Min-Maxing My TRPG Build in Another World - Volume 2 - Chapter 11

One Full Henderson Ver0.2

1.0 Hendersons

Little Elise felt nothing but regret. No one was going to look at her, but she had spent so long styling her hair that she had run late. Her grandmother had given her a charm to ward off wolves, but she had forgotten it at home. Everyone always stressed that she was not to wander into the deep woods surrounded by tall pines, but she had come in search of strawberries.

Had she not done these things—or rather, had one of these elements been missing—she would be at home enjoying supper with her family. With the sun long gone and the moon obscured by the towering forest, Elise had lost her way and found herself on the wrong end of dinner.

The girl stared into starving eyes and knew that she’d met her end. She’d peered into golden irises like these at play with the two dear pooches waiting for her at home, but these feral wolves had no mind to give her a friendly lick: dark joy at chancing upon such choice prey showed through in their gazes.

The pack circled her, not pouncing right away. Wolves are cautious creatures, and a mensch child sits on the larger end of their range of typical quarry. Furthermore, they knew that these small bipeds often had larger companions nearby, and those were not to be taken lightly. For wild animals without any concept of medicine, even the smallest wound could be fatal. Careful observation was key to survival.

Eventually, the beasts instinctively registered that there was no larger version of the trembling girl hiding in wait, and the girl was little threat herself. With a mark as easy as this lying in front of them, the wolves took action. Their howls rang out like cheers as one of their kind stepped forward: a large, brawny specimen.

The alpha female that led this pack’s hunts knew well that even the weakest of prey could cause serious injuries if they struggled. Thus, her modus operandi was to settle things in a single bite, leaving no time for her mark to flail about. She pounced on the girl—only to be swatted away by a golden flash cutting through the night.

The wolf slammed to the ground with a cloud of dust and rolled a handful of times before barely righting herself. She prepared to lead a chorus of howls to shoo off the invader that had interrupted her meal...until she gazed upon his empyrean beauty.

Without any forewarning, a dazzling golden wolf had shot out of the thicket. His glowing coat dispelled the dark with the harvest moon’s own radiance, and his threatening eyes were a clearer blue than a cloudless summer sky.

This lone wolf’s air of majesty stood in contrast to the alpha and her pack. The lesser canines lost their will to fight in an instant. Where intelligent races made decisions with reason, these beasts listened to their gut; it whispered in their ears that to fight here would end with their one-sided slaughter.

The great wolf’s gaze remained steadfast as the pack slowly backed away. When the individual wolves turned tail to flee, he did not give chase. He let them slink into the night and continued to stare off into the woods until he was sure they would not return.

At long last, all the lesser wolves were gone, and the divine hound turned to face Elise. Despite staring straight into his pure blue eyes, the young girl’s brain could not process what she saw into cause for fear. Her only word for this glorious, godly figure was, “Pretty...”

The creature was just too far above her. Faced with a being like this, there was no point to cowering in terror. Just taking in his magnificence took everything for a measly mensch like her. His lunar glow was nearly blinding as he took a step toward her. Between the row of swords that lined his mouth, a tongue slipped out and lapped Elise’s tears from her deep blue eyes.

Curiously, the large beast lacked the unmissable odor of a living thing. His tongue was pillowy and free of slobber, and when Elise felt it on her cheek, something inside her snapped. She reached her threshold for stimulus for the day, and quickly conked out.

How long she slept, no one knew. She simply snoozed on, enveloped in a mysterious warmth and the sweet scent of a flower she’d never smelled before. When she opened her eyes, all she could see was a delicate gold hue.

“Eek?!”

The wolf had curled himself up to protect her from the dark of night, the cold of the forest, and the menacing creatures lurking within.

When the wolf noticed Elise’s awakening, his massive frame rose to release the girl. The chill of midnight made the small girl shiver. The wolf had been warm even in the night breeze, and his departure from her side left her feeling like the whole world had abandoned her.

But the wolf did not leave. Quite the opposite: he was crouching down and peering into her eyes. He craned his neck low, as if to command her to get on.

“You’re...helping me?”

