The horns of the Ogre tribe are, depending on the clan, often a crucial part tied directly to their identity. After all, they're a race specialized for combat. Their massive bodies and developed canine teeth certainly embody what it means to be an Ogre, but there's no denying that the horns, which seem to symbolize aggression and fighting spirit, are the true emblem of an Ogre. Thus, Ogres hold their horns in high regard.
Since horns grow over time, they require constant maintenance—shaping them, trimming their length, or engraving symbolic patterns on them depending on the clan. However, even among friends, few would allow others to handle this task; it's a matter of pride for an Ogre to do it themselves.
While other races often overlook these efforts, there are actually trends in horn modifications—such as cutting notches at the tips to make them forked, engraving regular intervals along their length, or sharpening them to deadly points. "Well, I thought they looked cool when I was young," is a common excuse from middle-aged Ogres.
Though these modifications offer no practical advantages, for bloodthirsty youths, having ornamental horns that remain unscathed through many dangerous escapades looks incredibly cool. Most often, however, those who try to achieve this end up breaking their horns halfway and regretting it bitterly.

Now then, Arnie Boyd (a 19-year-old Ogre male recently turned pure-hearted) is a man untouched by such nefarious horn modifications.

After all, it's pretty uncool for a dual-horned ogre to be missing one of his horns. Due to various circumstances, the root was pulled out and he won't grow another one ever again. At this point, he already looks rather unsightly.
　Even so, he had been taking good care of the remaining horn, but it snapped off a few months ago.
　Well, considering that he saved someone's life and got her in the process, he was okay with it. But now that his new horn has grown quite long recently, he’s wondering what to do about it.

「Hey Boyd, why are you staring at the mirror?」

「Oh, Mr. Rackman.」

As Arnie stared into a hand mirror, worrying about something, his colleague Greg Rackman (dwarf) approached him.

A cadet is basically an apprentice soldier and holds the lowest rank in the military hierarchy. Since Greg was of the same grade as Arnie, he didn't have to use formal language with him, but being a dwarf, Greg had a bear-like beard that made it feel awkward for young Arnie to call him by his first name.

「A guy staring at a mirror and making all these faces is kind of creepy.」

「Ah, ahaha... Well, it's about my horn.」

「Oh, your horn?」

Ernie's Northern Celesta Crossbow Squad, which is part of the support troops, has nearly 20% Ogre members.

Of course, they have a strong attachment to their horns and can tell Ernie how special or pitiful his condition really is.

Greg thought about this and made an awkward face. He wasn't good at comforting people.

Ernie panicked when he saw Greg's awkward expression.

It wasn't because of the broken horn.

"N-no, I was just wondering if it might be time to have my horns trimmed into cones...?"

"Oh yeah, you were like this when your horn broke."

Greg made a gap about five centimeters wide with his fingers. Ernie thought it had been a bit longer than that, but these details didn't matter.

"Yeah, pretty much. But they've grown quite a bit now, so I think it's time to trim them."

"If you want, I'll lend you a sharp knife."

“W-well, I do have the tools for it.”

The problem is whether or not I should actually do it. In terms of appearance, there’s no reason not to do it. That’s all.

Ernie’s girlfriend Sylvia MacLean (a human woman on the verge of turning twenty who’s a pure-hearted type) was saved by Ernie from almost committing suicide with him when she was in a runaway carriage. She now wears the broken horn that fell off during her rescue as a necklace around her neck.

I was really happy to see how much she liked it back then, but ever since, every time I bring up the subject of that broken horn, she thanks me for our meeting or for our destiny and says something like “Oh Ernie-kun, you still talk about this? It’s so cheap compared to your girlfriend’s beautiful skin.” That’s what bothers me.

Now it’s become a symbol of our bond. I’m conflicted as to whether I should remove the broken part.

“Gotcha. By the way, can I hit you? With all my strength?”

“I’d rather not… if possible…”

Greg’s height was like that of a baby compared to Ernie's massive body, but with the power of his dwarf race, he could easily knock out Ernie in one blow.

Ernie sensed genuine malice behind Greg’s friendly smile and slowly stepped back.

"Hmm, well, if you’re satisfied with that, then I don’t mind doing it."

"Y-Yeah, well, that’s true... but it does look awkward."

But Ernie also had a sense of aesthetics as an ogre and cared about what others thought. Frankly speaking, his broken horn sticking out looked terrible.

Walking around like this would make Sylvia embarrassed too, so he felt bad for her.

"Hmm… What should I do?"

"Anyway, I doubt anyone other than ogres will care."

"Basson, there are actually a lot of ogres around…"

Between culture and culture, between love and decorum.
While consulting Sylvia might be an option, it would only make her look sad as she says, "You can cut it off if you want."

Ernie was stroking the horns of a carrot that had lost its tail—figuratively speaking—and struggling with his dilemma when there was some commotion at the front entrance of the barracks.
"Someone's back."
"Yeah, looks like it."
In recent days, things had become quite noisy.
The three-month-long leave granted to the squad leader for personal matters was coming to an end in a few days, and more soldiers were returning every day.
Though they were part of the military unit by work association, most of them were young single men, so camaraderie ran deep.
Some even brought back piles of souvenirs, making each soldier's return after their first leave something of an event.
But there was something off about this particular commotion.

“Hey, Boyd, Rackman! Come over here and slap my cheeks! But if you do it seriously, I might get decapitated, so go easy on me.”

“What’s that, Ja-Jaack?”

“Can I just tap them?”

“No, not like a mere tap. Anyway, come over here!”

The two exchanged glances and followed Jean-Jacques to the entrance where they saw a giant man resembling an ox. No, it was actually an Ogre subspecies named Kelly Isaac, the Decanus.

Beside him, or rather clinging to his lower body, stood a woman with her back straight and a dignified air about her.

“…Is that a lady? She doesn’t look like she’s from around here.”

“She’s wearing military gear. The same fabric as what the Angelos squad uses.”

“Aren’t you close to Isaac Decanus? Don’t you feel too close?”

"Actually, isn't that just because Isaac's captain is too big?"

"That guy could block the entrance all by himself."

"N-no no, I saw her coming from over there, and she was riding on top of Isaac's captain's shoulder!"

"Ew"

"The first most enviable situation for an ogre."

…………
Ernie does this a lot at Sylvia’s request, so he looks away slightly.

Seeing that, Jean-Jacques and Greg send him nasty glances.

Anyway,

"It sounds like you’re introducing yourself to everyone in the hall."

"Hey, wait up! We're coming too!"

"Hold on a second!! Damn it, don’t leave behind the short-legged ones!"

The three ran with thudding footsteps.

“Thank you for your cooperation.”

When the woman in the cloak took the military salute pose of the Celesta army, the trio arrived within earshot. Seeing everyone around them return her greeting with slightly lax smiles, the trio hurriedly placed their fists on their left chests.

"Hey, what’s going on?"

When Jean-Jacques asked one of the nearby soldiers, she smiled thinly and repeated his words before he could open his mouth.

“Please take care of me as well. I am Lance Corporal Linne Mikagami, transferred from the Third Infantry Regiment of the Western Army Corps of Celesta today. My military specialty remains infantry, and I will be serving in a guard role.”

“Oh… Well, Mikagami Lance Corporal also has the title of Ace Knight. And she’s a wolf beastman, my… well, you could say we’re from the same hometown or that we’ve known each other for a long time.”

Kerry tries to explain herself as tactfully as possible.

Lynne coolly takes off her hair ornament and shows the ear she had been hiding.

