The day the Great Alliance was formed became a momentous day that the monsters would never forget.
Because each and every one of them was going to be given a name.
...Not.
Sounds cool when you say it like that, but who do they think is going to name all of them?
150,000 of them. Give me a break. That's ridiculous. Just the other day, it took me about three days to name 500 goblins.
They'd starve to death while waiting for me to name 150,000 of them!
I actually considered skipping it this time, but...
These guys had to atone for the sins of the Orc Tribe.
Originally, the D-Rank orcs had been strengthened to have Magicule counts approaching "C+ Rank," but that would revert back within two weeks.
The reason was that the enhancement came from being under the influence of the Orc Disaster.
If that was the case, then I could absorb the Magicules they were going to lose and grant them an equivalent amount instead. That way, I could name them without any fatigue on my part.
So the problem became the names themselves... At this point, even resorting to the alphabet wouldn't work.
Dividing them by major tribe, or adding second names—either way, the management would become a nightmare.
The only path left was the ultimate, the supreme, the series hiding limitless potential—the strongest series of all.
That's right!
Numbers.
They call it a national identification number system or whatever, but honestly, from a management perspective, numbers are supremely convenient.
They could at least manage a basic military formation, so I lined the orcs up in the wetlands.
Would they refuse if I just named them arbitrarily?
I did worry about that, but once the Magicule loss wore off, they'd be nothing more than an unmanageable mob of 150,000.
They'd already multiplied too much.
At D-Rank, they weren't a threat per se, but it was obvious they'd go rampaging through the surrounding area.
That wouldn't make them useful as quality labor, and the alliance would be pointless.
Also, once they evolved, their status as monsters increased, which lowered their reproduction rate—something I'd already confirmed with the Goblin tribe.
So I decided to exercise the victor's prerogative.
For each major tribe, I'd assign names following a terrain-based system—Mountain, Valley, Hill, Cave, Sea, River, Lake, Forest, Grass, Sand, and so on.
For the Mountain tribe, "Mountain-1M" would be the name. For females, "Mountain-1F." Any derivatives beyond that were up to them.
Honestly, it was just because managing individual names was a pain. Children could branch off as "Mountain-1-1M" or whatever.
They could sprinkle in middle names or words corresponding to the alphabet however they liked—I'd leave that to their own creativity.
So that's how it went. I devoured the Magicules from the orcs, and in return, I bestowed names upon them.
Since I had them lined up by tribe, segregated by gender, the naming actually went pretty smoothly—though it did take time.
But this time, I didn't have to agonize over each name. I could just rattle them off.
The names were determined by their position in line. Whether parents and children were together or not—I couldn't care less.
As long as they accepted them in the future, that was good enough.
And so, I churned through the names like nobody's business.
I had each tribe's representative handle the record-keeping. There was no paper, so it was just for verification purposes.
In reality, there was nothing to worry about—those who were named never forgot.
Unlike humans, names inscribed on the soul were something both parties could recognize.
And so began the endless days of naming.
Less than five seconds per person.
Even so... there was still some inevitable loss, and in the end, it took about ten days to finish naming everyone.
Of course, while I was busy naming without a moment's rest, I hadn't left
Under the guidance of a Treant named
The purpose was to transport food supplies.
I was anxious about whether the food they offered could really sustain 150,000, but I had no choice but to trust them.
At the very least, having a year's worth would be ideal.
I wasn't worried about the transport itself.
In warfare, the biggest headache is keeping troops supplied. Starving the soldiers on the front lines means defeat.
Even for monsters, transporting food for 150,000 was no small task.
However!
The Storm Fang Wolf tribe had evolved into the Star Wolf tribe the moment
Individually, they were B-Rank—upper-tier monsters.
The maximum number was still 100, but they could now also summon a separate A-Rank commander unit called a Star Wolf General.
And the most notable feature was that every single one of them could use Shadow Movement.
They couldn't move as instantaneously as
With Shadow Movement, they could travel in a straight line to any destination without any resistance.
Think of it as covering the shortest distance between two points at three times normal speed. Incredibly fast.
With the Star Wolves—who also had decent physical strength—picking up food from the Treant tribe's settlement and transporting it, round trips that would take over two months by cart due to circuitous routes could be completed in a single day.
However, the goblin riders couldn't accompany them during the move.
