Evening approached. Though light still lingered outside, the edges of the sky were gradually deepening into a dusky hue. Looking deep into the town, I could already see impatient undead starting to emerge, so the timing seemed right. I had finished all my preparations after lunch, and thanks to some magic medicine and a quick nap, both my mana and physical strength were in peak condition.
"As we discussed, leave the defense to the slimes and us," Sieber said.
"Just focus on your magic, Ryoma-chan. Take it easy," Remily added.
With those reassuring words from the two veterans, we commenced the operation.
Looking down from above at the base we had established within the Town of Ghosts, the paths in front of the central staircase and the accommodation facility traced the shape of the character for "king." This was the route through which the zombies and skeletons would likely arrive. First, I used the Grave Slimes, which had increased in number since morning, to block a total of eight points along the front, back, left, and right of these paths.
I currently had 1,745 Grave Slimes in total. When merged into their "Big" forms, they numbered seventeen. I deployed them evenly, placing two at each location and keeping the final one by my side as a reserve to bolster the defense wherever it seemed most necessary.
For tonight’s defense, we relied solely on the Grave Slimes and Holy Space. We had a plan to immediately retreat to last night's base if the operation failed or if anything unexpected occurred, so the goblins were given the night off. We decided that a smaller, nimbler group would find it easier to escape if things went south.
Honestly, the Grave Slimes were almost too reliable against the undead. If I didn't have the objective of testing this magic and performing a ritual of offering, and just wanted to wipe out the undead, I probably could have just let the Grave Slimes multiply and left them to do the work.
"Now, for this."
At the center of the base, right in the middle of the stairs, I had set up a stone pedestal. It wasn't quite grand enough to earn that name, but I lined up the food I had prepared on the large table. It was a substitute for a Spirit Shelf—also known as a Bon Shelf—the place where offerings to the deceased are set during the Obon festival.
In addition to the potatoes and dried meat I had used the previous night, I offered a dish of potatoes and meat stir-fried with salt and pepper, similar to German potatoes. There were also simple ham and vegetable sandwiches, instant soup, and salad. For drinks, I provided water and the goblins' specially made Shirozake. I even prepared a small amount of sweets and fruit.
If they were truly starving, perhaps they wouldn't care what they ate as long as it was edible. However, I felt that offering proper, prepared dishes might lead to greater satisfaction for them.
Since my own perceptions and the concepts of religious rituals from my previous life formed the core of this magic, even a former Court Mage like Remily couldn't offer much advice. I had no choice but to try it myself, observe the reactions, reflect, and repeat the improvements. I intended to proceed using a sort of "agile development" style—building and combining elements as I went.
"Starting now," I murmured.
In front of the Spirit Shelf, I lit a fire just as I had the night before. This time, instead of using improvised containers, I switched to vessels modeled after the oversized sake cups used by sumo wrestlers after winning a tournament. There were five of them in total, arranged in a horizontal row.
The food on the shelf functioned like the food samples in a restaurant window, while the ritual itself was the cooking. While making the mental image as concrete as possible, I cast the ingredients into the fire with a prayer and a surge of mana. My priority was to soothe the hunger of the undead so they could find even a small measure of peace.
I started with the same ingredients as yesterday: potatoes and dried meat.
"It seems they're already arriving," Sieber noted.
"Understood, I'll hurry."
Glancing at the cups where smoke was beginning to rise, I added another trick. I brought several bamboo tubes near the smoke and called out to the Smoke Slimes inside.
"Could you carry the smoke for me?"
Smoke rose from the holes carved into the bamboo. As their name suggested, Smoke Slimes were slimes whose bodies were composed of smoke—fine particles drifting in the air. In combat, they could be manipulated to form a smoke screen, but tonight, I was applying that trait differently.
I had the Smoke Slimes mix with the smoke from the burning food to deliver the scent and the magic to the undead further outside the base. If the offerings were the food samples, the Smoke Slimes were the waiters.
The only risk was that since the Smoke Slimes were essentially smoke, a strong wind would blow them away. While they wouldn't die and could be recovered later, I didn't want to push them too hard. If the wind had been an issue, I would have moved the operation inside a building, but fortunately, the air tonight was very calm. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky, and the growing fire and the smoke rising toward the heavens looked beautiful and strangely mystical.
"Alright, keep it going."
The Smoke Slimes began to move, carrying the scent along the eight blocked paths. The smoke drifted lightly over the Grave Slimes and began to envelop the undead approaching from beyond.
"Uaa!?"
"Aaah..."
"There's no need to rush," I said softly. "There is still plenty of food."
I had heard stories in my past life that in the world of the spirits, offerings became a hundred times the amount originally given. That was why the quantity didn't matter as much as the sincerity of the gesture.
With that thought in mind, the momentum of the approaching undead slowed. Until just a moment ago, there had been a sense of frantic desperation in their movements, but now they grew calm. Some individuals even came to a complete stop upon being bathed in the smoke.
It was still just potatoes and meat, but it was already more effective than last night. I felt my intent was being conveyed more smoothly.
"Defining the procedures makes such a difference," I remarked.
"It's also because this is your second time," Remily said. "Magic is controlled by the spirit, so the mental aspect has a huge influence. Having a 'success experience' where you feel confident leads to better results. That's why the effect of any magic will improve if you use it repeatedly. Of course, studying to understand the underlying principles is also indispensable. Now, keep going."
"Understood."
I finished my short conversation with Remily, who was standing by the table in case of emergency, and concentrated on the magic once more. I added a small amount of black pepper to the cup to add fragrance. The finely crushed pepper was swallowed by the fire in an instant, and its sharp scent tickled my nostrils.
