Kays Translations

Chapter 114: A Summer Day, and the Summer Gift

The day after playing in the Okutama River with Hiyori, the mermaid witch came swimming up the Tama River, bearing a summer gift.

Long, long ago—so long ago it feels like another lifetime—the mermaid witch had once been saved by me. Since then, she would occasionally swim upstream along the Tama River to bring gifts.

Eventually, that custom became more formalized. Every year on August 16th, she began towing a small boat filled with treasures from the sea. Among the Okutama Friends, this annual delivery came to be known simply as “the Summer Gift.”

It used to be the fire lizards who always accepted the gift, but now Tsubaki and Sekitan had moved on. So the responsibility had fallen to Mokutan.

Apparently, the mermaid witch had doted on Mokutan and the others quite a lot, so as her guardian, I decided to personally thank her. I grabbed a tin bucket and went down to the riverbank with Mokutan.

The river breeze was pleasantly cool and humid, blowing gently across the scene—but that didn’t change the fact that the sun was intense. The mermaid witch had anchored her boat in the shade of a large tree that jutted out over the river. She was sitting on a small rock, taking a break. When she saw us, she smiled brightly and waved. Her greeting voice rang out loud and clear, competing with the chorus of cicadas and the sound of the flowing river.

“Hello—!”
“Hello, Mermaid. Look, look, she’s molted! She grew up so well.”
“Mokutan? Magnificent. Good girl.”

Mokutan ran up to the mermaid witch and spun around in circles, showing off her grown body. She hugged her tightly, rubbed her head, and kissed her forehead again and again. It was intensely affectionate. It’s the middle of summer, for crying out loud!

The mermaid witch hadn’t changed at all since the last time we met.

Her long golden hair reflected the midsummer sun, shining dazzlingly. Her lower body resembled the tail of a fish. Her face—though my memory was hazy—was probably the same. I’m not great at distinguishing pretty faces unless it’s Hiyori, but her iconic golden hair made it easier to recognize her.

To avoid having to look directly at her gentle, radiant face, I promptly placed the tin bucket over her head. Then, I greeted her politely.

“Hello, mermaid witch. It’s been a while. I heard my little one has been in your care for quite a while. Please allow me to thank you for that. Truly, thank you.”

“??? What’s… the bucket?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I also heard you’ve been delivering all kinds of wonderful things—good coal, oil, delicacies from the sea—every year.”

“Ah. Yes. Cute little fire lizard. I gave food.”

“Really, thank you. Even though she’s my little one, it’s thanks to all of you that she grew up so well. Mokutan, don’t you have something to say to the mermaid witch?”

“Thank you—!”

As Mokutan licked her hand affectionately, the mermaid witch giggled from the ticklish sensation. Good job, Mokutan. Very polite of you.

While she continued to play with Mokutan, petting her belly, the mermaid witch seemed to think aloud:

“You… voice. I heard… long ago. I remember. Long… ago……
…………!!Sensei?”

“Ah, yeah, I’m probably that ‘sensei.’ If you mean the doctor who did emergency surgery on you. You’ve got a great memory.”

I couldn’t even recall the face or name of the doctor who removed my appendix, but the mermaid witch remembered me.

Nodding, she suddenly hugged both Mokutan and me—even with the tin bucket still on her head.

A chill ran across my entire body. My mind went blank.

No, don’t—NO—AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!

“Mmh—!”

“Sensei, thank you. Sensei, I’m happy. I met family. I can speak. I’m alive. The sea. Was good. Long… happiness.”

“Hrrgh—!”

She whispered her gratitude right next to my ear. I could feel her heartbeat, her body warmth—and the breakfast I had was now trying to escape up my throat along with bile. My whole body froze in terror, but paradoxically I couldn’t muster the strength to push her away.

Get off me, you lunatic! What the hell is this “thank you” nonsense!? You trying to kill me?! YOU’RE WELCOME!!

Just when I was on the verge of hyperventilating, my savior appeared: Mokutan the Capable. Seeing the color drain from my face, rescue medic Mokutan rushed in, pried the mermaid witch off of me, and saved my life.

As I lay on the ground like a dying fish, physically and mentally shattered, Mokutan stepped up to protest on my behalf.

“Mimi! Mermaid-san, Dairi’s dying! Dairi can’t handle this!”
“? I’m sorry?”
“Look! Dairi’s like a dying fish now! Apologize more!”
“I’m sorry…”
“Good. Dairi, she said she’s super sorry. Okay now?”

