There’s no way monsters would show up in the wilds.

Late that afternoon, we stopped by the riverbank.

The surrounding land was barren, nothing growing, but the river was a welcome sight.

The water was surprisingly clear. A small bird, having flown in from nowhere, hopped along the bank, then flew off again without a clue where to.

After watching that calming scene, I turned to Nestor and asked,

“How about here?”

“Seems good.”

Nestor answered without hesitation.

His gaze followed the direction the bird had flown—apparently that was the deciding factor.

“Alright, then—let’s set up here. Oliga.”

I called the child slave, who’d carried her home on her back since yesterday.

Oliga set the home down on the ground and came over to me.

“Tired?”

“Not at all, really.”

She looked anything but tired—her eyes sparkled instead.

"Alright, then hand over the slave card. First things first—secure a place to live."

"A wooden house, is that okay?"

"Yeah."

Nodding, Olga pulled out the slave card and pasted the magic circle onto it.

The circle immediately shot arrows toward the materials.

"Hey, what exactly are we using for this again?"

Trying to remember—lately I’d been leaving it all to Yuria, and depending on the situation, we’d end up paying tenfold magic power for emergency production. I’d completely forgotten.

"Abnoi grass, fifty units. Wood shards, three hundred. Bushino stone, ten. That’s it."

Olga leaned over and whispered it to me.

Hearing it again after so long—like going back to the beginning. Fresh, almost.

"Yeah, right."

"Then we just need to gather those materials?"

Nestor spoke from the other side.

"Yeah."

"Understood."

"Olga, hand over the tools."

"What do we need?"

"Axe and sickle, basically."

Olga nodded, darting back to the house she’d just left.

She stepped inside, then dragged out a bundle of axes.

Axes the size of her own body.

I explained to Nestor and the men gathering around.

"Wood chips, scrap wood—rotten or dry, it’s all usable. Just chop up some dead trees with those axes."

"Got it."

"Slave girl, hand me one over here."

"Hey, big bro, watch this— whoa, heavy!"

A few of the men started moving right away, but one nearly dropped his axe.

The DORECA-made axes were heavier than they looked, and they’d probably been lulled into complacency by how easily little slave girl Olga had carried hers.

The men muttered, "No surprise she’s a slave," and half of them set off to find timber.

"Cut the grass with the sickle. And pick up stones while you’re at it."

The other half of the men took their sickles and set off toward the opposite side.

"Alright, I’ll do it too."

"Your Majesty."

Just as I was about to move, Nestor called me back.

Looking incredibly apologetic. Like she couldn’t quite bring herself to say it.

"What is it?"

"Could we… handle this ourselves? Just us."

She stressed the "just us."

"Uh?"

"Well… since Your Majesty can finish it in an instant…"

Ah. That’s what it is.

Right—she wanted to take their time.

I’d finish it too fast if I joined in, so they were politely stepping aside.

"I’m truly sorry, Your Majesty—your ability is simply too great—"

"Got it. That’s the gist of it, wasn’t it? I knew that from the start."

Nestor let out a relieved breath.

"In return, I’ll have Olga work. Gotta build her experience. She’s still young."

"Oh—yes."

Nestor nodded.

Probably thought a child slave would be fine.

In truth, Olga, once she started working, was nothing but a child’s one-liner.

She nearly got crushed when taking wood from the men.

Otherwise, she was just a normal little girl—except when handling DORECA-originated things.

More of a hindrance than help, really.

“Don’t push yourself, slave girl.”

“Can you handle this? Then carry it.”

Her clumsy, helpless little self, combined with her earnest desire to work—she instantly became the men’s idol.

Watching her struggle while being helped was oddly enjoyable.

Like watching a hamster run in a wheel.

Meanwhile, I was left utterly idle.

Nestor and the men relaxed, gathering materials.

Olga darted around among them, scurrying.

Adults loafing, child slave toddling—perfectly matched.

Oddly enough, it was syncing up at the same pace.

Could be working out fine—Olga, at least, looked satisfied.

If a slave’s working with a happy face, who’s gonna complain?

No complaints, none.

“Need help with anything?”

“Ah, it’s fine, really!”

“The king can just stand around doing nothing, no problem.”

Everyone’s on edge—whenever I even suggest doing something, they panic and try to stop me.

Utterly bored.

Too bored. Haven’t felt this idle in ages.

Everyone’s moving, but me? Nothing to do. More restless than at that handmade resort we went on vacation to.

Maybe I should just give up and eat and sleep—was thinking that when—

Out of the corner of my eye, on the opposite side where everyone’s bustling, I caught sight of it.

A full-body white, hairy caterpillar.

Eluka.

Its mouth moved. Looked up at the sky.

Bad sign. Gotta scream.

The moment I understood, I was running.

Charging straight at the monster, I clamped a hand over its mouth.

“—!?”

“Shut up.”

I pinned it down, chest to chest, pressing its mouth shut with a low, warning growl.

Eluka flailed.

I held it firm, then shoved hard.

I shoved it straight—its signature straight-line momentum—out of the way.

Zuza za za.

Pushing, pushing, just pushing, no stopping.

Away from the scene—away from everyone.

I shoved it at least a kilometer or more, then kicked it clear.

Its bloodshot eyes fixed on me.

That look—what the hell do you think you’re doing?

“Sorry, but I can’t have you interrupting that.”

If I’m gonna live slow and easy, I don’t need enemies.

I don’t need monsters.

Sure, there are farms where monsters show up—but Nestor and the others don’t need that.

Besides, I’m the one holding back. Having a monster get in the way? That’s what really gets under my skin.

"Then, I’ll just ask you to shut up."

Eluka charged straight at me.

Straight-on collision. I caught her. Twisted her neck.

The white worm writhed, then went still.

After confirming the monster’s death, I returned to the construction site.

"Uh? Where’d you go, Your Majesty?"

"Relief."

"Y-yes, Your Majesty."

"Grmph."

Another monster flickered at the edge of my vision. This time, it was Throie.

I dashed forward.

"Your Majesty?"

"Residual. Don’t worry about it."

I sprinted, knocked the giant with the massive arms flat, slung him over my shoulder, and dragged him away.

Only when he was far enough did I twist his neck, then returned.

"Master."

"Hey, what is it, Oliga?"

"Maybe we should build a toilet?"

"A toilet? Nah, not needed. First, the house."

"But Master—"

"—Grmph, just wait a second. I’ll be right back."

"Eh?!"

"This whole place is in your hands. I’m delegating to you."

"Got it—got it, damn it!"

—Magic charged to 3,000.

Something buzzed in the distance. Didn’t care. Kept running.

Caught a glimpse of the scorpion—snatched it up like a thief, split it clean in half, and flung it hard into the sky.

"Guess monsters aren’t so rare after all."

Muttering to myself out in the open field, far from the scene.

At first, I’d thought, *What the hell am I supposed to do with all this free time?* But turns out, that’s not an issue.

"Want a slow life? Fine. I’ll give you one."

I grinned.

If that’s what you’re after—well, I’ll make it happen. I’ll make it happen for you.

That day, I carried the air’s burden, scoured every corner within a few kilometers of the destination.

Left Orika and Nestor to leisurely build the village, hands free, minds relaxed.