mean—yeah, I’m calling it an artifact, but trusting your whole city’s 運 [luck] to a single door? That’s… gutsy.”
He clapped, as if genuinely impressed.
”If you value your life, get outta the way!” the gob Rins captain roared.
”Worldly ties,” the man said with a shrug. “That’s why I can’t. If you wanna get past me—one-on-one. Fair and square.”
A bait. Obvious. Time-buying tactic.
This was war. Even if the Demon King threw waves of troops at them, it wasn’t cowardice. It was necessity.
”Fine. I accept,” the gob Rins growled. “Name’s Gaugugasug. From Megamichi Cape. I wield a giant mallet.”
He looked like a regular gob Rins—not a hobgoblin or a king—but he radiated raw, brutal power.
My name is Ares. One of the holy-sword Heroes. Ares, two-sword style.
He drew both blades in one smooth motion, eyes gleaming as he gazed at their shining edges.
”Holy swords? Oh, you mean the god-slaying kind.”
Gaugugasug lowered his giant mallet into a ready stance.
They both knew, instantly: this opponent couldn’t be underestimated.
* * *
Earlier—
The opening phrase, marked by two short notes on a flute, was thought to indicate the performer’s location.
Ms. Nina furiously scrawled musical symbols across a piece of scrap paper.
Normally, Ms. Nina was impeccably refined. But today—emergency mode. No room for decorum.
In this world, music wasn’t written on a five-line staff, but three. Eight tones total. It was actually closer to what we’re used to than traditional gagaku [court music].
Oh, right. I pulled some staff paper from my magic bag and placed it on the table. I wasn’t planning to compose anything—it was just one of those “you never know” supplies. My uncle made sure I had all sorts of oddball stuff.
Ms. Nina glanced at it—then snatched it like treasure. Normally, she was all elegance. But when she got focused like this… yeah, that gap moe [charm of unexpected contrast] hit hard.
Apparently, it didn’t matter if the staff had three lines or five.
I even had a specialty dip pen that split into five tips, made for writing five-line staff—but now wasn’t the time.
She didn’t want to waste a second waiting for ink to dry. Pre-printed was obviously more practical.
”Sending current location first?” I asked. “Like latitude and longitude?”
Ms. Nina already understood the concept. One look at a globe had done the trick.
As a Stargazer, I could calculate this world’s lat/long coordinates easily. The real issue was politics—where do you place zero longitude? Big fights, guaranteed. The Greenwich of this world would be hotly contested.
I’d thought about asking the gods to decide. But that’d probably kick off a divine war.
Talk about a dumber reason than the Trojan War.
”The Demon King’s been standing still at the front gate this whole time, right?” she asked. “So if the song shows their current location—those parts of the tune shouldn’t change.”
”I see,” I said. “You compared it to earlier performances. Nice one, Ms. Nina.”
”If that’s true,” I added, “maybe it’s not lat/long… maybe it’s the sun’s direction and altitude?”
”Bees do that,” she said. “Communicating flower locations by sun angle. Or… I heard that somewhere.”
”You think that’s even possible?”
”If you’re a Stargazer? Totally doable.”
”Then decode it!” she said. “Sixteen distinct characters. I’m pretty sure they’re all numbers.”
”Hexadecimal?” I guessed. “How do you express angles as numbers…? Plenty of ways, I guess…”
”Easy,” I said. “Just track how the content shifts with the sun’s position.”
From there, it was surprisingly quick. Working together, Ms. Nina and I cracked the Demon King’s cipher in a few hours.
All I did was link sun angles to hexadecimal numbers.
Ms. Nina? She narrowed down the gob Rins’ glyph set to three likely options—then nailed the right one on the first try. Whether it was 運 [luck] or intuition, she called it a hunch.
If you mapped the number sequence to its corresponding symbols, it turned into a sentence.
Ms. Nina assumed all 22 ancient common characters were in play—and boom. Meaningful text.
I’d guessed maybe they used pairs of hex digits—256-symbol code. But I was wrong. She trimmed it down—cut six infrequent characters, dropped it to 16, and ran with that. Halved the data size. Made sense.
”Some characters in the ancient script weren’t used much,” she explained. “It just clicked.”
Ms. Nina’s incredible.
But still… a functional language using only 16 characters?
”Well, Earth’s Al [alphabet] only has 26 letters, right?” I asked.
”Characters are cultural artifacts,” she said. “Each has its own history.”
”Nowadays, the dominant language in this world…”
”As for the ancient common characters,” I added, “humans stopped using them long ago. So why is goblin—that thing—still using them?”
Ms. Nina knew. But—well—that’s Ms. Nina for you. Probably a hobby?
The sound picked up by the microphone gets recorded. Then Ms. Floria transcribes it onto sheet music, and Ms. Nina copies it into characters on plain paper.
