Your Majesty, Dinner Is Ready. Chapter 183 - My Butt Is Already Itching to Get Moving

Chapter 183 – My Butt Is Already Itching to Get Moving

 

I activated [Transformation].

Shrrrk.

The appearance was that of a Jewel Elf. The personality was serious. The primary weapons were a hammer and a chisel. The class was Artisan.

A person who had never actually existed… created solely from the depths of my imagination.

[Congratulations — [Transformation] has reached the Fourth Tier!]

“Another success.”

The growth condition for [Transformation] was transforming into a fictional lifeform that had never truly existed.

Doing it once wasn’t enough. It required accumulating dozens of successful transformations, making it surprisingly difficult.

Thankfully, thanks to the triple growth-speed buff from [Corrupted Mark of Trials], I was raising its Tier much faster than normal.

“This appearance is wonderful too.”

The Moonlight Expedition’s lounge.

Pendrick, who had been watching my training beside me, smiled brightly.

I elegantly bowed.

“Thank you, Big Brother Pendrick.”

“…Ah. This time your setting is that I’m older than you?”

“A fifteen-year-old Jewel Elf. By elf standards… that’s practically an infant.”

“Your Cultist Mysteries always end up being a little disappointing somehow!”

Astrimia wiggled her blade as she spoke.

“It’s not enough to simply transform into someone who doesn’t exist… you have to invent detailed personal information and an entire life history, as though they were a real person! I know Growth-type Mysteries are supposed to be difficult to advance, but this is far too hard!”

“That’s precisely why it’s wonderful.”

Returning to my original appearance, I collapsed onto the bed.

I’d concentrated quite intensely on training.

Although reaching Level 5 had dramatically improved my Mysteries’ efficiency, my Mental Strength which had finally become a bit more comfortable was now beginning to run dry.

Lying on the bed, I gazed up at the cute moon character painted on the ceiling as I continued.

“So. Did you find anyone you liked?”

Today’s training session for [Transformation] had also been a showcase of fictional identities for Pendrick. We needed a disguise for the [Mask of Caprice] that the Demon King had completed.

Since he couldn’t decide on one by himself, he’d asked for my help.

“What did you think of the Jewel Elf insane artist who petrifies people and turns them into sculpting materials?”

“Mmm. Not bad… but it feels slightly lacking.”

“Don’t be polite. Just say it’s bad!”

“You’re so mean. Lady Astrimia only hates me.”

“Hate you? I simply think you’re a strange person!”

Pendrick gently stroked the blade he beloved, whose beautiful voice was saying such cruel things, before speaking to me.

“I’d prefer someone a little more ordinary.”

“In that case… What about an Academy student with infinite magical power… or a tentacle mage obsessed with masks while suffering from every mental illness imaginable?”

“Which part of that is ordinary…?”

“Captain. Considering the rules of [Final Stand]… I think my disguise should probably still be a swordsman.”

The super-genius swordsman smiled broadly.

“After all… Whoever ends up occupying my body will have to use Asmi.”

“That’s certainly true.”

Pendrick’s Trait, [Master of the Sword], combined with the Raging Gale Swordsmanship he’d learned from Brunelda, was practically unmatched among peers.

Even if someone who’d never held a sword before ended up controlling the body of a super-genius swordsman, they’d still be more than capable of fulfilling the role of a frontline fighter.

“However… There may be situations where Lady Astrimia can’t be used.”

“Huh? Why?”

“…I understand what you mean. We should prepare for that!”

“What do you mean, Asmi?”

“Just focus on training and fighting!”

“Why are you getting angry…?”

Watching Astrimia comfort Pendrick, who pretended to be sulking, I finally spoke.

“This time… I’ll create a swordsman. After I rest a little longer.”

Once I’d recovered enough Mental Strength, I began creating another fictional identity with [Transformation].

A swan Birdfolk who cut off the faces of anyone who praised his appearance, hanging them all inside his robe.

A praying mantis Insectfolk obsessed with iaijutsu, who would calmly surrender his life if his draw attack ever failed.

And countless other characters besides. None of them was entirely original.

I’d borrowed concepts from other players I’d seen on the Nightmare Dungeon community forums.

[Your creativity is as outstanding as your shattered mind! The Wise One is pleased as well!]

At times like these, being different from everyone else truly was a blessing.

Since my heart lacked any concept of guilt, I could shamelessly commit outright homage with complete confidence.

“Oh. These are all good.”

“Some of them are incredibly ‘Sir Karr,’ but honestly, several are genuinely excellent!”

