Chapter 176 - My Son Is Too Strong (3)

4

A fine warrior keeps winning.

An even finer warrior accepts defeat gracefully on the rare occasion they lose.

"I lost."

The muscle pig was quite a fine warrior.

"I'm confident I don't fall short in the sheer quantity of my aura, but our finesse in wielding it is as far apart as heaven and earth. Ugor. It seems I've been using aura far too simply all this time."

"Don't blame yourself."

I stroked Uburka's head.

"I didn't figure it out all by myself, either. My masters taught me martial arts. However extraordinary someone's talent is, it's hard to surpass a martial sect's accumulated history. I have a thousand years of the Demonic Cult's dominion behind me."

"O Kekereukker."

"Mm."

"O Daddy."

"I won't even ask for 'Father,' but couldn't you at least call me 'Dad'? Being called Daddy by someone as enormous as you is shaking my sense of identity."

"Understood, old man."

"Uh... One tiny change, and it sounds awfully different. No, if you absolutely must call me that, call me whatever you like..."

"Old man, I have a question. Why have you been sitting on top of my head all this time?"

"Because you're enormous, Uburka. Anyone who sees a giant like you would want to climb up. Humans are born with a desire known as the climbing impulse. I find it very difficult to resist."

"I see. So such an impulse exists."

Uburka nodded, rocking back and forth. Perched on his head, I naturally got to experience a zero-gravity swinging pirate-ship ride.

This was kind of fun.

"Now that you've lost to me, be good and listen to my advice. Of course, whether you act on it afterward is up to you. If you have a better idea, tell me."

"Ugor."

"Forcing peace talks won't end the world's turmoil."

I scratched Uburka's head.

"You need to offer terms the parties involved can accept. Not just the Mountain Snailfolk—the other five races need to gain something, too."

"What benefit could we offer them?"

"It's simple. Set your own perspective aside for now. Think from each race's perspective. Then you'll find the answer," I said.

"The Mountain Snailfolk will welcome peace talks. They'll escape the threat of extinction. But they'll have trouble accepting the solution of [destroying Slimepolis to eliminate the source of conflict]. Why do you think that is?"

"Because it's holy land?"

"Tsk, tsk. If Slimepolis is destroyed, they won't have a single city left to live in."

I gave the crown of Uburka's head a little knock.

"Escaping extinction is good, but having no guaranteed future makes them anxious. In other words, if you can somehow ease that anxiety, the Mountain Snailfolk will give the peace talks the okay."

"A new city. A new home?"

"That's right. Losing their holy land will hurt, but, well. As you said, it'll be razed so [no one can have it]. Emotionally, there's something there they can accept."

"I understand."

Uburka nodded his pirate-ship head.

"We'll promise to protect the Mountain Snailfolk once we've built them a new home and they've settled there. They'll be anxious if their home is close to the five races, so we should lead them as far away as possible."

"Exactly. That's it. The Mountain Snailfolk have good technology, don't they? Make handing over a few technologies a condition. Then the Earth Spiritfolk warriors you lead will be a little less unhappy."

"Will they?"

"Specifically, their 'fuck!' will soften to 'fuk.'"

"Just one letter gone, yet it sounds rather different..."

Their discontent wouldn't disappear completely.

Still, the law of 'The strong survive' held firm among the Earth Spiritfolk. They would follow Uburka's wishes as the council's big boss and number-one warrior. After all, he had that magical phrase: 'If you've got a problem, come at me.'

"Uburka, your determination to stop a race from going extinct is admirable. But if you want to live simply, you can't be simple-minded. Goodness is something you might barely achieve even if you work your brain fucking hard."

"Mm. Old man, what do the other races need?"

"I just told you."

I grinned.

"Think from their perspective, remember?"

5

"We'll help you out once, too, when you're facing extinction!"

On the night of the full moon, the coalition and the Mountain Snailfolk finally came to the talks. None of them looked particularly happy. They had been dragged there rather than simply coming, after all. Unfortunately, there weren't many armies capable of withstanding the muscle pig's red laser beams.

