Ogre horns are, depending on the tribe, a vital part of their identity. After all, they're a race known for specializing in combat. Sure, their massive builds and developed canines are definitely ogre-like, but it's the horns—seemingly governing their fighting spirit and attack power—that truly symbolize an ogre, and no one would argue otherwise.

Therefore, ogres value their horns immensely. Since horns are growing organs, they require constant maintenance. Shaping them, adjusting their length, or even carving symbolic patterns into them – these kinds of modifications are always being done, depending on the tribe.

But this is something an ogre wouldn’t let just anyone do, even among friends. Doing it themselves is a point of pride for ogres. While many other races don't even notice the effort involved, there are actually trends and fads in horn modification. Some ogres might cut their horns to split at the tip, carve evenly spaced nodes along them, or sharpen them to a deadly point – all sorts of crazes have come and gone.

"Well, I thought it looked cool when I was younger," is a common excuse from middle-aged ogres. From a structural standpoint, none of these modifications are advantageous, but surviving countless scraps with those impractical horns intact looks incredibly impressive to hot-blooded young ogres. Though usually, they end up regretting their ambition when the horn snaps mid-effort.

Anyway, back to the point. Arnie Boyd, a recruit (a nineteen-year-old, pure-hearted Ogre male), has never been involved in any of that wild horn modification. After all, he's a dual-horned ogre who only has 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 even by ogre standards.

Even so, he took good care of the remaining horn until it snapped a few months ago. Well, it was in exchange for saving a life and getting a girlfriend, so he was mostly okay with it. But now that it's grown quite a bit again, he's wondering what to do about it.

"Yo, Boyd, what're you staring at in the mirror for?"

"Oh, Gregman."

Arnie was gazing into his hand mirror, deep in thought, when his colleague, Greg Gregman, a recruit (a dwarf), called out to him. A recruit is basically an apprentice soldier, the lowest rank. Greg and Arnie are in the same cohort and rank, so he wouldn't get mad if Arnie didn't use honorifics, but Greg, being a dwarf with bear-like facial hair, somehow made it difficult for the younger Arnie to just call him by his first name.

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

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

"Oh, your horn, huh?"

About 20% of the Celesta Northern Legion Crossbow Corps, where Arnie serves, are ogres – surprisingly high for a support unit. Naturally, they have strong opinions about horns and can tell Arnie just how special, or rather, pathetic, his situation is.

Greg remembered that and made a subtle face. He's not good at comforting people. And Arnie panicked at the subtle expression.

It's not that he's worried about the broken horn. "N-no, it's just… I was wondering if it's okay to start shaping my horn into a cone now…"

"Ah, yeah, that's how much was broken off when it snapped."

Greg made a gap of about 5cm with his fingers. Arnie felt like it was a bit more, but oh well, details. It can't be helped if others don't remember it.

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

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

"N-no, I have tools for maintenance, though."

The problem was whether he should really do it or not. From an aesthetic standpoint, there's no reason not to. But other than that…

Arnie’s girlfriend, Sylvia MacLean (a human woman who will be twenty in just a little while, and also pure-hearted), was saved from a near-suicide attempt with a runaway carriage by Arnie’s selfless rescue. Currently, she cherishes the horn that broke off at that time as a necklace.

I was really happy when she seemed pleased with the gift, but ever since then, I’d occasionally touch that broken horn stub and silently thank her for our meeting, or thank fate. But it’s become a problem because it’s mostly used for some kind of smug bragging—stuff like, "Hey, Arnie, you still doing that?"

Now, that broken horn is one of the bonds between us.
But I’m conflicted about whether it’s okay to erase it.

"Is that so… Hey, can I punch you? Full force."
"If you could maybe spare me…"

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

Arnie sensed the serious intent behind Greg’s friendly smile and slowly backed away.

"Hmm, well, if that’s enough for you, I guess you can leave it as is."
"Yeah, well, yeah, I guess so… But it’s definitely awkward."

But Arnie, as 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 looks terrible. And walking around with that thing exposed feels like he’s making Sylvia look bad too.

"Ugh… what should I do…"
"I bet no one except ogres even notices."
"Basson, there are surprisingly a lot of ogres here…"

Caught between culture and love, between affection and appearances.

He could ask Sylvia for advice, but if he did, she’d probably give him that sad look and say, "You can just shave it off."

As Arnie stroked the stump of his broken horn, which looked like a fallen radish with a tail, the front entrance of the barracks became a little noisy.

"Looks like someone’s back."
"Yeah, seems like it."

The commotion had been steadily increasing over the past few days.

Due to some business for the centurion in charge of the unit, they’d all been granted an unexpected three-month leave. With the end of that leave approaching in a few days, more and more people were returning.

Even though it was just a military unit he had to deal with for work, most of them were young, single soldiers, so their sense of camaraderie was strong.

Some were bringing back mountains of souvenirs, and the return from their first leave since being assigned was turning into a little event.

But something about the commotion seemed… off.

"Hey, Boyd, Rackman! Come over here for a sec! And give me a cheek pinch! Or I’ll lose my head if you do it with real force, so be gentle!"

"What are you saying, Private Jean-Jacques?"
"A cheek pinch is okay?"
"No, not that I’m against hitting you or anything, but… Ah, come on over here!"

The two exchanged glances and followed Jean-Jacques toward the entrance, where they found a giant bull.

No, an ogre subspecies who looked like a bull—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."
"That’s military-issue fabric. Same as what the Anzeros unit has."
"W-wait, is she close to Isaac Decurion?"

"Hey, isn't it just that Isaac the Deca's too damn big?"
"That guy blocks the entrance by himself."
"No, no, no, I saw her walking towards him from across the way! That woman was riding on Isaac the Deca's shoulders!"
"Whoa."
"That’s gotta be number one on the ogre’s envy scale."
"…………"

Arnie averts his gaze slightly, as Sylvia has requested he do so quite often.
Janjacque and Greg, quick to notice, send him a disapproving look.
But anyway.
"Sounds like she's doing introductions or something, in the entrance hall, for everyone."
"O-oh, hey, we're gonna go listen too!"
"Wait a minute!! Damn it, don't leave behind someone with short legs!"

The three of them run over in a clumsy hurry.

"Nice to meet you all."
Just as the woman in the cloak struck a Celesta military salute, the three arrived within earshot.
Seeing everyone around them returning the greeting with slightly sheepish smiles, the three hurriedly clapped their left fists to their chests.
"H-hey, what's going on?"

Janjacque asked another nearby soldier, but before he could answer, she repeated the words with a faint smile.
"And to those who will join us later, nice to meet you as well. I am Linne Mikagami, a regular soldier transferred today from the Third Infantry Regiment of the Celesta Western Legion. My specialty remains infantry, and I will be taking on guard duty."

"Ah… well, Mikagami is also known as an Ace Knight. And she’s a wolfkin, my… uh… hometown buddy, or rather, the grandson of an old friend."
Kelly desperately tried to explain without causing offense.

Linne took off her hair ornament with a cool expression and revealed her ears, which had been tucked away.
"I joined because I admire Isaac the Deca. From now on, please treat me well."
"H-hey, L… Mikagami."
"Please, call me Linne. …That should cover everything, right, Kelly?"

"Well, uh…"

Her gaze and gestures clearly showed complete trust in Kelly, while Kelly looked utterly bewildered and fidgety.
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 who burns with jealousy) stepped forward, grinning as a representative of the other Decas.
"And Isaac. It’s terrible after such a long journey, but we’re really eager to train hard."
"A-ah… well, Williams,"
"Of course you’ll lead the way, Isaac. As a soldier of Celesta."
"Calm down. Wait a second. Let’s be rational as soldiers of Celesta."
"Yeah, yeah. No one’s lost their reason yet."

"…."

The bull ogre crept down, its massive bulk towering nearly twice as high.

"Ugh…"

"Yeah, yeah, so eager for training, huh? Good attitude, just like the future centurion."

"Y-YES! Deputy Centurion Assistant-in-Training!"

"You’re shining bright!"

The soldiers chimed in as they hurried toward the armory.

A few returned moments later, nostalgically winding up their crossbows.

"So—"

Bit (a human known for his forced smiles, 28 years old) 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’d better decide quick— I was just doing archery training, so I’ve already got my weapon."

"Ugh… ugh… waaaaah!!"

Kelly fled the armory at full speed.

"Alright, everyone chase after him! If he grabs an arrow-deflecting shield, take the shot!"

"YEEEEAAAH!!"

The Crossbow Corps gave chase with great enthusiasm.

