Chapter 35
I was deeply moved.
I had discovered that the Hokkaido Monster Farm was a wonderful survivor community.
Four months had passed since the Mushroom Pandemic, and the Hokkaido Monster Farm's disaster-recovery aid had arrived one month after the aid from the Tohoku Hunting Association. Every detail of it had been carefully compiled in writing.
The person who brought the documents and recovery supplies was an ordinary livestock specialist, neither a witch nor a wizard. But because they had brought three copies of the same documents, one of them eventually made its way into my hands through the Blue Witch.
Wonderful.
I had lost count of how many times I had said, "Give me information in writing."
The Hokkaido Monster Farm had prepared documents without my even asking.
It probably wasn't for my sake, but it felt as though they had done it for me, and that made my heart flutter.
The Blue Witch told me about the meeting between the Hokkaido Monster Farm's envoy and the Witches' Gathering, and there was a reason their recovery aid had been delayed.
It was because communication with the Mermaid Witch had proven difficult.
For about three years, the Hokkaido Monster Farm had been plagued by a sea monster known as the Kraken, which lorded over the coast as though it owned it.
Because of the Kraken, Hokkaido's seafood had become incredibly difficult to obtain. Every ship had been sunk, the fish farms destroyed, and people could not even safely build homes along the coast.
The Kraken was an extremely powerful monster, classified as Kou-2 in Monster Studies. It also had an exceptional ability to flee, diving swiftly to the seafloor whenever it was injured or sensed danger, and had escaped numerous joint hunting operations by the witches and wizards of the Hokkaido Monster Farm.
Even if the Tokyo Witches' Gathering was suffering from the aftereffects of the Mushroom Pandemic, the Hokkaido Monster Farm was in the same boat. One of the witches who had held an important position there had died in the pandemic. If anything, the Monster Farm was the one that needed aid.
Thus, the aid came with the condition that they defeat the Kraken.
The Hokkaido Monster Farm could not agree to support the Witches' Gathering unless there was enough of a benefit to make defeating the Kraken worthwhile. It was strange that they had to provide support in order to receive support, but there was no helping it. Everyone was having a hard time.
The one chosen for the job was the Mermaid Witch of the Tokyo Witches' Gathering.
The Mermaid Witch's intelligence had declined to the point that she could no longer speak human language, but she was unrivaled in the sea. Once she chose prey, she had the ability to pursue it all the way into the hadal zone and finish it off. There was no one better suited to hunt the Kraken.
The problem was that her intelligence was about on par with a dolphin's.
That was plenty smart for an animal, but conveying the request, "Please go defeat the Kraken in Hokkaido," was difficult.
She had once listened intently to the request, nodded with a smile, and seemed to understand, only to hunt down a giant squid resembling the Kraken and toss it proudly onto the pier.
But the other day, the Mermaid Witch finally understood, nodded with a smile, and disappeared from Tokyo Bay for an entire day.
A few days after she returned looking as though nothing had happened, an envoy from the Hokkaido Monster Farm arrived by sea, carrying a certificate of appreciation for defeating the Kraken and the agreed-upon recovery supplies aboard a sailing ship.
The contents of the aid had all been listed in the documents, and I understood that this was not something they could give away casually.
The aid consisted of monsters that could be raised as livestock—in other words, magical beasts.
There were sixty magical beasts in total, belonging to three species, with enough young pairs to breed them over the long term.
The documents also explained the techniques required to raise them in detail, and the necessary tools and feed were included, albeit in the minimum quantities.
In other words, it was a starter kit for magical-beast livestock farming in Tokyo.
The Hokkaido Monster Farm could not raise magical beasts in huge numbers, either. They were in the middle of actively breeding them and increasing their population, so sending sixty to Tokyo had cost them dearly.
Even so, they had decided that the debt they owed for the Harvest Magic and the Kraken's defeat was enough to make the gift worthwhile.
The sixty magical beasts they sent are currently being assigned to stables and ranches under the Witches' Gathering's direction. I have only the documents; all the magical beasts are under the Gathering's management.
I was interested in magical beasts, but I was already busy enough with the Fire Lizards. In that sense, it was actually fortunate that only a stack of papers had fallen into my hands.
According to the information in the documents, the basics of magical-beast livestock farming began with finding monsters that met the conditions for domestication.
The first was feed. Monsters that ate enormous amounts or required difficult-to-obtain food were unsuitable for domestication.
The second was growth rate. Monsters that took twenty or thirty years after birth to produce meat or fur were unsuitable for domestication.
The third was reproductive ability. Monsters that needed enormous territories to breed or engaged in abnormal reproductive behavior—setting fires, for example—were difficult to handle and unsuitable for domestication.
The fourth was temperament. Monsters that ate people or were aggressive were, of course, unsuitable for domestication.
