Siber must have noticed me looking at the Goblins, for he spoke up.
"Ryoma, I’m curious about the armor those Hobgoblins are wearing. Are those also prototypes?"
I followed Siber’s gaze to the Hobgoblins spread out in a perimeter around the Goblins busy with the preparations. They were the more aggressive members of the pack, tasked with guarding our many non-combatant Goblins during expeditions. Even now, they kept a sharp eye on the surroundings while occasionally practicing their swings.
I had assembled their armor myself using alchemy, modeling the parts after the gear worn by the Mighty Sword Brothers I’d defeated previously. I felt it had turned out quite well.
"Those are prototypes, yes. They weren't made by a professional smith, so they're mostly intended to intimidate any would-be troublemakers."
"Ah, the ones you mentioned for preventing unnecessary harassment. They have impressive physiques and the armor looks quite heavy, yet they seem to be moving without any trouble despite the greatswords on their backs. They certainly look formidable."
"The material is an alloy called Duralumin. It has a lower specific gravity than standard Iron, so the pieces are light and easy to move in relative to their strength. One downside is that the metal rusts easily, so I’ve coated them with Sticky Slime adhesive fluid mixed with charcoal. It prevents corrosion and mutes the glare, which gives them a more rugged, heavy-duty appearance."
I continued, "Besides, I’ve put them through basic combat training, so they perform reasonably well on subjugation requests. I might be biased, but I don’t think they’re just for show."
I had divided the units by role: the smaller Goblins handled long-range support, while the Hobgoblins—who were blessed with superior size and strength—focused on melee. The basic tactic was to rain down a synchronized barrage of arrows and magic, after which the melee units would intercept any enemies that managed to close the distance.
If I needed reconnaissance, I could ask the Rimur Birds to scout from the sky. With the help of the slimes, I could set up traps or fortifications in a matter of minutes. Furthermore, by utilizing Space Magic, I could move the whole group quickly and covertly. By combining these factors with the sheer number of Goblins to seize the initiative, we could maintain a significant advantage in any fight.
It was basic strategy, but the more I could stack the deck in our favor, the safer we would be. During my subjugation missions over the last few months, there had been more than a few bandit groups and monster hordes that had collapsed under a single synchronized barrage.
"You’re managing them as a 'unit' much more thoroughly than I expected," Siber remarked. "I suppose that makes you the Commander and the Strategist."
"Oh, I’m not sure I deserve to be called the Strategist. We actually have someone else for that role—a Genius Chicken named Kohaku."
Kohaku was the leader of the Clever Chickens I’d purchased for their eggs—though, in practice, he acted more like their de facto complaints manager. Perhaps because they had been raised so carefully as livestock, the Clever Chickens were sheltered and selfish. Kohaku, despite being less than a year old, spent his days keeping the unruly flock in line.
Feeling sorry for the amount of mental stress he seemed to be under, I’d made a chess set for him, thinking it might be a good distraction. To my surprise, Kohaku mastered the rules instantly. Before long, I couldn't win a single game against him.
Later, Kohaku taught the game to the rest of the flock. Those who became obsessed with it stopped complaining so much, and they even began resolving their disputes on the board. He had been very grateful that his burden was lightened, but the whole situation was so unexpected that it left me feeling a bit conflicted.
"He’s actually quite helpful, so I listen to his opinions from time to time," I added.
"Is that so? I didn't know Clever Chickens were that kind of monster," Siber said, sounding surprised.
"To begin with, the very idea of teaching chess to livestock simply doesn't exist," Reinbach chimed in, sounding thoughtful. "It’s common knowledge that Clever Chickens are intelligent and understand human speech, but I’ve never heard of one enjoying chess. However, if they truly are playing, it might be a matter of how they are taught."
When asked for his opinion, Reinbach suggested that they might even become a popular attraction for the wealthy.
"You mean as a curiosity?" I asked.
"That, yes, but for nobles, games of the mind are a core part of one's education. It isn't unusual for nobles to hold tournaments, take strong players into their service, or hire instructors. The wealthy invest heavily in the things they are passionate about. If they can be taught to play, a tournament where Clever Chickens are raised as players might actually take off. We might even see the emergence of specialized Tamers."
"Like horse racing, then."
"Precisely. It is merely a matter of whether they are competing in speed or chess prowess."