"I joined the army because I admired Isaac's rank of ten-person leader. Please take care of me from now on."

"Hey, Lyn... Mikagami."

"You don't have to force yourself, Kerry. ...I explained that we're in a perfectly fine relationship, didn’t I?"

"No, well... um..."

The way she looks at Kerry with complete trust and the gestures she makes, along with Kerry's flustered behavior.

The approximately forty soldiers gathered in the entrance hall almost simultaneously understood what was going on.

"Mm-hmm. Nice to meet you, Mikagami Lance Corporal."

And then Bit Williams (a twenty-eight-year-old human who burns with envy), also a ten-person leader like Kerry, steps forward with a lecherous grin.

"And Isaac. I know it's a bad time after such a long journey, but we're all really in the mood to train."

"Ah... umm... Williams?"

"Of course you'll lead by example as a soldier of Selcata, right, Isaac?"

"Calm down. Just hold on. Let’s be rational about this as soldiers of Selcata."

"Mmm-hmm. No one has lost their head yet."

"..."

With the massive height difference between them, the bull was slowly backing away.

"Kuh..."

"Mmm-hmm, you’re really getting into training mode there. Good attitude, future centurion."

"I-YO! Centurion-in-training assistant deputy trainee!"

“Shining bright!”

As they chimed in, the soldiers hurried toward the armory.

And soon enough, a few of them returned with nostalgic smiles, winding up crossbow strings.

“So,”

Bit (a Human known for his fake smile, 28 years old) declared to Kelly with a wide grin.

“Which is better? Running away with a shield or running away empty-handed?”

“What kind of choice is that!!”

“I’d hurry if I were you. I was just doing target practice so I already have my weapon.”

“Ku...uu...uhhhhhh!!”

Kelly sprinted full speed toward the armory.

“Alright, everyone, go after them! When he grabs the shield to block the arrows, shoot him!!”

“YEAH!!!”

The crossbowmen cheerfully chase after them.

“Hey… wait a minute. What are you going to do to Kelly?”

“Just leave it be.”

The only one left from the Angelos Guard (infantry), Hank Bronson, firmly grabs her shoulder and stops her.

“It’s part of the ritual.”

“A ritual…?”

“Yeah…. See, there’s no centurion or decanus of the Angelos around now.”

“What does that have to do with anything?!”

While we were having a pointless conversation, the live firing exercise targeting Kelly had already begun.

“Ughhh!! D-don’t you guys actually mean to shoot me?!”

“I’m sorry, Isaac Squad Leader! I know it hurts but this is part of our training! Die.”

“We’re not doing this because we want to either! Just die!”

“You think you can go back home and brag about your hot girlfriend, huh?! Sorry.”

“Don’t use such hard-to-answer grammar when cursing!!”

The shield they call a “bulletproof” shield is actually lying in the armory. It’s an extremely heavy shield that only an ogre could easily wield. It will deflect crossbow bolts at close range, but Kelly’s huge body won’t fit under it.

“Ouch! I got grazed! You bastards!!”

Kelly still managed to escape desperately.

“…What kind of unit is this here?”

"Welcome to the most popular and close-knit unit in the Northern Army."

It sounds like a joke, but it’s probably true.

At night,

the commotion of the day had settled down. Everyone was having dinner at the mess hall while teasing Linné and Kerry about how they got together and what they liked about each other.

"Well, that is kind of a blessing for us comrades."

"...When I started dating Sylvia, it was nice to have Centurion and Decanus Anzeros around..."

"Hahaha, well if you’re not as tough as Isaac, you wouldn’t dare go there."

Ernie watched from a distance with a mix of irritation and happiness at Linné and Kerry. He wiped his forehead discreetly while sweating.

Yeah, everyone’s scary.

"But..."

Now Kelly has a girlfriend too.
Which means that he won’t be brushed off when it comes to love advice anymore.
And since Kelly is an ogre, albeit a variant one, there’s a common understanding regarding horns.
“Alright.”
Ernie finished his chunk of meat seasoned with pepper (a super hearty meal for the gluttonous ogres) and followed Kelly out after him.

“What about the horns?”

“You can just cut them off,” she said as expected, causing both Kelly and Linnie to tilt their heads in confusion.

“No, but… I mean, I don’t want to sever our memories.”

“Sounds like a romantic, Boyd.”

Kerry laughs heartily, and Linnie smiles and nods.

With Kerry’s rough but caring nature and Linnie’s quiet yet dependable personality, they make a pretty good couple.

“Whether it’s romance or anything else, I’m all for it. But… well, you know, since Sylvia and I are different races… I don’t want to lose any of the bonds we’ve built.”

“I see… but come on, if you’re so in love with her already, you should have more confidence.”

“While physical things can be lovely, putting too much emphasis on them can make women feel insecure. If they think that their memories are valued while their love isn’t trusted…”

“…I get it…”

“So I think trying to take the next step is a good idea.”

“…The next step?”

“Yes. Why not turn this into another precious memory for both of you? You can make your bond even stronger by taking that next step together.”

Tap, tap. Sylvia carefully shaped Ernie’s horns using his trusty knife and file.

“Uh, don’t round off the tips too much; that’s how you trim a kid’s horns.”

“Yes, ma’am… Hey, why did I suddenly feel like letting you do this?”

“Well, um…”

“An ogre’s horns are precious. They embody our pride. That’s why we don’t let others touch them.”

“To entrust your horns to someone else… Well, in my colony, it’s a serious declaration of love.”

“…Hey, Kelly-san. Can I ask you something? May I trim yours?”

“Eh… Uh, yeah… You’ve really grown fond of me, haven’t you?”

“My pride is that Sylvia-san likes me. If the horns are supposed to embody my pride, then the ones trimmed by Sylvia-san’s hands are the proudest horns for me.”

“...Alright.”

“Wait, am I being too cool? Isaac taught me that line.”

“No. ...I’m happy.”

“So, I’ll take the right horn—”

“Kate!?”

“I-I guess I’ll take the left then...”

“You can let my big sis and me share your horn instead of a dick♪”

“...Horn... gulp”

“Hey, wait a second.”

“Heh heh. Isaac, what a coincidence.”

“W, Williams!?”

“A-and who’s the guy making those inappropriate comments over there? The one who looks like Masabu Mikagami?”

“No, calm down. Let’s talk this out first. This kid has trouble speaking standard Japanese.”

“Oh yeah… I’ll ask him about his dick’s dialect at the barracks later. Maybe we can do some exercise while we’re at it.”

“Wait! Listen to me!”

This is part of an extra chapter that ties in with Isaac’s story from Extra Chapter 2.

I’ll be posting that one soon as well.

For the ogre race, horns are a vital part of one's identity, though this varies depending on the tribe.
They are, after all, a race specialized for war to the point of being called a combat race. While their massive physiques and developed canines certainly define an ogre, no one would dispute that their horns—which seem to govern their fighting spirit and offensive power—are their true symbol.
Consequently, ogres cherish their horns deeply.
Because horns are growing organs, they require constant maintenance. They are frequently modified: shaping the form, adjusting the length, or, in some tribes, carving symbolic patterns into them.
However, no matter how close the bond, an ogre will almost never allow someone else to do this. Performing this task with one's own hands is a matter of ogre pride.
In many cases, other races don't give much thought to such efforts, but there have actually been various trends in horn modification. There were eras where it was fashionable to notch the tips into a bifurcation, carve regular intervals of joints, or sharpen them so acutely they could easily pierce something.
"Well, I thought it looked cool when I was younger," is a common excuse heard from middle-aged ogres.
From a structural standpoint, all these styles are disadvantageous, but to a hot-blooded youth, seeing a decorative horn remain unscathed even after surviving countless brutal skirmishes looked incredibly badass. Of course, most end up with a tragic punchline: snapping the horn halfway through their ambitions and living in deep regret.