"W-Wait a minute, what are you doing to Kelly?"

"Just let me be."

Hank Bronson, the sole remaining soldier of the Anzeros Guard (Infantry Escort Unit), grabbed her shoulders firmly.

"This is a ritual."

"A ritual…?"

"Yeah. …See, neither the Centurion nor the Anzeros Decanus are here right now."

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

As they babbled on, the starting signal for the large-scale archery practice—targeting Kelly—was given.

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

"Sorry, Isaac Decanus! It pains our hearts, but this is training! Die."

"We’re not doing this by choice! Die."

"Even if you go back to your home country and pick up a pretty girlfriend, don’t think you can just bring her here and brag about it for free, you bastard! Sorry."

"Don’t curse me with grammar that’s hard to reply to!!"

The "arrow-deflecting shield" in question was, for some reason, an ultra-heavy shield lying in the armory—one even ogres would struggle to wield. It could deflect crossbows at close range, but Kelly’s massive frame still couldn’t hide her entirely.

"Ouch! I got grazed! I got grazed, you bastards!!"

Even so, Kelly somehow managed to escape.

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

"Welcome to the best of the best buddy units in the Northern Legion."
It sounds like a joke, but it’s probably true.

Night.

The daytime commotion had died down, and everyone was eating dinner in the mess hall while Linne and Kelly were already deep into their couple interrogation—how they met, what they liked about each other, all that stuff.

"Consider it a blessing, at least."

"...When I started dating Sylvia, it was nice having a Centurion and Anzeros as Ten-Commanders..."

"Haha, well, you gotta be pretty sturdy to get away with what Isaac does."

Watching Kelly and Linne, who were slightly annoyed but also clearly happy, from a distance, Arnie secretly broke out in a cold sweat while simultaneously feeling relieved.

Yeah. Everyone’s scary.

"But..."

This meant Kelly had a girlfriend now.

Which meant he wasn’t going to get brushed off when asking for relationship advice anymore.

And Kelly was an ogre, even if he was a subspecies. They shared a common understanding about horn treatment.

"Alright."

Arnie finished his chunk of spiced meat (a super-masculine dish for ogres with huge appetites) and followed Kelly, who had already gotten up.

"Horns?"

"Just shave them off."

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

"Well, but... I don’t want to sever the memories of the two of you," Arnie said.

"You’re such a romantic, Boyd."

Kelly laughed heartily—HAAHAHA—while Linne smiled and nodded.

Kelly was rough around the edges but caring, while Linne was quiet and reliable. When they were together like this, they looked like a pretty good couple.

"It doesn’t have to be romance or anything. But... well, you and Sylvia are different races... I don’t want to lose even a little bit of something that binds us."

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

"Physical things are nice, but if you only focus on those, the woman will get insecure. She’ll wonder if she’s not trusted enough for her memories to be cherished, or if your love isn’t reliable."

"N-no way..."

"So, why not make it a step toward something new?"

"...New?"

"Yes. You can turn the elegant shaving of their precious horns into a new memory for the two of you."

"...S-so, like... this?"
Crrr, crrr, crrr.
Using Arnie’s small (though still looking like an axe to humans) knife and file, Sylvia carefully shaped the horns.
"Ah, don’t round them off too much—it’ll look like you’re shaving a kid’s horns."
"Okay... Hey, why did I suddenly feel like letting you shave them?"
"W-well..."

"Ogre horns are important. We entrust our pride to their shape. That’s why we don’t let others touch them."
"Leaving that to someone else… well, in my colony at least, it’s also a pretty serious form of courtship."
"...Hey, Kelly. Could I... maybe get to shave yours too?"
"Huh? ...Ah, yeah. ...Jeez, you’re starting to act all spoiled."

"My pride is that Sylvia likes me. ...If horns are the shape of pride, then the horn she shaved with her own hands is the proudest horn I have right now."
"...Seriously."
"Too cheesy, you think? Isaac the Decurion taught me that line."
"No... I’m happy."

"Then I’ll start with your right horn—"

"Kate!?"

"O-Oh, then I’ll take the left one..."

"How about instead of a dick, we two big sisters get to shave Kelly’s horn-dick together?♪"

"...H-Horn-dick... gulp"

"Hey, wait—"

"Haha, Isaac. What a coincidence."

"W-Williams!?"

"And who’s this Mikagami regular lookin’ like he’s about to say something inappropriate over there?"

"No, calm down. Let’s talk. First of all, this kid’s not good with standard speech—"

"Yeah, yeah. ...Should we ask him in the barracks where that dick dialect is from? Maybe while we’re working out."

"Wait! Listen to me!"

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

An ogre's horns are often a vital part of one's identity, tied directly to their tribe and crucial in defining who they are.
After all, this is a species that has earned its reputation as a warrior race, built entirely for battle. While their massive frames and well-developed canines certainly mark them as ogresses, few would disagree that it is the horns—those symbols of fierce fighting spirit and overwhelming attack power—that truly embody the essence of an ogre.
Because of this, ogres hold their horns in extremely high regard.
Since horns are living organs that continue to grow, they require constant care: shaping them, trimming their length, or even carving tribal insignias into them.
Yet no matter how close the bonds between tribe members, this work is never done by anyone else. Doing it with one's own hands is an ogre's point of pride.
Most other races might not notice all that effort, but in truth, horn craftsmanship has its own trends and fads—horns split to form forked tips at the very end, evenly spaced notches carved along the shaft, or sharpened to a razor edge so acute they could pierce through with minimal pressure.
"These fancy horns looked cool when we were young," is often heard as a defense from middle-aged ogres.
Technically, none of these modifications offer any real advantage in combat, yet for hot-blooded youth who've survived countless rough battles, seeing an undamaged and stylish pair of horns remains surprisingly attractive. Though, most often, they end up chasing that dream only to break off halfway through, leading to bitter regret afterward.

Enough with the side notes.
Arnie Boyd, Private (an 19-year-old ogre male, a romantic at heart), is just not the type of guy who'd ever indulge in those nasty horn modifications.
To make matters worse, despite being a dual-horned ogre, he's missing one. For some reason, it was yanked out from the base and won't grow back. By ogre standards, that already makes him pretty uncool.
Still, he'd cared deeply for whatever remained, but just a few months ago, even that broke off with a snap.
Well, considering he saved lives and wooed his sweetheart in exchange, he accepted it enough at the time. But lately, since it's grown back significantly, he's been deep in thought about what to do now.

"Hey, Boyd, staring at that hand mirror again?"

"Oh, it's you, Sergeant Rackman."

Arnie was caught gazing worriedly into his hand mirror when Greg Rackman, fellow Private (dwarf), addressed him.

In plain terms, a Private is just a probationary soldier—the lowest rank in the hierarchy. While Greg, being Arnie's peer and same-ranking comrade, wouldn't get mad if Arnie dropped formal speech, even so, given that dwarves are known for their grizzled beards like bears, calling someone with such a rugged facial hair by first name alone felt uncomfortably familiar to the young Arnie.

"Guys staring in hand mirrors while pretending to have a thousand faces? Kinda creepy, man."

"Oh, uh, hehe... I mean, it's about the horns."

"Yeah, the horns?"

In Celesta's Northern Legion Crossbow Corps, where Arnie serves, ogres make up nearly 20% of the support units—an unusually high number.

Naturally, there are some who understand the deep attachment to one's horns and could gauge just how special—or pitiful—Arnie's situation is.

Greg recalled that fact and wore a vaguely uncomfortable expression. He wasn't great at comforting people anyway.

Seeing Greg's dubious look made Arnie panic instantly.

No, he wasn't worried about having broken them off again.

"U-uh, I mean... maybe it'd be time to file down the horn into a cone shape soon? That kind of thing."

"Oh yeah, I remember how they looked when you broke one off like this."

Greg held up his fingers to show a gap of about 5 centimeters. Arnie's memory felt like there was more space before—but details don't matter much. There's no point expecting others to remember the specifics anyway.

"Yeah, well, that's pretty much it. But since they've grown quite a bit now, I think it's time."

"If so, why don't I lend you a really sharp knife?"

"N-nah, I got my own grooming tools already."

The real issue was whether he should even do it.

From an aesthetic standpoint, there's no reason not to. The problem lies elsewhere.