The Japanese in that exchange was… highly suspicious, but the intent was clear.

Still sprawled out on the cold gravel of the riverbank, I gave a faint nod. Mokutan looked pleased and let out a little puff of flame from her mouth.

“Made up. Good.”
“Good? Sensei, limp. Still. Call… sensei’s sensei?”
“No, no, please don’t. Honestly, the best medicine right now would be for you to just go away immediately. Sorry…”
“Oh…? Worried.”
“No seriously, just disappear already. That alone would be a huge help.”
“Uu… If that’s so, then… goodbye. Sensei, I’m glad we met again. Goodbye.
O Ancient One Mio, most ancient of us all, may the Sea’s Murmuring Blessing reach across ××× to the far ends of ××, on his Talquian journey, Wewent.”

Still wearing the tin bucket, the mermaid witch cast some kind of vaguely auspicious-sounding magic and pointed her tail at me. Then she properly grounded her boat full of gifts onto the riverbank, and quietly drifted back downstream.

With that overwhelming “goodwill threat” finally out of sight, I could breathe again.

If I hadn’t put the bucket on her, I probably would’ve puked. That was close.

Mokutan curled up beside my stomach, looking concerned, trying to warm me up. Thanks, Mokutan. You’re sweet—but it’s still summer, so you’re a bit too warm.

“Mokutan, could you give me a healing spell? The lightest one’s fine.”
“Got it. Owies owies, go away.”
“…Thanks. Mind hitting me with the next level one too?”
“Okay. With the ancient Giggitta of a thousand years, I’ll finally Pis the destiny Fedes tripped over into the—”

Bathed in the soft glow of healing magic, I felt the strength return to my body. I managed to stand up.

After resting for about two hours in the shade, Mokutan and I began unpacking this year’s summer gift.

The mermaid princess’s treasure boat was packed to the brim. It was filled with various wooden crates of all sizes, cushioned with colorful seaweed—perhaps mutated marine plants—adorned with many small flotation sacs, used in place of packing material to protect the valuable items inside.

First off, the seafood box, brimming with large and impressive blue crabs, hairy crabs, and kuruma prawns, was filled with ice, ensuring the freshness was well-preserved even in the blazing heat of midsummer. When I poked at a kuruma prawn, it twitched—it was that fresh. The briny scent was strong too. Definitely freshly caught. Looks like dinner is decided. There was even a fine sea bass included. We’ll be feasting on seafood for a few days.

Another box contained a large jar of seaweed salt labeled by some unfamiliar brand. The label read “Mermaid-Approved!”—suggesting maybe she had a sponsor or something. The spider witch runs a spider silk apparel brand, and Flame witch Tsuguhi’s family is part of the Gon-ta conglomerate. Maybe it’s normal nowadays for witches to be affiliated with some sort of business.

It wasn’t just food—some boxes held marine treasures.

A chunk of ambergris with a certificate of authenticity. Vividly colored branch coral. A collection of beautiful seashells. A pouch of rusted coins. A comically huge conch shell horn. Some bones of unknown origin, and mysterious pebbles. Basically, it was an over-the-top “grab bag” of everything that looked even remotely like a treasure from the sea.

After double-checking to make sure there wasn’t a tamatebako (a mythical treasure box that ages the opener), we began diligently transporting the treasures the mermaid princess had gifted us.

“Hey Mokutan. Your hands are empty again.”

“! I forgot!”

Mokutan still had the habit from her younger days of holding things in her mouth. She’d sometimes go looking for charcoal while already carrying some in both hands. She still wasn’t fully used to his humanoid form.

Partway through, the spider witch came to help us carry everything, so we finished retrieving the ochūgen (summer gift) quickly.

We left the food in the dirt-floor room, and stored the rest in the abandoned temple that the spider witch had made her home. Apparently, durable items from previous years’ summer gifts were stored in a city-center bank vault. I told them they could have just sold it all, but I seem to be surrounded by unusually conscientious witches.

Maybe witches are just inherently dutiful? …Nah, there are exceptions like the dragon witch and Flame witch. Probably just individual differences.

Even after receiving a healing spell, I still felt drained, so for lunch, I had the spider witch (or rather, her lure clone) make me some seared seafood with ponzu sauce. It refreshed both my mouth and my mood, and then I resumed dismantling the Demon King Gremlin.

I’ve been sending formal inquiries to Yamagami-san, helping modify Mamono-kun’s mascot suit, and handling events like today’s—so I haven’t been able to focus solely on dismantling the Gremlin. Still, the progress has reached 40% overall.

