Great Teacher in a Defense Game

#3 Until the Limit is Reached

Lacrimosa returned belatedly.

Appearing again, she hid her hands behind her back, avoiding Enoch’s gaze.

It seemed she was ashamed of her recent outburst of tears.

Enoch simply let it be.

She was still at that age where showing tears in front of others was something to be embarrassed about.

Sometimes, understanding is needed more than words, and this was precisely one of those times.

“Is everything ready?”

“…Yes.”

“Alright, then let’s depart now.”

Enoch gestured, turning his back.

Lacrimosa gave the head Sister one last embrace before scurrying to catch up with the departing man.

“Where do we go now?”

“Hmm. We should start with a magical aptitude test, I suppose.”

Magical aptitude test. Simply put, it was a talent test for this world.

Generally, in creative works, the ability to become a mage is often determined by the presence or absence of talent.

*Age of Invasion* was similar.

Of course, it wasn’t uncommon for people to become great mages through tireless effort.

However, even so, there was still a significant difference depending on whether or not one possessed natural talent.

‘Aptitude test… First, we must head to a Magic Tower. But before that-‘

Enoch stopped walking and looked down at Lacrimosa.

The girl following behind him looked up at Enoch with a puzzled expression, as if to ask why.

“We’re going to a Magic Tower now.”

“Ah… Yes!”

“Only, before that, there’s something we must first do.”

“Something we must do, you say?”

“Yes.”

Enoch pointed a finger towards the city’s commercial district.

“First, let’s get properly dressed. It’s a matter of etiquette as guests.”

“Ah…”

@

The two traveled by automobile to the commercial district.

The automobile they were riding in, mind you, belonged to Enoch.

Half for efficiency, half for hobby was the reason he’d acquired a license.

In any case, money was no object.

If not for these minor indulgences, Enoch’s life would surely have been terribly dull.

“We’ve arrived. Let’s go.”

“Ye-yes, sir.”

The two alighted from the vehicle, which had pulled over to the side of the road.

Enoch simply exited the car with a nonchalant air.

Lacrimas, on the other hand, carefully, cautiously, exited, fearful of damaging the luxury vehicle she was riding in for the first time.

‘This… it’s definitely a car I saw on television…’

Lacrimas instinctively held her breath as she gazed upon the emblem affixed to the vehicle.

An emblem bearing the Griffin, symbol of the Empire.

It was unmistakably the latest model, the one advertised on television.

Even Lacrimas, who had little interest in cars, knew the name of this renowned luxury product.

She recalled it costing well over three hundred million Kroon, easily.

Just how much money did this Enoch person possess?

“What are you doing over there?”

“Ah, I’m sorry!”

Lacrimas hurried over, startled by the voice calling her.

Enoch, who had been standing still, opened his wallet and showed her a card.

“You see this card?”

“Huh? Ah, yes…”

“Today, we’re shopping until this card hits its limit. Consider yourself grounded if we don’t.”

“…Pardon?”

At those words, Lacrina’s mind went numb.

Enoch, ignoring her daze, gently nudged her forward, ushering her into the arcade.

“Welcome, welcome!”

“First, let’s get you some clothes.”

“W-wait just a moment—”

Enoch swept Lacrina along, heading straight for a boutique.

A seven-story edifice, nestled in an upscale district reminiscent of Mayfair.

It was a veritable haven of tailors and dressmakers, a grand emporium of sartorial delights.

“Ah… Ah…”

Lacrina, confronted with the spectacle, found herself at a loss for words.

High ceilings, densely adorned with crystal chandeliers.

Magic bulbs, skillfully manipulated with enchantments to emit a soft, vermillion glow, enriching the colour.

And beneath it all, a long procession of high-end clothing stores, gleaming with pristine white facades.

The effect was a profound shock to Lacrina’s senses.

Like a smudge of grime on a canvas of pure white.

She shouldn’t be here. She didn’t belong in a place like this.

That was the unbidden thought that seized her.

Meanwhile, Enoch was engaged in conversation with an elderly gentleman in a nearby establishment.

His name was Belten. The most celebrated Tailor in Magnusra, the city where Enoch had been residing.

For clarity, a Tailor, in simple terms, was a master of bespoke clothing.

The very coat Enoch wore at that moment was a product of the old gentleman’s artistry.

Having found its comfort quite agreeable, Enoch had deliberately brought Lacrina here.

“It’s been a while, Master Belten.”

“Hmm, Enoch, is that you? Indeed, it has been far too long. Haven’t heard a peep from you.”

