Kays Translations

Chapter 109: Golden Spiral Structure

I finally understood what Hiyori meant when she said, “If you’re going to read the news, make it the Karin Shimbun,” after the whole resurrection magic incident.

The Karin Shimbun, published by the Karin Newspaper Company with the Flower Witch as CEO, always lags behind other newspapers in terms of both quantity and speed of information. For instance, the day after the Tiamat attack, it ran a front-page story about the Tokyo Bay monster battle, just like all the other papers. But starting from the second page, it was business as usual—feel-good stories like “A baby tiger monster was born at the monster zoo” or “The Prime Minister’s Office has been added to elementary school career field trips, where students now get to shake hands with the Prime Minister.” That kind of news.

The major stories were too sparse to satisfy me, so I bought a few other newspapers. And wow, what a disaster.

“Is Mamono-kun Planning to Invade Tokyo!?” “Exclusive Interview on Resurrection Magic Monopoly!”—just endless fear-mongering and sensationalism.

Mamono-kun isn’t planning any Tokyo invasion. But by putting it as a question—“planning to?”—they skirt the line of lying without technically crossing it.

There’s no monopoly on resurrection magic either. On the contrary, they’ve begun a ghost Gremlin breeding program, which is about as far from a monopoly as it gets. Still, the articles make it sound like a secret plan is unfolding and resistance forces are mobilizing. It’s a mudslinging mess where criticizing measures meant to reduce confusion only causes more of it.

None of the articles are outright lies, but they’re filled with dubious, unverified information exaggerated to fuel readers’ anxiety and curiosity. Since I was directly involved in these incidents, I could clearly see how twisted the information had become.

In that regard, the Karin Shimbun is trustworthy.

Sure, it’s slow and limited in content—but it’s also accurate. The information is concise and well-verified. For people who want to stay informed without being overwhelmed by grim news, it remains consistently popular. No clickbait, no political bias.

…Well, maybe some bias.

The Karin Shimbun never speaks ill of the Flower Witch or the Alraune tribe she leads. In fact, little praises and favorable mentions about the Flower Witch are subtly slipped into articles. It presents itself as a morally upright paper, while clearly intending to shape perception.

That’s just how witches operate—they lived through the height of the electric information age and know all the tricks.

Still, it’s one of the more reliable sources out there, so I’ll keep reading it. Fuyou recommends it too—which, of course, she would.

On the flip side, I get to hear directly from those at the heart of the incidents.

Hiyori tells me all about the resurrection magic’s specs and distribution plans—off the record, of course. Mamono-kun tells me all about Gazer-kun they’ve secured in the Chichibu Mountains and the ghost monster ranch they’re planning. I even got a detailed letter from Professor Ohinata about his research on indirect chants for resurrection magic.

The info restrictions are pretty sloppy—but that’s just fine.

After all, I blab just as freely about national-secret-level things like chantless magic staff mechanisms and the analysis of the Demon King Gremlin.

At this point, Okutama has become a lawless zone for classified information. I love it.

Not mentioned in the papers: the materials from Tiamat, whom Hiyori defeated, were apparently split among several different organizations.

First, 20% went to the Magician Alliance.

The Alliance, an international body that issued Hiyori her Vacuum Silver Hollow-Silver certification, claims 20% of all Class A monster materials defeated by certified Magicians. In exchange, magicians receive cross-border support and privileges.

Another 10% goes to the government—in this case, the Japanese government. The exact share depends on the damage caused by the defeated Class A monster, ranging from 10% to as high as 70%. This income is used for recovery and compensation.

There used to be no government cut, but apparently some idiot in the past deliberately caused massive collateral damage to defeat a monster in a flashy way. Because of that guy, the government now takes at least 10% no matter what.

Even though Hiyori minimized collateral damage in the Tiamat fight, 10% was still taken and put into a reserve for future large-scale monster emergencies.

Another 10% goes to the dismantling contractors.

Class A monsters are usually massive, and Tiamat was no exception. If left alone, they rot. Disassembling, transporting, and storing the materials is no small task. Appraising them requires specialist knowledge, too. Honestly, 10% is cheap.

So after 40% is taken by various parties, the remaining 60% went to Hiyori.

When she asked if I wanted any materials, I—naturally—asked for a Gremlin. And an ice-encased head while we were at it. She offered me a huge, pristine yellow Gremlin and one severed head. Then, she gave the rest to her adorable little stoat companion.