The customer was satisfied. Everyone won.

“How about this one?”

Once again, I transformed.

A Red Orc. Well-developed muscles. A personality selfish enough to do anything for his own growth, though surprisingly moderate when it came to battle itself.

“Well?”

Standing proudly with both hands on my hips, I declared,

“I am a swordsman who wishes to die in glorious battle. I despise every other kind of death. If my life is endangered outside of combat… I’ll throw away my honor and flee without shame. So long as I can die in battle… I don’t care if my opponent resorts to underhanded tricks!”

A battle fanatic. A fairly common sort among warriors.

Though his belief that anything was acceptable so long as he could die in combat was somewhat extreme.

This wasn’t an homage. He was… someone who had almost existed.

“My name… is Ymir.”

I had borrowed the build and personality I’d planned to use for Ymir, the eldest child of House Lee, the Orc who’d been tragically discovered frozen into mineral form within Bloodbird Banquet Hall.

Since the real Ymir had already died, I supposed he no longer counted as an existing person.

“…I don’t think so.”

Even Pendrick, that walking embodiment of positivity, rejected the idea.

A thoroughly unexpected refusal.

“With such an outstanding character setting? hy?”

“I don’t dislike fighting… But I don’t want to die while fighting.”

“I see. In that case… Though it’s a bit clichéd… I’ll change him into an Orc who simply pursues honorable combat. To do that… I’ll have to make his skin gray.”

Red Orcs were generally hot-blooded.

Gray Orcs, on the other hand, regarded battle itself as sacred.

The distinction was small, yet significant.

“A Gray Orc who pursues honorable combat and always fights fairly… I like this one! He’s not too unusual, and feels like someone who could exist anywhere!”

Astrimia gave such a positive reaction that, had my lord been nearby, He surely would’ve smiled with satisfaction.

And if the beautiful sword approved, Pendrick naturally had little choice but to follow her opinion.

“Then… Let’s go with this appearance.”

Pendrick held the Mask of Caprice in both hands. The disguise tool the Demon King had completed, engraving dizzyingly complicated inscriptions across it in elegant script.

Its range of transformations had become vastly greater, and when worn, the mask itself became invisible to everyone else.

Crack…!

The moment the super-genius swordsman put it on, his muscles and bones twisted, his physique changing dramatically.

His skin turned gray. His body became roughly one and a half times larger.

Riiip.

Unfortunately, it lacked the convenient ability to transform clothing as well. His clothes tore apart.

Crackle!

The Exalted One cried out in horror, begging fashionable people to please reserve becoming naked for their original forms.

Now transformed into a Gray Orc, Pendrick scratched the back of his head.

“Oh dear. I forgot.”

“…Sigh. Still, there’s absolutely no sense of awkwardness. I really like this appearance!”

“I like it too!”

“That’s good. Shall I give you a name as well?”

“Yes! Please come up with something cool, Captain!”

I’d already thought of one.

“How about… Dmirik.”

A fitting blend of Pendrick and Ymir.

In truth, both the appearance and personality had already drifted far from House Lee’s eldest son. Still, one ought to respect the original inspiration.

“Dmirik. What a wonderful name!”

Showing his usual bright smile… now upon an Orc’s face… Pendrick bowed slightly.

“Then… I’ll head over to the training hall. Don’t push yourself too hard. Take plenty of breaks.

“Sir Pendrick, That appearance suits a heavier tone of voice.”

“…We’re only around each other. Isn’t changing your speech too much?”

“If I intend to perform true method acting… I need to become someone else even in everyday life.”

“Pendrick, let’s go already.”

Urged onward by the beautiful sword, the super-genius swordsman promptly left the lounge.

Left alone, I continued using [Transformation] while taking occasional breaks.

Eventually…

[Moderate Congratulations — [Transformation] has reached the Fifth Tier!]

At last, I’d reached the Fifth Tier… the point where Growth-type Mysteries underwent a dramatic increase in power.

For [Transformation], its performance improved enormously, and it gained an entirely new effect.

I placed a hand upon the bed.

Shrrr…

The bed instantly changed shape. Becoming a large man, curling up shyly.

 

[Fifth Tier Mystery — Transformation]

[Transformations now alter the target’s essence and true nature rather than merely its appearance. In addition, you may now alter the form of objects that are not being worn or carried.]

 

Truly worthy of the Fifth Tier.

Since the transformation had now changed one’s very essence, there would no longer be even the slightest sense of incongruity, no matter whom I became.

