Kays Translations

Chapter 41: Ritualistic Magic of the Seven Wind Instruments

Around the early winter days when hot water bottles became essential for sleeping, I received some fantastic news.

The Tohoku Hunting Association had used my staff—my staff, mind you!—to completely thrash the Daidarabocchi, dealing it a crushing defeat.

Zero casualties. Zero injuries. An absolute victory.

The Daidarabocchi, a Class-1 monster that had long blocked the heart of Japan, was untouchable even for the Tohoku Hunting Association.

But the moment they wielded my staff and sealing bullets, it was a flawless triumph.

Well, you know? What can I say? This is talent. My own genius terrifies me.

As promised, the Tohoku Hunting Association sent me Gremlins extracted from the Daidarabocchi through the Witch Assembly → Hiyori as a middleman. This had me breaking into a little dance of joy.

However, the accompanying letter contained two puzzling points.

The first was a thick letter of thanks written in masterful, seasoned calligraphy. That was fine; it stroked my ego.

The second was a suggestion to take on an apprentice, as they had a promising young talent in Sendai. Not ideal, but I’ll ignore it, so that’s fine too.

But then there was this:
“Does the gun-staff ‘Giant Slayer’ contain some sort of emergency interception system that activates under special circumstances?”

Uh, what? No idea. That’s scary…

The letter explained that just when the Daidarabocchi was about to launch its final, desperate counterattack, its torso suddenly exploded, which dealt the finishing blow.

The Tohoku Hunting Association assumed the Tokyo Witch Assembly had helped, but the witches denied it.

They then wondered if it was a hidden feature implanted by the staff-maker—that’s me—and decided to ask.

Nope. Not a clue. I didn’t build any emergency interception system into the staff.

And it’s also fundamentally impossible for something like that to happen by chance due to overlapping phenomena.

It’s not like anything bad happened, but not knowing the cause is unsettling. Maybe some kind of wandering witch, like the Hell Witch, stepped in to lend a hand. Where that witch is now, I have no idea.

All things considered, it seems the Daidarabocchi wasn’t defeated solely by my staff’s performance. To take full credit for its defeat would be jumping to conclusions.

Even so, it seems that the evaluation of the gun-staff ‘Giant Slayer’ within the Tohoku Hunting Association has skyrocketed. For now, I’ll humbly accept that I was able to play a key role in the operation to subdue the Daidarabocchi.

The second puzzling point in the letter was about a mysterious black Gremlin.

The Daidarabocchi had been using two types of magic: poison gas and self-regeneration. But at the very end, it supposedly used a third type of magic: time acceleration.

Three Gremlins were extracted from the Daidarabocchi:

• A 90mm reddish-bronze Gremlin
• A 60mm reddish-bronze Gremlin
• And, lastly, a 15mm black Gremlin.

The 90mm and 60mm Gremlins correspond to the self-regeneration and poison gas magic, which the Daidarabocchi had frequently used.

It makes sense that the largest Gremlins would serve as mediums for powerful magic.

By this logic, the time acceleration magic, which was only used once, would correspond to the smallest black Gremlin.

But the black Gremlin stands out as peculiar. Unlike the reddish-bronze color derived from the Daidarabocchi’s blood, the 15mm Gremlin was black.

And that strange black Gremlin turned to dust and vanished before they could send it to me.

The letter asked for my professional opinion as a Gremlin artisan, but I have no idea.

It’s just… something weird happened, I guess. That’s all I can say.

It’s intriguing, sure, but with no sample left, there’s not much I can do.

I suggested they toss the mystery over to the magic university. If anyone could unravel it, it’d be the brilliant minds at Tokyo’s magic university. Sometimes it takes a while, or even remains unsolved, but it’s worth a try.

Anyway.

The letter left me scratching my head, but the real highlight of the package from the Tohoku Hunting Association wasn’t the letter—it was the magnificent magic stones they sent.

After thoroughly washing my hands, donning my steel wool gloves, and offering a prayer of gratitude in front of the box, I finally opened it.

“Whoa… massive…”

Even though I’d known the specs from the letter, I couldn’t help but gasp.

Seeing the actual Gremlins was completely different from reading about them.

The raw, powerful brilliance of the reddish-bronze Gremlins was breathtaking. Measuring in at 90mm and 60mm, these were monumental. They even beat the previous record-holder, the 80mm Gremlins extracted from the Great Beasts, by a full 10mm.

Apparently, Gremlins of this size are standard for Class-1 monsters like the Daidarabocchi.

