HTACS 69

Chapter 69

Poison-feeding is surprisingly easy to make.

Except for a few magical species, slimes’ status ailment resistance is absolutely garbage.

It’s on par with Wolfram’s stamina. They really catch status effects well.

To be precise, ‘all slimes except magical slimes have clear weaknesses.’

Simply put, fire-type slimes are weak to water, water-types are weak to lightning, and so on. They’re the trash mobs you see everywhere.

No matter what map or dungeon you go to, the weakest squishy blob greeting you at the entrance—that’s the slime.

“I see. So you’re saying each slime has a clear weakness.”

“Yes.”

The problem is that this world doesn’t even have that knowledge properly disseminated.

It’s all the Lohengrin Empire’s fault.

There was a party character who once said something like that.

Hmm, it was a mage character from the mid-game—who was it again?

Anyway, that line stuck with me.

Let’s overthrow this wicked imperial family that suppresses private armies, strengthens imperial authority, checks the nobles, and even uses monsters as tools to reinforce imperial power—and establish a righteous society!

I don’t hold such dangerous ideas, but setting that aside, the current Lohengrin Empire has even more extreme imperial authority.

“Hmm. So if we believe what you say about those weaknesses, we just need to spread the poison?”

“No, that would be too difficult to spread.”

That’s not a bad method, but there’s another approach we need to use.

“Ah, the issue is attraction.”

“Yes.”

Right. The problem is the slime attractant—we need to devise a way to lure them all at once and annihilate them.

Well, that’s not difficult either.

“Just counting the number of slimes in the entire mine—it could be millions.”

“It’s doable.”

“P-pardon?”

No, really—

Setting aside the bluff, it’s doable.

“Rudika. Time to work.”

“Hmm. Rudika. Works!”

And I glanced at the wolf lying nearby, yawning lazily.

“Patrasche. Time for you to work too.”

At my words, Patrasche raised his right foot and pointed at himself. “Me? For real?” was the implication.

Yes.

You.

You’re the one, so follow along quickly.

—

Slimes have the trait of ‘kin recognition’ and ‘when a kin is attacked, nearby slimes also aggro.’

“An annoying attack pattern.”

“…Yes. That’s why the workers can’t enter the mines.”

So they come looking for a fight saying, “Did you hit our kid?”—and from there, the ordeal begins.

As I said, if you can’t one-shot the core, slimes multiply. And they fight for their kin.

So when clearing a slime dungeon, the standard approach is to build your party with critical hits or AoE magic.

That’s why I’m working with Rudika. Her willpower and agility are insanely high, so most of her attacks trigger critical hits. Amazing. Incredible.

“Rudika. Ready?”

“……”

But right now, I’m giving Rudika a different order.

“Absolutely do not pierce the vitals.”

“……”

In front of Rudika, a single Black Slime trembled.

I had secretly brought it out of the mine without injuring it.

I instructed Rudika to butcher this Black Slime as much as possible without touching its core.

Rudika silently began slicing the slime to pieces.

Wow, look at that clean handiwork. She’s carving out everything except the core.

I really shouldn’t mess with her. Look at that deboning skill.

Soon the slime began to tremble, and I gestured to Patrasche.

“Now. Patrasche. Begin.”

“…Grrrr.”

Patrasche immediately began carrying out my instructions.

Using telekinesis on a magic stone, he started carving something into it.

And so it’s made.

The attractant.

The best attractant there is.

—

Slimes emit a subtle wavelength when they multiply.

That’s the pattern that calls their comrades.

“Whoa… Amazing. How did you think of that?”

“It’s nothing remarkable.”

Patrasche, who can handle ‘Telekinesis,’ inscribes the slime’s pattern onto a magic stone.

Now the slimes will recognize this magic stone as an attacked comrade.

“…Now, Rudika. Feed this poison to that slime and finish it.”

“……”

Rudika nodded slightly with a colorless, expressionless face.

Soon, the Mining Slime died twitching after consuming the poisoned bait.

Even after being butchered and killed with poison, Rudika’s eyes remained transparent.

She truly becomes cold when she’s working.

“Now then, is the pit prepared?”

“…Y-yes. It’s been dug large.”

With the mine at a complete standstill, I had the idle workers dig a pit, and dropped the poison-killed slime into it.

Now. Let’s begin.

“Something rather unpleasant is about to happen. Please bear with it even if it turns your stomach.”

“I-it’s fine.”

I nodded.

This method is simple.

Drop the poison-killed slime into the pit.

Then have Patrasche place the ‘magic stone emitting a kin-summoning pattern’ beyond the pit and amplify it.

Now what happens is—

“Oh…… Ha.”

“Hmm. Hmm.”

*Rumble. Rumble. RUUUUMBLE!! Thud. Boom.*

From the mine, an enormous number of Mining Slimes, sensing their kin’s crisis, rush toward the pit.

The number was truly staggering—enough to make any onlooker gasp.

How many? ‘Enough to make Rudika, an assassin in the middle of work, groan.’

The slimes fall into the pit, assess the situation, realize there are no enemies, drop combat mode, and then… consume the poison-killed slime corpses.

And take poison damage again.

The damaged slimes emit magic waves calling for allies, and more slimes pour out of the mine, descend, eat the corpses, become corpses themselves, and their waves draw more in. Eat corpses. Become corpses…

The endless cycle of death created an infinite slime disposal factory.

“…W-Wolfram.”