Arnie's girlfriend, Sylvia MacLean—a 19-year-old human female known for her purity—had been saved from what nearly turned into a tragic car crash involving Arnie risking everything to rescue her.
Currently, she treasured the broken horn fragment that had fallen off during that incident, wearing it as part of her necklace proudly.
At first, seeing how happy Sylvia was when he gave it to her made him feel incredibly pleased. But ever since then, sometimes she'd point out the jagged break mark and use it for cheesy emotional speeches—like "I'll always thank you for our chance to meet," or "I'm grateful for fate itself," or worse, "Hey Arnie, don't you think fixing this little flaw on my skin is cheap compared to how beautiful I am?" Yeah, yeah, that kind of cringe-worthy flattery.
Now, it's become one symbol of their bond—the broken mark itself.
That's the dilemma gnawing at him: should he really erase that scar?
"Get it? So hit me good then. Full force."
"If only you could spare me..."

Greg's height looks like that of an infant when compared to Arnie's hulking frame, but with the inherent power of a dwarf race, he could certainly render Arnie unconscious with a single blow. Sensing a genuine killing intent lurking within Arnie's pleasant smile, he slowly backed away. "Um, well, to be serious, if doing that satisfies you, I think doing so repeatedly is perfectly fine." "Eh, yeah, sure, that's right... but it's undeniably awkward." Yet, even for Arnie, there was such a thing as an ogre's sense of beauty, and he cared about how others perceived him. To put it bluntly, leaving the horn broken without repairing it simply looked terrible. Exposing it while walking alongside Sylvia felt like making her look ashamed too. "Hmm... I don't know what to do..." "I suppose no one except ogres really cares anyway." "Basson, there seem to be quite a few ogres after all..." At the intersection of cultures, between love and appearance. Consulting Sylvia could be an option, but doing so would only make her look lonely and end up with her saying something like, "It's fine if we cut them off."

While Arnie groaned in anguish, stroking the daikon-radish-like horn that had lost its tail, the front entrance of the barracks grew somewhat lively. "Someone must have returned." "Seems like it." Over the past few days, the clamor had become significantly more frequent. Accompanying matters handled by the captain leading one hundred men, there had been an unexpected three-month leave of absence. With its end approaching in just a few days, more and more soldiers were preparing to return. Even though these troops belonged to the military under work-related arrangements, they consisted almost entirely of young single soldiers, so their sense of camaraderie was strong. Some even brought mountain-like piles of souvenirs, turning each soldier's return from their initial leave since forming the unit into something akin to a small event. However, the way things were getting noisy felt a bit off. "Hey, hey, Boyd, Rackman! Come over here for a sec! And clap my cheeks! No, if you guys do it for real, I might lose an ear, so be gentle!" "You said it yourself, Lieutenant Jack." "Can we just use a forehead tap?" "No, I meant something like that... ah, forget it, come on over here!" Looking at each other, the two followed after Jack. When they turned toward the entrance, there stood a giant bull-like figure. No, an ogre sub-species male who looked like a bull: Sergeant Kelly Isaac. Standing beside him—or rather, leaning against his lower half—was a woman with upright posture and an imposing aura. "...a woman? She doesn't look much like a civilian to me." "That's a military-style mantel, same fabric as the ones worn by Anzeros' unit." "W-what, she's close, right? Is she standing very close to Sergeant Isaac?" "No, I mean, it's just that Sergeant Isaac is too big, isn't he?" "Yeah, that guy alone blocks up the entire entrance!" "No, no, no! But I saw her walking over from there, and she actually climbed onto Sergeant Isaac's shoulders!?" "Wow." "Just witnessed number one most enviable ogre situation ever..." "............" Arnie looked slightly away, since he had done something quite similar upon Sylvia's request. Sharply noticing this, Jack and Greg sent him a glare filled with dislike. Regardless of that... "It seems like they're introducing themselves to everyone right here in the entrance hall."

"Hey, hey! We're comin' to listen!"
"Hold it right there!! Damn it, don't just leave the short-legged bastard behind!"
The three of them scurried off with a frantic patapat of footsteps.

"Pleased to meet you."

As the woman in the cloak struck a formal Celesta military salute, the trio reached within earshot. Watching everyone around exchange greetings with slightly slouched expressions, the three hastily pressed their fists against their left chests in return.

"Hey, hey, what's goin' on?"

When Jangnack asked another soldier standing nearby, that soldier hadn't even opened his mouth yet when she offered a faint smile and repeated her words.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance too. I've transferred today from the Western Military Forces of Celesta, Third Infantry Regiment. My name is Rinne Mikagami, acting private. My branch remains infantry; I'll be serving as a guard."

"Ahh… yeah, well, Private Mikagami technically holds the title of Ace Knight. Also, she's a werewolf hybrid and my—uh, so-called fellow townsfolk, or rather, the granddaughter of an old geezer we grew up with," Kelly rushed to explain as hard as he could.

With a cool expression, Rinne removed her hair ornament and lifted her formerly hidden ears into view.

"I enlisted because I idolized Captain Isaac Ten Commanders. From now on, please take good care of me."

"H-hey, uh… Mi… Mikagami?"

"No need to strain yourself; just call me Rinne. …And as we've already stated, there's no issue with our relationship, correct, Mr. Kelly?"

"No, well, uhh…"

The unmistakably trusting gaze and demeanor he displayed toward her, coupled with Kelly's utterly flustered and suspicious behavior, made it clear.

"Ugh, ugh. Take care of you too, Private Mikagami."

And representing everyone, Bit Williams (human race, 28 years old, burning with jealousy), also a Ten Commanders alongside Kelly, stepped forward with a toothy grin.

"And Isaac. After this long journey, things are rather bleak for us, but morale for rigorous training is running high!"

"Ah, ah… so, um, Williams?"

"Naturally, you'll lead the charge, Isaac. As a soldier of Celesta."

"Calm down. Hold on. Let's try to act rationally as soldiers of Celesta."

"Ugh, ugh. Nobody's lost their sanity yet!"

"…………"

Among this height difference nearly double his own, the bull steadily lowered his head in silent defeat.

"Gh… uh…"

"Uh, ugh, you guys are really keen on training? That's great spirit! Truly worthy of a future Captain of One Hundred."

"Iyo!! Captain of One Hundred Proxy Assistant Duty Guidelines!"

"So radiant!"

Chiming in as they spoke, the soldiers hurriedly headed toward the armory. Already, several who returned quickly began winding the strings of their crossbows with nostalgic effort.

"Well then," Bit (human race, 28 years old, renowned for his plastered-on smiles) declared to Kelly with a beaming face.

"Shall we flee carrying shields meant to deflect arrows, or run away empty-handed?"

"What kind of binary choice is this!!!"

"Hurry up now! I was shooting targets just a while ago, so I'm already equipped!"

"Gh… uh… uwwaaaahhh!!"

Kelly sprinted toward the armory at full speed.

"Come on, everyone, chase him down! Once that bastard grabs the shield meant to block arrows, open fire!!"

"Yesaaaaaaa!!!!!"

The Crossbow Corps surged forward in high spirits, giving chase.

"Wai... wait a minute, Kelly... what are we doing with—"

"Just shut up and stop."

Hank Bronson, the first-ranking soldier of the only remaining Anzeros detachment (the escort infantry), firmly seized her shoulder to bring her to a halt.

"This is part of the ritual."

"Ritual...?"

"Yeah... look, neither the company commander nor the Anzeros squad leader is here right now."

"What's that got to do with it!?"

Their conversation was getting nowhere when someone finally pulled the trigger on this target practice meant for large-caliber weapons.

"Uooooooo!! Y-you guys aren't seriously aiming to hit us, are you!!"

"Sorry, Squad Leader Isaac! It stings, but this is still training! Die."

"We don't enjoy doing this either! Get lost!"

"You'd better not think we'll let this go just because you brought her here to show off! Going back to Kun and hooking up with a pretty girlfriend is one thing, but dragging her along for free? Don't get me started! Sorry about that."

"Don't use some convoluted grammar to insult me!!"

The shield referred to as "arrow-blocking" was actually a colossal, super-heavy weapon lying around in the armory—one that wouldn't be easy for anyone who isn't an ogre to maneuver. It's supposed to deflect crossbow bolts at close range, but with Kelly's massive frame, it doesn't even cover her entire body.

"Damn it! I got grazed! I was grazed, you son of a bitch!!"

Still, Kelly managed to escape the barrage by sheer determination.

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

Welcome to the Northern Legion, one of the friendliest units around."

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

Night.

After the daytime commotion finally died down, everyone gathered in the mess hall for dinner, beginning their informal bonding sessions—asking Linné and Kelly how things were going and what they liked about each other.

"After all, that still counts as a blessing, friend."

"...When I started dating Sylvia, it was great having both the company commander and the Anzeros squad leader around..."