Anyway, back to the point.
Private Arnie Boyd (a pure-hearted ogre male who recently turned 19) is a man with no connection to such reckless horn modifications.
After all, despite being an ogre, he lacks one of his signature dual horns. Due to certain circumstances, it was ripped out from the root and will never grow back. By ogre standards, he is already quite uncool.
He had taken great care of the remaining horn, but he managed to snap that one, too, a few months ago.
Well, since it was a trade-off for saving a life and landing a girlfriend, he was somewhat satisfied with the bargain—but since it has grown back quite a bit lately, he is currently agonizing over what to do with it.

"Hey, Boyd. What are you staring at in the mirror for?"

"Oh, Mr. Luckman."

As Ernie sat staring into a hand mirror in contemplation, he was called out by his colleague, Private Greg Luckman (a dwarf).

To put it plainly, a Private is an apprentice soldier, the lowest of the low ranks. Since Greg was in the same cohort and rank as Ernie, he wouldn't get in trouble for not using honorifics, but being a dwarf, Greg possessed a bear-like beard that made it somewhat difficult for the youngster Ernie to address him casually.

"A man making all these faces while staring into a hand mirror is a little creepy, you know."

"Ah, haha... No, it's just... about my horn."

"Ah, the horn."

In the Celesta Northern Legion's Crossbow Corps, where Ernie serves, nearly twenty percent are ogres, which is rare for a support unit.

Naturally, they have their own fixations regarding horns, and some of them are well aware of just how special—or rather, miserable—Ernie's situation is.

Recalling this, Greg made a subtle, awkward face. He was not good at offering comfort.

And seeing that awkward expression, Ernie panicked.

It wasn't that he was worried about the break itself.

"N-no, well, I was just wondering if it's about time I shaved it down into a cone shape..."

"Ah, right. It looked like this when it broke."

Greg formed a gap of about five centimeters with his fingers. In Ernie's memory, it felt a bit larger, but that was a minor detail. It wasn't his fault if others couldn't remember it perfectly.

"Yeah, something like that. But since it's grown quite a bit, I thought it might be time."

"In that case, want me to lend you a sharp knife?"

"N-no, I have my own maintenance tools."

The problem was whether he should actually go through with it.

In terms of appearance, there was no reason not to. The issue lay elsewhere.

Ernie's girlfriend, Sylvia McRain (a pure-hearted human female approaching twenty), had been saved by Ernie's suicidal rescue attempt when she was nearly killed by a runaway carriage.
Currently, she wears the piece of his broken horn as a cherished necklace.
He was incredibly happy when she rejoiced upon receiving it, but the problem is that since then, she has used that broken edge to launch all sorts of exasperatingly sweet displays—overlaying the scar with gratitude for their meeting, or for destiny, or saying things like, "You don't need to worry about a single horn; it's a small price to pay compared to your beautiful skin, oh Ernie-kun, you're doing it again!"
That scar is now a symbol of their bond.
He is torn by the conflict of whether or not he should erase it.
"I see. By the way, do you mind if I punch you? With everything I've got."
"I would really appreciate it if you didn't..."

Compared to Ernie's massive frame, Greg's height was like that of an infant, but with the strength of a dwarf, he was capable of knocking Ernie unconscious with a single blow.

Sensing a genuine murderous intent hidden behind that good-natured smile, Ernie took a slow step backward.

"Well, seriously though, if that's what makes you feel better, I think you should just leave it as it is."

"Ye-yeah, I mean, I get that... but there's no denying it looks awkward."

However, even Ernie had his own sense of aesthetics as an ogre, and he cared about how others saw him.

To be blunt, having a horn that stayed broken and extended like that looked uncool.

Exposing himself like that while walking with Silvia felt like he was dragging her reputation down with him, and for that, he felt guilty.

"Hmm... what should I do...?"

"I doubt anyone except other ogres will care, though."

"But Basson, there are surprisingly many ogres around..."

Caught between culture and culture, between love and appearance.

Consulting Silvia was an option, but doing so would only lead to her giving him a lonely look and saying, "You could just trim it off," which would make him feel even worse.

As Ernie agonized while stroking his radish-like, blunt-ended horn, the front entrance of the barracks grew somewhat noisy.

"Someone's back, looks like."

"Seems so."

The noise had become quite common over the last few days.

Due to the business of the Centurion in charge of the unit, a sudden three-month leave had been granted. As the end of that leave approached in a few days, more and more people were returning to the unit.

Even though it was a military unit where work was the priority, most of them were young, single soldiers, so their sense of camaraderie was strong.

Some arrived with mountains of souvenirs, and each return to the unit since the first leave of the formation had become something of an event.

However, the nature of the commotion was somewhat strange.

"Hey, hey, Void, Rackman! Get over here! And slap my cheek! No, wait—if you guys do it for real, my head's gonna pop off, so be gentle!"

"What are you even saying, Private Jean-Jacques?"

"Is a flick on the forehead okay?"

"No, it's not that slapping is the premise, it's just... Ugh, just get over here!"

The two looked at each other and followed Jean-Jacques. When they rounded the entrance, there stood a massive bull.

Or rather, a man of an ogre sub-species who looked like a bull: Decurion Kelly Isaac.

Beside him—or rather, pressed against his lower body—stood a woman with a straight back and a dignified aura.

"...A woman? From the look of it, she doesn't seem like a civilian."

"That cloak is military issue. Same fabric as the ones the Anzeros squad has."

"Isn't she, uh, kind of close? Isn't she a bit too close to Decurion Isaac?"

"No, isn't it just that Decurion Isaac is too big?"

"That person is blocking the entire entrance by himself."

"No, no, no! I saw them walking from over there, and that woman was riding on Decurion Isaac's shoulder!?"

"Whoa."

"There it is. The number one most enviable situation for an ogre."

"............"

Arnie, who did that quite often at Silvia's request, averted his eyes.

Jean-Jacques and Greg, quick to notice, sent him a look of pure disapproval.

That aside.

"It looks like she's introducing herself. To everyone, in the entrance hall."

"H-hey, wait up! We're coming to listen too!"

"Hold on a second!! Dammit, don't leave the guy with the short legs behind!"

The three of them came thundering after.

"It is an honor to serve with you."

The woman in the cloak struck a formal salute in the Celesta military style just as the three arrived within earshot.

Watching as everyone around them returned the salute with slightly loose, smiling faces, the trio hurriedly pressed their fists to their left chests.

"H-hey, what was that?"

Jean-Jacques asked a nearby soldier, but before the soldier could even open his mouth, she repeated herself with a faint smile.

"I look forward to working with the rest of you as well. I have been transferred from the 3rd Infantry Regiment of the Celesta Western Army Corps; Private Linne Mikagami. My branch remains infantry, and I will be serving in an escort capacity."

"Ah... well, you see, Private Mikagami also holds the title of Ace Knight. Also, she's a wolf-beastkin, and the granddaughter of my... well, a compatriot, or rather, an old acquaintance of mine..."

Kelly tried desperately to provide an inoffensive explanation.

With a cool expression, Linne removed her hair ornament, letting her previously flattened ears spring upward.

