Chapter 63: Tonkotsu Ramen Shines Between Change and Stagnation

From the moment I was old enough to understand the world around me, I recognized the “path” laid out before me.

It was the path of bearing the responsibility for the “Fortress City of Zalfedahl,” built over three hundred years by ten generations of my ancestors: my father, my grandfather, my great-grandfather, and those who came before them. It was a duty and a future etched into my very blood and flesh.

Without the slightest exaggeration or falsehood, the entirety of Padron Zalfedahl's life had been devoted to walking that “path.”

It wasn't a matter of resignation, as though there were no other options.

Nor was it a compromise, as though this path were merely better than the alternatives.

And it certainly wasn't some privilege automatically bestowed upon me.

Of my own free will, I had decided to walk that path in a manner worthy of it. So that I would never bring shame upon my ancestors, my people, or, above all, myself. I spared no effort in doing everything necessary to achieve that.

I honed my intellect, martial prowess, and spirit. I mastered everything required of an ideal “lord.”

And yet, what awaited me was—

“Padron. I cannot allow you to inherit the position of lord in your current state.”

A rejection delivered by none other than my own father.

Having successfully secured the elves' cooperation, we entrusted the task of holding back the mechanical soldiers to the elven warriors and the mysterious young healer, then set off once more for Machine City.

The clown had remained behind to fight the mechanical soldiers, declaring, “For some reason, for some reason, it seems the city lord has taken a dislike to me!”

And so, we arrived once again beneath Machine City.

At that point, the city lord, Limient Cornerstone, appeared before us in a gigantic, translucent form.

『I have absolutely no objection to this. In fact, the unknown that awaits beyond fills me with excitement. However, even I have a position to uphold as “city lord.” Therefore, I ask that you forgive me for not inviting you inside and instead conducting our discussion through this hologram. What a troublesome business this is.』

I see. Since we were now clearly on opposing sides, inviting us inside by opening the entrance and lifting us into the city was obviously out of the question.

Instead, it seemed she intended to use this thing called a “hologram” to communicate with us.

『Hmm. If the mechanical soldiers and elves are fighting, does that mean you actually managed to persuade those lunatics? I see. It appears I misjudged you.』

That was right. This time was clearly different from our first visit to Machine City, when negotiations had ended in failure.

The weight behind our words—or rather, behind Kizuna's talk of “salvation”—had changed.

Kizuna had accomplished what Machine City couldn't: persuading the elves, who had been written off as incapable of changing.

To unite all the cultures, races, and values gathered in Chaos, and bring them together against the threat of the World Eater. To turn countless scattered arrows, each pointing in a different direction, toward a single common goal.

It sounded wonderful, but it was also an absurdly grandiose claim, little more than an empty fantasy. Honestly, even I, who had been traveling alongside him, still wasn't entirely convinced. Anyone who didn't know him personally would surely be even more skeptical.

And yet, Kizuna had actually accomplished something. He had secured the elves' cooperation. Whether he himself understood the significance of what he'd done was another matter, but it was far more meaningful than anyone could have imagined.

Perhaps he really could do it.

He had demonstrated that possibility. He had given us reason to believe that, by steadily building upon one achievement after another, he might turn the impossible into reality. Kizuna had finally gained a tangible accomplishment that made us expect such things of him.

That said—

『But the elves' change of heart has ultimately done nothing more than prove that I was right. Furthermore, your achievements are hardly decisive enough to invalidate the path I have chosen.』

Indeed. The elves' stagnation had finally been broken, just as Limient had said from the beginning.

We had been forced to spur the elves into action, but in doing so, we had indirectly acknowledged the validity of Machine City's position.

『You all have various reasons for fighting so desperately. Nevertheless, it is easy to imagine that, at the root of it all, lies the desire for “survival”: the desire to survive in the face of an unknown threat, or to ensure that someone dear to you survives. The same applies to the elves. It is reasonable to assume that they rose up to protect the everyday lives they cherish. We may have devised an elaborate plan, but in the end, we are no different. That is simply how living beings are made.』

Her argument was entirely correct.

To begin with, Limient was making what she considered the best possible decisions as “city lord.” She was simply weighing the options and choosing what needed to be done for the residents of Machine City to survive.

『Once they have accepted it once, accepting it again will be easy. All we need to do is stimulate their desire for “survival” and make them accept our “change.” Then everything will fall neatly into place.』

Certainly, the sacrifices would be enormous. The elves would have no choice but to leave the Great Forest and live in Machine City. Their traditional forest way of life would be shattered, and their culture and values would be forced to change.

