Gluttony Demon King with the Swampman ~A Man with No Magic Power Who Dreamed of Magic, Wielding Knowledge from His Past Life Through Steady Research and Hard Work to Become the Most Vicious Final Boss~

Chapter 34: The Duke’s Daughters Also Have a Possessive Streak

Several days had passed.

Ever since the day I lost my right arm, created a new spell, and drove off the Demon King of the Sword.

Nothing much had changed in my daily life.

I did lose an arm, but it was one that hadn’t moved to begin with.

I was already used to the slight inconveniences, and if I needed anything, Ink or the girls who lived here would help.

Wake up in the morning, eat, do research—

Well, the only real problem was how many people suddenly wanted to “help” with baths and bedtime. That part got awkward.

I already reported the Sword Demon King incident to the guild.

There was no solid proof it really was the Demon King of the Sword, and even if there had been, it would’ve been far too big a deal.

So right now, the guild was still verifying everything, using the testimony of the blacksmith Zilmoza—who was still in custody—as reference.

I stopped by the guild branch once to show my face to Branch Chief Dordwin.

“You already proved you’re A-rank material when you killed that dragon. Just wait a bit longer; I’ll bump your rank up when the time’s right.”

That’s what he told me.

Thanks to the guild’s mistake in sending us on that irregular request, they also waived our quest quotas for this year and next.

Lucky me. Now I could focus entirely on research.

That’s exactly what I’d been doing lately.

Having three seasoned mages—Zaria, Noiche, and Egiy—willing to be my test subjects made a world of difference compared to when I was back home.

“Okay, Noiche, this time try cutting the ‘great owl’ part out of the chant again.”

“Got it.”

Today’s guinea pig was Noiche.

We were in the mansion’s garden, having her fire spells at a straw target set far away.

A simplified chant with the words “great owl” removed still damaged the straw bundle. I just kept recording the results.

“Does the power really change that much?”

“Yeah, a little.”

“…Just a little, right? Changing the chant changes how you picture the spell, so of course the output shifts a bit. That’s normal.”

I groaned at Noiche’s question. “Maybe.”

I hadn’t reached a conclusion yet, but something told me it wasn’t only that.

A caster’s thoughts definitely affect a spell.

But someone like Noiche had been honing the same spells for over ten years; the image should be burned into her mind.

Could removing a single phrase really shake her focus enough to change the power that noticeably?

“I started doubting the obvious when the power of Praise the Foolish God—Cthulhu turned out weird.”

“…The tentacle spell?”

“That one.”

Noiche tilted her head. “It was ridiculously strong, yeah…”

I had named that spell Praise the Foolish God—Cthulhu.

It was another case of using a literary image from my previous life to stabilize my thoughts.

At the same time, it also carried the property of “likening.”

By overlaying Ink’s nature onto the ancient evil god of this world—the great octopus sleeping in the deep sea—I had achieved reinforcement through likeness.

The result was that insane power.

Something was off.

I couldn’t believe mere mental stabilization alone could turn a spell into a monster like that.

In other words—

The “likening” technique had a major effect beyond just reinforcing thought.

That’s why I was now gathering samples.

I was pulling every keyword from the Levi family chants that seemed related to likening and measuring the difference in power.

“To me this feels completely normal… but for Haro it’s different, huh.”

“Normal?”

“Yeah. It’s normal that gods live in the night sky.”

Well, fair enough.

People of this era rarely doubted mythology.

Gods exist.

Pray to a god and your spell grows stronger. Perfectly natural.

“Don’t you believe in the gods, Haro?”

“Hmm. I really want them to exist, at least.”

“That’s not the same as believing.”

She might be right.

Right now I had three working theories.

One: the myths of this world were artificially created to strengthen magic.

Two: because everyone on the planet believes in gods, the world’s magic itself is influenced by that collective faith and thought.

Three: the gods actually exist.

The fun part? All three could be true at the same time.

Just then, Zaria and Egiy came out the front door.

Spotting us in the corner of the garden, Zaria waved both arms wildly.

“Hey, you two! We’re heading to the workshop, okay~!”

“Oh right, that’s today.”

“Have fun!”

Zaria bounded off full of energy while Egiy bowed politely again and again as she chased after her.

Today was the final adjustment on the magic sword Zaria had been dying to get.

The workshop of the still-detained Zilmoza had been taken over by his top disciple, the beastman Aljan, who had been cooperating a lot along with Egiy.

Once the two disappeared from sight, I suddenly felt weight against my back.

Warm, soft. Noiche had pulled me into a hug and was staring down at me.

I looked up and our eyes met.

“…What?”

“We’re alone for once.”

“Oh. Yeah, true.”

When I answered, Noiche kept her usual blank face but narrowed her eyes just a little.

I was starting to understand.

That tiny change meant “this feels different somehow.”

…Well, I had noticed a few things.

I wasn’t dense enough to miss that these girls liked me at least a little.

“I figured you didn’t have anything like a possessive streak.”