Chapter 53

The Fighting Vending Machine To buy time, I might manage by just getting knocked around by the monster and enduring with Force Field, but if it heads for the settlement afterward, I’m not sure even the Hunters Association’s sturdy fortress could hold out. At the very least, they won’t be able to save everyone in the settlement like they did last time. The inn’s mistress and Munami have done so much for me; the gatekeepers Karios and Gorth are my number-one customers; the group of three that comes every morning—no, four, now that their granddaughter has been with them recently; Shirley buys all the contraceptives I can dispense; the blond-haired young lady, the people in black, the two money changers, and all my other customers are in that settlement. A vending machine’s presence is like proof of peace and public order. And that means there’s no problem at all with me, a vending machine, protecting those in the settlement! The eight-legged crocodile, seemingly aggravated by its fruitless attempts to break my body despite sending me flying several times, charges toward my position even faster than before. Even if I defend against it, it’ll knock me miles away. I might lose sight of it, and it could even lose interest in the big white vending machine. If that happens, it would expose the fleeing Lammis and the others to danger. Then how about this?! I change into a homemade bento vending machine I found locally once. Then I dump a pile of fried-food bento boxes into my compartment. My rough handling of them causes the food to spill from their boxes, sending the scent of fried food—warmed by my heat retention—drifting into the air nearby. I don’t know whether crocodiles have a good sense of smell, but one that giant must be starving all the time. And it should be feeling mad, since no matter how many times it attacks, it can’t destroy me. If there was something exuding a delicious scent before its eyes right now, what would it do? The answer comes from the crocodile’s mouth—and the lines of sharp teeth inside it. No sooner do I feel my body shake left and right than I suddenly begin to fall straight up. It looks like there are long dark-red tubes running around me. This must be its esophagus. Force Field is protecting me even in this situation. I continue to hurtle down the beast’s gullet, then hear the sound of something dropping into liquid. After I rise to the surface of the sticky fluid, I look around. Several rocks and trees with melted leaves are floating around as well. Ah, I must be in its stomach. [Points decreased by 10. Points decreased by 10.] The stomach acid begins to deplete my points incredibly quickly. It looks like I won’t be able to relax in this situation. If this is its stomach—then I’ll go ahead and start harassing it! Using my Boxed-Item Support feature, I switch my products. I change them into cleaning detergent found at a coin laundry, start pouring them into my compartment, then use Force Field’s ability to launch them outside the barrier. The detergent flies from my compartment outside my Force Field, bubbling and sinking into the stomach acid. You’ll be writhing in intense pain in a second. It’s my treat—time for the stomach cleaning of a lifetime! As one container of detergent sinks after another, the stomach acid begins to ripple. I can tell firsthand that the eight-legged crocodile is squirming in agony. It seems to be working very well. But it probably won’t die from just this. No matter how I think about it, diarrhea and nausea is as far as this will go. Which means it’s time to change into an older body that I just acquired. Attached to my patented retro-silver rectangular body is a lever you can crank manually. The bottom part has orange tubes extending from it, connecting to an old cooking stove. This is a gas vending machine—one that I saw every once in a blue moon in old ryokan inns, hospitals, and dormitories. One hundred yen gives you a few minutes’ worth of usage time. I initially thought it was a convenient feature for cooking outdoors, but I didn’t think I’d be able to sell my vending machine products, so it’s one of those features I haven’t used. I changed into a gas vending machine for one purpose: to spout gas outside my Force Field. I’ll fill the creature’s stomach to the brim with gas. It’s often said you’ll get gas bubbles in your stomach when you eat too much, but this time, actual gas is spreading through. As I continue to release the gas, the stomach acid begins to churn around. My body rides the flow, the whirlpool steadily sucking me toward the center. Does it plan to expel me from its body? I’ll have to decide things before I get to its intestines. I don’t know whether this is enough gas or if my Force Field will hold out—I need to try it to know for sure. It’s worth a shot! I have faith! …The issue is the fire. I figured I could just light the stove, but I don’t have a way to turn the crank. I can manipulate my vending machine body to a certain extent, but the cooking stove seems like an external, optional part, and no matter how strongly I try, I can’t control it. This isn’t what I expected. Crap—I’ll be sucked in soon. Fire, fireworks, anything! Wait, would that work? I change into a vending machine that heats up frozen foods, then try refilling my canned products inside my internal microwave. I imagine replenishing my stock the same way I always do—but can I consciously send one of them into that microwave? This vending machine is my body. I’ve been with it for months already. Please, at least give me this! With a clattering that echoes through my body, I feel a single can appear. Yes! I think I’ve got the hang of it, so I drop a towel and a newspaper into there, too. This is the forbidden secret ceremony of heating up an aluminum can in the microwave! Don’t try this at home, kids! Frightened by the strange noises I start to hear from inside me, I feel the can launching sparks. I don’t have sensations, but I seem to be able to understand what’s happening in my body. Oh, the flame lit. [10 damage. Durability decreased by 10.] Internal damage really hurts. But now everything is ready. I drop the canned beverage and the towel, which is beginning to burn, along with the newspaper. And then I allow them to pass through my Force Field! Out of my compartment flies the burning towel and newspaper-covered canned beverage. It looks as though I just shot a ball of fire. The fireball is flung outside my Force Field, and as soon as it does, it makes contact with the gas filling the stomach—and causes a huge explosion. “Please come again.” [Points decreased by 1,000.] I can see something dark red scatter in front of me, but my vision is spinning like a top, so I have no idea what’s actually happening. Ohhh, I think I’m going to be sick! If its stomach exploded, it must be in unimaginable pain right now. Even this eight-legged crocodile, the stratum lord, will eventually breathe its last…right?! All around me are walls of meat—dark-red, glossy, fleshy meat. The creature seems to be raging as usual, shaking its body intensely. If I had a physical body, I might have thrown up. I don’t know how much time passes, but at last, the shaking begins to die down. Did the eight-legged crocodile expire? If it did, the problem is how I get out of here. [Points decreased by 1. Points decreased by 1.]