Both reddish-bronze Gremlins were smooth and oval, much like chicken eggs. They adhered to the common spherical form of Gremlins extracted from monsters.

Beautiful.

Though they lack the devilish allure of magic stones, these Gremlins are still captivating in their own way.

If this were another era, I could see them adorning the crown of some great nation. Honestly, there might still be survivor communities somewhere in the world today using Gremlins from Class-1 monsters as crowns or scepters.

After admiring them for a while, I placed the 60mm Gremlin on my workbench to get started.

If I could take photos, I’d capture this natural marvel before working on it, but alas, that’s not an option.

To be honest, ever since I found out I’d be receiving the Daidarabocchi’s Gremlins, I had already decided how I’d use them.

If I only got one, I’d use it for a staff.

But with two or more, I’d use one for a staff and… I’d waste the other on something extravagant!

In my workshop, I have a treasure like the Octa Meteorite, a small furnace that attracts fire salamanders, and six vials filled with magic stone powder collected during polishing.

I also have a map case storing all the designs of the works I’ve made so far. It’s modest, but I quite like it. It feels like a legendary staff-maker’s workshop already.

But there’s still room for improvement.

I feel like the workshop is missing a good center piece. Something like a carved wooden bear or a decorative sword.

I want to decorate it entirely with magic artifacts. Mixing in something like a titanium-alloy knife would ruin the vibe.

So, I’ll use the 60mm reddish-bronze Gremlin to craft a decorative center piece.

It would make an unparalleled luxury item.

A decoration made from a Class-1 monster’s Gremlin that serves no purpose but to look pretty? That’s just so indulgent, it excites me.

This is my Gremlin, my gift, my property. How I use it is my choice.

But if I tell Hiyori about this plan, she’ll probably scold me for being wasteful, so I’ll keep it a secret until it’s done.

I’ve already put a lot of thought into the design. I decided it’d be something animal-shaped.

At first, I considered making a miniature Daidarabocchi out of its Gremlin, but judging by the sketches the Tohoku Hunting Association sent, its face was… ugly.

Why would I want to decorate my space with a hideous monkey face?

If it’s a green gremlin, it would become the Flower Witch (scary yet undeniably beautiful). If blue, it would be Hiyori. If white, then Ohinata-sensei, and so on—I had already decided, “If it’s this color gremlin, I’ll do this.” But red-bronze falls under the red category.

Red means Fire Lizard.

Excited, I grabbed my carving knife and started working on the gremlin.

When you’re a genius craftsman like me, there’s no need to sketch lines or outlines on the gremlin. It’s just a matter of carving out the Fire Lizard buried within the gremlin.

“Mi? Mimimi!?”

Partway through, Sekitan, the laid-back visitor to my workshop, wandered in. Upon seeing the Fire Lizard sculpture mid-carving, its jaw dropped, and its tiny eyes widened in surprise.

“Wa-ha-ha! Looks good, doesn’t it? Looks just like one, doesn’t it?”

“Mi? Mimi?”

Sekitan climbed up my pants and onto the workbench, chirping as it nudged the carving with its nose and even licked it with its tongue.

But it quickly realized that the sculpture wasn’t a companion or a living creature. Puffing out smoke with a “Fffsshh,” it leaped to the floor and waddled into the ash bed of the furnace. Adorable.

Monsters use the gremlins attached to their bodies to identify allies. No matter how similar the appearance, they won’t stay confused for long.

Taking half a day to carefully carve the red-bronze, 60mm gremlin, I produced a 1/3 scale, finely detailed Fire Lizard.

The tail and body were hollowed out, allowing alcohol to be poured inside. You could light the tail to create a lamp. The alcohol capacity was small, making it more of a novelty feature, but adding little gimmicks like this is always fun.

After showing the finished, ultra-luxury Fire Lizard sculpture to Mokutan and Tsubaki—explaining that they shouldn’t break it by messing around—I placed it by my pillow and went to sleep, feeling satisfied with my excellent work.

Two days later.

Hiyori came to visit with Ohinata-sensei tucked into her chest pocket. When I brought the Fire Lizard sculpture into the living room, she predictably let out a sigh of exasperation.

“What were you making? No, wait, does that thing move?”

“Doesn’t move. Just a sculpture.”

“…Sigh. Well, it’s your thing. Do as you like.”

While Hiyori exuded an aura of blatant wastefulness, Ohinata-sensei leaped from the pocket to stand in front of the Fire Lizard sculpture, eyes sparkling with genuine admiration.

“Fire Lizard! Wow, it’s so cute and beautiful!”

