Assuming the knowledge he carried over from his previous world was applicable, he calculated the temperature of the air he pulled down to be around -70 degrees Celsius. Even accounting for some amount of heat gain as it came down, it was almost certainly cold enough to kill an unprotected human. The only reason Renya hadn’t turned into a human ice cube was because he was standing behind multiple walls of wind, which created separate layers of air. If he removed the walls, he was pretty sure he’d freeze to death instantly.
“I doubt people in this world know what a downburst is. Of course, a downburst this big and this powerful would blow plenty of minds in my previous world too…”
As the haze of vapor gradually faded, he caught a glimpse of the forest beyond the wall of white. Branches did not sway. Leaves did not rustle. The trees and grasses, and probably every animal and monster they sheltered, were frozen in place, locked into a motionless winter wonderland.
“Right, let’s just say calamity struck. This was a natural disaster. Definitely a natural disaster,” Renya muttered to himself. “No point telling the truth, after all. It’s not like anyone will believe me.”
It was probably easier to claim it was a whim of the gods, which still sounded more convincing than “Yeah, I did that.” He looked up at the sky — at the yet-unknown deities that ruled over this world — and decided that he would shift all the blame onto them. They were the ones fighting stupid turf wars, after all. It was their fault for playing games while on the clock. In fact, he felt fully entitled to fling mud at them, since it was their negligence that resulted in him being sent on this damned cross-world journey in the first place.
“Still…”
Once he canceled the spell, the massive funnel dispersed just as quickly as it appeared. All the cold air and moisture it held spilled out in a burst of white frost. It snowed that night over the forest — big, feathery flakes drifted down from the sky, gentle and quiet. He watched as they accumulated on the ground, and murmured,
“I sure suck at magecraft…”
Using it normally, he was barely even mediocre. At full strength, he was a disaster on two legs. At this rate, his magecraft was pointless; he had no way of using it. Wondering when he would be able to remove the barrier, he surveyed his surroundings. As the full scale of the devastation he just caused sank in, he couldn’t help but let out a deep sigh.
“…Oh?”
I removed the teacup from my mouth and looked up. On the table before me lay a small purple ball. The crack that ran through it caught my eye.
“Hm? What, now, seems to have piqued your interest?” asked the bundle of bandages in front of me. It sat on a sofa across the table, and it seemed to take on the shape of a person. However, it was thick. Very thick. Its silhouette probably would have resembled a plump teddy bear of some kind. For a moment, I found myself intrigued by the sheer amount of bandages required to create that appearance.
“Well, it appears that the core I sent through the Forest Maze has been destroyed.”
The humans had yet to realize that the Forest Maze had been fully traversed by us demons. We had constructed a transfer gate between the opening to the human territories and the opening to the demon territories. With that said, only a limited amount of resources could be transported through the dungeon to build the human side’s gate, so it could only transfer one person at a time. On top of that, there was a limit to the number of times it could be used in a day and each use was prohibitively expensive, but such was the cost of doing business. Or, in this case, research.
“What were you doing there?”
“Field testing my new monsters. They’re wonderful little creatures that feed on humans, reproduce in their stomachs, and eventually fuse with their bodies.”
Before sending them on their way, I had embedded a core into one of them to control it. The fact that my control core on this end was broken meant the core-carrying monster had been destroyed as well. Barely any data had been collected. That made me annoyed. Annoyed, but not dejected. After all, doing experiments was about repetition, the goal of which was to extract necessary data from countless failures and the occasional success. It was akin to the process of trying to draw the one winning ticket from a vast lottery. A researcher who scowled at every losing ticket would have a very short career, not to mention end up with a lot of wrinkles.
“The experiment was meant to test just pure strength and reproductive speed, but…”
“It failed spectacularly, huh? I feel for you,” said the bundle of bandages lounging lazily on the sofa. It flapped its limb-like appendages around as it talked. My eye twitched. I resisted the urge to stab the utterly vexing creature, though I doubt anyone would have faulted me if I didn’t.
With that said, it was indeed a most perplexing lump of cloth. It possessed no features on its surface that even resembled an eye or mouth. Despite that, it acted as if it saw me, and it spoke clearly with an unmuffled voice. At some point, I would have to unravel those mysterious wrappings. In fact, I might just pop it open and take a look inside for myself. Whatever I found inside, I was sure it would satisfy my curiosity. As I entertained thoughts of exploring its mysteries, I glanced at the bundle of bandages. It twitched — ostensibly a gesture of discomfort at being stared at.
“Something wrong?” I asked.
“Why, now, might I have just felt a chill… A cold, perhaps?”
“Do demons catch colds?”
“Don’t we? Well, considering how many of us are brainless machos, I doubt we’d notice even if we did.”
The bundle of bandages cackled loudly. As a demon, it was technically of a higher rank than me. As a researcher, it was also my senior. In spite of its experience and status, however, its insistence on behaving flippantly earned it the derision of its peers and the brand of an eccentric. Even I try— no, do my absolute best to not involve myself with it.
“I don’t see what’s so funny. First of all, I’m not the first one to fail an experiment there. Didn’t the experiment you just conducted in the same area also fail thanks to the intervention of a human?” I said, my voice slightly pointed.
It abruptly stopped laughing. Did it take offense at my slight? Peeking at what probably was its face revealed nothing. The bandages hid its expression. I wasn’t sure where its eyes were supposed to be, so I couldn’t even tell if it was looking at me.
“I wouldn’t say it failed,” said the bundle after a brief pause. It didn’t sound upset. “I took back what I needed. I was simply forced to terminate the experiment early.”
“I heard you also lost the manastone used for the experiment. That alone means you’ve lost a ton of money, and you still claim it’s not a failure?”
“Harsh critic, huh?”
Like a mummified teddy bear, the figure spread its two stumpy arms, flipped itself around on the sofa, and looked up at the ceiling. Every one of its gestures was so ridiculously exaggerated. It was strangely annoying. Had it been of lower, or even equal rank, I would have immediately shut it up for good. Unfortunately, it had me beat in both rank and experience. Make a brash move, and I might get myself killed.
“Either way, the experiment is stopping for a while.”
“Oh? Why, now, might that be?” asked the bundle of bandages perplexedly.
I couldn’t even begin to imagine how it was possible to ask that question. Granted, there were plenty of researchers who showed interest in literally nothing except their very specific interests, but even they should read the announcements from the higher-ups. These were not made in jest; one disobeyed them at their own mortal peril. Was the figure before me so eccentric as to ignore even that?