"I joined the service because I look up to Decurion Isaac. I look forward to your kind cooperation from here on out."

"H-hey, Li... Mikagmi—"

"Just Linne, please. ...I believe I just explained that our relationship is perfectly fine, Kelly-san."

"No, well... you see..."

Between her gaze and gestures, which clearly showed she trusted Kelly implicitly, and Kelly’s utterly bewildered and suspicious behavior, the approximately forty soldiers gathered in the entrance hall understood almost simultaneously.

"Yeah, yeah. Nice to meet you, Private Mikagami."

Representing the group, Bitt Williams (a 28-year-old human burning with envy) stepped forward with a grin. He was a Decurion, just like Kelly.

"And Isaac. I hate to do this right after such a long journey, but our motivation for training is at an all-time high."

"A-ah... listen, Williams..."

"You'll take the lead, of course, Isaac. As a soldier of Celesta."

"Calm down. Wait a minute. Let's try to remain rational, as Celesta soldiers should."

"Yep, yep. No one has lost their rationality yet."

"......"

Like a cow being slowly backed into a corner by someone twice its height, Isaac retreated inch by inch.

"Kh..."

"Mm-hmm, so you're that eager to train? That's the spirit! As expected of a future Centurion!"

"Hell yeah! The acting Assistant Centurion's creed!"

"He's shining!"

Chanting in unison, the soldiers scurried toward the armory.

Several soldiers who had already returned began tightening their crossbow strings with nostalgic familiarity.

"So,"

Bitt (a 28-year-old human with a reputation for forced smiles) declared to Kelly with a beaming grin.

"Which would you prefer: fleeing with an arrow-deflecting shield, or fleeing empty-handed?"

"What kind of choice is that!?"

"You'd better hurry! I was just doing target practice, so I've already got my weapon ready!"

"Kh... ugh... WAAAAAAAH!!"

Kelly fled toward the armory at full speed.

"Alright, everyone, pursue them! As soon as that bastard grabs the arrow-deflecting shield, fire!!"

"YEAAAAAAH!!"

The crossbow unit gave chase with pure joy.

"Wait... hold on! Mr. Kelly, what are you—"

"Don't worry, don't worry."

Corporal Hank Bronson of the Anzeros squad—the only unit left standing (the guard infantry)—firmly gripped her shoulder to stop her.

"This is a ritual."

"A ritual...?"

"Yeah. ...Look, the Centurion and the Anzeros Decurion aren't even here right now."

"What does that have to do with anything!?"

While they were engaged in this nonsensical conversation, the curtain had already risen on the target practice session, with Kelly serving as the target.

"Waaaaagh!! Y-you bastards, you're not seriously aiming at me!!"

"Sorry, Decurion Isaac! My heart aches, but this is training! Die!"

"It's not like we're doing this for fun! Go to hell!"

"Even if I concede that you could go back to your homeland and find a beautiful girlfriend, don't think you'll get away with bringing her here just to brag about her, you prick! I'm sorry!"

"Don't insult me with such confusing grammar!!"

The so-called "arrow-deflecting shield" was, for some reason, an ultra-heavy shield rolling around the armory that even an ogre would struggle to wield. While it could deflect crossbow bolts at close range, Kelly's massive frame couldn't be fully covered by it.

"Ouch! It grazed me! It grazed me, dammit!!"

Despite it all, Kelly managed to escape.

"...What kind of unit is this place?"

"Welcome to the tightest-knit unit in the Northern Legion."

It sounded like a joke, but it was likely the truth.

---

Night.

The daytime commotion had settled down. While eating dinner together in the mess hall, the group had begun teasing the new couple, Linne and Kelly, about how they met and what they liked about each other.

"Think of it as a blessing from your comrades, in a way."

"...I'm just glad the Centurion and the Anzeros Decurion were around when I started dating Silvia-san..."

"Hahaha, well, you'd have to be at least as sturdy as Isaac to handle all that playing."

Watching Kelly and Linne from a short distance—looking slightly angry yet subtly happy—Arnie wiped a bead of cold sweat from his brow and breathed a sigh of relief.

Yeah. Everyone here is terrifying.

"But..."

Now, Kelly had a girlfriend too.

That meant there was no longer an excuse to brush him off when he sought advice on matters of romance.

And since Kelly was also an ogre, albeit a subspecies, they shared a common understanding regarding the handling of horns.

"Alright."

After wolfing down his serving of peppered meat (an ultra-manly dish meant for gluttonous ogres), Arnie stood up and followed Kelly, who had left the table first.

"The horn?"

"Why not just trim it?"

As expected, both Kelly and, by extension, Linne tilted their heads in confusion.

"No, it's just... well, I don't want to, you know, sever the memories you two share."

"You're such a romantic, Void."

Kelly laughed boisterously, "HAHAHA!", while Linne simply smiled and nodded.

Kelly was relatively blunt but caring, whereas Linne was quiet and composed. Seeing them side-by-side like this, they almost looked like a perfect couple.

"I don't mind if it's just romance or whatever... but, well... Silvia-san and I are different species, after all... I just don't want to lose anything that could serve as a bond between us, even if it's just a little bit."

"I see. ...But hey, you're clearly head-over-heels for her, so I think you could afford to have a bit more confidence."

"Physical objects are lovely, but if you value them above all else, it might make a woman feel insecure. She might wonder: 'Can you trust a memento, but you can't trust your own love?'"

"I... I see..."

"That's why I think it's a good idea to turn this into a stepping stone toward the next stage."

"...The next stage?"

"Yes. Why not make the cool process of trimming your precious horn into a new shared memory for the two of you?"

"...L-Like... this..."

Scrape, scrape, scritch.

Using a small knife (which, to a human, looked more like a machete) and a file—Arnie's favorites—Silvia carefully shaped the horn.

"P-Please don't round the tip too much, okay? That's how you trim a child's horn."

"Okay... Hey, I was wondering... why did you want me to be the one to trim it?"

"W-Well..."

"An ogre's horn is precious. They entrust their pride to its shape. That's why they don't let others touch them."

"Entrusting it to someone else is... well, in our colony, at least. It's actually a very serious form of courtship."

"...Hey, Kelly-san. Could you... let me trim it, too?"

"Eh... Ah, yeah. ...Good grief, you've started making that pampered face."

"My pride comes from the fact that Silvia-san loves me. ...If the horn is the shape of one's pride, then the horn shaped by Silvia-san's own hands is the one I am most proud of right now."

"...Honestly."

"Was that... too cheesy? It's a smooth line I learned from Centurion Isaac."

"No. ...I'm happy."

"Then, I'll do the right horn—"

"Kate!?"

"T-Then I'll take the left one..."

"Instead of a dick, I don't mind getting horn-dicked by you and Big Sis, Kelly-niichan! ♪"

"...Horn-dicking... gulp"

"Hey, wait!"

"Hahaha, Isaac. What a coincidence."

"W-Williams!?"

"And who is this lookalike of Mikagami Shohei making such scandalous remarks over there?"

"No, calm down. Let's talk this out. First of all, this child isn't very fluent in standard Japanese."

"Mm-hmm. ...Let's head back to the barracks and find out which dialect 'dick' belongs to. Let's talk while we get some exercise."

"Wait! Listen to me!"

This is heavily intertwined with the Isaac chapter in Side Story 2. I will be posting that one soon as well.

The horns of an Orc are, depending on the tribe, often a vital part of their identity. After all, they're a race known for being specialized in combat. Their massive physique and developed fangs certainly contribute to their Orcishness, but it's the horns—seemingly governing their fighting spirit and offensive power—that truly symbolize what an Orc is, without anyone likely to argue otherwise.