“Ah, so the sensei gets it! Actually, it’s got a secret feature. Watch this… Ta-da! The tail lights up!”

“Wow!? That’s amazing! It looks like it’s alive!”

Now that’s the kind of reaction I’m looking for.

Hahaha, it reminds me of the old days of online auctions. Life-size mascot dolls and figurines from anime used to sell for high prices. There was even a time when preorders were two weeks out. Those were the days.

“Is that for sale?”

“Nah, I’m keeping it for display in the workshop.”

“That’s for the best. If you put it out there, it’d spark a bidding war for sure, like with the magic staffs.”

Expressing concern befitting the negotiator of our workshop, Hiyori gently stroked the Fire Lizard sculpture with her fingertip.

I wonder how it’d go. For now, only witches or wizards seem likely to pay a fortune for such decorative items.

In another month, new currency will be issued. Once the economy stabilizes, I’d like to put one of my pieces up for auction, just to see how much it would fetch.

After chatting about the Fire Lizard sculpture for a while, the conversation naturally shifted to the remaining 90mm gremlin.

How should we use the record-breaking, massive gremlin?

“I figure it’ll become a staff.” 

Both nodded in agreement.

Using it for a staff was already decided. I’m a staff maker by trade, after all. There’s no way I’d use both as decorative pieces.

“If large fragments come off during carving, turning them into small animal sculptures could be fun.”

 Ohinata-sensei suggested.

“True?”

Nodding at the professor’s idea, who seemed to be enamoured with the Fire Lizard sculpture, I thought it over. Fragments might be too small to use as decorative material, but it’s worth considering.

“As the workshop’s negotiator, let me say that multi-layered magic staffs are in high demand. At 90mm, you could make a five or six-layered staffs. But… on that level, it might disrupt the balance of power. Imagine if an evil witch got her hands on it. Maybe not.”

“Eh? I’ve already made 15 sealed bullets, so it’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?”

“I’m still not on board with that. Distributing overpowered tech weapons that could jeopardize Dairi’s safety is a no-go.”

“Come on, but you’ll protect me, right? It’s fine. The Blue Witch with Kyanos is the strongest in the world. I’m counting on you!”

“……”

Being relied on seemed to make Hiyori happy, and she gave off a soft, fluffy vibe as she fell silent.

“Sensei, how about you? Any exciting research or specific wand designs you’d like to see? Something related to the Unnamed Epic, perhaps?”

“Well… progress on the Unnamed Epic Hypothesis has been slow. We need to gather a lot more chant samples.

As for recent research that might interest you, Dairi, how about ritualistic wind instruments for magic ceremonies?”

“What? What’s going on at the magic university? That sounds endlessly fascinating. Tell me more!”

When I urged for more details, Stoat-sensei carefully explained.

The wind instrument ritual magic implements are an attempt to incorporate the principle of “Ritual Magic Thirteen Implements” to chant unpronounceable sounds.

Unpronounceable sounds are those that humans cannot vocalize but are interwoven into magic chants. According to the Yoshida Hypothesis, there are a total of 12 unpronounceable sounds, and so far, nine of them have been confirmed to exist.

Unpronounceable sounds have posed a significant barrier for humans attempting to mimic the magic of witches and wizards. Efforts to overcome this obstacle have been ongoing since the era when Professor Ohinata’s father spearheaded the research on magical linguistics.

Among these efforts, the study of using instruments to produce unpronounceable sounds has a long history.

This is the attempt to produce sounds that humans cannot vocalize by using musical instruments. In the earliest stages of research, string instruments and percussion instruments were tested, but none yielded satisfactory results either practically or theoretically. Nowadays, only research on wind instruments, which produce sound through human breath, continues.

Certain types of wind instruments can produce just one kind of unpronounceable sound that humans cannot. It was discovered by an assistant professor with perfect pitch in magic linguistics that among wind instruments, the harmonica can perfectly mimic one of the unpronounceable sounds produced by witches and wizards.

However, producing unpronounceable sounds with a harmonica had no significance until now. Even when the sound was produced, magic energy would not move, and magic could not be activated.

Moreover, trying to alternate between chanting normally and bringing the harmonica to the mouth to produce the unpronounceable sound created additional problems.

Magic chants require precise pronunciation. If unnatural pauses are introduced between the sounds in a chant, the spell fails.

The “Ritual Magic Thirteen Implements” provided a breakthrough to this issue. By applying its method, it became possible for six people to chant the first half and another six to chant the second half, collectively completing a single spell.

