Chapter 34 – Resources

There’s a saying that hidden cards and trump moves decide victory.

It’s also common to hear about their importance.

However, one must not mistake this.

Whether through direct assault, hidden tactics, or trump cards, without allocating resources, sufficient results cannot be obtained. Resources are always finite—this is absolute.

Resources are time, labor, and money.

National governance, shop management, games, reality—all of them amount to nothing more than resource allocation.

Gaikaku hadn’t brought his full complement of forces to this battle.

While this could be called careless, it’s unrealistic to constantly deploy forces whose necessity remains uncertain. Looking long-term, one must discern what’s truly needed. That’s resource management… and there is no correct answer for it.

And more to the point:

Even if you learn that an elite Beastkin commander is among the enemy right before combat, what changes?

Or if you learn it right before departure?

Certainly, there’s no way to guarantee a decisive victory.

The soldiers who ate Gaikaku’s magitech cuisine—prepared with illegal ingredients in abundance—slept soundly that night.

Their frayed nerves had kept them awake, but comfort from a satisfying meal and relaxation allowed them to sleep deeply.

While their wounds didn’t heal, they refreshed tremendously and faced the next morning’s combat.

“We’re really fighting again…”

“This sucks…”

With malnutrition and sleep deprivation resolved, they faced reality with sharper minds.

They’d arm themselves the same way as yesterday, fight the same enemy as yesterday.

Having recovered both body and spirit, they wore displeased expressions precisely because of it.

That said, improvements existed.

The newly founded Conjurer Knights had joined as reinforcements.

These women who’d fed them delicious food yesterday were now arming themselves to fight alongside them.

Strictly speaking, they were too weak to be called a proper knight order… but twenty armed Ogres in this battle was dramatic.

“Strange equipment on those Ogres… they’re using lizard leather, how unusual. But if they’re from a knight order, I suppose it’s possible.”

“We’ll need to cut deeper than usual.”

“Yeah… and don’t think for a second we have this in the bag.”

Watching twenty Ogres approach, the allied soldiers’ morale surged.

Ogres were simply strong. Twenty of them grouped together could blow away any opponent.

Hearing those cheers, the heavy infantry women felt a bit awkward themselves.

“It never gets old, does it…”

“Yeah, yeah… The new model’s running great too, maybe we’ll really shine today…”

“Let’s bring the energy!”

Across barren plains with decent visibility, allies and enemies spread out and formed lines.

The Conjurer Knights positioned themselves at the center, arranging their formation around the heavy infantry.

Viewed from above, it would resemble chess.

And indeed, the movements that followed resembled chess or shogi.

First, the battle began with the movement of “pawns.”

No matter how trained, armed humans against armed humans didn’t immediately sprint at full speed.

Though they roared impressively, they advanced at a brisk walk—maintaining formation despite the tension.

As both sides approached, enemy formations became visible.

And the Ogres stood out because of their massive frames.

“Enemy center contains an Ogre unit!! And that flag… the newly founded Conjurer Knights!!”

“What?! Then… that is…”

Ogres on the enemy side, and apparently they were a knight order.

Hearing this, the enemy camp grew flustered. Yet simultaneously, a certain expectation arose.

They turned hopeful eyes toward their commander—the one who’d been uselessly slaughtering his own men, the one who was about to waste the fresh reinforcements that arrived today.

(Finally, they really came…)

Alterph, the Giant-Killer, grinned savagely.

It was different from a cruel smile born of enjoying the weak—this was a smile tinged with genuine tension.

“Twenty Ogres… that’s a lot for a knight order, but their quality’s probably low. There might be elite Ogres in an Ogre settlement, but no human nation has that many elite Ogres.”

“Y-you’re likely right… but…”

“Even if they’re just a knight order’s Ogres, they’re not weak. And even if they were average, twenty would be a problem for an army like this.”

Yet Alterph still didn’t move.

The Beastkin who served as his close aides didn’t move either.

They stood behind their own lines, simply observing the battle.

The veterans felt restless at this, but since they “understood” Alterph’s intent, they couldn’t really protest.

“Don’t worry—I’ll do my job properly. Besides, if I crush a knight order, I might get reassigned soon enough.”