Therefore, Orcs hold their horns in high regard. Horns are growing organs, so they require constant maintenance. They're shaped, length adjusted, and sometimes even carved with symbolic patterns, depending on the tribe. But this is something they'd never let another person do, not even a fellow Orc. Doing it themselves is a matter of Orcish pride.

Most other races don't even notice the effort, but there are trends and fads in horn modification. Some Orcs carve splits at the tips to make them forked, others add evenly spaced nodes along the length, or sharpen them to a razor's edge so they can easily pierce something.

"Well, when I was younger, I thought that looked cool," is a common excuse from middle-aged Orcs. From a structural standpoint, all of those modifications are disadvantageous, but surviving countless scraps with those impractical horns intact makes it look incredibly impressive to hot-blooded younglings. Though usually, they aim for the same and end up snapping them off halfway through, leading to massive regret.

But I digress.

Arnold Boyd, a recruit (a nineteen-year-old Orc who's still a bit of a goody-two-shoes), has no connection to such dangerous horn modifications. For one thing, he's a dual-horned Orc with only one horn left. Due to various circumstances, the other was yanked out from the root and never grew back again. That alone makes him look pretty bad in Orcish eyes.

Even so, he'd taken good care of his remaining horn until a few months ago when it snapped. Well, it was in exchange for saving a life and getting a girlfriend, so he was mostly okay with it. But recently, it's been growing back quite a bit, and he's wondering what to do about it.

"Yo, Boyd, what are you staring at your hand mirror for?"

"Ah, Ruckman."

Arnold was lost in thought while looking in his hand mirror when his colleague, Greg Ruckman—a recruit (a Dwarf), called out to him. A recruit is essentially an apprentice soldier, the lowest rank. Greg and Arnold are the same rank and joined at the same time, so he wouldn't get mad if Arnold didn't use honorifics, but Greg's bear-like beard made it hard for the younger Arnold to just call him by his first name.

"A guy staring into a hand mirror with a hundred different expressions is kinda creepy, ya know?"

"Ah, ahaha… well, it’s about my horn."

"Oh, your horn, huh?"

Arnold's unit in the Celestial Northern Army's Crossbow Squad has an unusually high number of Orcs—nearly 20%—for a support team. Naturally, they have strong opinions about horns and are quick to point out how special… or pathetic Arnold's situation is.

Greg remembered that and gave him a subtle look. He wasn't good at comforting people.

And Arnold panicked at the subtle look. It wasn't that he was worried about the broken horn.

"N-no, it’s just… I was wondering if it’s okay to start shaping it into a cone again…"

"Ah, yeah, now that you mention it, that's how much was missing when it broke."

Greg made a gap of about 5 centimeters with his fingers. Arnold felt like it was a bit more, but oh well, details. He couldn't expect others to remember exactly.

"Yeah, something like that. But it’s grown back quite a bit now, so I was thinking maybe it’s time."

"Well, if you want, I can lend you a sharp knife."

"N-no, I have tools for maintenance, but…"

The problem was whether it was really okay to do it.

From an aesthetic standpoint, there was no reason not to. But other than that…

Arnold's girlfriend, Sylvia McLean (a human woman who's almost twenty and also a bit of a goody-two-shoes), had been saved from a near-suicide attempt involving a runaway carriage by Arnold's reckless rescue.

Currently, she cherishes the horn fragment that broke off at that time, wearing it as a necklace.

I was super happy when she seemed pleased with the gift, but ever since then, that broken horn has been used for all sorts of ridiculous bragging—thanking her for our meeting, thanking fate, and stuff like, "Hey, it's just one horn, it's nothing compared to Sylvia's gorgeous skin!" or "Aw, Arnie's still got it, huh?" That’s the problem.

Now, that broken horn is a symbol of our bond.
And I’m torn about whether it’s okay to erase it.

"Right. So, can I punch you? Full force."

"If you could maybe spare me… I’d appreciate it…"

Greg’s height is like a baby compared to Arnie’s giant frame, but with dwarf strength, he could knock Arnie out cold in one hit.

Arnie sensed the genuine murderous intent behind that friendly smile and slowly backed away.

"Hmm, well, if that’s enough for you, I guess you can leave it as is."

"Uh, yeah, well, that’s true… But it is kinda ugly, though."

But Arnie, being an ogre, has his own sense of aesthetics and cares about what others think.
Frankly, a broken horn that’s been left to grow back just looks bad.
Walking around with that exposed makes Sylvia look like she’s the one who’s ashamed, and I feel bad for her.

"Ugh… what should I do…"

"I doubt anyone outside of ogres even notices, though."

"Bassoon, there are surprisingly a lot of ogres here…"

Caught between culture and culture, love and appearances.

I could ask Sylvia about it, but if I did, she’d probably give me that sad look and say, "You can just shave it off."

While Arnie was agonizing over his tail-like, broken horn, the front entrance of the barracks suddenly got noisy.

"Looks like someone’s back."

"Yeah, seems like it."

For the past few days, the commotion had been steadily increasing.
Due to some business for the centurion in charge of the squad, there’d been an unexpected three-month leave. With its end approaching in a few days, more and more people were returning.

Even though it was just a military unit he was attached to for work, most of them were single young soldiers, so the camaraderie was strong.
Some were bringing mountains of souvenirs, making each return from their first leave feel like a little event.

But something about how this commotion started felt… off.

"Hey, Void, Rackman! Come over here! And give me a cheek pinch! No, seriously, don’t go all out or I’ll lose my head, okay?"

"What’s he saying, Sergeant Jacque?"

"Just a peck on the cheek?"

"No, not that it has to be a peck or anything… Ah, just come over here!"

The two exchanged glances and followed Jacque toward the entrance, where they found a giant cow.
No, an ogre subspecies who looked like a cow—Kelly Isaac, the decurion.

And next to him—or rather, clinging to his lower half—stood a woman with a straight back and a dignified air.

"...A woman? Doesn’t look like a civilian, though."

"That’s military-issue fabric. Same as what the Anzalos squad has."

"Whoa, she’s close to Isaac Decurion?"

"Hey, isn't it just that Isaac's squad leader is way too big?"

"That guy blocks the entrance by himself."

"No, no, no, I saw her walking towards us from the other side, and that woman was riding on Isaac's squad leader's shoulders!?"

"Whoa."

"She just got out of the best situation to be jealous of an ogre."

"............"

Arnie averts his gaze slightly, as he’s been doing this quite a bit at Sylvia’s request.

Janjacque and Greg, ever perceptive, shoot him disapproving looks.

But that aside…

"Looks like she's introducing herself to everyone in the entrance hall."

"O-oh, hey, we should go listen too."

"Wait up!! Damn it, don’t leave a short-legged guy behind!"

The three of them rush over.

"Nice to meet you all."

As the woman in the cloak struck a Ceresta military salute, the three arrived within earshot.

Seeing everyone around them grinning sheepishly as they returned the greeting, the three hurriedly placed their fists over their left chests.

"O-oh, what’s going on?"

Janjacque asked another nearby soldier, but before he could answer, she repeated with a faint smile,
"And to those who will join us later, nice to meet you too. I’m Linne Mikagami, a regular soldier transferred from the Ceresta Western Army’s Third Infantry Regiment today. My specialty remains infantry, and I’ll be taking on guard duties."