Once you break down 40% of something, you start to see the whole picture, and with that, you can begin to make educated guesses.

What I’ve become convinced of lately is a limit to magical civilization as inferred from the duplication of parts.

The Demon King Gremlin likely doesn’t manufacture each part individually, but instead copies them.

Whether that’s through industrial or magical means isn’t clear, but all identical parts on the Gremlin are clearly mass-produced via copying.

Even though parts of different types sometimes have nanometer-level discrepancies in how they fit together, parts of the same type are, without a single exception, completely identical down to the tiniest detail. That wouldn’t be the case if they were each made individually with high-precision tech. At least, that’s how I see it—because if I were doing it, it wouldn’t look like this.

At first, I was terrified, thinking each part was made with some absurdly advanced fabrication technique—but as I kept dismantling, I came to believe that wasn’t the case.

I’ve sent questions to Yamagami-san to verify this from a theoretical angle, but it seems the Demon King Gremlin’s design prioritizes using a small number of geometric Gremlins, even at the cost of some efficiency, rather than combining many diverse ones to optimize for space and performance.

To put it bluntly: The machining tech of magical civilization probably doesn’t reach the peak of 2024 Earth’s scientific civilization.

Of course, the design theory and mechanisms of the Demon King Gremlin far surpass humanity’s.

But it’s like using inferior fabrication technology to realize extremely advanced theory—odd as that may sound.

Sure, the ability to perfectly copy parts is impressive. But even the smallest parts don’t go below 0.4mm. There are plenty of parts I could’ve made smaller.

Geometric Gremlins have an optimal volume: if they’re too big, they become inefficient by nature. That means the smaller the better.

So it’s impossible they made them big on purpose.

This size is the result of pushing miniaturization to the limit.

Magic civilization, which once seemed impossibly far ahead, has weaknesses after all. It doesn’t surpass Earth’s civilization in every area.

My fabrication techniques can be replicated using 21st-century electronic processing. If humanity’s electrical civilization had survived, we might have outdone magical civilization in sheer fabrication efficiency—even without understanding the principles.

It’s a pointless fantasy, but it still makes me proud.

Don’t underestimate Earth, magical civilization! Even if it’s just in one field, there are things we can do that you can’t.

It’s outside my area of expertise, but even Professor Ohinata had spoken a little about the mismatch between Earth civilization and magical civilization.

For example, the magical alloy used in magic script—something that could likely be manufactured easily on Earth—is considered extremely advanced in magical civilization.

According to the Sataish True Core Theory, Earth’s metals are gradually being transformed into magical metals through the workings of the planet’s core. Given a few tens or hundreds of millions of years, nearly all of Earth’s metals will eventually be replaced by magical metals.

At that point, acquiring normal metals will actually become difficult.

Right now, because Earth’s magic awakening is still in its early stages, magic metals are hard to obtain, while ordinary metals are plentiful.

However, in a fully developed magic civilization, the reverse is likely true—magic metals are easy to obtain, and ordinary metals are rare.

Therefore, the magic alloys used for writing magic script are considered extremely advanced materials from the perspective of magic civilization.

This is yet another example of how something simple for Earth civilization can be difficult for magic civilization.

Let magic civilization handle the things Earth civilization struggles with, and let Earth civilization take care of what magic civilization finds hard.

If we could’ve exchanged knowledge peacefully in that way, the world might have been a much more harmonious place.

But thanks to the Gremlin Disaster—a near act of invasion—Earth civilization has been devastated and collapsed. Peaceful exchange is no longer possible.

Once, when the U.S. defeated the Demon King, they said:

“The Demon King Gremlin might hold the key to understanding what magic civilization truly is.”

I’ve been dismantling the Demon King Gremlin for the purpose of reverse engineering, and indeed—it’s not just magic technology I’m coming to understand, but also magic civilization itself, in a vague but growing sense.

If I can finish fully dismantling the Demon King Gremlin, and use what I learn to analyze the hyper-tech mass known as Quodenents, which awaits in the Kingdom of Rus, I might be able to answer big questions—like: What exactly is magic civilization? Why did the Shantak Meteor Shower cause the Gremlin Disaster?

For a while, I got lost in thought, pondering and fantasizing about the mysteries of the world. But I shook it off and got back to dismantling the Demon King Gremlin.

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. If I’m going to solve these grand mysteries, I’ll need to dismantle another 360,000 or so of these 1mm-sized parts first.

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