Alterph’s reputation for being allowed considerable brutality wasn’t solely because he was strong.

It was because he actively accumulated military achievements—because he was useful.

Faced with a knight order as prey, he was motivated.

“But… you understand, don’t you?”

“Y-yes sir! Absolutely!! I swear, your existence hasn’t leaked to the enemy!”

“Good. If you can manage that, I’ll make sure we win.”

Ogres are large, so they stand out.

That works both for and against them.

To the enemy, they’re terrifying—but you also know where they are.

“The Ogre unit’s getting close… Archer squad!”

“Yes sir!”

The enemy soldiers implemented standard Ogre doctrine.

Ogres aren’t particularly dexterous and can’t attack from range.

Their legs aren’t particularly fast, nor do they have exceptional stamina, so wearing them down with ranged attacks from a distance is preferable.

The enemy archer squad attempted concentrated fire on the central Ogre unit.

“Hmm! The enemy’s launching arrows! Infantry! Defensive formations!”

“Yes sir!!”

If it were a single Ogre, that would’ve been correct.

But surrounding her allies were the Conjurer Knights’ infantry unit.

These “ordinary soldiers” who received proper training naturally could use basic protective magic.

“Defensive magic… deploy!”

Arrows raining down from afar were blocked by walls of light.

For Dark Elves, this was pathetically low-level ranged combat, but it was an incredibly effective exchange of moves.

Twenty Ogres approached completely unscathed, neither depleted nor fatigued.

The front-line enemy saw this up close.

“Wh-what do we do? The arrows aren’t hitting at all!”

“W-well, of course not… the enemy has human soldiers too, they’d do at least this much.”

“If they keep advancing like this, we’re…”

“Hey, shift a bit to the side!”

For ordinary humans, this was unbearable.

No matter how you looked at it, anyone who collided would certainly die.

So their approach slowed, their formation crumbled.

The Ogres merely approached—they didn’t even clash—and the enemy was already breaking apart.

“Alright! First wave is ours! Ogre unit, follow behind us!”

“You got it!”

(A crumbling formation is incredibly fragile.)

Morale was already lowered, and they couldn’t maintain group combat.

The infantry unit, more nimble than Ogres, charged into their shattered formation.

“Ahhh!”

“Wait, calm down! The enemy are humans, women even! Don’t run—fight!”

“But you’re saying that when the Ogres are approaching!”

“If we fight these guys, those will catch up!”

(It’s exactly like a fox borrowing a tiger’s power.)

Even if the charging infantry were ordinary humans, the Ogres were at their backs.

Fighting the infantry meant eventually facing the Ogres, so of course they didn’t want to fight.

“Does the commander’s order mean nothing to you?”

“Th-that is…”

“Charge recklessly!”

“Y-yes… dammit!!”

The soldiers obeyed their squad leader’s orders despite everything.

It was a desperate, kamikaze-style charge.

“Hmm… fall back for now! Let the Ogre unit take the front!”

“Yes sir!”

“Alright, I’ve got this… let’s go———!”

“———!”

(But this was exactly what the Ogre unit wanted.)

They leaped forward, replacing the human infantry, and began swinging their weapons.

“Gugh!!”

“Hg!!”

“Bwah!!”

Enemies who were armed and had charged desperately were sent flying through the air.

With inhuman strength, massive weapons sang through the air.

Rather than being cut or crushed, they were knocked aside like traffic accidents.

It was literally like a child’s fantasy of “me, winning big on the battlefield” made real.

“Ahhhhh!!”

“It’s impossible! You can’t do close combat with Ogres!!”

Twenty Ogres charging alone wouldn’t be frightening.

But twenty Ogres mixed into an equal-sized human army? A nightmare.

With allied protection and weaknesses covered, there was no way to counter Ogres.

This wasn’t limited to humans—other races would similarly avoid direct confrontation with Ogres, even if they fielded equal numbers of Lizardmen.

Though there was faint hope that continuous fighting would eventually exhaust them…

“This is amazing! I really don’t get tired!”

“Right?! With the Chief’s armor, it’s so comfortable!”

“Stronger than average Ogres, it’s actually true!!”

The women currently wearing new Fresh Golems were practically immune to fatigue.

