Kumo Desu ga, Nani ka? (LN) - Volume 8 - Chapter 4.2

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THE OGRE WORN DOWN

I consume MP to create a new katana.

I need to replace the one that I instinctively threw when the old mage put a hole in my head.

One of Weapon Creation’s greatest strengths is that even if I lose one of my weapons, I can re-create it as long as I have enough time and MP.

Before long, I’m swinging a brand-new sword.

My other hand releases the Appraisal Stone I used to check out my results.

The stone normally hangs around my neck on a string.

This is the same Appraisal Stone that man used in the past, so working it myself makes me sick to my stomach.

But having an Appraisal Stone is useful to examine the abilities of a weapon I’ve made with Weapon Creation, so I have no choice but to carry it around.

My Appraisal confirms that the newly made katana has the same lightning properties as the old one.

In fact, because I used even more MP, it’s actually better than before.

And while the old katana felt a little small in the hands of an Ogre King, this one is a perfect fit.

It’s not that the sword got bigger. It’s my body that got smaller.

After I turned the tables on the group that tried to ambush me in this village, my level went up and I was able to evolve again.

I’d thought that Ogre King was the end of the evolutionary line, so I was surprised to find there was another option.

This evolution is called an oni.

When I evolved into an oni, my body shrank from the giant size of an Ogre King to the size of a regular human.

Though I’m definitely smaller than I was as an Ogre King, I’m still pretty tall and muscular for a human.

I’m also the right size to wear human clothes, so I borrowed some of the clothes I found in this abandoned village.

I would have preferred not to wear clothes that belonged to these people, but the cold was too harsh on my bare skin.

When I gave in and put on clothes, I found that I looked more or less like an ordinary person.

As I was rummaging through the clothes left here, I realized that the uniform worn by most of the villagers was the same as the clothes worn by the soldiers led by that formidable elderly duo.

It must be the official outfit of whatever nation controls this area.

Not that this information makes much of a difference to me.

Whether the wearers of these uniforms were acting on some official duty or not, it wouldn’t change my actions.

Not in the past and most likely not in the future, either.

Even if I could go back in time, I would probably repeat the same events that happened in this village.

Not that there’s any point in a hypothetical like that.

At any rate, I’m now an oni, not a goblin.

But there was something even more surprising about my transformation than the change in size.

I glance again at my face reflected in the katana I just made.

I can see the same face I had in my old life.

The only major difference being the two horns growing from my forehead.

I don’t know why I have my old face now, when I never did before.

Maybe there’s no particular reason.

But when I saw that face looking back at me, I fell into a daze.

…What have I been doing?

Fighting, killing, then fighting and killing some more…

It’s not as though my actions in my old life were always completely righteous.

I might have thought they were at the time, but in reality, I often solved my problems with violence.

Still, a far cry from my current life of bloodthirsty killing.

Things didn’t always go my way, but I never found myself in a kill-or-be-killed situation.

When I saw my old face reflected back at me, it made me painfully aware of that difference.

“Sasajima!”

Or maybe it was hearing my old name that reminded me.

There was one tiny girl among the group that was lying in wait for me in this village.

And she called out my name.

From my old world.

But I must have just misheard her amid the chaos of the battle.

An unfamiliar girl wouldn’t know that name, and even if she did for some reason, she would have no way of recognizing who I was when I was in ogre form.

But even if I did mishear it, the sound of my old name has brought back memories of my old life and sent me spiraling into depression.

At the same time, half of my consciousness is perpetually consumed by a smoldering rage.

Even now, my rational thoughts are tainted by violent impulses.

Now that I’ve wiped out all the enemies who were in front of me, my body is obeying my orders, at least.

I guess it’s calmed down now that there are no immediate enemies.

The black-clad figure who lured me here was probably among the group I defeated.

To be honest, I was only half-aware of myself while I was in battle, so I don’t entirely remember who I killed or how.

That girl who called out my name might have even been a hallucination.

As long as my sense of reason was still at least somewhat functional, I’m sure I would have hesitated to cut down such a small child.

Unfortunately, I lose all sense of reason in battle, so I doubt I was able to hold back.

If the same thing was to happen in my current, calm state, would I be able to respond properly?

…I don’t know.

If a battle broke out, my sense of reason would probably burn away, and even in my right mind, I might still cut that little girl down for all I know.