"Hahaha, well, something like that wouldn't be possible without someone as tough as Isaac."

Watching Kelly and Linné sitting slightly apart from each other, looking somewhat annoyed yet oddly happy, Arnie secretly wiped a bead of cold sweat while patting his chest in relief.

Yep. Everyone's scared.

"But..."

Now, Kelly also had a girlfriend.

That meant there was no reason for anyone to treat romantic matters with disdain anymore.

And besides, even though Kelly was a sub-species, she was still an ogre. When it came to horns, everyone shared a common understanding.

"Alright."

Arnie quickly devoured the block of meat he'd been served—spiced and roasted (a super-male dish designed for voracious ogres)—then followed after Kelly as she got up from her seat first.

"Horns?"
"Just file them down, why don't you?"
As expected, Kelly tilted her head at the suggestion—and Linné did too.
"No, but... I mean... I just don't want to cut off their shared memories or anything."
"Romantic much, Boyd?"

Kelly's hearty laugh booming with grand flair and Linne's gentle, approving nod.
The somewhat rough-and-ready but caring Kelly paired with the quiet, reliable Linne—when lined up like that in stillness, they rather do make a picture-perfect couple.
"Romance isn't really the point, you know. But... I mean, between me and Sylvia, we're different species... so I don't want to lose even a thread of that bond."
"Gotcha. ...Still, you two act so lovey-dovey that I think it's time you picked up some self-assurance there."
"Tangible things are lovely, but holding on too tightly to them can make a woman uneasy. What if she feels her memories are trusted more than her own affection?"
"Indeed..."
"That's why making the next step is probably the better move here."
"...Next?"
"Yes. We could carve out some fresh shared memories by having that precious horn of yours artfully trimmed."

"...M-Maybe... that works?"
Krik-krik, krik.
Sylvia, using the small knife (which might as well be an axe to a human) and file that Arnie keeps handy, carefully tends to shaping her horns.
"Oh, don't round off the tip too much, okay? That's how kids whittle their horns."
"Gotcha. ...Hey, why did you think it was necessary to let me do this?"
"T-That's..."

"An ogre's horn is sacred—it houses one's pride in its very shape. That's why no one else touches it."
"To hand that off to someone else... Well, back at my colony, sure—but seriously, it's quite the bold courtship gesture."
"...Hey, Kelly. Could I... get you to trim mine too?"
"Eh? ...A-ah, yeah. ...Ugh, really starting to act all spoiled lately."

"My pride lies in being able to have Sylvia like me. ...If the horn represents my pride, then having her carve it herself is undoubtedly the most proud moment I've ever had."
"...Geez."
"Hey, am I being too cheesy? That was a line Isaac taught me ten years ago to use when killing someone."
"No... I'm happy."

"So let's start with my right horn—"

"Kate!?"

"N-No, then you do the left one..."

"For that little cock of yours, how about having Kelly-san and big sis both jack off your horn-cock together~♪"

"...F-Fuck, 'horn-cock'... Gulp"

"Wait a damn minute."

"Hah-hah, Isaac. What are the odds?"

"U-Uh, W-Williams!?"

"But whose goddamn soulless duplicate is making those inappropriate remarks over there?"

"No, calm down. Let's talk things through first. Anyway, this kid can't speak in standard dialect yet."

"Mhm... Hmm... Should we figure out which dialect 'cock' belongs to back at the barracks while getting some exercise?"

"Wait! Listen to me!"

This is deeply intertwined with Isaac's chapter from Side Story 2, and I'll be posting that soon too.

An ogre’s horns are, depending on the tribe, an anatomical feature closely tied to their very identity.
After all, they are a species so specialized for combat that they earn the title of "combat race." While their massive frames and developed canines certainly contribute to what makes them ogres, no one would dispute that the horns—seeming to govern their fighting spirit and offensive power—are the true symbol of the species.
Therefore, ogres cherish their horns deeply.
Because horns are growing organs, they require constant maintenance. This involves shaping them, regulating their length, or, in some tribes, engraving symbolic patterns. These modifications are an ongoing process.
However, despite being comrades to one another, ogres rarely allow others to perform these tasks. Doing it oneself is a matter of pride for the race.
In many cases, other races don’t even register the effort involved, but there are actually trends and fads in horn styling. Various booms have come and gone: notching the tips into bifurcations, carving marks at equal intervals, or sharpening them to a point so acute they’d pierce through anything with ease.
“Well, when I was young, I thought that looked pretty cool,” is a common excuse heard from middle-aged ogres.
From a structural standpoint, none of those modifications are advantageous. But having weathered countless battles yet kept such ostentatious horns intact struck the hot-blooded youth as impossibly cool. Usually, though, the attempt ended with the horn snapping off halfway through, leading to deep regret.

But that’s a digression.
Arnie Boyd, an ensign (a male ogre who just turned nineteen and adheres strictly to traditional values of romantic purity), is a man with no connection to such risky horn modifications.
After all, he is a Dual-Corn ogre—a two-horned type—but he lacks one. Due to various circumstances, it was pulled out by the root, and it would never grow back again. At that point, by ogre standards, he was already quite far from cool.
Even so, he had taken great care of the remaining horn, until a few months ago when that snapped off too.
Sure, it had been exchanged for saving a life and getting a girlfriend, which made him accept the loss. But lately, as the new growth came in quite long, he had been mulling over what to do with it.

“Hey Boyd, what are you staring at in that mirror?”

“Ah, Mr. Luckman.”

Arnie was gazing at his hand mirror, lost in thought, when his comrade Greg Luckman (a dwarf) spoke up.

An ensign is, put simply, an apprentice soldier—the lowest rank. Greg and Arnie were of the same age and rank, so there would be no anger for not using honorifics. However, given his dwarven features and bear-like beard, Greg found it difficult to drop the formal address toward someone as junior as Arnie.

“Men staring into hand mirrors making a hundred faces is a bit creepy.”

“Oh... haha... I mean, it’s about my horn.”

“Oh, the horn?”

The Celesta Northern Legion Crossbow Corps, where Arnie served, was unusual for a support unit in having nearly twenty percent ogres.

Naturally, many held strong obsessions regarding their horns, and some pointed out just how unique—or pitiful—Arnie’s situation was.

Greg recalled this and made a subtle face. He wasn’t good at comforting people.

Being met with that subtle expression panicked Arnie.

It wasn’t that he was worried about the fact it had broken.

“I-It’s just... I mean, would it be okay to start filing it into a cone shape?”

“Ah, right. It was like this when it broke.”

Greg made a gap of about five centimeters with his fingers. Arnie felt there had been a bit more in his memory, but well, details aside. It wasn’t as if he could expect others to remember perfectly.

“Yes, somewhere around there. But since it’s grown back quite a lot, I was wondering if the time has come.”

“In that case, would you like me to lend you a sharp knife?”

“N-No, I have maintenance tools.”

The problem was whether he really should do it.

Aesthetically, there was no reason not to. The issue lay elsewhere.

Arnie’s girlfriend, Sylvia MacLean (a human female who would soon turn twenty and adheres strictly to traditional values of romantic purity), had a history of being saved from what looked like certain death in a runaway carriage by Arnie’s self-sacrificial rescue attempt.
Currently, she wore the piece of horn that snapped off during that incident, fashioned into a necklace and kept it close.
He had been thrilled when she was happy receiving it, but ever since, he had a problem: she used the crack in the horn as an excuse to thank him for their meeting, thank fate, and tease him with stuff like “Don’t worry about one missing horn; compared to Sylvia’s beautiful skin, it’s cheap.” “Ew Arnie-kun, are you still making noise?” It had become a vehicle for her annoying bragging.
Now the broken spot was a symbol of their bond.
He struggled with the question of whether he had the right to erase it.
“I see. By the way, may I punch you? With full force.”
“If possible, I’d appreciate if you didn’t…”

Gregg was a mite compared to Arnie’s massive frame, but if it came down to it, a Dwarf’s power was more than enough to drop Arnie with a single hit.

Sensing the genuine murderous intent behind Gregg’s seemingly benign smile, Arnie backed away incrementally.

"Huh. Well, all things being equal, I figure you can keep looking like that for as long as you want."

"Eh... yeah, that's true. It's just... it really does look ugly."

But Arnie had an ogre's sense of aesthetics and cared about how others perceived him.

To be blunt, a broken horn left sticking out was not cool.

Walking with Sylvia while displaying such a flaw felt like he was bringing shame on her, too, which made him feel guilty.

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

"I don't think anyone besides the ogres cares."

"Basson, there are actually quite a few ogres around here, you know..."