Furthermore, I could now transform objects as well.

“Truthy. How do you think I should use this to completely turn the Grand Interracial Unity Festival upside down?”

[Don’t ask me when you already know better….]

“You think too highly of me.”

To confess a shocking truth… I wasn’t a genius.

I was merely an ordinary person who didn’t mind effort. When even relentless repetition failed to produce a perfect answer, I couldn’t be completely certain.

This tournament in District 5 was one such case.

“Sir Jerix’s schemes run far too deep… for a mere cultist like me to fully grasp.”

The Invincible Jerix. History’s strongest goblin.

His body and mind were both invincible. Petty tricks simply wouldn’t work against him.

No matter how clever a strategy I devised, he would see through all of it, then exploit the opening in return and corner me instead.

Therefore… Unlike during the Guild War, this time, I had no intention of deciding upon a fixed course of action.

“Okail.”

Smiling like a proper cultist, I gently touched the chain tattoo on my right thigh.

“As You desire… I intend to set aside any specific objective… and simply act on impulse, wherever my heart leads me.”

Only one thing had already been decided: To thwart the Whisperer’s schemes.

Everything else, I would entrust to chaos and disorder.

“What do You think… of this devious little plot of mine?”

Clank!

The reply came immediately.

‘Concept approved.’

He was pleased merely by the idea. So was I.

My butt was already itching with excitement. I couldn’t sit still any longer.

So I immediately decided to act on the idea that had just occurred to me.

“I wonder what he’s doing…”

Taking out a Magic Tower communication device from my subspace, I carefully entered the number.

— “The Book Devouring Magic Tower is always with the citizens of Pletica!”

After a brief promotional ringtone, the other party answered.

— What is it, my friend?

“Have you been well, my friend Pierre?”

Pierre. The third child of House Lee.

“How goes your takeover of the Hyena Guild?”

— Excellent timing. It should be finished within a few days. Some people stubbornly refused to submit until the very end, so the butler’s assistance proved invaluable.

Sergius had recently traveled to District 4. Under Odilon’s orders, he had secretly assisted Pierre’s takeover of the Hyena Guild.

— I’m now the Vice Guildmaster. Although the Guildmaster did lose his tail, our misunderstanding has been cleared up, and he’s agreed to become my dependable comrade.

“That’s wonderful.”

At last, the Hyena Guild had fallen into the grasp of our Copy Alliance.

Having secured such a valuable result, it was time to put it to practical use.

“You’re aware that a tournament will soon be held in District 5, correct?”

— I’ve heard about it. Ridiculous name for a tournament.

“I’d like you to participate. Use the excuse that you’re seeking an opportunity to capture Cultist Karr.”

Pierre fell silent for a moment before answering.

— Hmm. That’s hardly a difficult request. But what does it have to do with striking at the leader of the Silence Alliance?

“If we use the tournament’s championship prize… we can significantly weaken that person’s influence throughout the back alleys.”

— Ho… In that case–GAAAAAH!!

Someone’s agonized scream abruptly cut Pierre off.

“Who was that?”

— Ah. Someone who insisted on resisting until the very end. They were so unbelievably stubborn that I had no choice but to employ somewhat forceful methods.

“So it was nothing serious.”

— Precisely.

Whenever an entrenched power structure was overturned, someone’s blood and screams were bound to accompany it.

Pierre chuckled quietly.

— Very well. I’ll do as my friend wishes.

“Thank you. I’ll contact you again later.”

Thus, through pure impulse, I had secured Pierre’s participation.

This, however, was only the beginning.

— “The Book Devouring Magic Tower is always with the citizens of Pletica!”

The ringtone sounded once more, before someone answered.

— What is it, Sir Karr?

“Good day, Lady Elvira.”

An even more impulsive decision than recruiting Pierre still remained.

“By the authority granted to a major contributor to the Guild War victory… would You permit Conspirator Kyras temporary leave?”

— …What exactly are you planning this time?

Though it sounded like an adult scolding a troublesome child, there was unmistakable anticipation and excitement in Elvira’s voice.

— As long as You obey the rule requiring at least one member of our guild to accompany you, granting temporary leave poses no problem whatsoever.

“Thank You. Since You’re already helping me… may I ask for one more small favor?”

— So long as You’re not demanding ownership of the Ash Wolf Guild, I’ll consider anything.

“Excellent. It’s a very simple request.”

Casting aside every trace of playfulness, I spoke seriously.

“I’d like Lord Targon’s body hair… and bodily fluids.”