Chapter 110 A Step Forward
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
”Also, there are two more things I’ll need you to make—quickly.”
”Uh, besides this ‘Cursebreaker’?”
”Yes. Think of it as insurance, in case the Foreign Affairs Chief botches the negotiation.”
…Not that I had much faith in the Foreign Affairs Chief anyway.
Still, he was marginally better than the Defense Minister. For now.
”What do you need me to make?”
”A portable teleportation gate and a magic marker.”
”…Come again?”
”I said—a portable teleportation gate and a magic marker.”
Of all things, she wanted me to build devices that still existed only on the drafting table. I could do it if necessary—but for what purpose?
”What, can’t you make them?”
”I’d like you to consider what you’re asking. These are still at the theoretical stage.”
”And yet, the same man who built Calmys’s magic sword—also at the theoretical stage—did so in three hours. That man being you.”
That was different.
I’d only adapted shape-memory alloy mechanics. The teleportation gate was still stuck in the stage of constructing the spell formula, and the magic marker was no better.
”Honestly, the theory’s there.”
”Oh? So you have the theory, at least.”
”Yes, but it’s still just theory—paper-level theory. I’ll need someone with deep knowledge of spell formulas to check the teleportation gate before I can move forward.”
No matter how sound my concepts, I couldn’t complete a true magic device without a specialist to correct me. I needed to study an existing teleportation gate’s formula, narrow the functions, and build from that baseline. At least I’d managed to create a coin-sized, high-compression mana capacitor that could fit inside a wristwatch—something from my previous world.
It took time to recharge, but was efficient. With more research, it might even pull ambient mana as needed. But for areas devoid of mana, a refillable design was safer.
”So, that’s the groundwork. The issue’s the inner spell formula.”
”And why is the groundwork already done?”
The mayor narrowed her eyes at me. I met that look with a shrug.
You can’t run experiments without a shell. Besides, I’d already confirmed the casing worked with other formulas—it could double as a basic magic device.
”It’s not exactly something I should be telling you right now,” she said, sighing.
”Oh no, what now?”
”Don’t give me that. Anyway, the heat-based magic device you proposed earlier—it’s ready for lab testing. The researchers won’t go easy on you.”
”I’m not sure whether to be happy about that.”
Ah, that device—based on the heating mechanism of a rice cooker. I pulled out mithril on the spot, activated my Crafting skill, and began shaping four claws to support the base.
I inscribed ‘Regulate’ and ‘Sustain’ formulas along the channels, built a mana stone slot, and added knobs and a display for visual control. Done.
”This is a prototype for theoretical validation. I’ll need a report in a week.”
”Why do you churn these things out so effortlessly?”
It had taken me about five minutes. Quick work, but unless they pointed out flaws, I couldn’t refine the equipment.
”We’ll test this one first. If it checks out, I’ll ask for more.”
”Understood.”
”Then go home for today. Hug Ethelena and the others—and remind yourself that you’re still alive.”
…Please don’t say ominous things like that.
Leaving the office, I found Calmys-san standing guard by the door.
”…It’s over, Julon?”
I felt a twinge of guilt.
After our earlier exchange, I owed her an apology. I’d let my frustration turn her kindness aside.
”Um… Calmys-san. I’m sorry for earlier.”
”Think nothing of it. It’s natural for a child to lose their composure.”
Despite my harsh words, she’d taken it with calm acceptance. Maybe it came from living so long—her patience felt endless.
”I’ll walk you to the entrance.”
We walked side by side.
I searched for something to say, anything to cut the awkward silence. Nothing came.
”…I can’t seem to match my master,” she murmured.
Her tone carried a self-mocking lilt.
”When you were down, my words couldn’t reach you—but hers could. A parent’s voice always does.”
I paused. The mayor—my mentor, my guardian, the one who taught me what it meant to be a crafter.
For Calmys-san to see us as parent and child… it humbled me. And hurt a little too, knowing how much trouble I caused her.
”My master may be younger than I, but she surpasses me in spirit. It’s shameful as a person, yet proud as a knight.”
”…To me, Calmys-san, you’re more like an older sister.”
”Hah. I’m ten times your age, and that’s what you choose to call me? Do you use that line to charm people?”
”I’m not charming anyone, I swear!”
”We’ll see about that.”
Her teasing left me helpless but smiling despite myself.
”About your Crafting,” she began.
My chest tightened. I knew what was coming.