But even so. Even then, they would survive.

Ah, damn it. I really couldn't bring myself to reject Machine City.

Because—

—I remember.

Yes. It was that day. The day my father delivered those unforgettable words to me.

Zalfedahl Academy, the finest educational institution in the Fortress City of Zalfedahl, proudly stood as a symbol of the city's excellence. In its spacious courtyard, the rankings from the examinations held the previous day had been posted, and students were gathered around them, chatting among themselves.

“Padron won again? Man, this is getting ridiculous.”

They were free to say whatever they wanted. They were free to think and speak as they pleased.

The Fortress City of Zalfedahl had been built through the blood, sweat, and dedication of my ancestors, generation after generation. I genuinely believed it was an ideal city, the finest of its kind, and that wasn't merely family bias speaking. It was not some narrow-minded city that arbitrarily suppressed the thoughts and opinions of its people.

“First place in the swordsmanship tournament. First place in the horsemanship tournament. Always at the top of the academy's academic rankings, too. He's even been invited to serve as a guest judge for art and gourmet food competitions. A prodigy who has already outgrown the limits of an ordinary student: Padron Zalfedahl. ...Honestly, comparing ourselves to him is practically a joke.”

And precisely because of that, I, as the next lord, should simply have ignored their words.

Yes. That was what I ought to do. That was what I was supposed to do.

“Well, obviously. His father's the lord, and he's been receiving elite education since he was little. The amount of money invested in him is on a completely different level. It's only natural that ordinary people like us wouldn't stand a chance, even if we stood on our heads.”

But—

“Exactly. It's like we're living in completely different worlds.”

I couldn't bear to listen any longer.

All I could do was leave without saying or doing anything. If I stayed, I might have clenched my fists and punched them. Walking away was the only way to prevent myself from committing such an impulsive, disgraceful act—something utterly unbecoming of a future lord.

Because, really?

What did they mean by “different worlds”? What utter nonsense.

This chaotic world was one. There was only one.

Certainly, the circumstances granted to each person were different. No living being could choose the place into which they were born.

But what came afterward? What would they seize for themselves? What path would they choose to follow? Those decisions belonged to none other than themselves.

How ugly were those who couldn't understand such a simple thing, or even make the effort to understand it? Those who could do nothing but blame their birth or other people for their own shortcomings.

Everything I had built up until then. Every ounce of blood, sweat, and effort I had poured into my training. I could no longer turn a blind eye to the cruel truth that all of it had been for the sake of protecting the lives of people like those fools.

And even so...

I would never run away from my responsibilities. I would simply carry out my role as the “ideal lord,” quietly and diligently.

That was what I had believed.

Until—

“Padron. I cannot allow you to inherit the position of lord in your current state.”

“...?! W-what exactly do you mean by that?! No, more importantly, there is no successor other than me! If I am not to inherit the position, then who exactly do you intend to give it to?!”

“In that case, I am considering introducing a system known as ‘democracy,’ which has developed in other worlds. We could study and establish an electoral system, then entrust the future of the Fortress City of Zalfedahl to a better leader... Don't you think that would be an interesting prospect, my son?”

“W-what are you saying, Father?!”

“After all, we live in a chaotic world where all kinds of social systems have gathered. It would be a waste not to learn from them and adopt whatever we can.”

I couldn't understand.

I'd studied desperately. I knew about “democracy” and “elections.” And precisely because I knew about them, I couldn't understand.

Because—

“Father! Are you saying that you wouldn't mind if people who haven't even put in half the effort I have became the lord?!”

Depending on the outcome, people like those fools could end up becoming the lord.

No. Whoever was chosen, there was no way they could surpass me, someone who had devoted himself to constant effort and improvement since childhood.

And yet, my father—

“Your perspective is far too narrow.”

“My perspective is narrow...?”

“There's no point in explaining anything further. You must realize it for yourself. You may leave now, Padron.”

I believe that “discarding” things is the correct choice.

Abandon personal feelings, suppress emotions, and simply continue making one decision after another, weighing what should be kept and what should be discarded. Keep realizing “the greatest happiness for the greatest number” within one's domain.

That is precisely what I have always believed a “ruler” should be.

An ideal ruler is an emotionless king who never makes the wrong choice when weighing his options. You cannot win a board game if you hesitate to sacrifice your pieces. All you need to do is calmly and consistently make the correct moves. That's how it works.