Caught between culture and status, love and appearances.

He could ask Sylvia for advice, but doing so would likely give her a melancholy look and force her to say something like, "You can just file it down if you want."

As Arnie stroked the radish-like stump of his severed tail-horn, lost in contemplation, the main entrance of the barracks grew lively.

"Looks like someone's back."

"Yeah, seems so."

In the past few days, the noise level had skyrocketed.

Thanks to a centurion’s errand, they’d been granted three months of unannounced leave. With the end of that period approaching in just a few days, more and more soldiers were returning to duty.

Even though they served under military units for work, most of them were young, single men, fostering a strong sense of camaraderie.

A few even hauled in mountain-sized amounts of souvenirs, turning their return from their first formation leave into a bit of an event.

However, something about the current commotion felt slightly off.

"Hey, hey, Boyd, Luckman! Come over here a sec! And smack my cheek! No, if you hit me with any real force, I'll lose my head, so go easy!"

"What are you talking about, Sergeant-Major Jean-Jacque?"

"Is a light pinch enough?"

"It's not like it has to be a serious slap or anything... just... oh god, come over here already!"

The two of them exchanged glances and followed Jean-Jacque back to the entrance. There stood a massive bull.

Or rather, an ogre sub-species male who looked like a bull: Tenth Sergeant Kelly Isaac.

Standing beside him—or rather, leaning against his lower half—was a woman with a straight spine and a dignified aura.

"Is that... a woman? She doesn't look like a civilian from the looks of her."

"That cloak is military issue. Same fabric as what Anzeros' squad has."

"Ugh, they're kind of close, aren't they? Like, spatially?"

"Nah, it's just that Tenth Sergeant Isaac is too damn big, right?"

"She's blocking the whole entrance by herself."

"No no no, I was walking in from the other side, and that woman was riding on Tenth Sergeant Isaac's shoulder when she arrived!"

"Whoa."

"This is definitely number one on the list of situations we envy ogres for."

"..."

Arnie glanced away slightly, since he had done quite a few things himself at Sylvia’s request.

Jean-Jacque and Gregg, having noticed this keenly, sent Arnie some unkind looks.

Setting that aside.

"It looks like they're introducing herself. Right there in the entrance hall, to everyone."

“W-Wait, we’re coming with you to listen!”
“Hang on a sec!! Damn it, you can’t just leave short legs behind like that!”
The three of them rushed over with heavy, clattering footsteps.

“Thank you for your cooperation.”

Just as the woman in the mantle executed the formal Celesta salute, the trio arrived within earshot.

Seeing the surrounding soldiers return the greeting with lazy but polite smiles, the three hurriedly slapped their fists to their left chests.

“W-Wha—what’s going on?”

When Jankjack asked a nearby soldier, the man opened his mouth, but before he could speak, she offered a faint smile and repeated her words.

“I also look forward to working with you in the future. I have been transferred here today from the Third Infantry Company of the Celesta Western Legion. My name is Lieutenant Rinne Mikagami. My specialty remains infantry, and I will be taking on the role of escort guard.”

“Ahh… well, Lieutenant Mikagami technically holds the title of Ace Knight as well. Also, she’s a wolf beastman, and the granddaughter of an old friend of mine from back home”

Kelly desperately tried to explain without causing any offense.

Rinne, with her cool expression, removed her hair ornament and brushed aside the fur covering her ears to reveal them.

“I enlisted because I was inspired by Captain Isaac. Please treat me well from now on.”

“W-Wha— R… Mikagami”

“It’s fine to call me Rinne without any fuss. …I explained our relationship just now, didn’t I, Kelly-san?”

“No, that’s just… uh…”

Her gaze and demeanor made it clear she completely trusted Kelly, while Kelly looked utterly confused, moving awkwardly around.

The roughly forty soldiers gathered in the entrance hall seemed to understand the situation almost unanimously at once.

“Yeah, yeah. Nice to meet you, Lieutenant Mikagami.”

Leading the charge was Bit Williams (Human, 28 years old, burning with jealousy), who was also a Captain like Kelly. He stepped forward with a mischievous grin.

“And Isaac. I’m sorry to burden you right after such a long journey, but morale is high and we’re really eager to train.”

“A-Ah… look, Williams”

“Of course, you’ll take the lead, right, Isaac? As a soldier of Celesta.”

“Calm down. Just wait a minute. Let’s try to act rationally here, as soldiers of Celesta.”

“Yeah, yeah. No one has lost their reason yet.”

“…………”

Despite being nearly twice his height, the bull ogre edged back inch by inch.

“Grrr…”

“Good, good. I’m glad you’re so enthusiastic about training. That’s a fine attitude, befitting your future role as a Centurion.”

“Oi-oh! Standing in for the acting Centurion advisor!”

“She’s shining!”

Cutting in with remarks, the soldiers hurried off toward the armory.

A few of them returned quickly, cheerfully winding up the crossbow strings with a ratcheting sound.

“So then”

Bit (Human, 28 years old, renowned for his fake smiles) declared to Kelly with a beaming smile.

“Which do you prefer: fleeing with a shield to block arrows, or fleeing empty-handed?”

“What kind of choice is that!!”

“You’d better hurry— I was at target practice until just now, so I already have my weapon ready.”

“Grrr… ugghh… ughhhh!!”

Kelly fled toward the armory at full speed.

"All right, everyone, chase 'em down! Fire when he grabs his shield! Yeaaah!"

The Crossbow Corps gave chase, thrilled at the prospect.

"Hold on—wait, Kelly, what are you—"

"It's fine, it's fine."

Hank Bronson, a master sergeant in Anzeros's unit (the escort infantry), was the only one left behind. He grabbed her shoulder firmly, stopping her dead in her tracks.

"This is a rite of passage," he said.

"A rite...?"

"Yeah. Besides... look, neither the centurion nor the Anzeros ten-man captain is here right now."

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

Before they could make sense of his nonsensical conversation, the shooting practice began, treating Kelly as a target for this massive archery event.

"Ooooooh!! You guys are actually aiming to hit me, aren't you?!"

"I'm sorry, Captain Isaac! My heart aches, but this is just training! Die!"

"We don't enjoy this any more than you do! Get lost!"

"If I go back to my country and hook up with a beautiful girl, I might skip the bragging part, but you brought her here specifically to show off, so don't think you'll get away with that! Sorry about that!"

"Cursing me while using grammar that makes it impossible to answer back!!"

So-called arrow-shields were, for some reason, extra-heavy shields lying around the armory that couldn't easily be maneuvered by anything other than an ogre. While they could deflect crossbow bolts at close range, Kelly's huge frame meant he couldn't cover his entire body with one.

"It hurts! I missed! You missed, you bastards!!"

Kelly managed to escape just barely in the end.

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

"Welcome to what might be the best friend group in the Northern Legion."

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

Night.

The daytime commotion had settled down a bit, and everyone gathered in the mess hall for dinner. They started teasing Rynne and Kelly about how they first met and what they liked about each other—a classic couple interrogation.

"Technically, that's a blessing for us comrades."

"...I'm glad the centurion and the Anzeros ten-man captain were around when I started dating Sylvia..."

"Hahaha, well, unless you're tough as Isaac, you wouldn't go that far."

Standing a little apart, watching Kelly and Rynne, who looked subtly angry yet subtly happy, Arnie wiped cold sweat from his brow and patted his chest in relief.

Yeah. Everyone was terrifying.

"But..."

With this, Kelly was now in a relationship too.

Which meant he had lost the standing to be brushed off even when seeking advice on love matters.

And Kelly was an ogre, sub-species or not. Regarding horns, there was a mutual understanding.

"Alright."

Arnie finished munching through his share of meat—a "cowboy steak" (super-masculine dish for big-eating ogres)—and got up to follow Kelly, who had left the table earlier.

"Horns?"

"Why not just shave them off?"

As expected, both Kelly and Rynne tilted their heads in confusion upon hearing this.

"No, but... I mean, I don't want to cut away the memories of the two of you."

"You're such a romantic, Boyd."

Kelly bursts into a hearty, boisterous laugh, while Linnen smiles and gives a knowing nod.
The rough around the edges yet doting Kelly, paired with the quiet and composed Linnen. It is quite striking how, when you simply place them side by side in silence, they look like rather the best of couples.
“It’s not about romance or anything, mind you. But... well, Sylvia-san and I are from different races, so... I just don’t want to lose whatever little bond we have.”
“I see. ...But seeing how lovey-dovee you two act, I think you could afford a bit more confidence.”
“Having something tangible is lovely, yes, but if you cherish only the keepsake, it can make your partner feel insecure. They start to wonder: ‘Do you trust this memory, but not my love?’”
“H-Huh... I see...”
“That’s why, sometimes, taking the bold step forward is the right thing to do.”
“...The next step?”
“Yes. Make shaving your precious horns into a stylish gesture part of your new shared memories. It’s a fresh start for the two of you, isn’t it?”