The wolf did not nod at Elise’s nervous question. His blue eyes simply glimmered. As the girl timidly mounted him, the beast rose with such grace that she hardly felt him move at all. Each step was carefully trod; this was far more comfortable than the horse she’d ridden on her father’s lap.

After a short stretch spent gently rocked by the wolf’s steady footwork, Elise realized that they were on a familiar path that she’d prayed all night to see. She’d tried and failed to find this very road for what felt like forever, and the wolf had trampled over her fate of lonesome eternity in mere minutes.

I can go home! Her damp eyes shone with joy and the legs wrapping around the wolf’s neck grew tighter. Finally, she arrived. Everyone usually would be in bed by now, but she could tell that the lights were still on.

“That’s my house! I’m home! I can’t believe it!”

The great wolf lowered its head once more to stand Elise on the ground, and then quietly backed away. The girl’s voice caused the front door to burst open. It was her father; judging from his unchanged clothes and the burnt torch in his hands, he must have just returned from searching for her. After her father came her mother, and even her hobbling grandmother ran out of the house at a terrific speed.

“Oh, Elise!”

“Thank the gods! Oh, thank you so much!”

“Elise, sweetheart! Are you okay?! Is it really you?!”

Scooped up in her parents’ arms, Elise turned to show them the big wolf that had brought her home. Yet when she turned around, all she saw was a faint afterglow of gold evaporating into the night.

[Tips] There are many wolves in the Trialist Empire’s expansive territory; most have gray or black fur.

“Ah, you ran into the Schutzwolfe.”

“Schutzwolfe?”

After days of lecturing from her parents and the local townspeople that had helped search for her, Elise finally found a chance to tell her grandmother what had happened. Even now, she couldn’t help but wonder what that majestic wolf had been.

He was so big that the other wolves looked like puppies in comparison, and he looked positively divine. Elise had never heard of a wolf like that, but she thought that maybe her grandmother did. After all, her grandmother knew all sorts of things—and as it turned out, this was no exception.

“That’s right. He’s an old alf; he may have many names, but that’s the one we know him by. Stories about him have been passed down around here for generations. He’s a kind fairy that helps lost children, travelers, and adventurers; all of us have cause to be grateful for him, one way or another.”

“He’s an alf? But I thought he was a wolf.”

“He’s an alf, all right. The other alfar are the ones that bring him to us. I remember he saved your old grandfather—bless his heart—when he was just four years old. Back then, I remember he told me that the wolf came with a cute little girl as dark as the night. I bet the fairies called for him to save you because you’re a good girl, sweetheart.” The woman ran a gentle hand through her granddaughter’s wheat-blonde hair.

“Schutzwolfe...” Elise thought back on her savior. “He was really really big, and glowed like the moon.”

“Is that so? You know, now that he’s saved you, it won’t do unless we pay our respects. Let’s find some ice candy to offer him at the festival this fall.”

“Ice candy?”

“That’s right. The Schutzwolfe loves ice candy.”

“But he’s a wolf,” the girl said, perplexed.

“Well,” her grandmother said through chuckles, “maybe he likes sweets.”

“That’s weird.”

Despite thinking that it was very strange for a wolf to eat candy, little Elise swore that she would save up her allowance to buy ice candy to bring into the woods.

[Tips] The Schutzwolfe, aka the Moonlit Wolf, is a widely known folktale in the western reach of the empire. As of late, investigators in the field have confirmed its basis in actual alfish influence in the region. Usually appearing in forests bordering rural cantons, it is most famous for delivering lost travelers to homes and familiar paths. Legend has it that its fur glows with all the beauty of the Night Goddess’s physical form, and there was once a period where swaths of adventurers rushed into the forests of Rhine in search of its pelt. However, none of them have ever returned, and nowadays there are none who dare to hunt the golden beast.

The hill was peculiar. Its gentle slope gave full view of the sun and moon as their lights converged on the horizon. Even more strangely, both celestial bodies refused to set no matter how long I stared, blanketing the world in an infinite twilight. Bathed in the gentle hue of everlasting uncertainty, I took my usual seat at the base of a gargantuan tree. And, as always, I began to groom myself.