I’d lashed out at her earlier. Regret burned.
”I think every blade you make reflects its wielder. Each one walks beside its partner. You don’t realize it—or maybe no one’s told you—but remember this: your creations support and save countless lives.”
Her hand moved to the sword at her hip—Fiero.
”You named this blade Fiero when you gave it to me. To me, that name is pride itself—a knight’s honor, born of the trust someone placed in me.”
Her eyes met mine, steady, luminous.
”Never forget, Tatara. Those who serve the war god draw strength from the prayers of the weak. Across two centuries, I’ve taken courage from many souls. That’s how I became the city’s strongest knight. Because no one grows strong alone.”
We stopped walking. The front door was just before us.
”Your failures and regrets will haunt you,” she continued softly. “Maybe you won’t always rise on your own. But you’re not alone. The people who love you stand beside you—that’s the strength you’ve earned.”
Her words carried the weight of a lifetime—no, of lives lived for others.
”Standing up by yourself is one kind of strength. But reaching for the hands extended to you—that’s another. Be proud, Tatara Julon. You are strong, because there are so many who stand with you.”
”…Then, Calmys-san—will you help me too?”
”Of course. I swear on you—and on the pride you’ve forged—that I’ll strike down whatever stands in your way.”
Her smile shone, fierce and radiant. There was power in it, born of faith, and for the first time that day, I felt steady again.
Calmys-san saw me off, and I walked home beneath a bruised sky. On the way, I passed the merchant guild district—still sealed off—and finally saw the devastation with my own eyes. During the chaos, I hadn’t realized how bad it was.
Rubble littered the streets in heaps of all sizes. The earth was gouged in places as if clawed by a giant’s hand. Dark stains marred the stones, and when I understood what they were, my chest tightened.
This ruin was mine to bear. No words from the mayor or Calmys-san could erase that.
I wouldn’t let them. Even if my share of the blame was small, the truth remained—I had brought this upon the city.
So I’d accept it. Regret it. Grieve for it.
And still, I’d move forward with it at my back. Let them curse me, let them sneer. Lost trust could only be rebuilt through proof, through work. Even if they never believed in me again, I would keep looking ahead.
Quietly, I opened my status screen and unequipped the ‘Creation Magic’ skill I’d completed during that fight with the mock-trimorph.
In its place, I selected ‘Golem Crafting’—the skill once belonging to the story’s original heroine, her very signature. As the name implied, it allowed the creation of golems—but the methods and uses were vast.
They could be shaped from raw earth or forged from collected materials—sometimes armor or dolls were turned into golems themselves. Some used them as armies, others as a single perfected being. The heroine of the original story was the latter type—she’d build one ultimate golem, hard as diamond and powerful in attack, fit to serve as both tank and sub-attacker.
It seemed similar in role to Sister Karen, another main heroine, though Karen’s stacked recovery and defense skills made her nearly untouchable. The golem path demanded materials, but strengthening was easier, and even if destroyed, they could be revived quickly. That reliability had always comforted me as a player.
I chose this skill for one reason: during the attack, we’d been fatally short on hands. If I’d had golems then—whether to fight beside us or rescue the injured—the casualties would’ve been fewer.
When Hinagiku-san stood to shield us, if a golem had taken that role, she could have focused on offense instead. I couldn’t train mastery overnight, but every craft begins with a first strike of the hammer.
Tomorrow, I’d use them for the city’s restoration—clearing rubble, sorting debris, learning the flow of large-scale operations. I’d test their ability to categorize materials and separate reusables.
One way or another, by tomorrow, I’d see this district whole again. That was my vow.
* * *
”I’m home.”
The words barely left my mouth before a rush of footsteps thundered toward me from deeper inside the house.
”Tatara!”
Ethelena appeared first, practically flying into my arms. For someone who’d been making that much noise, she landed in near silence when she slammed against me in a hug.
”You’re late! Are you hurt?”
Her voice trembled with worry. I wrapped my arms around her gently. She froze for a heartbeat, then melted against me, returning the embrace.
The mayor had told me to do this—to hold them, to feel that I was alive—and she’d been right. The warmth in my arms steadied something inside me. I was so damn glad I hadn’t lost it.
”I heard there was an uproar in the city, and Ethelena came back wounded! I was worried sick—but thank you kindly for the reassurance, yes indeed!”
Yohira’s attempt at composure was about as convincing as a cat trying to hide behind a broom. Still, her voice eased something in me.