"Trends come and go, but those types of competitions and their markets never really disappear," Remily added. "Nobles love jumping on new things. You could make a tidy profit if you play your cards right."
Back on Earth, things like dog fighting or cockfighting were publicly banned for animal welfare reasons, but this was essentially "Cockfighting: Intellectual Edition." It felt like it had a bit of a dubious image, though. "Chess Chicken" sounded a bit silly, too.
As I ruminated on that, Sebas came forward with another question.
"The matter of the Clever Chickens is fascinating, but Master Ryoma, what are those metal carts the Goblins have been pulling? The cargo beds look like large pots."
"Those are mobile stoves I designed for preparing large quantities of food outdoors. You can cook a massive amount of food on them all at once."
When considering my adventuring gear, I’d remembered the specialized cooking vehicles used by the Japan Self-Defense Forces and created this prototype "Field Cooker." Lacking detailed blueprints, however, it ended up looking more like a rickshaw with a chimney, reminiscent of the old mobile sweet potato stands back home.
The structure was relatively simple, consisting of fire prevention measures and a large gas stove. That simplicity made it durable and easy to repair myself if anything broke.
The fuel was methane gas harvested from the stench exhaled by Scavenger Slimes. It’s the main component of natural gas and is found in trace amounts in things like cow burps or human flatulence.
A single Scavenger only exhales a minute amount, but an Emperor Scavenger—a fusion of ten thousand slimes—produces an overwhelming volume. The downside was that the foul-smelling components increased proportionally with the methane, but...
"The device sitting next to it is used to remove those unwanted components," I explained.
The device was straightforward, utilizing the same principles as the "Water Displacement Method" from elementary school science experiments. The Scavenger blew the foul-smelling gas through a tube and into an odor absorption fluid where Deodorant Slimes waited. They stripped away most of the malodorous elements.
The remaining trace odors and methane gathered in a temporary storage chamber and were pushed by air pressure into a tube at the top. Filter Slimes were stationed there to prevent any liquid or droplets from flowing through, ensuring only the methane reached the stove.
"That’s the basic gist of how the system works."
"So you're utilizing something akin to 'Earth Dragon’s Breath' produced by slimes," Sebas noted.
"Earth Dragon's... I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with that term."
"Earth Dragon’s Breath is an ancient term for gas that erupts from the ground," Sebas explained. "It’s a wind that either burns violently when ignited or proves toxic when inhaled. Because such phenomena often caused disasters in volcanic regions, people began to say that Earth Dragons lived beneath the earth or in caves, and that this gas was their leaking breath."
"In that case, you can certainly think of it as a type of Earth Dragon’s Breath. It exists in pockets underground and occasionally vents to the surface. It’s also quite true that it’s dangerous if handled incorrectly."
The Field Cooker was strictly intended for use outdoors or in well-ventilated areas. I also made sure not to remove the smell entirely so that I could detect any potential leaks immediately.
"For now, the regulation of the fluid and the speed of the gas injection relies almost entirely on the slimes, so there are still plenty of hurdles beyond just safety. To be honest, using fire magic tools would be much safer and easier for others to use. This is really just a personal hobby project."
Mechanical issues aside, handling high-pressure gas was a recipe for disaster without specialized training. I’d had a certification in a past life, but that was a long time ago. I wasn't confident enough to teach others; for now, using it at my own risk was the limit.
"You’ve certainly been busy with your research since we last saw you," Reinbach remarked.
"At this rate, I assume that pack frame has some clever tricks to it as well?" Remily asked.
"Yes. This frame uses tubes made of the same Duralumin alloy for its skeleton, which keeps it light without sacrificing strength. I’ve added a hip belt to ensure it fits the body properly, making it easier to carry the weight. If I need to ditch the load in an emergency, I can just press this part to release the fittings and transition to combat or flight instantly.
I’ve also lined the frame with Rubber Slime material to act as a shock absorber. While the storage capacity isn't massive, the bottom plate has a built-in drawer for small or fragile items. Since it’s easy to reach, I use it to store my medical supplies and first-aid instruments."
"Hmm. Would you mind letting me try it on?" Siber asked. "And I’d love to see that armor if you have a spare."
"Of course. I have several prototypes, so please, help yourself."
"Show us as well," Reinbach added.
I realized I’d somehow become a traveling salesman for my own inventions, but I didn't mind. I spent the time until lunch was ready explaining the intricacies of my new gear.