I was a bit worried about her giving away everything. When I said, “Aren’t you giving away too much?” she just said she already had enough assets to live for 100 years with her partner. I couldn’t argue with that.

Apparently she defeated tons of Class A monsters during her 80-year journey. I thought I was doing pretty well for myself, but the Blue Witch plays in a whole different league.

Tiamat’s Gremlins included three 60mm ones, and I’m eager to figure out how I’ll craft them—but that’s on hold for now. I’ve got too many things to do first.

The Demon King Gremlin disassembly is only 30% complete. It’s incredibly educational and exciting as a wand craftsman, and I want to wrap it up before tackling the Quodenentz analysis from the Kingdom of Luce.

Plus, I’ve got staff improvement ideas inspired by biological mechanisms I learned from Mamono-kun.

Among monster biologists with college-level training, it’s common knowledge that monsters share certain functional traits. While the “Class A/B/C” classification is based on threat level, there’s also a classification based on biological functionality.

Take storage pouches, for example. These are most famously found in the Pouch Sparrow, but Pouch Swallows and even Dragons have them too.

These belly pouches can store items regardless of volume or weight. Since they’re always made from stretchy, saggy skin, it’s theorized that monsters with these pouches all share a common ancestor.

It seems ridiculous that Dragons and Pouch Sparrows share ancestry, but so far, only flying monsters or those with residual flight organs have been found to have pouches. So the theory isn’t that far-fetched—after all, birds evolved from dinosaurs.

What’s even more fascinating is the spiral structures seen in some monsters.

The Fibonacci sequence and the resulting golden ratio appear often in Earth’s natural world. For example, the number of petals on lilies and cosmos flowers follows the Fibonacci sequence. Sunflower seeds are also arranged according to it.

Nature seems to have adopted mathematics—specifically the Fibonacci sequence—as a favorable evolutionary trait.

The golden spiral, which expresses the golden ratio of 1:1.618, appears in nature as well, most famously in nautilus shells.

In short, nature hides mathematically regular spiral patterns.

And the same is true for monsters.

Some monsters have golden spiral structures somewhere on their bodies. Some have it as a surface pattern; others have it in their organs or bones.

This golden spiral pattern tends to appear more frequently in powerful monsters. It’s especially common in high-ranked Class B and Class A monsters—Gazer-kun has it. Tiamat did too. When I checked the severed head, I found the spiral in the eye.

I knew it. It shot beams from its mouth, so I figured her head was the key. Glad I had it delivered.

Mamono-kun has proposed a theory that the golden spiral structure is not merely a biological trait or a common characteristic of powerful monsters, but rather a necessary feature to become powerful.

One piece of evidence is that many strong monsters possess this trait.

While there are some Type-Kō-1 class monsters in which the golden spiral structure cannot be confirmed, it’s entirely possible that it exists in parts of the body that are difficult to examine internally. For example, if the arrangement of blood vessels follows a golden spiral, it would be very difficult to detect.

Also, some magicians possess the golden spiral structure.

Mainly the non-human types.

According to Mamono-kun’s observations, six out of seven non-human magicians had golden spirals in their body structure. The Illusion mage, who is invisible, couldn’t be confirmed, so it’s not that all non-human-looking beings necessarily possess it — but the confirmation rate is very high.

Mamono-kun also confirmed a golden spiral structure in the Spider Witch. The connection point between the decoy bait stored in the depression in her abdomen and her main body was shaped as a golden spiral.

This has not been observed in other spider-type monsters besides the Spider Witch.

Fuyou (the plant creature) also possesses a golden spiral structure.

I investigated by crawling under her petal skirt, and found that her main root extended deep underground in a golden spiral. If Fuyou is like that, then her mother, the Flower Witch, must also have the golden spiral.

No golden spiral structures have been confirmed in plant monsters outside the Alraune clan.

From these examples, I concluded that the golden spiral is somehow a magically advantageous shape.

Do strong monsters develop golden spirals because they are powerful?

Or do they become strong because they possess the golden spiral?

It’s not clear which it is. But if it is a shape that provides magical benefits, then there’s no reason not to incorporate it.

After thoroughly observing the golden spiral structure as it appears in monsters, magicians, and elementals, I took charge of Kyanos and incorporated a golden spiral structure into the handle, based on Fuyou’s main root. I also asked Fuyou to make the handle out of the same material as her main root.

When Hiyori received the freshly modified Kyanos at the workshop, she immediately let go the moment she touched it. Kyanos clattered to the floor with a hard sound.