I loosened my hold on Ethelena to face Yohira—well, tried to. She wouldn’t let go.
With no other choice, I beckoned Yohira closer and pulled her into the hug too, sandwiching Ethelena between us.
Ethelena might be getting squashed, but it was worth it to reassure Yohira. Call it strategic affection.
”…Honestly,” Yohira sighed, stepping back after a moment, “I worried for nothing. Seeing you all the same as ever, my tension’s gone.”
Ethelena, however, still clung to my back. Apparently she wasn’t done being affectionate.
”Yohira, were you all right?”
”I wanted to go, but Hinagiku and Ichika forbade it, saying I’d get lost again. I protested, but they left me behind.”
”Ah… right.”
Probably for the best, though it felt a little cruel. Yohira’s sense of direction—or lack thereof—was a mystery best left untested in combat zones.
”…Tatara,” she asked, more quietly now, “how strong was the enemy?”
”Strong. The strongest I’ve faced so far.”
Even with my Arcane Armor’s limiter removed, and so many allies fighting at once, if Dahlia hadn’t arrived when she did, I wouldn’t be standing here.
Dungeons held foes just as fearsome—boss rooms where angels and high-ranking demons appeared together. When that day came, I might have to rely on Yohira without shame.
”I was pierced through by blades of light. Nearly lost a limb. I was about to trigger the artillery’s payload and blow myself up when Hinagiku arrived. She saved me.”
”You expect me to feel nothing hearing that?” Yohira’s tone sharpened.
Fair. I’d told the story like a failed experiment.
To someone who’d been forced to stay behind, hearing that I’d nearly died was… not easy.
”Still,” she mused, “fighting the angel race, was it? If they take to the air, I can’t cut them at higher altitudes.”
”Well, ‘Temaribana’ can reach pretty high, which is already absurd.”
Not to mention the mayor’s ‘Sky Rend’—that one could cleave anything within sight. Yohira’s technique borrowed from it, which explained its ridiculous range.
We talked as we moved into the living room. Ichika was kneeling on the sofa, hands clasped like in prayer. When she noticed me, her eyes shimmered, and she rushed forward, hugging me tight with a trembling smile.
I stroked her hair, and her tail wagged happily. She’d worried too much, I realized. I’d made her wait, made her afraid. Hinagiku-san wasn’t here—probably off checking on that idiot again.
”Welcome home, Master.”
”Ah, I’m back, Dahlia.”
Dahlia greeted me calmly.
Ichika still refused to let go, so I motioned Dahlia closer and reached out to pat her head as well. Her expression didn’t change, but somehow she radiated pride, like a cat pretending not to purr.
”You really saved me out there. Perfect timing.”
”I must apologize, Master,” she said, bowing slightly. “For arriving late… and for this.”
She produced what was left of the auxiliary unit—’Fireworks.’ The frame was bent from when I’d smashed Sieve into the ground. Expected, given the impact.
”I’m sorry, Master. To damage the prototype like this…”
”Don’t apologize. Be proud you pushed a prototype through real combat without failure. Without you, we wouldn’t have secured that thing at all.”
I ruffled her hair roughly. She let me, quiet as always, but the air around her lightened just a little.
”I’ll repair it once we’ve gathered data. Write up a report, and I’ll adjust it based on that.”
”Yes, my Master.”
That did the trick.
Her eyes brightened faintly, just for a second. I’d have liked a report on Tritelya too, but one thing at a time.
The mood had lifted. Time to talk properly.
”I need to explain what happened today—and about Tatia.”
”…That angel woman. She’s connected to Tii-chan, isn’t she?”
”Yeah. She’s Tatia’s mother. And part of why she came to Whirlwind… is because of me.”
”…Then tell us everything, Tatara,” Yohira said, voice level but sharp.
So I did. I told them what had happened, what I’d learned in the underground cell.
I tried to keep it objective, but Ethelena’s arms tightened around me as if to protect me from my own guilt, and Yohira scolded me for calling it ‘bad luck’—said if I kept dwelling on it, she’d drag me to my mother-in-law and the acting head of the family to have me properly disciplined. It took a lot of fast talking to convince her I was all right.
Gods, Yohira could be terrifying when she cared.
Ichika, in her ever-blunt compassion, suggested that if I was going to keep brooding, she’d help me “vent” it physically—with her body, of course. Before I could stop her, Ethelena was already tugging at her clothes, ready to join in. I panicked, waving my hands to calm them both down.