Now then, where had my life gone so wrong?

The first mistake had to have been that I’d let my pragmatic greed drive me to choose these eyes over those lips. The second was probably when I’d accepted that pitiful girl’s will and it backfired in my face. These two incidents combined had given me far too much from the alfar, and I’d turned out like this before I could notice.

I am the fey wolf dancing on this twilight hill.

The mensch boy born to some canton or another was gone. All that remained was me, and I was unaware of how many years it had been since I’d become an alf.

I hadn’t been able to understand this as a mensch, but the alfish way of life is, incredibly, more obnoxious than I’d imagined. Unable to resist the impulses carved into my soul, I’d become an entity that acted without thought.

Perhaps that was why I couldn’t resist saving helpless children in the forest. My brethren constantly scolded me for doing too much as they danced the eons away, but I couldn’t help myself. Whether it was a wayward little adventure, a berry hunt gone wrong, or a cruel parent leaving their child to wander for all of time, I couldn’t bring myself to abandon them.

A lingering fragment of a forgotten dream caused me to lend a hand to adventurers too. The great alfar lectured me all the time, and I had every intention to change, but...I just couldn’t.

“What’s clouding your mind?”

As I blankly stared at my dancing compatriots on the hill, Ursula jumped onto my belly. Even as I watched one of the major architects of this fate merrily nuzzle my fur, no emotion welled up. When I’d first woken up like this, I’d chased her around a fair bit, but at this point I realized that my own idiocy was a serious contributing factor. Thinking back, those days felt like a distant memory.

“Nothing,” I replied. “I was reminiscing.”

“Truly? Was your past really something worth recalling so fondly? I’d say that you’re quite well suited to this form.”

I bet I am. After all, I’d been this way for centuries.

In the time since I turned into an alf, the Trialist Empire had not changed much. A handful of wars and internal conflicts shook the nation, but it overcame its challenges to remain a major player on the world stage as it expanded its borders. The affairs of mortals went on and on, but rarely shifted meaningfully. Now and again I would spot an unfamiliar farm tool or a newly constructed spell, but people are ever people—for better or for worse.

Left behind by their unchanging ways, I shed the shell of a mensch boy to simply become me. I could no longer wrap my mind around the humanity needed to feel sad about this. Even when my thoughts wandered to my father, mother, or childhood friend, all I could feel was a passing loneliness.

At this point, I could no longer recall their names. All that remained were the colors of their hair, gentle voices, and warm hands. The only relic was the pink charm that dangled from my ear.

Can you blame me? I couldn’t even remember who I had been.

I huffed to clear my head of desolate notions when a breeze rolled across the twilight hill and caused my earring to jingle.

“Oh dear,” Ursula said, “it looks like she’s back again.”

My memento only rang when a certain visitor approached. She was someone that had most likely been very dear to me, and she always appeared with the same lunar glow that I did. Every time, she would come to try and peel me away from me, wielding a terrifying sword to boot—a dreadful blade that was as nostalgic as it was horrific.

Having done my work for the day, I did not want to see her. Part of it was the fact that I feared her skill, but the chief reason was that her gaze made my heart stir. Whenever we locked eyes, an awful fear would wash over me; an insatiable urge to rip anything silver, green, or blue to shreds washed over me.

Wait, haven’t I already done that? Or did I fail to? No, did I?

No amount of thought could give me an answer, so I chose to run away from my nostalgic visitor.

“Schutzwolfe” is an alf that saves people. My feet leap through space and time to bring me to those who have lost their way home. And tonight, these legs took me to trample over a wandering soul’s despair.

“Whoa?! Wh-What the—a monster?! Why’d I even come to another world if I’m just gonna run into monsters all day?!”

I danced out into the pleasant moonlight of an unknown forest. The man I came across wore a full set of black clothing that, curiously, tickled at a lost sense of homesickness.

[Tips] He who has lost his name and place still exists to serve his purpose. The intent behind the bodhisattva’s choice will remain firm no matter how severely he changes.