The fifth and final condition was forming a group with a hierarchy. When humans raised monsters, they could do so by becoming the leader of the monster group. Conversely, monsters that formed groups without a leader were unsuitable for domestication.
Everything written there made perfect sense, and it also gave me useful information for my Fire Lizard-raising project.
They ate small amounts of charcoal, so feed would not be a problem.
I didn't know their growth rate, but they didn't need to grow quickly. In fact, considering the danger that they might pupate into humanoid forms, slower growth would be preferable.
Their reproductive ability went against the fundamentals of livestock farming. Don't multiply, you hear me?
Their temperament was not especially gentle, but neither were they ill-tempered. They became angry when their companions were bullied and wary of creatures larger than themselves. It was a fairly ordinary temperament.
As for the final condition, they apparently had a hierarchy of sorts. Of the three Fire Lizards, the one that was somewhat larger and better developed often scampered around at the head of the group.
The overall assessment was, "They'd be difficult to domesticate, but they could probably be kept as pets."
The documents described the next step toward domestication for monsters that met all five conditions.
First, several monsters of the same species were captured. Then a Gremlin was removed from one of them and implanted in the keeper's body.
Once the implanted Gremlin became acclimated to the body, the monsters carrying the same Gremlin began to recognize the keeper as one of their kind.
A keeper who had a Gremlin implanted and blended into a monster group in this way was called a Beast Tamer.
It was a somewhat grotesque modification surgery, but the benefits were enormous.
Unless the species fought members of its own kind over territory or attacked and injured them, the keeper would generally no longer be attacked.
If treated appropriately, the keeper could rise to the position of group leader and make the monsters in the group obey. Once domestication succeeded, the monsters made controllable in this way were called magical beasts.
However, this modification surgery was not simple.
Implanting a Gremlin in a human body carried risks.
The first was an allergic reaction.
Some people developed symptoms resembling a magical allergy after having a Gremlin implanted in their bodies.
Their mana would stop recovering, their magic would always run wild, or their magic would fail to activate even when they chanted a spell.
Sometimes the body simply rejected the foreign object, causing the skin around the implantation site to become inflamed, throb painfully, or fester.
People with this kind of allergic constitution were unsuitable as Beast Tamers.
Fortunately, a method for testing this kind of allergy had already been established.
The Gremlin intended for implantation was submerged in the blood of the intended recipient for about twelve hours.
If the person was allergic, a coagulation reaction occurred, causing the blood components to clump together and settle. If they did not settle, there was no allergy.
Judging from the diagram of the allergy test in the documents, the sediment formed quite clearly. It was impossible to mistake it.
But even after clearing the allergy issue, implanting a Gremlin in the body came with a price.
Permanent loss of mana capacity.
After implantation, the Gremlin gradually became acclimated to the body over the course of about a week. During that time, the person's mana capacity gradually decreased while they suffered a low-grade fever.
The mana capacity lost during this process would not return even if the now-acclimated Gremlin were cut out.
The amount of mana capacity lost was equal to the mana capacity of the monster that had possessed the implanted Gremlin.
That was why implanting the Gremlin of a powerful monster was almost exclusively limited to witches and wizards.
I wondered if an ordinary person could implant the Gremlin of a powerful monster by giving up all their mana, but it wasn't that simple.
Permanent loss of mana capacity resulted in irreversible death.
If the implantation completely drained a person's mana, reducing their mana capacity to zero, they turned to dust and vanished.
No corpse remained. They disappeared from this world completely.
It was irreversible death.
Professor Ohinata had written a footnote in his own handwriting: "Magical death?"
I had heard before that, besides brain death and cardiac arrest, magic had its own concept of magical death.
Professor Ohinata understood magical death as "a state in which one has lost one's mana and can never use magic again." That wasn't entirely wrong, but it wasn't precise, either. Naturally, if someone turned to dust and vanished from the world, they could never use magic again.
The fact that there might be a means of resurrection as long as one did not turn to dust and vanish hinted at the profound possibilities of magic. But with no resurrection magic confirmed to exist, brain death, cardiac arrest, and magical death were all the same for now. Death was death.
It was a terrifying thought.
A Gremlin could be implanted anywhere, though it was usually implanted somewhere between the back of the hand and the upper arm. Since an implanted Gremlin also functioned as a medium for casting magic, it was better to place it in a convenient part of the body.
It was important to understand that even after enduring the risks and difficulties of implanting a Gremlin, one had merely reached the starting line of monster domestication――――of turning a monster into a magical beast.
Implanting a Gremlin allowed the monster to recognize the keeper as one of its own kind.
But that was all.
It was easy to understand if you thought of humans. Would you develop affection for someone you passed on the street? Would you want to obey a complete stranger? Would you trust them enough to entrust them with your safety and livelihood?
Of course not.