If I got trapped between those two, Yohira would inevitably get dragged in, and before long we’d have an all-out orgy on our hands. The Acting Head of Family would absolutely kill me. I hadn’t even learned the contraceptive side of Sex Sorcery yet—ten months later, I’d be the father of twins. I could tell, somehow, that at least Ethelena wanted to wait until the wedding.
When the topic turned back to Tatia, Ethelena scolded me for not catching up with her sooner. But she also softened, realizing how close I’d been to breaking at the time.
”…If her own mother attacked the city and killed so many of its people,” Yohira murmured, “someone as earnest as Tatia couldn’t bear it.”
”Tii-chan… she really wanted to be a knight, from the bottom of her heart,” Ethelena added.
Both women spoke their thoughts quietly, grief in their voices.
”I still don’t want her to give up on that dream,” I said. “I want Tatia to become a knight—and to see her stand proud at her investiture.”
They nodded in agreement. Ichika said nothing, watching the discussion unfold, waiting to follow my lead.
”At this rate,” I continued, “once the apprentice knights finish their wild celebration, Tatia might leave the city for good.”
”Highly likely,” Ethelena admitted.
”Indeed,” said Yohira. “But how do we keep her from leaving?”
That was the real question. How to keep Tatia here—how to reach her before she drifted away.
”Well then,” Ichika said with unshakable calm, “why not simply have Master sleep with her?”
We all turned toward her.
”Tatia doesn’t hate Master,” Ichika explained seriously. “She loves him. It’s because of that love that she thinks she can’t stay near him-degozaru. So if she becomes bound to him completely, unable to leave… problem solved-degozaru.”
”…You can’t be serious.”
My head throbbed. The logic was deranged—and yet, judging from Ethelena’s and Yohira’s faces, they weren’t entirely opposed.
Great. We’d officially become an erotic visual novel.
”…Tii-chan once said she touched herself thinking about you,” Ethelena muttered.
”Don’t you dare expose that here.”
”If her body still yearns for Tatara,” Yohira mused, “the odds of success increase.”
”Enough, both of you!”
If this went on, they’d have me seducing Tatia by tomorrow. The conversation had officially crossed the line.
”Then it’s decided,” Yohira declared. “Tomorrow, we’ll find Tatia and lock her in a room with Tatara until they’ve… bonded.”
”I, for one, know a few binding arts,” Ichika said proudly. “A barrier that only opens once a certain condition is fulfilled—simple stuff-degozaru.”
”I can assist,” Ethelena added lightly. “There’s a type of sealing sorcery for that.”
”Then I shall be the one to capture Tatia and toss her inside,” Yohira said, eyes gleaming.
”What kind of teamwork is this…?”
They were terrifyingly in sync. And worse, completely serious.
”Uh, about tomorrow,” I interjected quickly, “that won’t work.”
I needed time to talk sense into them before this turned into a kidnapping.
”Why not?” Ethelena asked, brow furrowed.
”Because the City Mayor assigned me to handle the commercial district’s reconstruction. It’ll only take half a day, but I want to focus.”
”…Are there no other workers?” Yohira asked, incredulous.
”What are you talking about? For that level of damage, I can handle it alone.”
”Utter nonsense-degozaru,” Ichika groaned, holding her head.
Yohira, however, had seen me and the carpenters build an entire cypress bathhouse in ninety minutes once. She looked resigned, almost impressed.
”So yeah,” I went on, “tomorrow’s shot. I’ll post a notice on the workshop shutter about deliveries and head straight out.”
”Can we at least help?” Ethelena offered.
”The Mayor specifically told me to go alone. You might coordinate with the vigilante corps for food aid, but only two houses were destroyed. It’s not dire enough for soup kitchens.”
”Two houses in one day still sounds absurd,” Yohira muttered.
”Technically two houses collapsed,” I said, “plus twelve stalls, two with wall damage, and eight with broken windows.”
”In any case, not a half-day job-degozaru,” Ichika sighed.
Construction wasn’t exactly my field, but with the versatility of my Crafting skill, it would be fine. If anyone said ‘that’s impossible,’ I’d just reply, ‘not for me.’
After that, the girls kept discussing how to capture Tatia—splitting roles like some tactical operation. Ichika would create duplicates and drive her into a corner, Ethelena would chase at high speed, and Yohira would use Concept Appraisal to predict Tatia’s movements.