The aged Tailor clucked his tongue disapprovingly as soon as he laid eyes on Enoch, lamenting his long silence.

Enoch chuckled softly, gently appeasing his old friend.

“Come now, don’t take it to heart. I’ve been rather busy myself, you know? Besides, as a token of apology… look here, didn’t I bring a rather fine vintage?”

“Eversmoke Brandy…? Bought on the first floor, I presume.”

“Why, because living here is best, naturally. So, what do you think? The subtle fragrance of Smokeberries, harvested on a morning thick with fog. They call this brew ‘Twilight of the Mist,’ don’t you think it adequately conveys my apologies?”

Enoch’s artful words drew a chuckle from the old gentleman.

“I can’t win against that silver tongue. In any case, it’s good to see you again. Truly. So, what brings you here?”

“Nothing particular, just hoping to commission some clothes for the young lady here.”

“Young lady? Similar hair… surely not your sister? I hadn’t heard you had family.”

Belten regarded Lacrina with a tilted head, a question in his eyes.

Renowned tailors, you see, make it a habit to thoroughly investigate their clients.

Enoch was, of course, no exception.

Yet, the reports held no mention of any family.

Belten’s query stemmed from this. Enoch, wishing to avoid any misunderstanding, addressed the matter head-on.

“Not at all, she is my student.”

“A student? Hmm… well, that’s how it is then. Not my place to pry.”

Belten gave a shrug before calling over the employees who stood at attention behind him.

“Take the young lady’s measurements and coordinate an ensemble, taking into account her complexion and build. The overall chroma should be low, given her silver hair. Blend dark colors to cultivate a certain atmosphere. Since she’s a student, everyday attire would be better than a dress, wouldn’t it? Figure out how to incorporate one of those silk gowns that are all the rage. Draft an initial estimate, then contact the dressmaker and the modiste for the finer details.”

“Understood. What budget should we be working with?”

Belten’s brow furrowed at the employee’s question.

His expression seemed to ask if the man was truly serious.

Just as the employee, sensing the tension, raised his head in confusion, he belatedly noticed Enoch standing behind Belten.

“My apologies.”

“Be on your way.”

“Yes, sir.”

The employee retreated backwards, vanishing quickly.

Lacrina, who had been standing quietly, let out a bewildered, “Uh? Uh-oh!” as she was led away by the other staff.

Soon, only Enoch and Belten remained.

Belten conjured two glasses with a flick of his fingers, then proceeded to tear open the bottle of Ever Smoke Brandy that Enoch had brought.

-Pop!

“Wouldn’t you prefer to enjoy it alone, savoring the ambiance?”

“What’s the fun in drinking alone? It’s better with a friend.”

Belten offered a glass to Enoch. Enoch nodded and accepted it.

He savored the pungent aroma of the brandy before raising the glass to his lips.

“How many sets of attire should I prepare, then?”

“Hmm. Perhaps five sets of everyday wear, five for outings. Seven for exercise should suffice. Ah, and let’s add accessories to match the ensembles.”

“I see. Seems you intend to raise her as a mage. I’ll see to the preparations.”

Belten said this, and began calculating the estimate.

Tailoring fabrics ordered from Toddmoden Sperly.

Merino wool and cashmere.

Silk in taffeta and satin.

Linen for everyday wear, velvet for dresses.

Cambric and muslin for the cotton sportswear.

Along with the accessories and cosmetics to match each outfit.

And the fees for the experts, including himself.

Belten swiftly calculated it all, and then wrote the amount on the paper beside him.

“Adding it all up, it should come to around 6.88 billion Kro.”

“One lump sum, please.”

“Understood.”

Enoch handed over a card without a second thought.

Just as Belten was about to take it, a horrified scream erupted from behind.

“Nooo!”

“”?””

The two men turned their gazes towards the source of the sound.

Lakrina, half-changed, was puffing with what seemed like anger.

“You can’t, Teacher! Se-, seventy-billion for just some clothes…!”

“…Include the disturbance fee and make it a clean 7 billion.”

“Understood.”

-Beep!

“Nooo!!”

Lakrina, still protesting, was dragged away by the staff and disappeared into the distance.

Silence once again settled in.

The two men sat quietly, savoring the brandy remaining in their glasses, passing the time languidly.

It was Belten, unexpectedly, who broke the silence first.

“And yet, I confess, I am somewhat curious.”

“About what, pray tell?”