Under the tent where each race's representatives had gathered, Chair Uburka boldly declared:

"Look. Even the Mountain Snailfolk empire, which enjoyed unrivaled glory after the primeval forest burned, has fallen. There is no eternal prosperity. The coalition may have momentum now, but every one of you will decline someday. That is a law of the world beyond our control."

"..."

"A defeated race will be reduced to slaves of the victorious race. The enslaved race will repeat the humiliation of six hundred years ago, while the masters will repeat the mistakes the Mountain Snailfolk made over those six hundred years. What a pity! Both sides will be saying 'fuk,' and eventually the whole world will be full of 'fuk'!"

Uburka looked genuinely distressed. In other words, his mouth hung open, his fangs were bared, his brow was fiercely furrowed, and the tip of his nose twitched.

When the strongest hobgoblin in history made that face, the people around him didn't have many options for how to react.

"Mm. Hmm..."

The bloodsucking aristocrat spoke cautiously.

"In short, you mean that you will help us later, just as you are helping the Mountain Snailfolk now?"

"Yes. When you face extinction. I, Uburka, promise this in the name of the chair of the Fire River Council. Ask anything you wish to know."

"Forgive me, but is there any guarantee that this promise will hold for generations to come?"

"No."

"Then I am sorry, but this discussion..."

Uburka gripped his axe handle. The representatives flinched, shrinking back like frightened deer.

"There isn't one, so we can make one now."

"What?"

"Wait here."

Chair Uburka slowly approached the Earth Spiritfolk warriors. A great many of them were gathered around the tent where the talks were being held.

"Members of the Fire River Council, listen! I am about to conclude a peace agreement in the council's name. If any of the races gathered here faces extinction, we'll help those bastards."

The warriors stared blankly at one another.

One who looked fairly seasoned spoke up.

"Do whatever you want, Chair."

"This promise will remain valid after I croak."

"Ugor? How can it?"

"Because you're about to swear that [my grandchildren will never break the promise I made]. If your descendants break the promise you make to me, they'll be unfilial little shits."

"What if we don't want to swear?"

"Beat me."

"Fuk."

The seasoned warrior raised his spear, muttering 'fuk.'

"I oppose that motion! My name is Urk. I am a descendant of Great Warrior Gorgir, who ran and played with Kekereukker, the forty-ninth-ranked warrior of the Fire River Council, and the elder brother of Urmu, who croaked honorably in a duel during this war!"

Chair Uburka casually rested his axe on his shoulder.

"Fine muscles. I'll give you a nice, gentle beating—just enough not to kill you."

The seasoned warrior got a nice, gentle ass-kicking.

"Guuurgh!"

Uburka's fist struck him squarely in the belly, and the warrior put today's mess-hall meal on stark display for the world.

The exhibit was titled [Two Fish & a Little Centipede Chicken]. Its watery gastric juices and hefty chunks were particularly striking.

His fellow Earth Spiritfolk trembled with emotion at the sight of this great work of art.

"H-he's still ridiculously strong..."

"What the hell does that chair eat to be so outrageously powerful?!"

"A double-digit rank taken down in one blow. Impossible."

"Doesn't he seem stronger than before we marched out...?"

"I think this motion is excellent, Chair! You are a great blessing and a glory to our race! Long live the chair!"

"Who said that?"

"Filthy bootlicking bastard."

"Get rid of the bootlicker!"

More warriors stepped forward to duel over the motion. Some ranked around one hundred, and one ranked sixth. But not a single warrior could make Uburka swing his axe. Every one went down with a single punch.

When the number of warriors who had received a nice, gentle ass-kicking reached thirty-three, the Earth Spiritfolk finally united from top to bottom, forced to sing with one voice and one syllable.

"Fuk..."

"Fuhk..."

Uburka set down his axe and folded his arms.

"Weak. Why are you so weak? You're so weak I feel bad hitting you. You sorry creatures. Behave yourselves and support this motion before I feel even sorrier."