“I-I s-suppose... that would work.”
Scrape, scrape, scrape.
Using a small knife and a file—small by ogre standards, though they’d pass as hatchets in human hands—Sylvia meticulously trims the horn.
“A-And don’t round off the tip too much, okay? That’s how you trim a kid’s horn.”
“Y-Yes, ma’am... Hey, I’ve been wondering why she allowed me to be the one doing this?”
“I-I mean...”

“An ogre’s horns are sacred. They entrust their pride to that shape. So they never let anyone else touch them.”
“To entrust that to another is... well, in my colony anyway, it’s quite a serious form of courtship.”
“...Hey, Kelly. Can I... can I shave yours too?”
“H-Huh? ...Ah, yeah. Sure... Damn, you really got soft around her, didn’t you?”

“My pride is that Sylvia-san came to like me. ...If the horns are the shape of our pride, then a horn shaved by Sylvia’s own hands would be the most honorable horn in my eyes right now.”
“...Oh, stop it.”
“W-What? Too cheesy? It was a killer line Isaac, my Tenth Leader, taught me.”
“No no. ...It makes me happy.”

“Then I’ll take the right one—”

“Kate!?”

“I-I mean, how about I do the left one then...”

“You could just use your dick in place of Kelly-bro’s horn-dick, we’re a family now~♪”

“...T-The horn-dick... gulp.”

“Oi, hold on!”

“Hahaha, Isaac. Funny coincidence, isn’t it?”

“W-Williams!?”

“And who is that suspicious figure mimicking Mika Kami Shouhei’s rhetoric over there?”

“Calm down, let’s talk this out. First off, this girl’s command of the standard tongue is a bit... lacking.”

“Mmhmm... Let’s go ask in the barracks where ‘dick’ is from some local dialect. Might as well do some exercise while we’re at it.”

“Wait! Listen to me!”

This ties in quite a bit with Isaac’s arc in the second side story.

I’ll be posting that one soon too.

An ogre's horns are often a crucial part of their identity, depending on the tribe.
After all, they are a race specialized for combat. Their huge bodies and developed canine teeth certainly make them look like ogres, but it's the horns, which seem to embody their fighting spirit and offensive power, that are the true symbol of an ogre. No one would argue with that.
Therefore, ogres take their horns very seriously.
Since horns are organs that grow, they actually require maintenance. They need to be shaped, their length adjusted, and in some tribes, symbolic patterns are carved into them. This is something that is always being done.
However, even among friends, this is something they don't usually let others do for them. Doing it themselves is a matter of pride for ogres.
While other races often don't notice their efforts, there are actually trends in how horns are processed, such as cutting them to create a forked tip, carving intervals into them, or sharpening them to a point that can easily pierce through.
"It's just that I thought it looked cool when I was young," is a common excuse from middle-aged ogres.
While all of these are disadvantageous in terms of strength, young bloods find it incredibly cool that their decorative horns remain unscathed after surviving many dangerous situations. However, most of them end up regretting it when their horns break halfway through their attempts to achieve this.

Enough of that.
Arnie Boyd (a 19-year-old male ogre who recently turned 19 and is a pure-hearted type) is a man who has nothing to do with such bad horn processing.

After all, as a Dual Horn (two-horned) ogre, I'm missing one horn. It was pulled out from the root for some reason and will never grow back. At this point, I already look pretty bad as an ogre.
　I did treasure the remaining horn, but I broke that a few months ago too.
　Well, I was okay with it since it meant saving a human life and getting her, but now that it's grown back quite a bit, I'm wondering what to do about it.

"Hey Boyd, what are you staring at in the mirror for?"
"Oh, Rackman-san."
　While Arnie was staring at the hand mirror, his colleague, Greg Rackman, a probationary soldier (dwarf), called out to him.
　A probationary soldier is basically an apprentice soldier and the lowest rank. Greg is in the same year and rank as Arnie, so he doesn't get in trouble for not using honorifics, but as a dwarf with a bear-like beard, Greg felt a bit uncomfortable addressing Arnie, a junior, by his first name.
"Men staring at mirrors with a hundred expressions is a bit creepy."
"Oh, oh, ha ha... Well, it's about my horn."
"Oh, your horn."

Arnie’s Daydream Nightdream Crossbow Corps in the Northern Legion of Trot Celesta had an unusually high proportion of ogres, nearly 20 percent.
Of course, they were all concerned about horns, and some of them had told Arnie how special—or how pitiful—he was.
Greg recalled this and made a subtle expression. He wasn’t good at comforting people.
Arnie, seeing Greg’s subtle expression, panicked.
He wasn’t worried about the break.
“N-no, I was just wondering if it’s time to file my horns into a cone shape…”
“Oh, right, they were like this when they broke.”
Greg made a gap of about five centimeters with his fingers. Arnie thought it had been a bit wider, but it was a minor detail. It didn’t matter if others didn’t remember it.
“Yeah, that’s about right. But they’ve grown quite a bit, so I think it’s time.”
“Then I’ll lend you a sharp knife.”

「W-well, I do have the maintenance tools.」
　The problem was whether or not it was okay to actually do it.
　From an aesthetic standpoint, there was no reason not to do it. But there were other factors to consider.

Arnie Boyd’s girlfriend, Sylvia MacLean (a human woman on the verge of her twentieth birthday who was a pure-blood), had been saved from almost being run over by a runaway carriage thanks to Arnie’s desperate rescue efforts.
　She currently wore the horn that had broken off from Arnie’s head as a necklace.
　It had made her very happy when she had been given it, but since then, she had occasionally used it to tease Arnie, saying things like, “You’re still doing that? Aren’t you glad we met? Aren’t you glad for our fate? It’s nothing to worry about, Arnie-kun. A single horn is nothing compared to this beautiful skin of mine.” It was this kind of teasing that was the problem.
　Now, that broken horn was a symbol of their bond.
　He was conflicted about whether it was okay to remove the mark.
「I see. By the way, can I hit you? With all my strength.」
「I’d prefer if you didn’t…」

Greg’s height was like that of a baby compared to Arnie’s massive frame, but with the power of a dwarf, he could easily knock Arnie unconscious.
Detecting a genuine murderous intent behind Arnie’s friendly smile, he took a step back.
“Hmm, well, if that’s what you want, I don’t mind doing it, but…”
“E-eh, yeah, well, that’s true… but it’s still not very presentable.”
But Arnie had his own sense of aesthetics as an ogre, and he cared about what others thought of him.
Frankly, his broken horns were not very presentable.
Walking around with them exposed would be embarrassing for Sylvia too.
“Hmm… what should I do…”
“Anyway, I doubt anyone other than ogres would care.”
“Basson, there are actually a lot of ogres around…”

Between culture and culture, between love and appearances.
Consulting Sylvia might be an option, but it would be like making her look sad and then saying, "You can cut it off if you want."

As Arnie stroked the horns, which looked like carrots with their tails cut off, he was in deep thought. Suddenly, the front entrance of the barracks became noisy.
"Someone must have come back."
"Yeah, looks like it."
In recent days, the commotion had grown noticeably louder.
With the centurion's personal affairs, the three-month leave had come to an end, and the number of people returning was increasing day by day.
Although it was a military unit, most of the soldiers were young and single, so there was a strong sense of camaraderie.
Some brought back mountains of souvenirs, and each person's return from their first leave had become a little event.
But something about the commotion seemed a bit off.

「Hey, Boyd, Lackman! Come here for a second! And slap my cheeks! But don’t hit me too hard or I’ll break my neck.」
「Hey, I’m talking to you, Janjack!」
「Can I just tap you?」
「No, it’s not about hitting you hard. I just want you to do it gently… Oh, just come over here!」
　The two men exchanged glances and followed Janjack into the foyer. There, they found a giant bull-like Ogre subspecies man, Kelly Isaac, the ten-man leader.
　Beside him, or rather, next to his lower body, stood a woman with a straight back and a stern demeanor.
「…Is that a woman? She doesn’t look like a civilian.」
「Her cloak looks like military gear. It’s made of the same material as the ones the Anzeros Corps uses.」
「Um, isn’t she too close? Isn’t she standing too close to Isaac?」

「No, isn't that just because Isaac's too big?」
「That guy could block the entrance all by himself.」
「No, no, no, I saw her coming from the other side, and she was riding on Isaac's shoulder!」
「Wow.」
「That's gotta be the most enviable ogre situation.」
「…………」
　Arnie averts his gaze a bit, as per Sylvia’s request.
　Jeanjack and Greg notice and shoot him a nasty look.
　Anyway.
「It looks like she's introducing herself. In the foyer, to everyone.」

「Hey, we’re coming to listen too!」

“Hold on a second!! Dammit, don’t leave behind the short-legged ones!”