Few as they may be, there are those who strike others with fear by virtue of existing. Royalty demand submission by their presence alone; the most infamous knights prevent crime by merely strolling around on their steeds.

Similarly, there are those who command so much power that facing them is enough to know that victory against them is impossible. One such specimen stood in a sea of blood.

A mountain of corpses lay in the wake of the single blade that had cut them down, and the pitiful survivors fruitlessly clutched at arms, legs, and the precious innards that spilled from their wounds.

The lone swordswoman continued to paint the scene red. Despite sailing in an ocean of crimson, not a single drop had landed on her person. It was as if she was herself a blade: tall and slim, her well-trained body had no weakness. Although she was on the thinner side, there was no hint of fragility to be seen in her.

Her leather armor was far past broken in, and the visible patches of repair betrayed a long history of battle. Her countless scars were far from ugly; the proof of her experience was beautiful to the point of horror.

What drew the most attention, however, was her arming sword. The pattern-welded design was antique; the handle and guard had gone through generations of replacements, but the blade itself had swung true for ages. One look was enough to know it was no decoration.

“Eep! Augh, ahh...” Tens of seconds were enough to reduce a person to lifeless flesh, but one fortunate soul had been outside the warrior’s reach. With legs too weak to stand, he writhed around in the dirt.

The man knew—he knew this swordswoman standing in the sea of chaos. In these parts, she was the strongest there was.

Ye who doth wrong others, live in fear. The day ever comes when thine debts art collected. So spoke the poets when they honored the long-told saga of this monster.

A gust of wind carried the smell of death as it blew open the hood of her overcoat. Her hair fluttered and a polarizing sweetness drifted on the breeze. Golden locks flowed around the permanent wrinkle in her brow and tapered off past her amber eyes. Her stunning looks had long been locked into a solemn grimace. Should she ever smile, the whole world would move to protect her; yet none had ever seen the frown leave her face.

The warrior’s name was Elisa. Although she introduced herself as Elisa of Konigstuhl, the adventurer was better known by other names: the Final Judge, Bandit Killer, Guardian of Babes, the Blademaster, Princess of the Red Sea, and—most famous of all—Elisa, the Alfslayer.

The men who’d been hiding away in the brush to attack a passing caravan cried at their misfortune. They had heard the tales, and the Elisa of sagas knew no mercy. When she passed judgment on thieves, her sentence was always absolute. Every efficient swing of her sword lopped off another head.

One of the survivors abandoned his weapon and knelt down, begging for forgiveness. Another turned and ran as fast as he could. Another still played to her sympathy and swore to never harm anyone again.

Alas, none would live to see the next dawn.

[Tips] Elisa the Alfslayer is a changeling adventurer-cum-magus famous in the remote parts of the empire. Known especially for saving cantons plagued by mischievous fairies, she is honored for her centuries of work and unsparing attitude against those who do wrong.

The oral tradition’s account of the wandering Alfslayer is at times a rural parent’s only hope to see their child return after being spirited away.

Golden light tore through the woods like a violent tempest. Clad in moonlit fur, the massive wolf swam through the gaps in the trees. Despite his canine features, it was clear at a glance that the beast was in distress as he sprinted at top speed—fast enough to leave even the best warhorse in the dust.

“Hey?! Whoa?! Listen to me!” However, while his speed was impressive, the man on his back could scarcely hold on. It went without saying that the wolf wore no saddle, and the man struggled to find anything to grip.

“Shut up or you’ll bite your tongue!” In spite of his dog-mouth, Schutzwolfe deftly roared away his partner’s worries as he told him to can it. Perhaps the wolf had gotten careless. After bumping into this man who reminded him of home, he’d followed him around for a time.

According to the man, he had come from a different world, and had become an adventurer on his quest to find a way home. Schutzwolfe had established a contract of partnership with him on a whim, and the two had gone on a handful of adventures together.

Truthfully, the beast of legend thought that the man’s only saving grace was his unfettered sincerity. Even after weathering the dangers of battle, his pitiful endurance showed no signs of improving, and seeing others take advantage of his bleeding heart wherever they went was downright painful. Still, the man was strong of will when it mattered most, and Schutzwolfe’s urge to protect meant he couldn’t bring himself to leave him be.