"Ah… well, Mikagami’s also got the Ace Knight title, technically. Plus, she’s a lycanthrope—my, uh… hometown buddy’s grandson’s, you know, old friend."
Kelly desperately tried to explain without causing offense.

Linne removed her hair ornament with a cool expression and revealed her ears, which had been tucked away.

"I enlisted because I admire Isaac’s squad leader. Please treat me well from now on."

"O-oh, L… Mikagami."

"Just call me Linne. …That should cover everything, right, Kelly?"

"Well, um…"

Her unwavering gaze and gestures clearly showed she trusted Kelly completely, while Kelly looked utterly bewildered.
The roughly forty soldiers gathered in the entrance hall understood almost simultaneously.
"Yeah, yeah. Nice to meet you, Mikagami."

Then, Bit Williams (a 28-year-old human consumed by jealousy) stepped forward with a smirk, representing Kelly’s squad leader rank.

"And Isaac. Sorry for this after your long journey, but we’re really eager to train hard."

"Ah, uh… well, Williams—"

"Of course, you’ll lead the way, Isaac. As a Ceresta soldier."

"Calm down. Wait a second. Let’s be rational as Ceresta soldiers, shall we?"

"Yeah, yeah. No one’s lost their reason yet."

"…………"

The bull, towering nearly twice her height, pressed down on her relentlessly.
"Kuh…!"

"Yeah, yeah, you're really getting into the training, huh? Good spirit—just like the future Centurion."

"IYO! I'm the Assistant Deputy Centurion-in-Training!"

"You're shining, man!"

The soldiers chimed in as they hurried toward the armory. A few of them returned almost immediately, nostalgically winding up their crossbow strings with a twang.

"Alright—"

Bit (a human 28 years old known for his reliably fake smiles) declared to Kelly with a beaming grin.

"Which is better: running away with an arrow-deflecting shield or running away empty-handed?"

"What kind of choice is that?!"

"You better decide quick—I was just at archery practice, so I already got my hands on something."

"Kuh… ugh… waaaaah!!"

Kelly bolted for the armory with all her might.

"Alright, everyone chase after her! If she grabs an arrow-deflecting shield, shoot it!"

"YEEEEAAAH!!"

The crossbow squad cheered wildly as they gave chase.

"H-hey, wait—what are you doing to Kelly?"

"Just let me be."

Hank Bronson, the lone remaining soldier of the Anzoros Guard (the elite infantry), grabbed her shoulders firmly.

"This is a ritual."

"A ritual…?"

"Yeah. …See? The Centurion and the Anzoros Decanus aren't here right now."

"What does that have to do with anything?!"

As they babbled on, the starting signal for the massive archery drill—targeting Kelly—was fired.

"UOOOOH!! You guys are seriously aiming at me?!"

"We're sorry, Decanus Isaac! It pains our hearts, but this is training! Die."

"We don't do this out of fun either! Rot in hell."

"Even if you go back to your village and pick up some hot local girl, don't think you can just bring her here and brag about it for free, you bastard! Sorry."

"Don't insult me with that convoluted grammar!!"

The "arrow-deflecting shield" she was supposed to grab was, for some reason, a super-heavy shield lying in the armory—one even an ogre would struggle to wield. It could deflect crossbows at close range, but Kelly's massive frame still wouldn't be fully covered by it.
"Ow! I got grazed! I got hit, you bastards!!"

Even so, she desperately managed to escape.
"...What kind of unit is this, anyway?"

"Welcome to the best buds squad of the Northern Legion."

It sounded like a joke, but it was probably true.

Night.

The daytime chaos had died down, and while everyone was eating dinner in the mess hall, Lynn and Kelly had started poking at each other—how they'd met, what they liked about each other, that sort of thing.

"Consider it a blessing, partner."

"...When I started dating Sylvia, I was glad to have a Centurion and an Archon Ten-Head backing me up..."

"Haha, well, you gotta be at least as tough as Isaac to play around up there."

From a little distance, watching Kelly and Lynn look subtly angry but also pretty happy, Arnie secretly broke out in a cold sweat while simultaneously patting his chest with relief.
Yeah. Everyone was scary.
"But..."

This meant Kelly had a girlfriend now.
Which meant he wasn't getting brushed off when it came to relationship advice anymore.
And since Kelly was an ogre hybrid, there was a shared understanding about horn treatment.
"Alright."

Arnie wolfed down the chunk of meat—spiced and grilled (a super-masculine dish for ogres with huge appetites)—and followed Kelly, who had already gotten up.

"Horns?"

"Just shave them off."

Predictably, Kelly and Lynn tilted their heads at that.

"No, but... I don't want to sever the memories of the two of you, y'know?"

"You're such a romantic, Boyd."

Kelly laughed heartily—HAHAAHA—while Lynn smiled and nodded.
Kelly was rough around the edges but caring, while Lynn was quiet and steady. When they were side by side like this, they almost looked like the perfect couple.
"Romance or whatever. But... well, Sylvia and I are different races... I don't want to lose anything that could strengthen our bond, even a little."

"I see... But you two are so lovey-dovey, you should have more confidence."

"Physical tokens are nice, but if you only focus on those, women get insecure. They start wondering if they're not trusted enough for memories, or if your love isn't reliable."

"N-no way..."

"So, why not make it a step forward?"

"...A step forward?"

"Yes. Shaving off your precious horns could be a new memory for the two of you."

"...W-well... like this?"
Crrr, crrr.

Sylvia carefully shaped her horns with Arnie’s favorite knife (though to humans, it looked like an axe) and a file.

"Ah, don't round them off too much—that's how you shave a kid's horns."

"Okay... Hey, why did I suddenly feel like letting you do this?"

"W-well..."

"An ogre’s horns are precious. We entrust our pride to their shape. That’s why we don’t let just anyone touch them."

"Leaving that to someone else… well, in my colony at least, it’s also a pretty serious courtship ritual."

"...Hey, Kelly-san. Could I... maybe get to carve one too?"

"Huh? ...Oh, yeah. ...Jeez, you’re starting to act all spoiled."

"My pride is that Sylvia-san came to like me. …If horns are the shape of pride, then the horn Sylvia-san carved with her own hands is the proudest horn I have right now."

"...Seriously."

"Too cheesy, maybe? Isaac the Decurion taught me that killer line."

"No... I’m happy."

"Then I’ll take the right horn—"

"Kate!?"

"Then I’ll take the left—"

"How about instead of dicks, we both get our horns carved by Big Sis Kelly?♪"

"...H-Horn-dicks… gulp."

"Hey, wait—"

"Haha, Isaac. What a coincidence."

"W-Williams!?"

"And who’s that Mikagami foot soldier lookalike making those unsettling remarks over there?"

"No, calm down. Let’s talk. First, this kid has trouble with standard speech—"

"Yeah, yeah. …Should we ask the barracks about where ‘dick’ comes from? Maybe while we’re exercising."

"Wait! Listen to me!"

This is heavily intertwined with Isaac’s arc in Extra Edition 2. I’ll post that soon too.

The horns of ogres are, depending on the tribe, often a vital part directly tied to one's identity.
After all, they are a race so specialized in combat that they're known as "warrior races." While their massive frames and developed canines certainly embody what makes an ogre an ogre, it is undeniably true that the horns—seemingly governing both fighting spirit and offensive power—are the true symbol of the species.
Therefore, ogres hold their horns in extremely high regard.

