Around noon, exactly as planned, a meeting took place in one of the Commerce Guild’s conference rooms. Seven representatives from the city’s various sectors were in attendance: the three Guild Masters, Captain Dammeier of the Guard Force, Arnold from the Town Office, Ribul from the slums, and me.
By the time we finished, there were still thirty minutes left in our scheduled block, so we held a brief tea party. I decided this was the perfect time to ask Branch Master Taylor about the Sensory Link I had established with my slime the other day.
"I see. That would be what we call Magic Beast’s Vision," Taylor replied. "In your case, it’s a slime’s perspective—specifically, you mentioned it was Mana Perception—but for the sake of simplicity, I’ll refer to it as 'vision' to describe what the monster sees."
I nodded, and he continued his explanation.
"First, you have to understand that the vision a tamer sees through Sensory Link isn't actually the monster's raw perspective. It sounds obvious once it's said out loud, but humans and monsters have entirely different physical structures."
He was right. I hadn't given it much thought, but our sensory organs—eyes, ears, and so on—were built differently. It was easy enough to imagine seeing through a Goblin’s eyes since they were humanoid, but my vision and a bird-like Rimul Bird’s shouldn't naturally be identical.
"It seems you’ve already realized it," Taylor said. "Even if we look at the same landscape, the way we actually see it is different. At least, it should be."
"So, Taming Magic converts their alien perspective into something a human can understand?" I asked.
"Exactly. The contract allows for communication, which means more than just giving orders; it conveys the monster's intent to the tamer. Similarly, visual data is translated into a form the tamer can process. That is the essence of Sensory Link. However, based on your experiment, it seems you intentionally bypassed that translation. You looked at the world exactly as a slime does—a world perceived only through Mana Perception."
So my theory that slimes mapped their surroundings through mana was correct.
"I hate to dampen your curiosity," Taylor warned, "but be careful if you plan to continue this research. I’ve never heard of anyone else doing this, so I can’t give you specific details. However, we humans normally perceive the world through multiple senses. If you try to force all that information into a single sense like Mana Perception, the strain on that one point could be immense. You mentioned the sheer volume of information was overwhelming and made you feel ill, right?"
He had a point. I appreciated his concern and resolved to be extremely cautious with future experiments. I told him as much, and he seemed satisfied.
"Good. On another note," he said, switching topics, "I heard you’ve started keeping Goblins. Eight of them, if I recall the registration correctly?"
"Yes. I caught them after they raided some fields. I contracted them to help with my work and assist the slimes."
"How has it been? Are you managing them well?"
"I'd say so. Our communication isn't as seamless as it is with the slimes, but they haven't been rebellious—likely because a clear hierarchy was established when I captured them."
Still, there was one thing bothering me.
"Something on your mind?" Taylor asked.
"They just feel... different from the Goblins I’ve encountered before. They’re very mellow. There’s no sense of tension from them. Since it's better than them being violent, I’ve just been leaving them to their own devices."
"I see. In what way do they lack tension? And how do you usually treat them?"
"I primarily use them as labor," I explained. "I don’t push them too hard, but I keep them busy with various tasks. When they aren't working, I forbid them from leaving the mine or attacking anyone, but otherwise, they're free."
"They seem to be driven by their desires. They’re quick to learn anything they find fun or comfortable, so I focus on showing them how their work benefits them personally."
For example, when I had them work the fields, I used magic to grow crops and let them eat until they were stuffed. Since they were mostly naked when I found them, I showed them that clothes provided warmth, and they started wearing them voluntarily.
They used to gnaw on raw crops whenever they were hungry, but once I served them hot meals, they were so delighted that they refused to eat cold food again. I also taught them that using dishes kept their hands from getting burned, so they gradually started using tableware.
"I also had them start bathing to stay clean. Some of them liked it so much they started taking baths twice a day, morning and night, without being told. Then there’s the alcohol. I started a prototype batch recently, and they took to it so eagerly I thought they were going to fill an entire mine shaft with the stuff. They even started brewing more on their own during their free time. Actually, just the day before yesterday, they decided it would be a great idea to take their drinks into the bath. I found the whole group of them wasted in the bathhouse. I had to give them a stern lecture about how alcohol hits you harder in the heat. That’s really the only 'problem' I’ve had."
As I wondered if I should put the Goblins on a strict drinking limit, I noticed Taylor giving me a complicated look—somewhere between "that’s heartwarming" and "what have you done?"
"Sorry," I said. "I got a bit carried away."
"No, it’s fine. It sounds like you don’t have any of the issues I was worried about. Though they do sound a bit... degenerate. Still, if you’ve built a peaceful relationship with them, that’s for the best."
Degenerate. Yes, that was exactly the word for them. Or perhaps the phrase I used to see on animal videos back in my old life: Lost Its Wildness.
Goblins that had lost their wildness. There wasn't anything cute or healing about them, but the description fit perfectly.
"It might also be because their numbers are still low," Taylor added.
He pulled out the writing tools he had used during the meeting and began sketching diagrams as he explained Goblin ecology.
When Goblins are alone, they aren't particularly dangerous. They are weak, and a lone Goblin prioritizes its own survival above all else, avoiding risks to keep its belly full. They rarely go out of their way to attack other creatures.
However, once their numbers reach double digits, their ferocity increases. They begin hunting in earnest to sustain the group. While small groups target small animals, larger swarms will go after medium-sized prey—including humans.
Once a swarm exceeds a hundred members, specialized high-tier species begin to appear. You get Goblin Archers, who are born with an innate talent for weaponry, and Hobgoblins, who are as large and strong as humans.
From that point, the Archers handle defense and hunting while the powerful Hobgoblins handle the heavy labor and expansion of the settlement. This synergy causes the colony to grow exponentially. Eventually, you see Goblin Knights—who possess the traits of both—and ultimately, a massive army led by a King.
I knew that overfeeding them could lead to evolutions, but I hadn't realized that sheer numbers alone could trigger such a shift in temperament.
"They get overconfident once they have a crowd behind them," I remarked. "They’re a bit like humans in that way."
"If the one steering the group is dangerous, then the whole group becomes a threat," Taylor agreed. "In that sense, humans and Goblins aren't so different. That’s why it’s vital for a tamer to keep a tight grip on the reins. Fortunately, you seem to have a handle on yours, Ryoma-kun. Stay vigilant and keep at it."
"By the way," he added, "the Sprint Rabbit certification exam is next week. Are you ready?"
"I think so. Everyone’s been very supportive about giving me study time. One of the maids from the Jamil household actually has the certification, so she’s been tutoring me."
"That’s good. I’m one of the examiners, so I can’t give you the answers... but tell me, why do we require a license to keep and breed Sprint Rabbits when they aren't particularly strong or dangerous?"
"Because they have an incredible reproductive rate and a voracious appetite," I answered. "If they ever became pests, they could cause massive damage to local agriculture. They require strict management."
"Exactly. That is the core of the entire exam. Make sure you study the specific management methods and facility regulations with that in mind. If you look into past case studies and actual breeding environments, you should be fine."
Advice straight from the head of the Tamer Guild was pure gold. I resolved to use his tips to refine my final review.
As we finished talking, the clock hit the scheduled end time. The meeting was officially over, and we all went our separate ways.