The undead responded immediately. While more of them stopped in their tracks, the group as a whole seemed restless. However, I didn't sense the jagged hostility of combat; rather, they seemed excited. The number of undead approaching from a distance was increasing, and they were clearly more attracted to the smoke than they had been when it was just potatoes and meat.
Encouraged, I cast the ingredients for the sandwiches—wheat, ham, and vegetables—into a new pot. This also seemed to please them. Numerous zombies and skeletons stopped, absorbing the smoke with their whole bodies. Even the wraiths drifted leisurely within the gray mist.
"Ryoma-sama, more undead are arriving from the back," Sebas reported. "The wraiths in the air seem manageable, but the ground will soon become congested."
"Understood."
I directed the Smoke Slimes to send smoke into the buildings outside the base along the central staircase as well. It might only be a drop in the bucket, but if it drew even a few undead away from the main path, it would alleviate the traffic jam. Eventually, those who were satisfied would hopefully pass on and be replaced by those who were still hungry.
Next were the ingredients for the soup. Since I couldn't add water to a fire, I used only the vegetables. Since "waterless curries" had been a thing in my previous life, I hoped the undead would accept the moisture contained within the vegetables.
I burned fruit and sweets in another cup. Sebas and the others provided dried fruits from their camping rations. When cast into the fire, a refreshing citrus scent and a rich, sweet aroma were released all at once.
"Ooh."
"Aah..."
The fruit was a hit. I noticed that items with strong scents triggered larger reactions. I also saw that different undead reacted differently. I wondered if this was because of the concept of "scent-food" I used for the magic, or if the individual preferences of the deceased still lingered. Since I knew nothing about their lives, verifying that was impossible.
Refocusing, I prepared to burn the final item: alcohol. Like the soup, I couldn't burn liquid alcohol directly without extracting it via alchemy, but that would destroy the flavor. So, instead of the liquid, I used the sake lees produced during the brewing process.
"WOOOOOOAAAAAAH!!!!"
The moment the scent of the remaining alcohol spread from the heated sake lees, the undead raised their voices in a collective roar. Until then, they had only groaned, but this was a wordless scream of raw emotion. The change was so sudden that we all braced ourselves, but...
"Hmm. It appears that was a cry of joy," Reinbach noted.
"I was a bit wary, but they don't seem to have any interest in us at all," Sieber added.
Some of the undead were moving violently, but they weren't attacking; they were frantically trying to pull the smoke and scent toward themselves. After the scent of the sake lees spread, the number of undead passing on increased visibly.
Just as the phrase "purifying sake" suggested, alcohol had been used in divine rituals for ages. Legends said it possessed spiritual power or could ward off evil. I had expected it to be effective, but their reaction surpassed my expectations.
"The alcohol was supposed to be the main event, but it seems I've already achieved a lot," I said.
"It seems more than sufficient... Is that alcohol something special?" Remily asked.
"It shouldn't be. This Shirozake is something I learned to make from locals in the Fatma Territory. I've put effort into improving the flavor, but I haven't done anything magical to it."
If there was anything special about it, it was likely its compatibility with the concepts forming the basis of my magic.
The Shirozake of the Fatma Territory was made by soaking the seeds of Kotsubuyarikusa in water, adding specific local grasses, and letting it ferment in a cool, dark place. It was a simple process, but there were several key points to improving the taste.
First, the raw seeds had an unpleasant flavor, so they had to be ground and soaked to extract the starch. Second, using the whole grass made it smell too "green," so only the peeled core of the stem was used. Third, from the second batch onward, a portion of the previous batch was used as a starter instead of the grass. By following these steps, the grassy smell faded, leaving a pure aroma and a grain-like sweetness. It was quite close to the commercial versions of the drink.
In my mind, I saw this process as being very similar to the production of Japanese sake. In that world, sake was made from white rice or potatoes, using koji mold to create a starter called shubo, then adding more ingredients to create a fermenting mash called moromi. Unfiltered, it was doburoku; filtered, it was nigorizake. They were remarkably similar to Shirozake.
I had also used the idea of "polishing" the rice to remove the outer bran and extract the starch-rich center. While I was just an amateur following rough knowledge—and a professional would surely find flaws in my temperature management and consistency—referencing the sake-making process had undeniably improved the quality.
Sake was used in sacred rituals as omiki or otoso. My mental association with that likely enhanced the magical effect. I wondered what would happen if I used akumochizake made with Ash Slime ash, or seishu filtered through Filter Slimes? Or if I offered the sake to the gods first... I decided I should ask them the next time I brought them a high-quality batch.
"Since the reaction changes so much based on what I burn, I'd like to put more thought into the food next time," I pondered aloud. "If I could make something like a preserved food that’s easy to burn and gives off a strong scent, it would be much easier to prepare beforehand."
The idea of "incense sticks" came to mind. They were used across many cultures in my old world. I had never given them much thought before, but I realized now what a convenient invention they were.
As night fully fell and the surroundings grew dark, even more undead gathered. Whether I looked up or down, the area outside our base was swarming with them.
"It’s truly strange," Sieber remarked. "That many undead gathered together, and yet they aren't attacking."
"I expect the satisfaction they get from this magic is higher than what they'd get from us," Remily said. "If you can get a better meal easily, you won't go out of your way to eat something unpalatable."
"If they were human, they might consider other goals, but most undead have lost their reason," Reinbach added.
"Since it's a ritual of offering and not magic meant to harm, they likely don't feel any need to be wary," Sebas noted.
The veterans surrounding me seemed to feel the peaceful atmosphere as well. They chatted, yet their composed, vigilant stances showed their experience. Their observations gave me more ideas for refining the spell.
I was just about to add more food to the cups when—
"HIIIIIIII!!!!"
A sudden, shrill scream tore through the peaceful air.