Since horns are living organs that grow, they require constant care. They are regularly trimmed to maintain their shape or regulate their length, and some tribes even carve symbolic patterns into them.
However, no matter how close a companion may be, an ogre will never let anyone else touch their horns. Doing it themselves is a matter of pride for any ogre.

Most other races don't even notice the effort involved, but in reality, there are trends and fads surrounding horn grooming: cutting notches to create bifurcated tips at the ends, carving evenly spaced ridges along the shaft, or sharpening them so keenly they could pierce through anything.
"Back in my youth, I thought that looked cool," is a common excuse heard from middle-aged ogres.

From a purely structural standpoint, all these modifications are disadvantageous. Yet, for hot-blooded young warriors who have survived countless brutal battles, seeing their ornate horns remain unblemished looks undeniably impressive. Of course, most of the time, they aim for such perfection only to break them off halfway through, leading to deep regret.

Enough digression.
Arnie Boyd, a Private (recently turned nineteen, an ogre male of the pure-hearted variety), is a man entirely unconnected to such wicked horn modifications.
After all, despite being a dual-horned ogre, he's missing one. Due to various circumstances, it was ripped out from the root and will never grow back. At this point, even by ogre standards, he's already quite the sight.

Still, he had been cherishing his remaining horn quite carefully—until just a few months ago, when it snapped off.
Well, considering it came at the cost of saving a life and winning over a girlfriend, he could accept it. But lately, the horn has grown quite long again, and he's been pondering what to do about it.

"Hey, Boyd, what're you staring at in that mirror?"

"Oh, Private Rackman."

As Earnie gazed into his hand mirror, troubled, his colleague Greg Rackman, a dwarf private, called out to him.

To put it simply, a private is an apprentice soldier—the lowest rank. Greg and Earnie are peers of the same age and rank, so formal speech wouldn't get them in trouble. But given that Greg is a dwarf with a beard like a bear's, there was something about addressing such a junior as Earnie without honorifics that felt awkward.

"Men staring into hand mirrors? That's creepy."

"Oh, ahaha... no, it's about my horns."

"Huh? Your horns?"

In the Celesta Northern Army Crossbow Corps where Earnie serves, ogres make up nearly twenty percent of the support forces—a rarity. Naturally, many hold strong attachments regarding their horns, and there are those who understand just how unusual—or pathetic—Earnie's situation is.
Greg recalled this and wore a slightly awkward expression. He wasn't good at comforting people.

Seeing Greg's hesitant face, Earnie panicked.

He wasn't worried about the broken horn.

"I... no, I mean, um... maybe it's time to file them into a conical shape?"

"Ah, right. When yours broke, it was like this."

Greg made a five-centimeter gap with his fingers. In Earnie's memory, it seemed a bit wider, but details don't matter much. It wouldn't do anyone good if others remembered incorrectly anyway.

"Yeah, well, that's about it. But since they've grown quite long again, maybe it's time."

"Then let me lend you a really sharp knife."

"N-no, I have grooming tools already."

The real issue was whether he should even do this at all.
Aesthetically, there's no reason not to. The problem lies elsewhere.

Earnie's girlfriend, Sylvia McLean—a human female on the verge of turning twenty and known for her innocence—was saved from a near-fatal collision with an out-of-control carriage thanks to Earnie's selfless rescue attempt.
Now, she carefully wears the broken horn he lost during that incident as a pendant around her neck.

I was truly delighted that she seemed happy when I gave it to her, but ever since then, I've occasionally traced the crease on its tip, using it as a reminder to be grateful for our meeting and for fate itself. Honestly, a single chipped horn is nothing compared to Sylvia's flawless skin—so why worry about it? It's just something like "Hey, Arnie, you're still doing that," or some other ridiculous nonsense I've been turning into an excuse to joke around. That's the real problem here.

Now, this scarred crease has become one of our bonds.

But should I erase it? That's the struggle I'm facing.

"I see... So, hit me then. Go all out."

"If you could just spare me..."

Greg's height is like that of an infant compared to Arnie's towering frame, yet as a dwarf, he possesses enough power to knock Arnie unconscious with a single blow.

Feeling genuine malice hidden beneath his friendly smile, Arnie slowly stepped back.

"Hmm... Well, seriously speaking, if hitting you satisfies you, I suppose you can keep doing it however you like."

"Eh? Yeah, well, that's true... But it does look rather awkward, doesn't it?"

Still, as an ogre, Arnie has his own sense of aesthetics and cares about what others think.

To be honest, a horn left broken and bent out of shape is simply unbecoming.

Having Sylvia see him like this would make her feel ashamed too, and that's something he can't bear to do.

"Hmm... What should I do..."

"Most people outside our kind wouldn't care anyway, you know."

"But Basson, there are actually quite a few ogres around, aren't there?"

Caught between cultures, between love and appearance.

Sylvia could offer advice, but if she did, she'd end up looking lonely and saying, "It's okay to trim it," which would only make things worse.

As Arnie stroked his carrot-like horn, now without a tail, deep in contemplation, the front entrance of the barracks grew slightly more lively.

"Someone must be back."

"It seems so."

The noise had grown considerably over the past few days.

With the three-month leave granted to them unexpectedly, and now its end approaching within days, many soldiers were returning from their well-deserved break.

Even though they belonged to a military unit bound by duty, most of them were young men living alone, which fostered a strong sense of camaraderie.

Some even brought mountain-sized gifts, turning each soldier's return after their first leave since forming the squad into something of an event.

But somehow, the way things were getting noisy felt a bit off.

"Oh, hey, Boyd, Rackman! Come here for a sec! And slap my cheeks! No, wait—if you two go all out, I might lose my head, so keep it gentle!"

"Did you just say that, Sergeant Jack?"

"A tap on the head will do, won't it?"

"No, I meant something like that... Ah, come here already!"

The two glanced at each other, followed Jack toward the entrance, and found a massive bull standing there.

Or rather, an ogre subspecies male who looked like a bull: Corporal Kelly Isaac.

Beside him—or more accurately, leaning against his lower body—stood a woman with straight posture and an aura of dignity.

"...A woman? She doesn't seem like a civilian."

"That cloak is military issue. Same fabric as what the Anzoros squad carries."

"N-no... Something feels off about her proximity to Corporal Isaac, doesn't it?"

"No, it's not that Isaac the Decapitator is just too big, right?"

"That guy alone could block the entire entrance."

"No, no, no—I saw him walking toward us from over there, but that woman was riding on Isaac the Decapitator's shoulder!?"

"Ugh..."

"What a scene. The most enviable situation for an Ogre, ranked number one."

"...*"

Earnie glanced away slightly, having done this quite often at Silvia's request.

Jang-Jack and Greg caught his glance immediately and shot him a sour look.

Setting that aside for now:

"It sounds like you're introducing yourself. To everyone, right here in the entrance hall?"

"Oh, hey, we're coming to listen too!"

"Wait a minute!! Damn it, don't leave the short-legged ones behind!"

The three of them dashed forward with dota-dota footsteps.

"Pleased to meet you."

As the woman in the cloak struck a formal Celesta military salute, the three reached within earshot.

Seeing all around them awkwardly smile and return the greeting, the trio hurriedly pressed their fists to their left chests.

"Oh, hey, what's going on?"

Jang-Jack asked a nearby soldier. Before that soldier could speak, she offered a faint smile and repeated her words.

"Pleased to meet you as well. I've transferred today from the Celesta Western Army, Third Infantry Regiment. My name is Linne Mikagami, Regular Soldier. Branch remains infantry; I'll be taking on guard duties."