At some point, I began wondering whether they intended to capture her… or hunt her.
When the “meeting” finally ended, I retreated alone to my workshop and began preparations for tomorrow. My first task: test the new skill, Golem Crafting.
In the game, beginners could only make Stone Golems. But maybe because my Crafting skill was maxed out, the system showed that I could create higher-tier ones right away.
Was that normal? Or was I just… bugged again?
I took out thirteen mithril ingots and one Alchemist’s Egg. Golem creation required both a body material and a core.
The body could be nearly anything—even monster parts. Some players had made Dragon Golems, the pinnacle class, whose power rivaled the top five allied units. Though honestly, it was usually easier to just forge dragon equipment and strengthen allies directly.
This time, I aimed for a Mithril Golem, using the Alchemist’s Egg as its core. A dangerous mix—if I wasn’t careful, I might end up with another Dahlia.
But she’d become what she was because her ‘egg’ had evolved. I doubted I’d get the same result.
I began forging the mithril in the hearth, melding the ingots into one lump. Using both Crafting and Golem Crafting together, I shaped the metal into a humanoid form. But the result…
was strange. The skills seemed to interfere with each other, producing a miniature caricature—about 130 centimeters tall, 1.3 kilos, with a big head and short limbs. A chibi version of myself.
Why?
The spell branded a golem’s sigil on its forehead, though the bangs covered it. The silver body gleamed, pure and clean, as its eyes opened—round, half-lidded, and unsettlingly alive.
Then, it raised one hand.
”Ta!”
”…Did it just talk?”
It had no voice box.
I hadn’t given any command. Yet it moved—and spoke.
The golem tilted its head, as if confused by my silence, then reached out to shake me gently. The gesture was almost childlike.
”Ah—sorry. I’m fine. Can you understand me?”
”Ta!”
So it could only pronounce ‘ta,’ but somehow, I knew it understood.
”I made you to help me with all sorts of things from now on. Let’s work together, all right?”
”Ra!”
Apparently, it could say ‘ta’ and ‘ra.’ Between the two, it almost sounded like my name.
I crafted more miniature mithril golems—five ingots each, with rare Golem Cores as hearts—and every single one came out as a tiny caricature of me, speaking only in those two syllables.
”Ta!”
”Ta!!”
”Ra!”
”Ra!!”
And just like that, my workshop filled with a chorus of chibi metallic me’s, chanting their limited vocabulary like an oddly adorable army.
The first mithril golem I’d made seemed to have assumed the role of leader. The others lined up before it, awaiting silent orders.
Now that I looked closely, the leader had sprouted an oversized antenna of hair—a ridiculous, majestic ahoge that made it look every bit like a commander unit. Not that it needed the distinction; it was already larger than the rest.
”…Maybe I overdid it.”
One leader at 1.3 kilograms, plus ninety-nine followers at half a kilo each—over fifty kilos of mithril gone. Yeah, I was definitely getting yelled at for this later.
”Oh, right.”
I’d forgotten to make the armor hanger for the Head of Judiciary. The armor weighed around twenty kilos, so for stability, the hanger would need to be triple that. I pulled out iron and mana stones, transmuted them into demonsteel, used thirty kilos for the base and the rest for the frame and arms.
I engraved an antigravity spell formula into the arms to cancel out the armor’s weight, wired in an umbilical cable for home use, and built a mana-stone battery into the body. Finally, I added an Appraisal-based status display so the user could check the armor’s condition at a glance. Hopefully they’d like it.
Then, since I still had materials left, I decided to push further. I used some of the same demonsteel from the Judiciary’s batch to make a one-sixth scale replica: two kilos for the hanger, three for the armor. The armor side had a miniature mana condenser, while the hanger carried a recharging cable. On top of that, I engraved Telepathy on the hanger and Resonance on the armor.
The result? A fully functioning radio-controlled armor model—something unheard of in this era. Maybe I’d get scolded for misusing materials, but technically I’d used everything I was entrusted with. Worst case, I’d refund it myself. Honestly, I’d built these partly for that excuse.
By the time I was done, the mithril golems had taken it upon themselves to begin maintenance—oiling joints, polishing metal, even checking for corrosion. A quick Appraisal showed that the smaller ones had Crafting I, while the leader had Crafting III.
”…How the hell?”
Whatever. I stored them all in my inventory and called it a night.