Hiyori took a cautious step back.

Oh?

I thought if there was some reaction, it might be a lucky discovery — and it seems there was some kind of effect.

“How does it feel? What did you sense?”

“The flow of magic power… is strange. What did you do this time?”

As if she couldn’t even understand what she had just sensed, Hiyori looked bewildered. I explained the modification I made this time.

When Hiyori heard about the golden spiral structure built into the handle, the change in materials, and their origin, she cautiously picked up the staff again, closed her eyes, and focused.

“…When I try to pour in magic, I feel it being pulled along the spiral in the handle. If I resist, it feels like… something is being drawn out. It’s like… how should I say it? Mixing, maybe.”

“I don’t get it. Explain in simpler terms.”

Her vague mutterings were not helpful, so I asked her to explain in a way a layman could understand.

Maybe if I could control magic myself, I would get what she meant — but I can’t. Explain it so even a normal person can get it.

Hiyori listened to my request and, still focused on the staff, slowly chose her words.

“You know when you drink something through a straw? It’s kind of like that. You suck the drink up, and when you stop, the liquid in the straw just returns to the container. It’s a bit gross, but your spit mixes in with it. That’s what this is like — when I follow the spiral flow of magic, something strange seems to mix in with the magic.”

“…Are you sure this isn’t some kind of infection? Maybe you should stop.”

There are cases like the Mushroom Pandemic and the Shadow-Shedding Disease. If she mixed in some suspicious magical force and caught something weird, it could be a disaster.

I voiced my concern and suggested stopping, but Hiyori shook her head.

“No. It doesn’t feel like something bad. If anything… this is………………………………………………”

Hiyori fell silent. She froze in place and said nothing for a long time.

Occasionally, she tapped the floor with Kyanos’s butt end, tilted her head, and pondered in deep silence.

She was lost in thought for so long that I brought a manga into the workshop and started reading.

Even after finishing one volume, she was still thinking. Seriously, how long does it take you to think?

When I got halfway through the second volume, Hiyori finally opened her eyes and returned to reality.

“I think I’ve got it. This is… hey, what are you reading? I’m struggling so much here and—”

“I was bored. I can’t just sit around staring into space for an hour. So? What did you figure out?”

“Sigh… Fine. To put it simply, I think I was able to connect to what you’d call a ‘ley line.’”

“Say what now?”

Surprised by the unexpected spiritual-sounding term, I asked her to repeat it, and Hiyori, a little unsure, said it again.

“The ley line. You can call it a dragon vein, a force line, or even the Lifestream — whatever you like. I think I’ve accessed the massive current of power that flows within the planet.”

“I—I don’t really get it, but it sounds amazing…!”

“I don’t know what it actually means, either. But it definitely feels amazing.”

The two of us, sounding like elementary schoolers, kept repeating, “That’s amazing,” over and over.

It just seems amazing!!

“Hey Hiyori, Hiyori — what does it feel like to access the ley line?”

“Well… it’s amazing. But faint. It’s like dipping the tip of your tongue into a vast ocean of lightly seasoned broth…”

“…What the heck kind of description is that? Uh, so, you mean the ley line is massive, but the power level is low, and the tap you’ve got into it is small too?”

“P-Probably? I only just barely managed to sense it by sharpening my awareness to the limit. So I really don’t know. But it is something incredible — that much is certain.”

I see. That’s amazing!

So… what exactly is amazing about it?

You keep saying it’s amazing, and I believe you — but I still don’t get it.

“So what happens when you access a ley line? Can you draw out the planet’s power and use it or something?”

“No… I don’t think it works like that. Or maybe it does? Talking about ‘the planet’s power’ makes it sound overwhelming, but the flow of magic and energy I can actually sense is weak. A bag sparrow’s magic feels way stronger than this. Is it… weakened? Or maybe immature? Or is it just that the connection is weak?”

Hiyori was doing her best to put her sensations into words, but everything came out vague and mushy.

Even Hiyori herself, who was directly sensing the ley line, didn’t seem to fully grasp it — so there was no way I was going to.

Muttering again, Hiyori drifted back into her own little world, focusing on the sensations coming through the staff.

While she did that, I headed to the kitchen to prepare some tea and snacks.

Sorry as always, Hiyori. I keep creating genius-level new magic mechanisms, and it’s up to you to figure out how to use them. That can’t be easy.

But you’re a genius too. I believe in you — you’ll definitely figure out what the ley line really is and how to make use of it.

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