Punish her. Punish her. Punish her.
Today's order doesn't make much sense.
The commands I hear from the control device embedded in my temple are always vague, but today's is so overly broad that I'm at a loss for what to do.
Butcher sometimes loses control and acts contrary to the intentions of those who command him. It's thought to be because Butcher's brain is empty, but I suspect the vagueness of these orders accounts for at least half the reason.
So, what does "punish" mean? Can I assault her?
Butcher's tasks are varied. Because of his strength, he's sometimes used for physical labor like heavy machinery, and other times he receives one-off special orders like this.
The aliens probably see Butcher as a convenient, slightly dangerous tool that does whatever it's told.
Once, I was even assigned to guard a high-profile female alien. And I was the guard—the most dangerous one.
My bright red glass eyes glare at the woman with her back to the wall.
She stares back sharply, hands outstretched, braced for confrontation.
Her straight, lustrous flaxen hair falls to her waist, with slightly pointed ears peeking out. Her eyes are sharp, and her slender body is characteristic of what you'd call an elf girl.
The recent fox incident ended with a sword on the floor, the belongings of the dead men, and the wound on my back. They seemed to understand the situation, so I wasn't punished.
I was almost labeled a defective Butcher and disposed of. Just thinking about those idiots makes me furious. I already ate them, though.
The wound on my back was minor and would've healed quickly on its own, but I had it healed with recovery magic.
However, as a precaution, they're monitoring me to ensure I follow orders and don't attack anyone on my own. Lately, I've felt an even stronger presence from the other side of the mirror—that's probably why.
I just casually mentioned magic, but it's real. The aliens use technology called magic that surpasses human science. It's both their strength and their weakness.
They have the power to perform human modifications, but it's rooted in the mysterious technology of magic, which is extremely finicky.
What I mean is, take this room, for example. There are no surveillance cameras. They don't have that technology. So they use low-tech transparent mirrors for monitoring.
With the ability to modify humans and travel through time and space, how can they not make a single surveillance camera?
Magic.
Magic has clear limits—what it can and can't do. It's not easily adaptable. That's my conclusion after observing their organization from the inside. They're either very good at something or not at all.
I sigh and take a step toward the elf girl.
She shouts something, flames erupting from her outstretched hands and engulfing me.
Hot—but that's it.
She's using magic, and Butcher's skin has extraordinary defensive capabilities. It's beyond biological. Magic unleashed without a catalyst can't even leave a burn.
Of course, if she used a wand, amulet, or some other *magic catalyst* to focus her magic, she could probably hurt me.
In fact, I've fought alongside alien mages on the battlefield. I've seen their magic overwhelm human physical weapons countless times. When I was a human scout, it gave me a lot of trouble.
But I only learned that their power was boosted by magic catalysts after being captured as Butcher and observing their lives up close.
Magic catalysts come in many forms—sometimes just a ring. That's why humans don't recognize their great power. Who'd think a wooden branch could hold such strength? Human soldiers believe aliens wield incredible power with their bare hands.
But magic catalysts glow faintly when used. I noticed that after becoming Butcher. Now, I can usually tell which ones are catalysts.
Without such catalysts, magic is child's play to me now.
One step. Two steps. As I ignore the flames and approach, the elf girl grits her teeth and dashes around the room, trying to escape.
We've been playing this cat-and-mouse game in the cell for almost an hour now.
The cell is large enough that this could go on indefinitely unless I seriously chase her. But is this really what "punish" means?
This elf girl hasn't shown any sign of reflection during this whole chase.
What really confuses me is that when I try to speed up and attack her, the order shifts to, "Don't kill, don't assault, don't kill, don't assault."
Apparently, I can't kill or assault her.
Then what am I supposed to do?
I'm Butcher, the slaughterer.
All I know is to assault, kill, and devour. If two of those are off-limits, all that's left is to eat her. But if I eat her, she'll die. In the end, I can't do anything.
Punish without killing or assaulting.
I wish they'd be more specific.
…Is this really a test of my sanity?
It feels like I'm stuck in a Zen koan.
Day after day, Butcher assaults, kills, and devours.
Then a master arrives and asks,
"What's the point of assaulting, killing, and devouring?"
"To punish the elf girl severely."
The master then takes out his phallus and begins polishing it before his disciple.
"Master, why are you polishing your phallus?"
"To extract gold from it."
"Can you really get gold by polishing your phallus?"
"Then I ask you: Can you punish the elf girl by assaulting, killing, and devouring?"
"Then how can I punish the elf girl?"
"When an oxcart won't move, do you kill the ox or eat the cart?"
What an incredible koan. It's too difficult. If I solve it, I might attain enlightenment.
No, no, I can't escape reality.
This leaves me stuck. I need to break convention.
I stop and stare at the elf girl sullenly.
She smirks, thinking she's won.
…Damn it. Time to show her… human wisdom!
I think silently.
Punish without killing or assaulting.
Punishment—basically, this elf girl did something wrong, and I need to make her reflect. Give her a lifelong trauma so she never wants to do it again.
"□○§▽〒□△▼! ◇★＃■! ◇★＃■!"
The elf girl stands proudly before the mirror, chest puffed out, boasting victoriously.
But there's a trail of cold sweat on her cheek.
I'll definitely traumatize her.
I'll punish this elf girl severely…!
I glare at her resolutely.
No killing, no assaulting… wait, injuries are okay!
Seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, I flick my tongue out.
It wraps around her slender waist, pulling her toward me.
The elf girl's face contorts in shock as she's pulled into my arms.
Quickly, I pretend to claw the air, bringing my nails close to her face.
I'll scar her face. Maybe tear her clothes and injure her a bit. Strip her naked and chase her around. Anything to terrify her. Sure, recovery magic will heal her injuries, but this will scare her. And I'll show her my face up close—a special treat.
As expected, her perfectly sculpted face twists into a cry.
Pinned under my arm, she can't move a muscle.
I bare my gums, exhaling Butcher's breath in her face from close range.
"Hii…!"
I get a small scream.
Then, I try to drag my sharp nails along her flawless skin—
—Don't injure her. Don't kill. Don't assault. Punish her.
…Give me a break.
I'm at a loss.
*From "Manga: Zen Thought," based on an episode of Mazu Daoyi.
Known as "Polishing a tile to make a mirror," among other titles.
*This is a crude adaptation. The original is a more virtuous and noble tale.