Cooled from inside and outside, they maintained comfortable body temperature even mid-combat.

(Much of an Ogre’s fatigue comes from heat generated by their own muscles, but ours has dramatically improved that.)

Of course stamina would increase.

And beyond that…

“Time to resupply water, yes?”

“I’ll pour it over your head—stop moving for a second!”

Dark Elves carrying abundant water waited at their backs.

The new Fresh Golem’s surface was covered in resort lizard leather.

It possessed both water retention and evaporation capacity—when wetted, it provided cooling through evaporative heat far beyond normal.

“Alright, we can keep going!”

“We’ll blow through them!!”

Twenty women weren’t a large number compared to a thousand-strong army.

But if each killed five enemies, one hundred would simply disappear from the opposite side.

That was overwhelming pressure for the remaining nine hundred—and an incredible bonus for the thousand allies.

“The enemy’s starting to collapse! Well, of course!”

“Yeah, keep pushing! This is easy!”

As Ogres broke the enemy, others crumbled too.

With an absolutely superior position, allies could base their tactics around it.

Conversely, the enemy couldn’t eliminate that strongpoint—they were being pushed back more and more.

They were past the point where encouragement alone mattered.

“The battle tilts in our favor, I see.”

(Gehihihihi… since our seniors are pushing so hard… my efforts have borne fruit…)

“Indeed, sir. Without your cooking, the entire force wouldn’t have fought so desperately…”

Gaikaku and the on-site commander observed their improving position from the rear.

They couldn’t hide their relief.

However, Gaikaku tilted his head slightly.

“Yet… something seems odd, doesn’t it?”

“Wh-what might that be?”

“The enemy’s still resisting… they should’ve fled by now.”

“That’s been… the situation here all along. The enemy on this battlefield maintain unusually high morale…”

(I see…)

For veterans it was old news, but Gaikaku, experiencing this for the first time, found it genuinely puzzling.

(The enemy still has grounds, a chance of victory… reinforcements hidden nearby?)

Gaikaku turned his attention not to the immediate battlefield, but to the surroundings.

Of course there were many people, so visibility wasn’t ideal.

But still, he could sense whether enemy soldiers were approaching.

“No, there’d be no point in a rear-guard ambush on the main force if we’re this dominant. Unit cohesion breakdown wouldn’t matter… so then…”

Gaikaku pushed back his hood at this point.

He fixed his gaze on the most pressured location—where his subordinates were.

(Is this… bad?)

Current superiority existed because the Ogre unit was winning.

If those Ogres were wiped out, they could easily swing to inferiority.

And wouldn’t now be when to attempt it—when his Ogres were somewhat fatigued and enemy numbers hadn’t dropped completely?

“But… I have no countermeasures.”

(Gaikaku, lacking reserves, could only wait for results.)

Even if he’d brought reserves, how could he counter a force capable of destroying twenty Ogres?

Elves who attacked unopposed, Centaurs who ambushed the defenseless.

Ogres engaged in close combat were equally strong. With proper surrounding support, even stronger.

So surroundings elevated them, treated them well.

And… killing them brought great achievement.

“Strange armor… using crocodile leather is unusual. But for a knight order, possible I suppose.”

“We must cut deeper than average.”

“Yeah… don’t make the mistake of thinking we have this.”

Alterph was currently disguised among his own soldiers.

With trusted aides, dressed to pass as an ordinary human.

Frankly, it was underhanded. But such underhandedness was optimal right now.

Beastkin weren’t as large as Ogres, making them better suited for ambush.

Some distance was still needed before discovery, but Alterph and his team hadn’t miscalculated that distance.

“If you fail—if you survive, your allies will kill you.”

“…”

“For us to act freely… we need achievements that satisfy our superiors.”

That’s right—Alterph hadn’t miscalculated.

(He knows exactly how dangerous this plan is.)

He had confidence in success, a track record of it.

But one failure meant death. It was a precarious gamble.

“Listen, we move fast. I’ll go first and handle half. You follow me and handle the rest.”

Here Alterph and his team drew their machetes as weapons.

Somewhat small for warfare, somewhat large for ambush.

But for killing Ogres, they were like “knives.”