What's wrong with that? If you let sympathy or personal connections cloud your judgment, everything will collapse. The “present” built by countless people over countless generations, and the “tomorrow” that will be woven from it, will both fall apart.

Then surely the correct thing to do is cut away every obstacle and keep moving forward. That is the right path—

“With all due respect, there are people who do not wish for sudden change, just like the elves living in the Great Forest. Neither you nor anyone else has the right to deny what those people feel. No one does.”

The one who spoke up was Lies.

Though an elf, she was also a half-elf—the very embodiment of “change.”

I see. If anyone was qualified to say those words, it was her.

Even so—

『Sudden change, you say? Those are truly the words of a fool.』

This woman wouldn't be swayed by that.

She wasn't someone who could be moved by commonplace generalities, conventional wisdom, or ordinary notions of morality and ethics.

『Those who perceive change as sudden are simply those who live passively. Anyone who stands at the forefront of transformation, carving out new lands with their own hands, would never be trapped by such foolish thinking.』

“Then are you saying that it's perfectly fine to discard the people you call ‘fools’?”

『Hmm. You're a new face, aren't you? Young elf.』

“I'm Himeros Waunero.”

『Young Himeros. You're absolutely right. We must cast aside what is unnecessary and move forward.』

Yes. At this point, we had no choice but to admit it.

The “plan” she advocated was correct. The plan to ensure the survival of Machine City and its inhabitants was unquestionably a righteous path.

“Meow... I don't really know how to put it, but it feels cold.”

『Is that all you have to say? Nothing but a personal impression? What value does an individual's subjective opinion have without any objective data to support it?』

Hey, shut up, you barbarian idiot cat. This isn't a discussion you have any business interrupting.

And it wasn't just Piska. No matter who we were, myself included, none of us could shake the convictions of the woman standing before us.

『Nevertheless, this too is interesting. Allow me to explain things in terms that better suit your values.』

Limient, the city lord of Machine City. The path she believed in was unwavering, straightforward, and perfectly rational.

『There are forms of progress that can only be achieved through ruthlessness. There are paths that cannot be traveled through ethics and morality alone. Would you halt the development of a new medicine out of sympathy for the lab animals? And leave tens of thousands of your own kind, who are suffering from incurable diseases even now, to die? Don't be ridiculous. Wouldn't that be far closer to the “evil” you speak of?』

“Honestly, I don't understand all that complicated stuff, nya. We people of the grasslands also live by sacrificing all sorts of things, nya.”

Exactly. Everyone knew that much.

Living beings could not survive without consuming other lives. That was simply how the world worked. If so, there was nothing strange about sacrificing something for the sake of progress. Therefore—

“But we've never forgotten to be grateful, no matter what, nya.”

—Huh?

“The people of the grasslands perform rituals before and after every hunt, nya. We return the prey's soul to Chaos and pray that we'll meet again... Through these rituals, we express our deepest gratitude to the lives that become our sustenance, nya.”

『Gratitude, you say? Respect, is that what you mean? More spiritual nonsense. Such things are nothing more than self-satisfaction—』

“Maybe so, nya. It's not like we can actually know what the prey thinks, nya. But I don't think we should ever forget it. Not because it's some kind of rule, but because if we do, we'll lose something far more important, nya.”

Those were nothing more than her “personal feelings,” stripped of any claim to evidence or persuasive reasoning.

Her words rested entirely on subjectivity, imagination, and tradition. Compared to Limient's “theory,” there was simply no contest. The difference was like heaven and earth.

And yet, when I saw Piska confidently declaring something so vague and uncertain—

I remembered a certain dish.

Yes. It was a few days before we found ourselves stranded in front of the lake, shortly after we had joined up with Nanashi and Pahal.

For dinner, Tierra brought us yet another dish none of us had ever seen before.

“Tonight's dinner is ‘ramen.’ Be careful, it's hot.”

“What is this, nya?! It smells sooo good!”

“The soup is sparkling. It's pretty.”

“Mama, let's eat.”

“Please, go ahead. And I'm not your mama.”

Honestly, that ramen dish was a revelation.

The moment it was brought over, its aroma struck my nostrils. Meat, along with vegetables and countless other ingredients, had all come together, blending and enhancing one another until they formed a single, overwhelming fragrance. It was practically an aroma with a taste of its own. Yes. The smell alone was delicious enough to be downright overpowering.

And its appearance was magnificent, too. Thin, straight noodles nestled in a shimmering, amber-colored liquid, topped with an almost excessive amount of flat slices of meat and vegetables.