“……Hmm.”

I said nothing.

Watching the brown slimes spread out limply, piling on top of each other, forming a mass of brown liquid enough to cover the earth—I said nothing.

The visuals were disgusting, but I also thought: all of that was once life, and now they’ve become not-life.

This was a method famous in-game as the ‘Slime Run.’ I used it well.

“Hmm. It reminds me of a game.”

“…What did you say, Wolfram?”

I just shrugged.

“…This much killing. This much sin. Wolfram of Slaughter. Do you also bear the same sin as I? No, even more than I… My friend. If so—”

Rudika bowed her head and muttered something unintelligible.

Was it her homeland’s language?

“Sorry. I only know the Lohengrin common tongue.”

“No, it’s nothing. I just thought Wolfram could become a good friend of Rudika’s. A friend for life.”

Come to think of it, Rudika.

I’m curious—if you’re using the word ‘friend,’ couldn’t you drop that awkward speech pattern?

“Hmm. Rudika. I think so too.”

“Right?”

I was about to ask, but I held back.

Because asking that seemed genuinely dangerous.

—

The good news brought by Wolfram and Count Glass spread through the entire family in an instant.

The mansion’s temperature rose, and everyone praised Wolfram’s wisdom.

And that story ignited the heart of a girl already swelling with dreams and ambition once again.

‘Wait for me.’

At first, Spica felt a tiny—truly tiny—bit of discontent at Wolfram von Lohengrin’s words.

I could be helpful too!

But Wolfram von Lohengrin was a talent who completely and utterly surpassed Spica Trista’s domain.

Luring all those slimes at once, capturing them like that, and clearing the mine.

The words “wait for me” truly meant he didn’t need her help.

And that made her even more curious.

So Spica went to someone who might become her romantic rival.

“Uh, sis.”

“Hmm? What’s wrong?”

“I, um, have something I’d like to ask.”

“Go ahead. Hehe. What could Spica be curious about?”

Ayla Trista.

Someone who might become her rival!

“I want to hear about how that person—the one who’ll become my brother-in-law—changed.”

“Huh? Ah, Wolfram? Sure. I’ll tell you. Come here.”

“Hehehe. Okay.”

Spica clenched her fist tightly. She couldn’t let go of the hand that felt like her insides were churning and twisting.

She was already 14 this year. She was scheduled to enroll in Zefflin next year.

But to her sister, who was a few years older, she was still just a child. Acting cute like this made her sister talk easily.

‘…Sorry, sis. But I don’t want to let go of this feeling!’

If that’s what it takes, she’d even act cute for her sister!

“Let’s see. When Wolfram was stripped of his student council presidency, he moved into the building I owned. Naturally, I assumed he’d lean on me, and I was disappointed. Because Wolfram had no support base whatsoever, right?”

“Ah…”

“But that wasn’t it. His eyes were blazing with a fire I’d never seen before. The ambition to have the entire world at his feet. That’s where it all started. His eyes were beautiful—like they were burning.”

The stories of Wolfram that followed were unbelievable.

In short—

‘He made snacks to win over graduate students and freshmen who had no interest in Wolfram, turning them into supporters.’

‘He maintained moderate mutual interests with his younger sister, the student council president. Even before the usurper, he possessed an iron will that never revealed his true intentions.’

‘And that’s not all—he recently joined expeditions and even became amicable with those who usurped his position, showing the difference in their capacity.’

‘He breathed dreams into the closed-minded, aged, and useless faculty, earning positive evaluations—even the professors hold Wolfram in high regard.’

‘Through a snack-type buff called Magical Sweets, he brought about a revolution in combat rations. This will be a battlefield revolution.’

‘He gets along well with commoner and lower-noble juniors, valuing ability over status.’

‘And he has the most outside expedition experience in Zefflin—his knowledge of monsters is world-class.’

‘His connections are also formidable: the heir of the south’s greatest assassin family, his admittedly irritating younger sister who is the greatest mage, a trusted Knight Department junior, and he’s even raising an adorable pink chick.’

‘His talent development is also exceptional—he took a student slated for expulsion and raised them to become grade top.’

‘Rumors say he proposed trains and rails to create a trade network connecting the entire Lohengrin Empire.’

‘And he doesn’t neglect his studies—he even topped some subjects.’

Ayla, her face flushed, caught her breath as she recited the biography of Wolfram von Lohengrin, the pinnacle of rebellion, and Spica’s eyes widened.

“…Th-that’s… all accomplished by Wolfram-sama—no, brother Wolfram?”

“…Yes. That’s right.”

Spica clutched her chest.

“I—I thought the imperial family was nothing but wicked people who suppress private armies, strengthen imperial authority, check the nobles, and even use monsters as tools for power.”

“That’s what you thought. But… Wolfram is.”

“Yes. He’s not like that. Truly, someone who will bring the winds of change.”

“…Yeah. It’s rebellion.”

Ayla swallowed and exhaled as if speaking through gritted teeth.

“Truly. It was rebellion.”

‘No. It’s revolution.’

Spica Trista thought that inwardly but wisely didn’t say it out loud.

Now was not the time for the 841st Rebellion vs Revolution Faith Showdown.

“Uh, sis. Other than that—don’t you have other stories?”

“Hehe. This one’s a bit embarrassing, but I’ll tell you. It’s about when I first met Wolfram at age eight. I was crying in the garden when…”

The sisters’ night deepened as they chatted amiably.