(Even if I cut with this, an armed Ogre should bounce back fine.)

He needed to precisely lacerate the enemy’s vital points with this blade.

Alterph had killed many elites on the battlefield—particularly Ogres.

His method was extremely simple: blend with allies, approach, surge from a distance with speed, lacerate vitals.

(It’s like predatory hunting.)

It might seem like a winning strategy.

But fail once, and only death awaited.

Completely different from the human coordination the Conjurer Knights employed—pure standup performance by a single race.

The ultimate in high-risk, high-reward tactics.

They executed it.

“Let’s go!”

The elite Beastkin Alterph exploded with his own murmur.

With overwhelming speed, he broke through the gaps in allied lines, diving into the Ogres’ range.

“?”

The Conjurer Knights’ Ogres couldn’t react.

They didn’t even understand what was happening.

“Confirmed!!”

Confident of hunting success, Alterph slashed his machete across the neck.

The machete bit deeply into the crocodile leather.

And through it, he severed the thick blood vessel beyond.

(As he withdrew the blade, profuse bleeding gushed out.)

But the blood didn’t touch Alterph’s body.

He was already leaping to the next prey, slashing at it.

Following his lead, his aides inflicted fatal wounds on other Ogres.

“Phew…”

A momentary all-out sprint, a last-ditch ambush.

Having finished, Alterph paused mid-battlefield, wiping sweat despite his exertion.

All enemy and ally eyes watched the advancing Ogres.

Those women suddenly bled profusely.

(Silence engulfed everything.)

Nobody understood what happened—even enemies familiar with Alterph couldn’t grasp it.

Alterph’s ambush had been that perfect, that beautiful.

“Hmph… perfect. Our work’s done here.”

In comfortable silence, Alterph began withdrawing.

Main forces annihilated, advantage and disadvantage reversing instantly.

(That was his way of fighting… why he’d risen in rank.)

“The rest is yours to do as you like.”

That’s right—Alterph was perfect.

Like a sprinter running one hundred meters with perfect pacing, finishing exactly as the distance ended…

Alterph and his team had killed twenty Ogres at maximum speed, minimum time.

“?”

It should’ve worked that way.

The Ogres should’ve had their necks severed without understanding what hit them.

Blood should’ve been spurting from their necks.

Bodies that were light moments ago suddenly grew heavy.

“…?”

(As the profuse bleeding began to abate, the Ogres looked around, finding the exhausted Beastkin.)

“Ogres are tough—but without blood, they can’t move properly…”

Speaking with comfort despite his lack of reserves, Alterph attempted to slip through her ranks…

“You———!!”

He was crushed flat by the panicked Ogres.

“Ugh… ahhh…?”

(Alterph didn’t understand what was happening.)

He’d severed their necks, blood had poured out—yet the Ogres were just slower, attacking normally.

Both enemy and ally witnessed this scene.

Actually, from a third-party perspective, they saw it better than the participants.

“Medicine numbing pain…?”

“That’s stupid—with blood loss that severe, instant death. Pain’s irrelevant!!”

“Blood-colored mud? Hidden in the neck?”

“No mud flows that hard! And the machete cut straight through the neck!!”

Neither enemy nor ally understood anything.

No matter how tough Ogres are, bleeding that heavily meant instant death—or at minimum, immobility.

Even without understanding blood physiology, this world recognized that bleeding enough meant death.

“…Wh-what are these… where did they come from?”

“And my body’s heavy… did the armor suddenly break?!”

The Ogres were equally confused.

Everyone else was silent, Beastkin suddenly appeared…

(Most of all, the Fresh Golem had stopped functioning.)

“…My neck hurts. Did I get cut?”

“Yeah… if it weren’t for this armor, you’d be dead.”

But the Ogres quickly understood their situation.

And they realized how close they’d come to death.

(Yes, their necks were truly cut.)

But the cuts hadn’t reached their actual necks and blood vessels.

Alterph’s machetes had only severed the Fresh Golem’s internal blood vessels.

(Since Fresh Golems were muscular power suits, they had blood vessels inside.)

Being biological, severed vessels meant bleeding. Bleeding meant function ceased. That left only thick, heavy meat.

But naturally, the wearer didn’t die.

