Chapter 456 - An Unsteady Hand at the Helm
◇ You have acquired the title ◇
・Woodcutter
"A bit too on the nose."
I let out a quiet laugh at the blunt title the system had bestowed upon me. With one job, no, two jobs… given the sheer scale of the scene, maybe ten jobs’ worth of work done, I stretched with a sense of accomplishment.
The cleared area was probably about a hundred meters in diameter.
I wasn't sure if it was a perfect circle, but by felling the trees in a wide ring around the three log houses, I had opened up the view considerably.
While I was mercilessly swinging my “fists,” my conscience piped up with, Isn’t this just pure, unadulterated destruction of nature? But I chopped that thought down along with the trees with a simple, “Well, it’s a game.” I hope you’ll forgive me, as this is all for the sake of surviving the event.
And just like that, the logging work that had continued from yesterday was finally finished…
"“—…”"
Two young women stared off into the distance, gazing at the veritable mountains of felled trees.
They were surely lamenting the daunting task that lay before them. I’m quite certain it wasn’t my imagination that the light had faded from their blue and orange eyes.
If only my inventory were working normally, cleaning up would be… well, not easy. Even if the system showed some leniency for the storage space of crafting materials, trying to stuff an entire giant tree inside would likely fill up my “bag” with just one log.
Then again, there was no need to process every last bit of it.
"Let's just quickly deal with the branches and leaves, and use the majority of the trunks as-is for the 'wall.' If we put our heads together on how to place and secure them… yeah, we'll figure something out."
When I presented this peaceful proposal, the two of them showed visible relief. Hey, even I’m not planning to pile on that much of a burden, you know.
However, in order to actually figure something out, there was just one problem—I'm not very good at this whole base-building thing. It’s less that I’m bad at it and more that I’m not one for details, so I tend to just wing it.
Therefore, having me take the lead in constructing the defensive wall that would become our lifeline… was a little, or rather, very worrying. To be blunt, I didn't want to do it.
So…
"Let's ask for help when everyone gets back. And if there's anyone who's played crafting games, we'll just hand it all off to them—or rather, have them take command."
"I second that!"
"In that case, let's work on the house until everyone returns!"
There seemed to be no objections, so I was relieved to have avoided exposing my questionable sense of style again, after yesterday's “artwork”… No, really, that was a misunderstanding.
If I tried with a normal pen and paper, my illustrations are about average—
◇◆◇◆◇
"I've been wondering since yesterday…"
"Hm?"
"What is that?"
"I wonder… In… terior design… perhaps?"
"What do you think it says?"
"Is it even a picture?"
"Maybe it's text?"
"Ah, like hieroglyphics…"
…
"Stop it. Don't look at me like that."
After the guys who'd gone out hunting returned, it was time for lunch.
Nononia, who must have overheard the questions they were muttering about the mysterious piece of wood hanging from the ceiling, was now grinning at me. I shot her a half-lidded glare.
Even if I were to try and get my revenge by saying something like “Behold my true power,” it’s not like I’m particularly skilled at drawing anyway… I get the feeling the bar has been raised to an unreachable height.
This is truly regrettable.
It was the middle of the second day, and we were gathered around the lunch prepared by the chef who had already earned our complete trust and confidence. The dining tables and chairs, painstakingly crafted by Nononia’s mind and my muscle, were all lined up, giving the banquet hall a respectable “cafeteria” feel.
I listened to the reports from the men who had returned with various “spoils of war” and, as Tetsu-san had mentioned, was asked again about our “future plans.”
The role they were asking for wasn't so much a leader… but someone to take charge.
Combatants in Arcadia are, by design, fundamentally expected to operate in groups. As paragons of this principle, these general players seemed accustomed to large numbers.
However—or perhaps because of that—they wanted to firmly establish a “head” to ensure smooth group operations, rather than leaving things ambiguous.
And, well… I’m a title holder, after all. I personally wouldn't mind working as a grunt, but I had to concede that behaving that way would only become a burden on them.
Embarrassing as it is, I suppose I shall humbly accept this great responsibility.
"—And so… my apologies, but could the construction team please prioritize setting up the defensive wall under Mr. Oaks's direction?"
"Roger that."
"We're countin' on you, boss."
"Ah, don't expect too much, okay? I've really only dabbled in survival craft games…"
For now, the most pressing matter—the defensive wall that needed to be in place by tonight—was settled. I entrusted the task to the axe warrior, Mr. Oaks, who apparently had experience with tower-defense survival craft games.
He was starting to sound humble now, but from the way he spoke earlier, I suspect he’s quite experienced in “that sort of thing.”
I have high hopes that he and the five men I've assigned to him will do a fine job.
"As for the other two teams, as I said, you'll maintain your current roles, but with a bit more focus. The recon team doesn't need to worry too much about bringing back spoils of war."
"Got it!"
"We'll try probing around and testing a few things."
Even if we were dividing into teams, this was a survival situation where we were expected to go with the flow. Overly detailed divisions would just complicate things, so the remaining twenty-seven members were split roughly in half.
One was the hunting party, which would continue to focus on gathering materials, primarily [Stardust Relics]. The other was the recon party, which I tasked with investigating the “taming” system, the surrounding environment, and various other things.
Their roles were unchanged, so they would head back into the forest and continue hunting.
Whether it was triggered by the passage of time or the amount of spoils accumulated… the trigger remained a mystery, but it seemed various things had already started to change since yesterday. Whether they were drawn here from afar or simply spawned nearby, the event seemed to be “progressing” smoothly.
Compared to last night, the variety of creatures had already increased. If there was another raid tonight, it was safe to assume it would be even more lively than yesterday's.
"I'll be expecting some new ingredients from the hunting party."
"Oh man, that thing…"
"Think we can hunt it?"
"Maybe if we get a surprise attack in…?"
Apparently, something interesting—and promising as a food source—had appeared. My expectations, along with Nia’s, who was sitting quietly at the end of the table with sparkling eyes, were high.
Is she a carnivore? In any case, with that, the meeting was over.
"Alright, that's everything. Dismissed!"
I tried to clap my hands with a sharp, crisp sound, but my hands, smaller than my usual body's, produced only a pathetic little psh. In response, I was met with a series of indescribably lukewarm stares.
It was one hundred percent my fault for failing to stick the landing—but still.
As I reactivated [Trance] to hide my embarrassment, I will not forgive the sighs of disappointment I heard from all around. I'm a guy, is there a problem with that?
"Ahem… What's the matter, everyone? Hurry up and get to your tasks. Hm?"
Placing a hand on the hilt of the sword at my waist for no particular reason, I offered a smile… and the remarkably good-natured men quickly and boisterously scrambled from their seats and fled.
Ha, how amusing. It seems my Irori impression was super effective.
…As the dining hall grew quiet like a receding tide, there was only one thing that bothered me.
"Why did you suddenly start smirking?"
"N-no, I was just, uh…"
As a result of my jokingly tracing the cold, intimidating voice of the Sword Saint's number one fan… for some reason, my partner next to me seemed to have lost control of her cheeks.
What's with that strange look? What's gotten into you all of a sudden?
(The rough tone and the cold voice—the gap between that and his usual self—is, just a little bit) her thing.
Not mine, Nia-chan's.