The three ran, their footsteps pounding.

“Thank you very much.”

When the woman in the cloak took the military salute of the Celesta army, the three of them had arrived within earshot.

Seeing everyone around them return the salute with a slightly relaxed smile, the three hurriedly placed their fists over their left chests.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

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

“Thank you for your continued support. I am Lynne Mikagami, a soldier transferred from the Third Infantry Regiment of the Celesta Western Legion. My military branch remains infantry, and I will be taking up the role of guard.”

“Oh… Well, Mikagami Lance Corporal also holds the title of Ace Knight. And she’s a wolf beastman, and my… well, you could say she’s from my hometown, an old acquaintance’s granddaughter.”

Kerry tries to explain carefully, trying not to offend anyone.
　Lynne calmly removes her hair ornament and shows off her ears, which she had lowered.
"I joined the Crossbow Corps because I admired Captain Isaac. Please take care of me from now on."
"Hey, Lynne... Mikagami."
"Do your best, Lynne. ...I explained this to you, Kerry."
"No, um... I mean..."
　Kerry’s completely trusting gaze and mannerisms, as well as her confused and suspicious behavior.
　The approximately 40 soldiers gathered in the entrance hall almost simultaneously understood.
"Right, right. Nice to meet you, Mikagami Lance Corporal."
　Then, Bit Williams (a 28-year-old human with a burning jealousy), also a captain, stepped forward with a sly smile.

「And Isaac. I know it's not the best after a long journey, but we're really in the mood to train.」
「Ah, yeah... Hey, Williams.」
「Of course, you'll lead the way, Isaac, as a soldier of Celesta.」
「Hold on a second. Calm down. Let's be rational about this as soldiers of Celesta.」
「Yeah, yeah. No one's lost their cool yet.」
「…………」
　The bull ogre, towering nearly twice his height, slowly backed away.
「Gh...」
「Yeah, yeah, you're really enthusiastic about training. That's great, future centurion.」
「Yeees! Acting Centurion-in-Training!」

“Shining bright!”
　While cheering, the soldiers hurried toward the armory.
　And soon, those who had returned already started winding the strings of their crossbows with nostalgic smiles.
“Now,”
　Bit (a human with a reputation for fake smiles, 28 years old) declared to Kelly with a full smile.
“Which is better, running away with a shield to block arrows or running away with nothing?”
“What kind of choice is this!!”
“Hurry up, I’ve already got a weapon since I was doing target practice earlier.”
“Kuh… u… ughhh!!”
　Kelly ran for the armory with all his might.

「All right, everyone, follow! If he grabs a shield to block the arrows, shoot!」
「YEAH!!!」
　The Crossbow Corps chased after them with great enthusiasm.
「Wait a minute... Please, what are you going to do to Kelly?」
「It's fine, it's fine.」
　The only one left, Hank Bronson of the Anzeros Squad (the escort infantry), grabbed her shoulder firmly to stop her.
「This is part of the ritual.」
「Ritual...?」
「Yeah. ...Look, the centurion and the Anzeros squad leader aren't here either.」
「What does that have to do with anything!?」

The large target shooting training aimed at Kelly had already begun while they were having a pointless conversation.
"Uooooooooo!! D-don't you dare shoot me!!"
"Sorry, Isaac Squad Leader! I know it hurts, but this is all part of the training! Die!"
"We're not doing this because we want to! Die!"
"Even if I go back to Kun and hook up with a pretty girl, I'm not going to let you off the hook for showing off your skills in front of me! Sorry!"
"Stop insulting me with your bad grammar!!"
The shield supposedly used for deflecting arrows was actually a heavy shield that was usually stored in the armory. It was so heavy that only an ogre could easily wield it. It could deflect crossbow bolts at close range, but Kelly's massive body couldn't be fully covered by it.
"Ow! I got grazed! I got grazed, you bastard!!"
Despite this, Kelly tried his best to escape.
"......What kind of unit is this here?"

"Welcome to the Northern Legion's top friendly unit."

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

---

Night.

After the day's commotion had settled, everyone gathered in the dining hall for dinner, starting to tease Linné and Kelly about how they got together and what they liked about each other.

"Well, that was a blessing in its own way, comrades."

"...When I started dating Sylvia, I was glad I had a centurion and a decurion like Anzeros..."

"Hahaha, well, you're not as tough as Isaac, so you don't get to go that far."

While watching Kelly and Linné from a distance, who were slightly angry and slightly happy, Arnie secretly wiped his brow with a cold sweat.

Yeah, everyone's scary.

"But..."

Now, Kelly has a girlfriend too.
　Which means, he won't be brushed off when it comes to matters of love.
　And Kelly is an ogre, albeit a subspecies. They share a common understanding when it comes to horns.
"Alright."
　Arnie finished off the chunk of meat seasoned with pepper (a super hearty dish for ogres with big appetites) and followed Kelly, who had already gotten up from his seat.

"Horns?"
"Just cut them off."
　Sure enough, Kelly and Linne tilted their heads in confusion at his suggestion.
"No, but... I don't want to sever our memories."
"You're such a romantic, Boyd."

HAHAHA, Kelly laughed heartily, and Linnie smiled and nodded.
With Kelly's rather rough but caring nature and Linnie's quiet, dependable demeanor, the two together seemed like a pretty good couple.
"I'm not saying we need romance or anything, but... Well, you know, me and Sylvia are different races... I don't want to lose any of the bonds we've built."
"I see... But you two are so in love, you should have more confidence."
"Having tangible things is nice, but if you only value those, women will feel insecure. They might wonder if you only trust your memories and not their love."
"Ah, I see..."
"So, I think it's a good idea to take the next step."
"Next step?"
"Yes. You could make the act of shaving off your horns another precious memory for the two of you."
"...Something like this..."

Tap, tap, tap.
Silvia carefully trimmed the horns with Arnie’s favorite (though it looked like a machete to humans) knife and file.
“Ah, don’t round off the tips too much, that’s how you’d file a child’s horns.”
“Yes, ma’am. …Hey, why did you let me do this?”
“W-well…”

“Ogre horns are important. They’re a symbol of our pride. So we don’t let others touch them.”
“To let someone else do it… well, in our colony, it’s a serious sign of affection.”
“…Hey, Kelly-san. Can I… file them for you?”
“Eh, …ah, yeah. …Damn, you’re really milking this, aren’t you?”

“My pride is that Sylvia-san likes me. …If horns are a symbol of pride, then the horns filed by Sylvia-san are the proudest horns I have.”

「...I guess.」
「Oh, am I being too cocky? This is what Isaac Squad Leader taught me to say when I kill someone.」
「No, it’s... nice.」

「Then I’ll take the right horn—」
「Kate!?」
「T-Then I’ll take the left...」
「You can let me and my sister take your horns instead of your dick, Kelly Brother!♪」
「...Horns... I-I can’t...」
「Wait a minute.」
「Haha, Isaac. What a coincidence.」

「W-Williams!?」
「H-Hold it! Who’s the guy making those inappropriate remarks over there?」
「No, calm down. Let’s talk. First of all, this kid doesn’t speak standard language well.」
「Oh, oh. …Let’s go to the barracks and ask him which dialect his dick is from. We can jog over there.」
「Wait! Listen to me!」
This is part of an extra chapter that’s heavily intertwined 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 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.

The horns of the Ogre tribe are, depending on the tribe, often an important part of their identity.
After all, they are a race specialized for combat, so much so that they are called a warlike species. While their massive bodies and developed canine teeth certainly embody what makes them Ogres, it’s no surprise that even those who might disagree would agree that their horns—those horns that seem to symbolize their fighting spirit and aggression—are the true mark of an Ogre.
For this reason, Ogres cherish their horns deeply.
Since horns are organs that grow, they require constant care. They are shaped, adjusted in length, and even engraved with symbolic patterns depending on the tribe. However, no matter how close they may be, Ogres rarely let others handle this task. It is a matter of pride for Ogres to do it themselves.
Though many other races might not care about such efforts, there is actually a trend in horn maintenance. Some Ogres cut their horns so that they split into two prongs, or carve in evenly spaced notches, or even sharpen them so sharply that they could easily pierce skin. Such trends come and go, but to young Ogres, it all looks incredibly cool.
“Ah, well, back in my day, I thought it was cool,” is a common excuse from middle-aged Ogres.
From a practical standpoint, none of these are particularly advantageous, but the fact that their flashy horns have survived countless battles unscathed makes them look incredibly fierce to hot-blooded youths. Of course, most end up regretting it halfway through and breaking their horns in some unfortunate accident.