Following the man around for some time, he’d grown complacent...until his lifelong foe finally caught up to them.

“Why, hng, are we running?! She looked, ugh, like a normal adventurer!”

“Just shut up for a second! I need to focus!”

“Can you at least tell me why we’re—whoa?!”

With how fast the branches were whizzing by, the trees might as well have been punching at them, and it took everything the man had to dodge. Usually, his partner ran at a more manageable speed; tonight, consideration had been thrown out the window, and he had no idea why.

He would soon find out. Up ahead, dozens of trees all fell at once, cutting off their path—and then they fell on top of them.

“Tsk, she always has to make a mess!”

“What?! What just happened?!”

The massive wolf dexterously avoided the falling timber with a perfectly rhythmic turn to mitigate any loss of speed. Dodging the trees, he prepared to leap back onto the path from which they came—but his opponent would not let that opening go easily.

A shadow danced in the canopy; suddenly, it leaped down. Her blade held high, ready to commit to a strike with the full force of her fall, the warrior dropped on them. Based on their positions and trajectories, the wolf would not be able to dodge.

Schutzwolfe quickly cast a defensive spell, seven layers deep. With each layer capable of stopping siege cannons, using this many for a sword was an embarrassing level of overkill. At least, it would have been against anyone else wielding any other blade.

The shrill sound of shattering glass accompanied the destruction of all seven of the wolf’s barriers. Although she was on the taller end, the warrior was still a mere mensch. The comparably tiny attacker had sliced through his defenses like butter.

Her weapon was no ordinary blade. What once had been nothing more than a well-built sword had morphed over its long history of culling immortal concepts. Enchanted by the tale of its travels, the sword was now a mystic blade, peerless in its niche. Known in lore as Dreambreaker, the woman’s blade existed to destroy magic. Its effect on the alf’s spell was immediately apparent.

Naturally, the atypical sword belonged to an atypical wielder. The absurdity of felling dozens of trees with a single strike needs no explanation, and the physique required to hop to another tree before they collapsed is inexplicable.

“Hrgh...” Schutzwolfe had succeeded in dulling the impact of her strike, and the warrior’s fatal blow had been reduced to a light graze. Injured as he was, the wolf was far from death and instantly took off again at full speed.

The woman landed and swung again at the fleeing beast without hesitation. Her attack just barely missed, but the blademaster showed no sign of anger or panic as she gave chase.

The game of tag between beast and mensch continued for what felt like an eternity. The rally of slashes and spells tore down tree after tree, but neither could be bothered to care about the critters that called this forest home.

Still, the two combatants remained perpetually calm. Every attack so far had been a feint to search for a better opportunity to strike. The two masters clashed in an arena of the mind, carefully watching to find their chance for a fatal—or at least, debilitating—blow.

Yet as skilled as they were...there was one other present on the scene.

“Oh.” Three asinine voices rang out in unison.

The great wolf’s partner in crime had lost his grip at the worst possible time. Fur slipped through the man’s fingers and he flew off...just as Schutzwolfe had leapt over a gorge.

Already soaring at top speed, Schutzwolfe would not make it in time to save his partner. All he could do was curse his inability to turn on a dime and watch the man fall.

Meanwhile, the swordswoman who had caused this whole situation hesitated for but a moment...

[Tips] Dreambreaker is the famous blade carried by a folk hero. After cutting down an immeasurable number of monsters and fairies of all kinds, the sword itself came to be infused with magical power.

The visitor from another world had recently gained some semblance of notoriety in this region. Known by some as the Wolf Tamer and the Do-Gooder by others, he now asked himself the same question for the umpteenth time today: How did it end up like this?

He was sitting next to a river in a ravine, and he knew very well why he was still breathing at all. The blonde swordswoman drying her clothes by their makeshift bonfire had saved him.

He was happy that she’d managed to keep him alive. The fact that she’d held him by the back and legs (something he knew as a “princess carry”) hurt his pride a bit, but that was fine too. He wasn’t exactly excited that she’d missed the landing and caused the two of them to fall all the way down the canyon into the river below, but he wasn’t upset either—everyone makes mistakes.