A fine warrior keeps winning. An even finer warrior accepts defeat gracefully on the rare occasion they lose. In that sense, the Earth Spiritfolk were fine warriors.

"I support it."

"I'm in favor, ugor."

"Anyone opposed, shout your opposition."

Silence.

Only the campfires scattered around the military camp crackled quietly. Every council member and every warrior on the battlefield expressed their approval.

Uburka surveyed them imperiously and nodded.

"Good. As chair of fire and river, I declare that the motion [to help any of the six races should it face extinction] has passed unanimously. Those who shouted their approval, those who stayed silent when asked for opposition, and their descendants may not defy this motion. All of you. Swear upon the sacred earth."

Uburka struck the ground three times with his axe handle.

THUD! THUD! THUD!

The Earth Spiritfolk warriors likewise silently raised their weapons and struck the ground three times.

"Mm."

Uburka returned to the negotiating table beneath the tent and sat down.

The representatives of the six races stared at him blankly.

With his arms folded, Uburka looked back at them.

"I've made a guarantee that our promise will hold for generations to come."

"..."

"Any other questions?"

"..."

The bloodsucking aristocrat bowed politely.

"That is sufficient. I have no further questions."

One bowed his head; another raised his. It was the Demonfolk representative. The goblin with a single horn on his forehead wore a vicious expression, unhappy about something.

"Hey, Mold. Are you really that strong?!"

"Stronger than your father."

"You son of a bitch!"

"Wrong. We are not sons of bitches. Kekereukker descended in the body of a lion. Thus, we are sons of lions. Sons of bitches would better suit the Mountain Snailfolk over there. How disappointing that you don't even know such basic racial facts. Hurry up and correct that to 'sons of lions.'"

"Huh? What? Fuck, anyway!"

The Demonfolk drew his sword.

"We poured in grain our people worked themselves to the bone to produce to bring an expeditionary army all the way here! And now you tell us [I'll save you from a crisis once someday, so withdraw]? Huh? No way! What about all the rice and grain we've already thrown away?!"

"What do you want done about it?"

"Compensate us!"

"We're not a particularly wealthy race, either. We consider earning each day's food that day a virtue. Even if we wanted to compensate you, we couldn't."

"Then I can't negotiate, either!"

"Ugor. That's not it, is it?"

Chair Uburka stroked his chin.

"There must be something else you're really worried about."

"What?"

"The problem is returning without any results after spending an enormous budget. The lords and landowners you squeezed money out of will voice their discontent. They may go beyond that and rebel. As a result, you'll lose power. If you're unlucky, you'll lose your head. Isn't that what worries you?"

Uburka recited what I had told him in the dream quite convincingly. Faced with this unexpected series of remarks, the Demonfolk representative floundered, stammering.

"No, that's..."

"Just once. If a rebellion breaks out in your country, I'll go there myself."

"..."

"I won't put this before the council. I'll do it alone. Against mere rebels, this body, one axe, and twelve spears will be more than enough. What do you think? Is that enough for you to join us in destroying the holy land?"

Uburka bared his fangs.

"If you still need an excuse, come at me. Saying you lost a duel will give you an excuse to offer your fellow Demonfolk."

"Y-you bastard."

The Demonfolk representative flushed and raised his blade.

"Fine! A duel! If you think I'll go easy on you because of that, you're sorely mistaken!"

"If you think I won't go easy on you because of this, you're the one who's sorely mistaken. I'll go moderately easy."

The Demonfolk representative received a moderate beating. His single horn bent to display a moderate angle, and his broken nose blossomed into moderately elegant contours. Losing a few teeth made his looks moderate, too. Having become moderation itself, the Demonfolk representative groaned, planted upside down in a hole in the ground (at a moderate angle as well).

"You... fucking bastard..."

Uburka smiled contentedly.

"Now you're looking more like a warrior!"

Seeing someone planted upside down in a hole tends to leave you with less to say.

That night, the representatives of the seven races signed the peace agreement.