“Your fortune, of course. Just what do you *do* to have so much coin? My inquiries reveal you hold no discernible profession.”

Belten posed the question with what seemed genuine curiosity.

Enoch fell silent for a moment.

But, met with the other man’s unwavering gaze, he finally spoke.

“The truth is, I hail from another world.”

“What?”

“Another world, yes. And I even stumbled, quite by accident, into accepting a rather peculiar mission. Perhaps that is why this world seems inclined to shower me with pocket money.”

“…You incorrigible knave. You must refrain from such jests elsewhere.”

Belten, as if having endured a rather tiresome jest, raised his glass and focused his attention on the brandy.

Enoch offered a wry smile at his friend’s reaction.

‘So, he doesn’t believe me.’

Enoch chuckled softly, then quietly savored his own brandy. Despite his composed demeanor, his mind raced.

First, a single certainty. What Enoch had said was not untrue.

In truth, he *was* receiving a certain measure of support from another world.

The problem lay, rather, with what followed.

Just *how much* support was he receiving?

The clue to that lay here:

The genre of this world itself.

Defense.

A game genre where one defends against encroaching enemies with buildings, units, and heroes.

Within such games, players typically receive a sum of gold each turn, provided by the system.

The problem, then, resided therein.

In this world, where the Defense genre had become reality, how much currency was Enoch, treated as a ‘player,’ actually receiving?

More precisely, what was the basis upon which that amount was calculated?

The answer was simple. ‘The Imperial Defense Budget.’

‘Unlike in the days of the game, the Empire of this world functions perfectly well without me. Meaning, it assesses its own budget and fends off the monsters quite efficiently on its own. The amount I receive, as seen through my status window, is likely calculated based upon that.’

After opening his eyes in this world, Enoch had been inspecting his status window when he happened to check the treasury’s assets.

Needless to say, but it contained quite a substantial sum of currency.

Because, you see, this world is a defense genre.

One needs coin to erect towers and conjure units, doesn’t one?

In essence, what Enoch received was the game’s foundational fund.

However, there existed a slight problem.

Namely, the magnitude of the sum.

To reiterate, the amount Enoch received was akin to a single year’s defense budget for the most gargantuan empire.

The United States of the 21st century expends roughly 1000 trillion in defense annually.

Enoch, while not quite on that scale, received support of no meager amount.

That sum was, in fact, a staggering 100 trillion Kro.

Including what he’d already spent, the remaining balance displayed on Enoch’s status window was approximately 99 trillion.

One trillion being 1000 billion, a bizarre figure of 990,000 billion emerged.

Even more unsettling was the fact that this much money was being replenished each turn, with every wave of behemoths.

As proof, the lower portion of the asset section of the status window glowed a golden hue.

Enoch, nursing his brandy, pressed that button, and the amount was newly settled as compensation for repelling yet another horde.

Likely due to the very news he’d glimpsed in the morning papers.

But the crucial matter at hand was something else entirely.

[Notification: 100,000,000,000,000 Settled]

[Notification: Additional 10% Settlement of Held Assets]

[Total Assets: 220,000,000,000,000]

“……”

Enoch gazed blankly at the spectacle.

The 1 trillion Kro he had so diligently spent had, on the pretense of a bonus, instantly refilled itself.

It stirred within Enoch a multitude of emotions.

Setting down the glass he held, Enoch inquired of Belten, who was seated nearby.

“Master, I have a question.”

“Hmm…? What is it?”

“Supposing someone were to freely donate, say, 150 trillion Kro, what would transpire?”

“What would transpire? The economy would collapse, the nation would crumble. Given the behemoth incursion, one might as well consider the country doomed.”

Belten chuckled softly, resuming his drink.

His reaction suggested he regarded the statement as utter nonsense.

Enoch, too, had nothing to say, and simply drank his liquor.

He ignored the strange sense of dread that had settled in a corner of his mind.

‘Honestly, this amassing fortune is more terrifying than the monsters.’

He could deal with monsters somehow. Even if higher-level monsters appeared, or even the Heteromorphs, he could still strategize and conquer them, with enough preparation.

But this ceaseless, overflowing cascade of wealth… there was simply no way to contend with it.

No strategy, no analysis could help.

Frankly, with the amount of money that kept rolling in – enough to just buy a city every few months – how in the world was he supposed to handle it?

‘God, I thank you. Thank you for having me defend against monsters, not this money.’

Enoch breathed a sigh of relief internally.

A man more terrified of a monetary defense than a monster defense.

That was Enoch.