What absolutely boggled his mind was the fact that the woman who’d saved his life then immediately turned around and asked him for help by telling him that she was so bad at starting fires that she might die.

In the end, the man hurried to make a bonfire so the two of them could dry off their clothes. Thankfully, it was still summer and they had little risk of freezing to death, but the mountains were unbearably cold at night.

What followed was a flood of complaints that showed that the warrior had exactly zero ability to care for herself. She was thirsty, she was hungry, she couldn’t take off her armor... It was as if the woman had grown up a sheltered noble with no concept of doing her own tasks. Still, the man owed her his life, so he dutifully worked to repay her.

After finally managing to finish up everything he needed to do...the total silence began to unsettle him.

“Um...”

“Yes?”

As he watched the woman sip on a cup of red tea he’d pulled out of his knapsack, he finally reached his limit and raised his voice. She responded without bothering to look up. Although she was the most beautiful person he’d ever laid eyes on, her toddler-like attitude left him at a loss for how to proceed.

When he asked for her name, she curtly said, “Elisa.” Afterward, he continued to slowly build something akin to a conversation. Once introductions were out of the way, he managed to learn that she was an adventurer, just like him—except for the fact that she was far more experienced. Learning this, the man’s doubts could no longer be held back.

“Why is a splendid adventurer like you hunting Schutzwolfe?”

Elisa fell silent and looked as though she were contemplating something. She was probably wondering whether she ought to tell him or not. After a moment, she abruptly began to tell her story, as interspersed with awkward pauses as it was.

Hers was the tale of a brother named Erich and a sister named Elisa. The brother pushed himself so far to win a good life for his sister that he lost his place as a mensch. He fell into the alfar’s trap: they wanted to whisk him away to their twilight hill to keep him forever.

By the time the weak sister had grown up to be a full-fledged magus, it was too late. She had spent day in and day out trying to anchor her brother’s muddied psyche in place, using everything and everyone at her disposal, but she failed.

At long last, the brother truly became an alf and vanished, abandoning those who loved him: his family, his friends, and the sister he’d sworn to protect.

“I’ve been chasing him all this time to win back my brother,” Elisa concluded.

“And that’s...my partner.”

“Exactly.”

Long after the brother had lost himself in fey life, the sister continued to give chase. She swore to one day tear off the bewitching pelt that bound him. When she did, they would live happily together again.

Though everyone they knew had long since been washed away by the torrent of time, the changeling Elisa remained. She continued to roam the land, chasing rumors of fairy activity. At times she saved children that had been spirited away, and at others, she slayed alfar troublemakers.

On finishing her long monologue full of stops and stutters, Elisa had fallen asleep with her cup still in hand. The man looked at her and realized that he was just as tired. All the drama of the day had left him unable to keep up, and he felt like his brain was about to overheat.

Just as he began to nod off, he suddenly jolted himself awake...only to find himself somewhere completely different: he was on his trusty partner’s back.

“Good morning,” Schutzwolfe said.

“Huh? Wait, what?! What happened?!”

“Calm down. I asked a fairy to put you two to sleep. Just so you know, she had a strong anti-alf incense on her, so it was really hard to come get you, and she’s too clever to put to sleep all at once. We had to slowly ramp up the spell for it to work.”

“That’s not the problem!” Seeing his partner speak so matter-of-factly, the man raised his voice. He went on to ask, “Is this all right with you? Your sister’s been searching for you this whole time—are you really okay with running? Don’t you want to go back?”

“Who knows.”

For what may have been the first time since they’d met, Schutzwolfe did not answer in certain terms. He made it clear that their conversation was over.

Perhaps there was some sort of nuance that only an alf could understand. The man unsuccessfully attempted to sympathize with the immortality of fey life, and had no choice but to bite his tongue. Yet in his heart, he swore an oath: One day, I’ll lead these two to a happy ending.

[Tips] At times, mortals metamorphose into inhuman entities. The vast majority of these cases are irreversible.