With practice, who knew—but I'd like them to learn eventually.
The goblins who couldn't go along helped me with organizing the orc formations instead.
And with that, the transportation problem was solved.
As for the food supply issue I'd been worried about...
The Treant tribe were originally monsters that lived on water, sunlight, air, and Magicules.
They grew fruits infused with their excess Magicules, but nobody ate them.
Since they could only move within the sanctuary, all they did was collect and store the ripe fruit.
The fruit was a magical plant—exposed to light, it would dry out without rotting.
As I learned later, this dried product was traded on the market as a rare fruit called Dried Magic Fruit.
It was rarely available and considered an expensive luxury item.
The reason for its high price was its dense Magicule content. A single piece could sustain activity for seven days. You wouldn't even feel hunger.
Another reason was that it was a specialty product of the Treant tribe, who had no contact with humans. The Treants who managed them would only give it away on a whim to those in need, so it almost never reached the market.
When I learned that, I slightly regretted giving it to the orcs for free. Well, it couldn't be helped.
And so, thanks to a proposal from Treyni, the representative of the Treant tribe, the food problem was also resolved.
Ten days later.
Exhausted, but I had done it.
Numbers were racing through my head. It was brutal.
But still—I was wrapped in the satisfaction of having accomplished something.
150,000, mind you. Just counting them was enough to make you sick.
By that time, the food distribution had also been completed.
Fifty pieces per person.
They understood that losing them would mean starvation, so everyone accepted them with utmost seriousness.
After the naming was complete, the Orc Tribe evolved into the Boarman Tribe. Though this time, since I hadn't used my own Magicules, there was no domination or subservience relationship.
I could only hope they would join the alliance of their own free will and continue to cooperate.
In terms of monster strength, they had been at a "C+ Rank" equivalent, but they settled down to C-Rank after the drop. They'd originally been D-Rank, so this was perfectly fine.
More importantly, their intelligence had relatively improved, and the traits they'd gained were preserved as well.
They could be said to have evolved into a species with adaptability—the ability to respond to any situation.
They thanked me and departed to various locations. Accompanying them, ten Goblin Wolf Warriors went with each group.
They would confirm settling locations and provide support such as tents, then give technical guidance and help establish each settlement.
The road ahead was long, but they would eventually settle down and improve their living conditions.
And so, the Boarman Tribe set off in their respective directions.
However, some stayed behind.
The Orc General and his loyal followers insisted on working under me no matter what.
Well, I couldn't exactly...
It was true that I could use the extra labor force.
Fine. I'd accept them casually.
A group of about 2,000 clad in black full-body armor.
They were the survivors of the Orc Royal Guard.
I couldn't assign them terrain-series numbers. What to do...
Since they had yellow auras, I decided to assign numbers by color.
I did a quick Appraisal scan of the Orc Royal Guard. Then I had them line up according to my instructions.
My Great Sage's Appraisal had improved to the point where I could make fairly accurate assessments at a glance.
It was apparently equivalent to
As expected of the "
Excluding the Orc General, I assigned numbers to them in order.
This was the moment of the birth of the Yellow Legion. I assigned numbers without distinguishing between men and women.
There's no such thing as gender for warriors.
For labor purposes, I'd send workers once each settlement was settled, so for now, I needed these guys to step up.
And then, there was the Orc General.
I had a certain premonition.
I'd already decided on his name.
He would inherit the will of the Orc Disaster, taken from
No matter what his intentions had been, that fact didn't change.
Now then, let me give him his name...
"Your name shall be— Orc Demon Lord Geld! You will inherit the will of Gelmud!"
In that instant, the Orc General's body was enveloped in yellow Demon Aura, and his evolution began.
At the same time, a massive amount of Magicules was drained from me. Damn it... so it's happening after all.
Just like always, I entered Low Activity State.
The next day.
As expected—or rather, as I'd feared—my premonition had been correct.
The approximately 2,000 survivors of the Orc Royal Guard had evolved and become the Boarman Tribe.
However, since they'd been "C+ equivalent" and close to B-Rank in strength, all of them remained at "C+ Rank." They had evolved to a higher level than those who had scattered to various locations.
The Goblin Wolf Warriors were also "C+ Rank," so it was like gaining extremely powerful soldiers.
