Ouroboros is smiling SO much. A bottomless smile — with zero smile behind the eyes, which makes it terrifying beyond description.
Fundamentally, these girls are monsters rather than humans, so presumably THIS is their factory-default temperament.
Thank every god available that we lucked into a friendly relationship.
Anyway — once Miyamoto’s face had deformed to a degree that would send Frankenstein’s monster sprinting for the exit, I threw him a lifeline.
“Ouroboros… that’s about enough.”
“But Master…”
“I said that’s about enough.”
“I agree~♪ Disgusting or not, killing him is going a LITTLE far~♪”
Killing him would genuinely be bad news, yes.
The plan: tie him up, hand him via Arisa to the town guard or whoever, and let the law sort him out.
A hero who deserted his training post — presumably that’s a serious crime with ugly consequences.
Ouroboros, face unpersuaded, tossed Miyamoto aside.
“Ahih… hyah… awawa…”
Released, the terrified Miyamoto scrambled for the big tent — and stepped directly on the rucksack Sonya had set on the ground.
CRUNCH — the unmistakable sound of a carrot being crushed.
Ah… the blood is draining from Sonya’s face. Her shoulders are trembling.
—He stepped on the landmine.
The one landmine in this entire world you must never, EVER step on.
Palm-top rabbits do not process reasoning — this is genuinely lethal territory.
On cue, the palm-top rabbits began to buzz.
Ears snapped upright, and crimson flames of rage ignited instantly across their blue eyes.
“Did yer MOTHER not teach ya as a BRAT never to waste FOOD, huh?!”
“Look at this rotten piece o’ filth… he CRUSHED a carrot!”
“Ya ruin a carrot… an’ the only currency left is LIVES!”
“If we let this slide, it’s shame on the palm-top rabbit family for a HUNDRED generations!”
“Take us lightly an’ we’ll END ya, hear me?! Mince ya into NAMASU!”
“Big sis! Permission to BRAWL!”
“GET ‘IM! Get ‘im get ‘im get ‘im! OU OU OU OU! GET ‘IIIIM! This is an ORAORA situation if there ever was one, HUH?!”
Sonya, smiling her fullest smile, thrust her right hand forward — thumb up.
Then rotated the hand smoothly. Thumb down.
“Now, little bunnies~? If we’re doing it, we do it THOROUGHLY~!”
Ah… he’s dead.
He is absolutely, certifiably dead.
—Well. He reaped what he sowed.
I DID stop them. Twice, in fact. Any further obligation to intervene has expired.
And the palm-top rabbits descended upon Miyamoto.
I slowly closed my eyes, crossed myself, and said:
“Miyamoto… rest in peace.”
And then—
“U-uh… a-AAAAAAAAAAAAGH!”
Miyamoto’s scream echoed through the cavern.
The palm-top rabbits’ standard armament is those needle-sized little spears, you see.
They swarm the entire body and go jab.
Jab jab.
Jab jab.
Jab jab jab jab jab jab jab jab.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAGH!”
A genuine hellscape of wailing and gnashing.
…Oh, and now the palm-top rabbits have begun to GLOW.
Huh. So they can use magic too.
Ah…
—Miyamoto’s on fire.
Yes. On fire.
He caught fire.
Miyamoto has caught fire, is what I’m telling you.
“GIIIIIIIIII—”
To be precise: dozens — no, hundreds — of tiny, lighter-sized flames, distributed across every square inch of Miyamoto.
Roasting him. Slowly. Evenly. With craftsmanship.
“That is VICIOUS…”
Every attack in their kit is small, sharp… and slow-burn. Merciless by design.
I have never been more grateful that we’re not enemies.
Burning Miyamoto, perforated Miyamoto — the palm-top rabbits’ methodical assault continued for a solid twenty minutes.
”…You alive?”
I put the question to the face-down, no-longer-describable object formerly known as Miyamoto. No response.
Blood head to toe, thin threads of smoke rising from countless points across his body.
I found a stick nearby and gave him a poke-poke.
Ah. A twitch.
Alive, apparently.
Hero-class vitality earns its reputation, I’ll grant.
“With luck, you’ll pull through. The rest is on you, yeah?”
As a final mercy, I set a potion bottle down next to Miyamoto’s head.
And as for the geezer alchemist with the dangerous research…
“A-a… awawa… palm… palm-top rab… so MANY of them… and the QUEEN… and on top of that… demon-realm nobility… why… dressed as a MAID…”
He’d lost his legs entirely and had been muttering deliriously along those lines for several minutes.
“So — what shall we do, Master?”
“Right,” I nodded.
“Tie them all up. They’re clearly an illegal operation — we hand everyone over to the Adventurers’ Guild or whoever’s appropriate. Miyamoto included, obviously.”
Though in Miyamoto’s case, arrest is contingent on him first winning his ongoing bout with death.
“As you command, Master.”
Ouroboros bowed, crisp as ever.
The mountain of ore the alchemists had collected, incidentally, will be put to productive use. By us.