“No, that’s not all. If it weren’t new model… we might’ve died…”

Yet the neck section lacked particularly thick armor or muscle.

The massive bleeding explained by Fresh Golem blood—but the protection of major neck blood vessels was another matter.

(Major blood vessels.)

The term “major vessels” appeared frequently not only for exsanguination risk, but for one other reason:

efficient body cooling.

Babubabu Baobab.

The wood-flesh Gaikaku incorporated into the new Fresh Golems, absorbing internal body heat.

Naturally, much was placed near major blood vessels, and on the neck as well.

(That reinforced the armor, protecting the Ogres’ necks.)

“By a hair,” one said.

“…Yeah,” replied the other.

“Wh-why… why can you stand, fight…? What trick is this?”

(The structure, functionality not even its intended purpose, determined victory or defeat.)

The Ogres stood while Alterph’s team lay dying.

(Yes, Alterph was perfect.)

Perfectly exhausting all stamina, left with no reserves.

Channeling every resource into successful ambush meant nothing remained for unexpected counterattack.

(Even without dropping guard, they couldn’t beat these Ogres now.)

“A-are the Ogres okay?”

“Yeah, the Fresh Golem broke but…”

“I-is that so…? But… then…”

“Yeah, we’re in bad shape.”

Meanwhile, the Ogres weren’t doing well either.

The infantry shared information, but had no options.

(With Fresh Golems down, these were just bottom-tier Ogres—and the armor had become a shackle.)

Former dominance was now impossible.

If attacked now, they’d surely lose.

“D-did Alterph get defeated?”

But those Ogres heard enemy information leak.

“…Wait, could that be… the Giant-Killer Alterph?”

“Okay, Ogres! Victory cry! Bluff through it!”

“W-we got it!! Come on———!!”

“Alterph defeated~~~!!”

“The Conjurer Knights’ Ogre heavy infantry defeated the enemy Alterph~~~!!”

(Here, the Ogres decided to bluff their way through.)

By spreading word they’d killed an enemy general (?), they hoped to make enemies withdraw.

(That hastily thrown-together strategy…)

“Alterph’s defeated~~~!!”

“N-no way! The enemy Ogres are immortal!!”

The surrounding enemies actively cooperated.

Their morale rested on fear and trust in Alterph.

With that shattered, the enemy army began routing en masse.

Once that happened, victory wasn’t just assured—it was complete.

“P-pursue them~~~!!”

“Obliterate the enemy~~~!!”

“Destroy them and we can go home~~~!!”

The allies piled on accordingly.

Not understanding why these women were still fighting, the Conjurer Knights presumably couldn’t continue.

Better to act helpful than discover otherwise—they charged forward pretending nothing was amiss.

(Amid abandoned allies, the Conjurer Knights surrounded the Beastkin.)

“Dammit… kill me.”

“…You’re not begging for your life?”

“I’m aware my own people hate me… and my bones are pulverized anyway. Can’t fight anymore.”

Alterph, while begging death, was met with silent agreement from his comrades.

Frankly, nothing could be done.

“Besides… I’ve accepted it. I acted freely, made a name for myself.”

(And then he left a curse.)

“You lot will end up like this too… given you didn’t die, that’s possible, yeah?”

“…”

“You’ll die. Same as me.”

(The man sprawled on the battlefield laughed anyway.)

“Die pathetically… like any common soldier.”

He laughed himself to death. His comrades followed.

(The Conjurer Knights all survived.)

(That was the result.)

But it was a result granted purely by luck.

(They believed this themselves.)

Time and stamina are resources.

In a sense, all finite things in this world are resources.

Even friendship between comrades becomes a resource when considering the time required to build it.

(What must not be forgotten: the enemy operates on the same principle.)

The Conjurer Knights couldn’t detect Alterph’s presence because they’d allocated no resources to investigating him—just as Alterph couldn’t learn of the Fresh Golems for the same reason.

If neither side could completely know the other, then strength itself becomes the judge.

(A buffer of surplus resources for unforeseen circumstances tipped victory to the Conjurer Knights.)

Though it was a hair’s-breadth difference.

(Belonging to a knight order meant constantly being tested by those hair’s-breadth margins.)