Of course, individually they were "C+ Rank," but the Goblin Wolf Warriors and the Star Wolves came as a pair of monsters.
It might be wrong to compare them directly.
Now then, the main event—the Orc General, or rather, Geld...
He had evolved into a Boarman King. Yeah, I'd had that feeling.
He had obtained the Unique Skill "Gourmet"… [Stomach · Supply · Demand (※Same race only)].
His Magicule count was fairly high—roughly newly established A-Rank.
He had lost the ability to force-feed corpses to his own kind, as expected. He probably didn't need it anymore.
Skills were influenced by the desires of their wielder's heart.
If he hadn't gone mad, this was what he would have been—a monster combining rationality and dignity.
Could someone like this be satisfied serving under me? The thought briefly crossed my mind, but I decided not to worry about it.
If he went independent eventually, that would be fine in its own way.
Geld didn't seem to have any such intentions, though.
And so, the grueling March of the Dead—naming—was finally over.
Maybe the technique Gelmud had cast on me had come into effect belatedly. Perhaps he was even more terrifying than I'd thought.
The thought flickered through my mind.
The goblin warriors had apparently returned ahead of us. Their numbers had decreased significantly—only about 4,000 survivors remained.
Would they be okay? I felt a slight worry. But this was their problem, and I wouldn't interfere.
There was no need to offer excessive help.
With that said, it was time for us to head back as well!
After completing the handover and paying my respects to the leader of the Lizardman Tribe, we departed.
It had only been about three weeks, but it felt like we'd been at war for much longer.
Well, I'd practically been fighting the entire time myself.
And with that, the disturbance in the forest came to an end.
———
He'd been thrown in a cell the moment the battle ended.
He received meals twice a day—morning and evening—and nothing else. No one said a word. This life continued for two weeks.
He had indeed committed treason. That was a fact.
He'd acted with good intentions, but the result had nearly brought his tribe to the brink of extinction.
It was his responsibility.
He had no excuses to make, nor did he intend to make any.
He would be executed. He held no resentment about that. However...
The last thing he'd received was Gelmud's betrayal. But that was insignificant compared to the hand extended to him by a slime.
An inferior monster. That's what he'd thought.
That wasn't wrong, but it wasn't the full truth either.
That monster was special.
Not in the sense of Unique Skills or naming—just a special monster.
If possible, he wanted to ask one last thing.
Why had he been saved?
Someone like him, worthless enough to be deceived. A fool.
For these two weeks, he'd been thinking about nothing else.
He stood before his father.
In the heavy atmosphere, he gazed into his father's eyes.
His father, dignified and showing no emotion. Ah... so it was execution after all.
He accepted it.
The one who led the pack could never show weakness. Discipline had to be maintained, or there would be no order.
He held no grudge.
He prepared to silently accept his judgment.
The mouth of his father—the leader—opened.
"I hereby pass judgment! Gabiru, you are banished. You shall never again be permitted to call yourself a member of the Lizardman Tribe.
Nor shall you ever return here. Leave! Never show your face again!"
Huh?
What did he just say?
His father's Royal Guard seized both his arms and dragged him out of the cave.
He was thrown outside.
As Gabiru stood there in a daze, a voice called out: "Don't forget this! Take it and go!"
Something was tossed at him.
A long, narrow bundle, wrapped up with his other belongings. The weight in his hand told him what it was.
A magical weapon: the Water
Tears spilled from Gabiru's eyes as he looked to his father, wanting to say something.
But he couldn't speak. He had been banished.
With a thousand emotions in his heart, he bowed to his father.
Then, without looking back, he began to walk.
Toward the town he'd visited once before—the one that should be well-maintained by now.
After walking for a while, he heard a voice: "We've been waiting for you, Lord Gabiru!"
It was his 100 loyal warriors.
"Wh-What are you all doing here?! I've been banished!"
"That doesn't matter! We serve Lord Gabiru, so if Lord Gabiru is banished, then we're banished too!"
"That's right! That's right!!"
they all said with grins.
What a bunch of fools.
This wasn't the time to cry. Like his father, he needed to carry himself with dignity.
"You really are hopeless, all of you! Fine. Follow me!"
And he began to walk.
His steps, unlike before, were filled with confidence.
Gabiru would reunite with Rimuru one month from now.