After implanting a Gremlin, it was essential to put in the effort and apply the necessary know-how to build a close or hierarchical relationship with the target monster.
The documents used more than half of the stack to describe, in painstaking detail, the techniques for raising the three species of magical beasts sent by the Hokkaido Monster Farm: how to establish a hierarchy, how to train them, how to arrange their stable environments, and their preferred feed, temperature, humidity, ventilation, and more.
I could only imagine how much hardship had gone into gathering all that information.
Even considering the debt they owed for the Harvest Magic and the defeat of the Kraken, it was amazing that they had been willing to share the fruits of such effort.
Because surely dozens of people—no, hundreds—had died before these documents could be completed.
How many people had turned to dust before they understood the principles of magical death?
How many people had suffered from allergic reactions?
How many people had been killed by monsters when their attempts at training failed?
When I thought about it, the stack of documents felt surprisingly heavy.
This stack of paper was made from lives. It was both a blessing and a frightening thing.
I was merely a genius wandmaker who spent my days leisurely pursuing my hobby of making wands in the countryside. Was I really allowed to opportunistically benefit from this? I felt a little guilty about it, but then I found a sticky note at the end of the documents, written in Professor Ohinata's handwriting: "The implanted Gremlin could be replaced using the melt-and-resolidify Gremlin coloring technique." That put me at ease.
It had probably been less than three days since I received the documents from the Hokkaido Monster Farm, yet the professor had already completed an applied study at breakneck speed.
It did seem possible to draw blood from a monster and make a colored Gremlin as a substitute instead of painstakingly cutting a Gremlin out of one. And apparently, the substitute really did work.
If a technique I had developed could further advance the Hokkaido Monster Farm's technology, then I had no reason to feel guilty.
They had probably been knocked flat when their offer of technology was answered with a counter-offer of even more advanced technology.
Tokyo is amazing.
After all, we had overcome trials equal to or greater than those of Hokkaido, the place known as the Land of Testing. Gahaha!
Anyway.
The Hokkaido Monster Farm's documents were wonderful from beginning to end.
Most importantly, they had arrived at exactly the right time, when I was struggling with what to do about the Fire Lizards.
Judging from the sticky notes scattered throughout the stack, my mana capacity should be enough to withstand having a Gremlin from a mid-level Otsu-1 monster implanted in me. That was remarkably good for a human, and considering that Kou-3 and above were effectively restricted to witches and wizards, I could hardly ask for more.
The Fire Lizards were Otsu-2 monsters. They were also newborns. Even with a generous margin of error, they should be around the lower end of Otsu-1, so implanting a Fire Lizard's Gremlin would not turn me to dust.
In other words, I was qualified to raise Fire Lizards!
I didn't know whether monsters increased their mana capacity as they grew, but it probably wouldn't decrease. It would be better to collect their blood and make a colored Gremlin as soon as possible, then implant it.
Once you've made up your mind, the sooner the better.
I waited until nightfall and immediately went to visit the Fire Lizards' nest.
Under the soft moonlight, the three Fire Lizards were curled up asleep in the center of the metal nest built inside the refrigerator, cuddled closely together. Goodness, they were even blowing up little nose bubbles.
They were so cute. If I had been able to take a picture, I would have...
But what I had brought today was not a camera, but a syringe.
I wanted to draw their blood painlessly, but I didn't know the structure of a Fire Lizard's body. It would hurt a little, but I hoped they would bear with me.
I silenced my footsteps, crept up to the nest, and gently inserted the needle between the scales.
Mii!?
The Fire Lizard that had been suddenly jabbed with a needle leaped up in surprise.
I quickly drew a tiny amount of blood and scurried away before the half-awake Fire Lizard could figure out what was happening.
Sorry! But if I tried to draw your blood in broad daylight, you guys would definitely breathe fire, right? A sneak attack was my only option. Please forgive me.
I returned home, repeatedly looking back to make sure the Fire Lizards were not following me, then activated the reverberatory furnace and made a melt-and-resolidify Gremlin mixed with Fire Lizard blood.
The finished Gremlin was an oval about the size of my thumbnail, and its blue color closely resembled the Blue Witch's distinctive color—the same blue as the Fire Lizards.
All I had to do now was implant it somewhere in my body and let it acclimate for a week. Then the Fire Lizards would recognize me as one of their kind, granting me the right to try raising them.
If I trained them properly and got them to live in the furnace and kiln, I would have a legendary magical workshop that forged magic items using a magical creature's fire. How incredibly cool!
If I could prove that I could train and raise them properly, surely the Blue Witch would not try to kill me.
Everything would work out perfectly.
However...
I had finished preparing for the implantation self-surgery in one corner of the workshop. I had even completed the allergy test, but when it was time to operate, I hesitated. I just couldn't bring myself to do it.