After a rare solo bath, I returned to my room—and before I could even sit down, Ethelena appeared. I meant to ask why she’d come, but next thing I knew, she was in my arms, kissing me.
I pulled her close, a hand at the back of her head, the other around her waist. Her arms looped around my neck, her wings folding around me like a cocoon.
We fell onto the bed together, urgency drowning reason. Her breath hitched as I stripped away the last of her clothes, revealing skin slick with warmth and need.
I was already painfully hard. As soon as I slid inside her, heat and tightness consumed me, and I came almost instantly—but my body didn’t stop. Neither did she.
Maybe it was near-death instinct—the body’s drive to leave something behind. Ethelena clung tighter, legs locking around my hips, pulling me deeper. I doubted either of us remembered the contraceptive spells.
When I pushed hard enough to kiss her womb and spilled deep inside, she flipped us over, taking control, riding me until my vision blurred. It wasn’t lovemaking. It was survival, a desperate affirmation that we were still alive.
No words—just the rhythm of breath and heartbeat, echoing until long past midnight.
* * *
Dawn came quietly. I woke before sunrise, slipped from bed, and left Ethelena sleeping peacefully.
After a quick shower, I headed out without breakfast. The commercial district opened around five, and I needed materials before I could begin rebuilding.
I’d avoided that place for a while.
Back when my workshop was new, I’d gone there often—and every time, they’d teased me mercilessly. But I didn’t have the luxury to care now.
I arrived early and approached the reception counter. I hadn’t done a full cost estimate, but a rough calculation said about a hundred million worth of materials would cover it.
”Excuse me,” I said. “I’d like to purchase some building supplies.”
The receptionist looked half-asleep but forced a polite smile. Probably on night shift—poor guy.
”Welcome. What kind of materials do you need?”
”For two collapsed houses, two with damaged walls, eight with broken windows, and twelve market stalls.”
The receptionist froze mid-blink, eyes narrowing.
”…And what exactly are these for?”
”Reconstruction.”
That only made their expression darker.
”Forgive me, but… are you sure that’s the true purpose?”
”Yes,” I said evenly. “It is.”
”Are you affiliated with any organization?”
”I run a private workshop. Do you need a permit?”
”That won’t be necessary.”
So they did suspect something. Maybe thought I’d hoard the goods and resell them.
I couldn’t really blame them—it had only been a day since the attack. But I couldn’t back down either.
”I have orders,” I said. “Please sell them to me.”
”Orders? From whom?”
”The City Mayor.”
No written proof, of course. But knowing her, she’d have sent a letter to the guild master already.
”Can you provide documentation?”
”Unfortunately not.”
”Then I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.”
”I can’t do that. Please—sell them to me.”
The receptionist’s face twisted with distaste.
They probably had some authority but clearly didn’t want to deal with me. Still, protocol was protocol.
”I understand you’re just doing your job,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “But check with your superior before refusing outright.”
”And who would that be?”
”The merchant guild master.”
”He’s busy. There’s no need.”
Yeah, no chance I was backing down now.
The mayor was probably buried in reports or still asleep after an all-nighter. Fine—time to gamble.
A cheerful voice broke through the tension.
”Well now, what’s all the fuss here?”
The accent was distinct, smooth but lilting. The man who appeared wasn’t flashy, but every inch of his clothing and jewelry screamed refinement—subtle, expensive, precise.
Narrow eyes, a wiry frame, and the sharp air of a fox or a snake. Recognition flickered as he saw me.
”Ah, Guild Master!” the receptionist said quickly. “This person here was trying to—”
”Hold up now… huh?”
He tilted his head, studying me for a second.
”Been a while, hasn’t it, Guild Master,” I said.
”Well I’ll be damned,” he grinned. “If it ain’t Tatara-han. What brings you here?”
The head of Whirlwind’s merchant guild—the man who oversaw the entire city’s distribution network—had just walked in.
Notes:
• Calmys – War God’s knight, Mayor’s guard chief, whip-master hiding as a swordswoman; sharp tongue, big-sister vibe to Tatara, grants him and Ethelena church protection.
• Hinagiku – A tengu woman as Ranka’s potential companion. She stays with Tatara’s group after travels. Joins household scenes only. Linked to Ranka by shared gluttony jokes. No direct tie to Tatara beyond cohabitation. Cheerful eater.
• Yohira – Torakuma’s first name.
• Ichika – The fox girl. Kunoichi.
• Dahlia – The automaton.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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