Of course, even a slight mismatch in the transition between the first and second halves would result in failure, demanding an extremely high level of coordination. But this approach resolved half of the harmonica issue.

Instead of one person hectically alternating between chanting orally and playing the harmonica, the ritual magic can delegate specific tasks to participants. One person chants verbally, while another, prepared to play the harmonica only at the points requiring unpronounceable sounds, takes over. This enables a seamless and smooth chain of chanting.

The problem of magic energy not moving even when unpronounceable sounds were produced by the harmonica also found a potential solution through collaboration with the Gremlin Engineering Department and the Eyeball Witch.

When the harmonica’s mouthpiece was made with Gremlin-crafted materials, the Eyeball Witch observed clear magic energy movement. While the energy movement was insufficient to activate a spell, it undeniably existed.

Furthermore, the amount and smoothness of energy movement improved as more harmonica components (those involved in producing sound) were replaced with Gremlin-crafted parts.

To summarize:

By crafting identical twin harmonicas entirely out of Gremlin materials, similar to the Mobius-strip-shaped Ritual Magic Thirteen Implements made previously, humanity can potentially overcome one of the unpronounceable sounds (through collective effort).

After listening to the explanation, which occasionally made my head spin, I confirmed:

“So basically, I just need to use this 90mm Gremlin material to make identical harmonicas, right? And if I do that, humanity will be able to perform advanced magic that has been unachievable until now.”

“That’s correct. However, while we’re on the subject, I can’t help but mention that the multi-layered structure staff design you suggested is also very appealing. Unlike the wind instrument ritual magic implements, which require coordination, training, and teamwork, a single-person-operable multi-layered staff would definitely be more practical and immediately useful. A five- or six-layered staff might even allow humans to contend with Class-A monsters.”

“But?”

“Yes?”

“Be honest. Forget practicality—what do you really want to see? A rehash of existing multi-layered staff technology or the new frontier of wind instrument ritual magic implements? You can’t have both.”

Stoat-sensei pressed their lips together, pondered with a troubled expression, then reluctantly confessed:

“I want to see the wind instrument ritual magic implements… Ugh, the blood of a magic linguist in me wants to explore the possibilities of magic linguistics.”

“Alright. Let’s make the wind instrument ritual magic implements. Sure, the multi-layered staff might seem more promising now, but this is an investment. It’s better to take a small loss or risk inefficiency to open up new possibilities than to stick to the same old methods chasing immediate gains.”

“Right? In the long run, that’s the better choice, isn’t it? After all, the wind instrument ritual magic implements are technically a kind of wand too.”

Stoat-sensei seemed to be reassuring themselves as they spoke.

And I agreed.

The recent discussions about the threat of the Class-A monster, the Daidarabocchi, had swayed opinions toward the multi-layered staff that might let humans stand a chance against such creatures. But still… let’s make the new staff, shall we?

Even Hiyori, who opposed the multi-layered staff idea, seemed satisfied with the conclusion. I immediately requested research materials on wind instrument ritual magic implements and began production the next day.

The process of carving identical items from a single Gremlin was something I had already experienced with the Ritual Magic Thirteen Implements. The shape changed from a Mobius strip to a harmonica, but the principles remained the same.

From the harmonica’s design in the reference materials, I determined the minimal structure necessary to produce sound and carved out six extremely thin and fragile prototype harmonicas and one slightly larger prototype to serve as the ritual focal point—a total of seven. The prototypes had to be thin and fragile because carving out seven pieces from the Gremlin material was otherwise impossible.

At 90mm, the material initially seemed huge, but when trying to extract multiple items from it, I found myself wishing it were bigger. Humans are greedy.

After carving the fragile harmonica prototypes, I encased them in outer shells made of metal and wood.

The core, crafted from Gremlin material and responsible for sound production, combined with the protective outer shell to form the completed wind instrument ritual magic implements. The finished products looked like artisan-crafted ornaments adorned with reddish-copper gemstones.

I immediately sent the finished implements to the professor, as Hiyori refused to help test them, still wary of the accidental explosions from the Ritual Magic Thirteen Implements. Testing would have to be conducted at the university.

When crafting ritual magic implements in shapes other than a Mobius strip, there’s always concern about self-destruction due to abnormal vibrations. But even if they break, I believe the valuable data we gain will justify it.

Even just once, creating an example of humanity casting magic with unpronounceable sounds would be a monumental first step, paving the way for future research.

…Still, given the rare Gremlin material used to make these implements, I’d hate for them to break after just one use.

Ideally, they’d last through five trillion uses before giving out. Here’s hoping.

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