By the way, Ms. Floria can play an instrument similar to a harpsichord. Pretty good—cool, even. They say people who can play music tend to get more attention, right?
”It looks like the fighting tournament is starting in the Holy Capital, huh?” I said, watching the update scroll across the screen.
”Fighting tournament?” she asked. “Not a siege or something?”
What’s going on?
”Probably they decided to settle it with one-on-one duels or something. Very old-fashioned.”
Ms. Floria says it’s a common theme in old hero tales. These days, though, knights don’t do reckless stuff like that anymore.
”This looks like a reply from the Demon King,” she said, holding up the message. “They’ll be here in three days. So, play until then, I guess.”
Is a duel some kind of game to the Demon King? Or—no, forget that. Maybe this is a chance?
”Coordinates! Maybe I can find where the Demon King is right now?” I said, snapping upright.
”Sure,” she said, shrugging. “It’s just a series of meaningless numbers to me.”
If you knew the current sun’s position and altitude—that’s two angles—you could pinpoint the Demon King’s location. If you’re a Stargazer, that is.
Seems like the Demon King’s got quite a few Stargazers around, huh? Or maybe it’s a similar role. Astronomy’s useful in a lot of ways, if you really know how to wield it.
”His current position’s pretty close from here,” I muttered. “Tonight, we strike.”
They’re just across the canal. I bet they’ll cross over tonight…
”Solo? That’s reckless,” Ms. Nina said, narrowing her eyes.
Honestly, I thought so too—just saying it makes me feel like I’ve already failed. Going to attack the Demon King’s HQ alone? Doesn’t suit me. No way I can handle that.
Rain drummed.
I’m getting scared now. Want to stop it right away. Looks lame, but I can still back out—only because I’m talking to these two.
”You’re willing to sacrifice yourself to save the people, huh?” Ms. Floria asked.
Damn, that’s cool. Sounds just like a hero.
”That’s kinda different from that, y’know…” I muttered. “If it works out, no one’s gotta sacrifice anything.”
Even if I fail, I’ll just keep things as they are. I’ll end up a prisoner of the Demon King, anyway.
Suicide? Seppuku? Impossible. Poison, maybe—the poison Uno gave me for the reset ability. Supposed to boost the success rate—just a little, but enough to be a god-tier item if it raises even a few percent, huh.
”You’re adamant about going, huh,” Nina said softly.
”Don’t try to stop me, Ms. Nina,” I said quickly.
No—really, I’d rather she did try to stop me. If my scam skill doesn’t work, then that’s that. I really, really don’t want to die.
The lady with the stern look smirked.
”A man’s life-or-death decision, eh? Good women don’t get in the way of that. But—there’s a condition.”
Honestly, I wanted her to cry and stop me. But in front of good women, men—especially ones with something to prove—try to look cool. It’s tough, huh.
Ms. Nina’s condition: to carry her inside the magic bag and take her along.
Her armor—only Nina’s—can withstand Uno’s serious breath attack, so she’s definitely the best shield character. But her attack—her actual strength—that we get.
This isn’t a battle trip, though, so maybe she’s a good fit? Whatever.
The problem is: if I lose—or, more precisely, if I die—what happens to the contents of the magic bag? Usually, people say you can’t even put something in there if you’re dead. But that’s not a hard rule, maybe.
Nina—she’s gutsy, huh? If it were me, I’d probably take a whole week just to decide.
And then, Ms. Floria’s condition:
”Please formally decide on your successor,” she said with all seriousness.
This felt like some huge flag was about to be raised.
Notes:
• Shea-Shea – Mauro’s daughter. Hurt by Alexander. Became an eager fiancée after advice from protagonist.
• Jirou – Male. Saburou’s other older brother. He is a shady businessman with a villainous look. He is more understanding of Saburou’s experiences in another world due to his exposure to light novels and anime. He is also tight-lipped, which makes him a good confidant for Saburou’s secrets.
• Tizzy – Claims to be Duke’s daughter, a noble with advanced magic skills. MC and Ms. Shirakaba lover.
• El – She is a giant woman, appeared as Saburou’s captor, living alone in a large tent, skilled in hunting and cooking, proposes marriage to Saburou.
• Ms. Nina – Doll Princess (Auroora 217), renamed by the protagonist. Beautiful blonde, ~168 cm, slim waist. Wears adventurer attire. Made from artificial parts and wooden limbs, resembling a princess. Knowledgeable, can read, write, and use basic healing magic. Reliable partner, often saves the protagonist with her skills.
• Nina – Doll Princess (Auroora 217), renamed by the protagonist. Beautiful blonde, ~168 cm, slim waist. Wears adventurer attire. Made from artificial parts and wooden limbs, resembling a princess. Knowledgeable, can read, write, and use basic healing magic. Reliable partner, often saves the protagonist with her skills.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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