The moment I brought a spoonful of soup to my mouth, I understood the profound depth of ramen down to my very bones. First, a delicate fragrance—probably that of dried small fish—drifted gently across my palate. Then, without missing a beat, the powerful richness of meat surged through.

It was like a charging wild boar, yet it was most certainly not simply the taste of the untamed wilderness.

...I see. The bones are being simmered. The reason the flavor is so rich is that the broth has been extracted from the bones over a long, slow cooking process. Though born of the wild, it was a work of art. This soup had achieved that miraculous contradiction, and the assistance of several kinds of vegetables had elevated it to an even higher level.

The noodles, too, had clearly been carefully considered. Somehow, the amber-colored soup clung wonderfully to those thin, straight noodles. As a result, every bite brought the entirety of “ramen” rushing into my mouth.

At first glance, this seemed like a rather rough and rustic dish. In reality, however, every detail had been calculated. The combination of ingredients, their proportions, the simmering time... Everything seemed to follow a golden ratio.

If I were to give this dish a theme, it would be “harmony.”

Ingredients that were completely different from one another nevertheless coexisted beautifully within a golden formula, each retaining its own distinctive characteristics and individuality. They never overwhelmed one another. Instead, through mutual respect and understanding, they enhanced one another.

And above all, there was that soft-boiled egg. Its golden yolk had absorbed the amber-colored soup... No further words were necessary.

“Hey, Mama.”

“I'm not your mama. ...Anyway, what is it, Rene?”

“What does ‘itadakimasu’... mean?”

And then, while I was savoring the lingering aftertaste after drinking every last drop of soup, Rene suddenly asked Tierra, who had just finished cleaning up.

“It's an act of expressing gratitude toward everything involved in making that meal, I suppose. Not just the plants and animals that became the ingredients, of course, but also everyone who grew, hunted, processed, and prepared them... It's a way of saying ‘thank you’ to every single thing and person behind the meal. That's what I believe it means.”

『Question. Does that act have any meaning?』

“...Meaning? Honestly, not really. It's not as though the lives taken to make that meal are going to reply, ‘You're welcome.’ From beginning to end, it's all just self-satisfaction.”

『Then why—』

In response to Tetoma's straightforward question, which had joined the conversation, Tierra gave a rather blunt answer.

But then, she continued with a smile.

“But—if we were to forget that feeling of gratitude, then there's no doubt that food culture... and not just that, either. All of human culture would inevitably begin to decline.”

『...？』

“For example, that ramen we just ate. Its soup is made by extracting broth from animal bones. Those are large, hard bones that aren't normally edible... the kind of parts you'd usually throw away without a second thought, right? That dish exists precisely because someone decided not to throw them away and instead find a way to put them to good use.”

I found the story fascinating and turned my attention toward Tierra as she spoke.

Her blue eyes seemed to be gazing at some distant scenery. Perhaps, for example, at a faraway homeland she remembered fondly.

“Maybe it was because the ingredients were inexpensive, or because people were in desperate circumstances... But I think that, at its heart, there must have been gratitude toward the ingredients. The spirit of ‘mottainai,’ you could call it. I believe countless wonderful innovations have been born from that mindset. And not just in cooking, but in all kinds of things.”

By that point, everyone who had been spending their time as they pleased after dinner had stopped to listen to Tierra. I remember it clearly.

I suspect that, to varying degrees, everyone was feeling the same thing I was.

This wasn't something that could simply be dismissed as casual after-dinner conversation... I had a vague but unmistakable feeling that there was something much more important behind her words.

“Something important may be sleeping inside the things we've thrown away, the things we've forgotten, and the things we've discarded because we thought they were unnecessary. If feelings of gratitude or lingering attachment keep us from completely letting go, there's still a chance that we'll look back from time to time and recognize their value. This might apply to everything: food, technology, people, objects, and even our homeland. But once something is lost forever, it's already too late.”

『You speak of losing something important? Whatever that may be, surely even what has been lost can be brought back through progress.』

—Ah. I see. So that's what it is.

『The same applies even if the elves lose the Great Forest. If they cannot forget their homeland of old, we need only recreate an identical environment for them later. Alternatively, with Machine City's technology, it would be easy to let them experience whatever dreams they desire. It would even be possible for them to spend eternity dreaming only of the past, and—』

—I finally understand. I finally understand, Father.

“You're wrong. You're wrong, Ms. Limient.”

『...What?』