I mean, come on. Implanting this thing would reduce my mana capacity, you know?
And not just by a little. I could expect a seriously substantial decrease.
This was different from the Gremlins of the Rabbit Mutant or Tanuki Mutant. This was a Gremlin from an Otsu-2 monster. And if I ignored the circumstances of its birth, it had been made from the blood of a super-hybrid born between two witches.
Was it really safe to implant this Gremlin...? I was starting to feel that those guys were more than just Otsu-2 monsters.
What if my mana capacity dropped to zero the instant I implanted it, turning me to dust?
Even if I didn't turn to dust, my mana capacity would plummet and my abilities as a mage would decline dramatically.
I was a magic wandmaker. I had no pride invested in being a mage.
But I hated the idea of being weakened. Well, it would open up the Beast Tamer route for me instead, but... still... Hmm...
I lost my nerve at the last moment and thought it over for a while. Then I decided to put it on hold and wrote a letter to the Flame-heir Witch.
Under the pretext that "there might be a defect in the sealing mechanism," I asked her to have the Firekeeper's Wand, which contained the sealed Passing Flame Witch, sent to me for maintenance.
The Passing Flame Witch was the one who should bear the greatest responsibility for the Fire Lizards' birth. It felt bad to wake her so soon after sealing her away, but making her take responsibility seemed like the smoothest solution.
Since the Passing Flame Witch was both a fellow member of their species (?) and their mother, she seemed likely to train them without needing a Gremlin implanted in her body.
However, the reply I received from the Flame-heir Witch the very next day said, "I'm worried about my big sister, so I'll come along for the maintenance."
R-right, of course! That was bound to happen...!
I wanted to refuse.
I wanted to tell the Flame-heir Witch not to come and just send the Passing Flame Witch's wand over.
But there was no way that request would be accepted.
If a dying family member were in cold sleep and the developer of the cold-sleep machine suddenly said, "The machine might be malfunctioning," anyone would be frantic with worry.
I couldn't refuse her request to accompany the wand. It would look far too suspicious.
In fact, the Blue Witch, who had delivered my letter, had already said, "It's unusual for Dairi to make this kind of mistake," and was eyeing me suspiciously. I'd messed up.
I even considered revealing everything to the Blue Witch and the Flame-heir Witch, temporarily breaking the Passing Flame Witch's seal, and dumping the Fire Lizard problem on the three people involved.
But I couldn't possibly say, "They're your two biological children, conceived through your ignorant arson-sex. Acknowledge them," or, "Your sister lost to her libido, tricked the Blue Witch, and made these children." It was terrifying even to imagine what kind of disaster would follow.
Even if I tried to watch that disaster from outside the fray, I had grown too close to the Blue Witch. I could no longer pretend it had nothing to do with me.
I sent another letter to the Flame-heir Witch saying, "It was a misunderstanding. There's no need for maintenance," steeled myself, and implanted the Gremlin in the back of my left hand.
For a week, I ran a slight fever like I had a mild cold and stayed quietly in bed.
The Blue Witch tried to nurse me, but when I was supposed to be resting, having her talk to me about this and that, wander around my room, or sit beside me and make her presence known irritated me even more because of the low fever. I simply kicked her out.
I knew that people with normal sensibilities wanted to be nursed when they were sick. They worried when a friend fell ill and took care of them.
But I didn't want anyone nursing me. I'm socially awkward, you see.
After a week, the low fever went away, exactly as the documents had said it would.
That meant the Fire Lizards should now recognize me as one of their own.
But I didn't feel much different. The Gremlin embedded in the back of my hand felt like an oversized scab, and it was just itchy enough to bother me.
Then, after a week apart, I went to see the Fire Lizards.
The three Fire Lizards, which had been scampering around the burned area just as they had a week before, came to a complete stop when they saw me.
But unlike before, they began wagging their fire-lit tails vigorously, ran over to me, and wound themselves around my feet.
T-they took to me!
They took to me so easily!
Amazing. It was as though the common belief that monsters never became accustomed to humans was a lie.
When I poked one of their red scales with my finger, it made a little mewing sound and licked the finger that had poked it.
I nervously cupped one in my palm and lifted it, but it did not get angry at all. Its body temperature was so high that I felt I might get burned, though, so I quickly let it go.
Apparently, even that was not frightening but fun for the Fire Lizard, which now considered me one of its companions. The other two began climbing onto my hands as though they wanted me to lift them, too.
Whew. Once they saw me as one of their own, they were incredibly affectionate. What cute little things.
All right, big brother will take you to a new home, a new room.
From today on, you're members of the Dairi family. Don't think of the Passing Flame Witch as your mother. I'm not handing you over to the Blue Witch, either.
I'll take care of your food and home, so become the masters of my furnace and kiln and help me with my work.