I should find that frightening, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t care.

I’m not as reluctant to kill people as I used to be.

In fact, part of me even derives a dark pleasure from it.

The swirling rage within me wants me to kill.

Yet, the more I kill, the more the rage deepens and the more violently it burns.

If I keep on fighting, keep on killing, then soon I’ll be fully consumed by rage.

Of that I have no doubt.

Unless I die before then, that is.

There are humans out there who are stronger than me, like that old mage who almost killed me.

I’m sure the time will eventually come that one of them kills me.

Will I lose my mind to madness and rage?

Or will I be killed before that happens?

Neither option is a particularly good way to go.

If I want to avoid being killed, I have to come up with more counterstrategies or simply get stronger.

I list some vocabulary words in my head.

Instantaneous movement. Teleport. Warp. Spatial Magic.

There it is!

This must be the teleporting skill that old mage was using.

Absorbing the enemy’s tactics is undoubtedly one of the fastest ways to get stronger.

If I find it difficult to deal with, I’m sure my enemies will find it difficult as well.

I acquire the Spatial Magic skill without hesitation.

It costs more skill points than anything I’ve picked up before, but I think that proves just how valuable this skill must be.

Still, it seems this Spatial Magic skill won’t be very useful until its skill level is higher.

I could put some of my remaining skill points into it to raise the skill level, but it might be better to save those and train it normally.

Raising my skill level a little bit probably won’t be enough to let me use Teleport like that old mage.

Just then, a thought occurs to me.

Do I really need to fight at all?

…No, I don’t.

The person I needed to fight, to kill, is already dead.

The only times I’ve kept fighting were when those adventurers attacked me or when I let my rage take over and went on a rampage.

There’s no reason whatsoever for me to deliberately go looking for a fight.

If I didn’t even realize something so simple, my tunnel vision must have gotten worse than I realized.

Although it’s probably because my rage makes it difficult to make rational decisions.

If I keep fighting like this, I’ll either be killed or lose my mind.

Then why do I need to fight at all?

Fortunately, through all the battles I’ve had so far, I’ve become relatively strong.

I’m sure I could seclude myself in the mountains and live by hunting and eating the monsters there.

That’s how the goblins lived in my hometown, so there’s no reason I can’t do the same.

Oh, I know. That’s it.

I’ll go back to the goblin village.

There’s no one left there anymore, but it’s the only place I can go home to.

I’m sure no humans will bother me there.

Why don’t I just go back to that village and live in peace?

This seems like the most natural course of action. Why did I never realize it before?

No, I’m sure I had already realized it somewhere deep down.

I just wanted to go somewhere I could expend all this rage.

Or maybe I was hoping to avoid my inevitable return to that village as long as I could.

I was so sure that I no longer had the right to call myself a goblin. I even used the Naming skill to change my name.

Although part of the reason was to overwrite the name that horrible man gave me.

Still, I could have changed it back to my old name. The reason I didn’t was that I felt I’d tarnished it, that I could no longer use it.

So I guess deep down I thought I didn’t have the right to go back to that village anymore, either.

To be honest, I still feel that way now.

But another feeling has overtaken that: exhaustion.

I’m absolutely spent. It’s time to stop being stubborn and rest.

The other part of me, the half that’s being controlled by anger, screams that it hasn’t had enough fighting yet.

But that just makes me all the more determined.

I have to go back to my home village.

If I don’t do it now, while I still have my sanity, then I’ll never be able to go back again.

There’s no time like the present, then.

I know being here in this village will be good for nothing but stoking my rage even more.

This village is abandoned now, except for me.

I’m here in this horrible, half-destroyed house.

It’s the exact place I should want to avoid, but perhaps because of all the time I spent here, my feet just naturally guided me right through the door.

I was forced to make magic swords in this house.

Day after day, as my rage and hatred built up inside me.

I don’t have a single good memory of this home or this village.

Just being here dredges up unpleasant memories that eat away at my sanity.

I need to get out of here as soon as possible.

Leaving the house, I find the sky covered in dense clouds, like an omen of doom.

My mood darkens even further, but I still start moving forward.

To the Mystic Mountains. To the goblin village.

Home.

As the air gets colder with every step, I abruptly stop in place.

Huh?

Where was I going, again?