"Ah... uh, Regular Soldier Mikagami actually holds the title of Ace Knight by the way. Also a Wolf Beastkin. I'm from her hometown—or rather, we've known each other since childhood. She's the granddaughter of my old man."

Kelly was desperately trying to explain without causing any trouble.

Linne calmly removed her hair ornament and revealed her previously hidden ears.

"I enlisted because I admired Isaac the Decapitator. From now on, please take good care of me."

"Oh, hey, Li... Mikagami?"

"Don't push it, call me Linne. ...And that should be clear enough, right? Kelly-san."

"No, um... yeah..."

The look in her eyes and the way she moved radiated absolute trust in Kelly, while Kelly's behavior was utterly bewildered and suspicious.
Almost all forty soldiers gathered in the entrance hall understood instantly.
"Yeah, yeah. Nice to meet you, Regular Soldier Mikagami."

Representing them, Bit Williams—a human male aged 28 burning with jealousy—stepped forward with a grin, sharing Kelly's rank as a Decapitator.

"And Isaac. After such a long journey, things aren't great right now, but morale for training is sky-high among us."

"A, ah... uh, Williams?"

"Of course you'll lead the way, Isaac. As a Celesta soldier."

"Calm down. Wait a moment. Let's try to act rationally as Celesta soldiers."

"Yeah, yeah. Nobody's lost their rationality yet."

"…………"
Amid a height difference nearly double her own, the ox lowered its head with a menacing, slow advance.

"Haa…"

"Yeah, yeah, you're really eager for training today. Good attitude—truly worthy of being Future Captain of the Hundred."

"Iyo! Protocol for Acting Deputy Captain of the Hundred!"

"Shining bright as ever!"

As they chimed in unison, the soldiers hurried toward the armory.
Soon, a few who had already returned began winding the crossbow strings with nostalgic enthusiasm, their movements crisp and practiced.

"Well," said Bit—a human male aged twenty-eight, renowned for his perpetually fixed smile—declaring to Kelly with a radiant grin.

"Which do you prefer: fleeing while carrying a shield meant to deflect arrows, or running away empty-handed?"

"What kind of choice is that!!"

"You'd better decide quickly—I've been practicing archery myself and already have my weapon ready."

"Gh… ugh… AAAAAAAH!!"

Kelly sprinted toward the armory at full speed.

"Alright, everyone, pursue her! If she grabs that arrow-deflecting shield, you're authorized to fire!"

"Yeeeeeeaaah!!"

The crossbow squad chased after her in high spirits.

"Wait… please, what exactly are you going to do to Captain Kelly?"

"Just let it go, just let it go."

Hank Bronson, a regular infantryman from the only remaining unit—the Anzerus Guard—firmly grabbed her shoulder and halted her.

"This is part of the ritual."

"The ritual…?"

"Yeah... see, neither the Hundred Captain nor the Ten Captains of Anzerus are here right now."

"What does that have to do with anything!?"

Before their conversation could gain any traction, the trigger for the large-scale archery drill had already been pulled.

"Uooooooh!! You guys aren't actually aiming at me, are you!!"

"Sorry, Captain Isaac! It hurts us too, but this is training! Die!"

"We're not doing this willingly either! Get lost!"

"Even if I concede that returning to Kun and snagging a beautiful girlfriend is one thing, don't think you can get away with just bringing me along for show-and-tell without consequences, damn it! Sorry!"

"Don't insult me using such awkward grammar!!"

The so-called "arrow-deflecting shield" was in fact an ultra-heavy shield lying discarded in the armory—one that even an ogre would struggle to wield. While it could technically deflect crossbow bolts at close range, Kelly's massive frame meant she couldn't fully hide behind it.
"Gh! Got grazed! I got grazed, you bastard!!"

Even so, Kelly managed to escape with her life through sheer determination.
"...What kind of unit is this place anyway?"

"Welcome to one of the Northern Legion's most beloved units."
It was meant as a joke, but probably also true.

Night had fallen.

The daytime commotion had finally subsided, and everyone was gathered in the mess hall for dinner, beginning their usual round of introductions—asking each other what they liked about Linne and Kelly's coupledom.

"Well, that counts as a blessing in its own way, comrade."

"...When I started dating Sylvia, it was great to have the Captain and Anzerus's squad around..."

"Hahahaha. Well, Isaac wouldn't go that far unless he was tough enough," someone chuckled.

A bit apart from the group, Kelly and Linne looked slightly annoyed yet oddly content. Watching them, Earnie secretly wiped a bead of cold sweat while patting his chest in relief.
Yeah. Everyone's scary.
"But..."
Now even Kelly had a girlfriend.
That meant he no longer risked being dismissed when seeking advice on matters of the heart.
And though Kelly was technically a sub-species, she was still an ogre; there was shared understanding regarding how to handle horns.

"Alright."
After devouring his portion of spiced meat chunks—a super-male dish made for voracious ogres—Earnie followed Kelly as she stood up first.

"Horns?"

"Just file them down, why don't you?"

As expected, both Kelly and Linne tilted their heads in confusion.

"No, but... I just don't want to cut off our memories together."

"Romantic, Boyd."

Kelly laughed heartily, while Linne smiled gently and nodded.

Kelly was rough around the edges yet caring; Linne was quiet but steady. Side by side like this, they seemed quite the ideal couple.

"It doesn't have to be romantic per se... but since you and Sylvia are different species, I'd hate to lose even a small thing that could strengthen your bond."

"I see... But you two are so lovingly attached; maybe it's time to gain a bit more confidence."

"Physical tokens are lovely, but relying too much on them can make women uneasy. It might seem like you trust the object more than your own love."

"Ah, I understand..."

"So perhaps taking the next step intentionally could be good."

"...Next?"

"Yes. Why not turn carefully filing those precious horns into a new shared memory between the two of you?"

"...M-maybe... like this?"

Click-clack, click.

Sylvia meticulously shaped the horn using Earnie's favorite small knife—large enough to look like an axe to humans—and a file.

"Oh, don't round off the tip too much; that's how kids file their horns."

"Okay... Hey, why did you decide to let me do this?"

"W-well..."

"The Ogres' horns are precious things. We entrust our pride to their form, which is why we don't let others touch them."

"Entrusting that to someone else... well, in my colony, it's actually quite a serious form of courtship."

"...Hey, Kelly-san. Can you... let me have yours trimmed?"

"Eh... ah, yes. ...Damn it, you've gotten so spoiled lately."

"My pride is the fact that Sylvia likes me. If horns are the shape of pride, then the ones trimmed by Sylvia's hands are the proudest horns I could possibly have right now."

"...Ugh."

"Wait, isn't that too cheesy? It's a catchphrase Isaac taught me."

"No... I'm happy."

"So, I'll go for your right horn—"

"Kate!?"

"N-no, then I'll take the left one..."

"In place of my penis, it'd be fine if you two, big sister and Kelly-nii-san, gave each other a double-horn-fucking session♪"

"...H-horn-fucking... G-gulp."

"Hey, wait!"

"Hahahaha, Isaac. What a coincidence."

"Eh, Williams!?"

"So, who exactly is this Mikagami Sehei lookalike making inappropriate remarks over there?"

"No, calm down. Let's talk things through. First off, this kid doesn't speak standard Japanese well."

"Mmhmm... I wonder which dialect 'penis' comes from. Maybe we can find out while exercising a bit."

"Wait! Listen to me!"

This is connected to Isaac's chapter in Side Story 2, and it intertwines quite heavily with that one as well.
I'll be posting that soon too.