Enough of that.
Arnie Boyd, a junior soldier (recently turned 19) from the Ogre tribe, is a man with no interest in such flashy horn maintenance.
After all, despite being a Dual Horned Ogre, he’s missing one. It was pulled out by the roots for some reason and never grew back. At this point, he’s already pretty uncool by Ogre standards.
Still, he had been taking care of the remaining horn, but it snapped a few months ago.
Well, it was either that or risking his life to save someone else’s, so he could live with it. But now that it’s grown quite a bit, he’s been wondering what to do about it.

“Hey, Boyd, what are you staring at in that mirror?”

As Arnie was pondering this, his coworker, Greg Lacksman, a junior soldier (a Dwarf) called out to him.

Junior soldiers, to put it simply, are trainees, the lowest rank in the hierarchy. Since Greg and Arnie are both the same age and rank, he doesn’t have to use formal speech with Arnie, but being a Dwarf with his bear-like beard, Greg still found it hard to casually address the younger Arnie.

“Man, staring into a mirror and making all those faces is kinda creepy.”

“Oh, uh, no, it’s about my horn…”

“Ah, your horn?”

The Crossbow Corps of the Northern Legion in Celesta, where Arnie works, has a surprisingly high percentage of Ogres—about 20%—for a support unit.

Naturally, this means there are those who care deeply about horns and are quick to point out just how unique (or pitiful) Arnie’s situation is.

Greg recalled this and made a slightly awkward face. He’s not good at comforting others.

Then, seeing his awkward expression, Arnie panicked.

It’s not that he was bothered about the horn breaking.

“I-it’s just… I’ve been thinking it might be time to shape my horn into a cone…”

“Ah, now that you mention it, it looked like this when it broke.”

Greg made a gap of about 5 centimeters with his fingers. In Arnie’s memory, it was a bit longer, but well, details are details. It’s not like others would remember anyway.

“Well, yeah, something like that. But it’s grown quite a bit now, so maybe it’s time.”

“If you want, I could lend you a sharp knife.”

“No, no, I’ve got the tools for maintenance…”

The real issue was whether he should actually go through with it.

From an appearance standpoint, there’s no reason not to. It’s just the other parts that are the problem.

As for Arnie’s girlfriend, Sylvia MacLean (soon to be 20), she was nearly crushed by a runaway carriage and saved only thanks to Arnie’s heroic rescue attempt.
Currently, she wears the horn that broke off Arnie as a necklace.

I was really happy when Sylvia-san was pleased with the gift I gave her, but ever since then, I’ve been using that faint scar on her horn as a reminder to be grateful for our meeting and fate. Or sometimes I’d just use it to tease her about how cheap one of her horns is compared to her beautiful skin. It’s kind of annoying, though, when she turns around and uses it to brag about how much she likes me.

But now, it’s become a symbol of our bond.

I’m torn between wanting to keep it as a reminder and wanting to erase it entirely.

[Sieg]: "Hmm, I see. By the way, is it okay to hit you? With full strength."

[Arnie]: "If possible, I’d rather you didn’t…"

Greg’s height was like that of a baby compared to Arnie’s massive frame, but with his dwarf power, he could knock Arnie out in one strike.

Feeling the genuine murderous intent lurking behind his friendly smile, Arnie slowly backed away.

[Sieg]: "Well, seriously, if it makes you feel better, you can leave it as it is."

[Arnie]: "Y-yeah, that’s true… But it’s definitely not a good look."

However, Arnie also had his own sense of beauty as an Ogre, and he couldn’t help but worry about how others might perceive him.

Honestly, the sight of a broken horn left as it was looked pretty awkward.

Walking around with Sylvia while exposing that scar felt like I was embarrassing her too, which made me feel bad.

[Arnie]: "Hmm… What should I do…?"

[Sieg]: "I doubt anyone but other Ogres would care."

[Basson]: "Surprisingly, there are quite a few Ogres around here, huh…"

Caught between cultures and loyalties, love and pride.

Consulting Sylvia about it might seem like the right thing to do, but doing so would probably just make her look lonely and let her say something like, “You can cut it off if you want.”

[Arnie]: "Rubbing my stubby horn while I’m thinking about this…"

As Arnie was pondering, the front entrance of the barracks grew a little noisy.

[Sieg]: "Looks like someone’s back."

[Arnie]: "Seems like it."

The commotion had become quite frequent over the past few days.

It was because the company commander’s business had granted them an unexpected three-month leave. The end of that leave was approaching, and more and more soldiers were returning to duty.

Even though they were part of a military unit, most of them were single young soldiers, so their sense of camaraderie was strong.

Some even brought back mountains of souvenirs, and the return of each soldier after their first leave had become something of an event.

However, there was something strange about how this commotion started.

[Sieg]: "Hey, Boyd, Rackman! Come here for a sec! And give me a light slap on the cheek! No, not too hard—remember, if you guys go all out, my head could come off!"

[Janjack]: "What are you talking about, Janjack?"

[Basson]: "A forehead tap would work, right?"

[Sieg]: "No, it’s not like I’m assuming that’s the goal… Ah, just come here!"

The two exchanged glances and followed Janjack toward the entrance. Standing there was a massive bull…

No, a bull-like sub-species of Ogre named Kelly Isaac, the squad leader.

Beside—or rather, leaning against—him stood a tall, dignified-looking woman.

[Arnie]: "A woman? She doesn’t look like a civilian…"

[Sieg]: "Her cloak is military issue. Same fabric as what the Anzeros squad uses."

[Arnie]: "W-wait, she’s too close! Isn’t Isaac too close to her?"

User: "Nah, that’s just Isaac the squad leader being way too big."

User: "That guy could block the entire entrance by himself."

User: "No, no, no, I saw him walking over from the other side! That woman was riding on Isaac the squad leader’s shoulder!"

User: "This is officially the most enviable situation for an Ogre."

Annie, at Sylvia’s request, had been doing this quite a bit and averted her gaze slightly.

Jean-Jacques and Greg noticed it right away and shot her nasty looks.

But anyway…

User: "She seems to be introducing herself. In the entrance hall, to everyone."

User: "Hey, let’s go hear what she has to say."

User: "Wait a second!! Don’t abandon the short-legged ones, damn it!"

The three of them stomped over.

User: "Nice to meet you."

As the woman in the cloak took her Celesta military salute pose, the three of them arrived within earshot.

Seeing everyone around smile awkwardly and return the salute, the three quickly slapped their left chests with their fists.

User: "Hey, what’s going on?"

When Jean-Jacques asked the nearby soldier, she smiled faintly and repeated what she had said before the soldier could speak.

User: "Please take care of those who follow me as well. I have transferred here today from the Third Infantry Regiment of the Celesta Western Legion. My name is Rine Mikagami, a regular soldier. My role will be as a foot soldier and escort."

User: "Ah… um, Mikagami-san is technically an Ace Knight. Also, she’s a wolf beastman, and, well… she’s the granddaughter of that old man from my hometown who’s been like family to me for a while."

Kelly desperately tried to explain in a way that wouldn’t cause trouble.

Rine gracefully removed her hair ornament and shook out her ears, which had been pressed down.

User: "I joined because I admire Isaac the squad leader. Please take good care of me from now on."

User: "Hey, R… Mikagami-san…"

User: "Don’t push yourself too hard. …That’s what I just explained, right, Kelly-san?"

User: "Well, um…"

The look she gave Kelly was full of trust, and Kelly’s flustered, suspicious behavior was evident.

The roughly 40 soldiers gathered in the entrance hall all seemed to understand at almost the same time.

User: "Yeah, yeah. Nice to meet you, Mikagami-san."

Then, as a representative, Bit Williams (a human who burned with jealousy and was 28 years old), also a squad leader like Kelly, stepped forward with a sly smile.

User: "And Isaac. I know it’s bad after your long journey, but we’re really fired up for some intense training."

User: "Ah, uh… Williams…"

User: "Of course you’ll lead the way, Isaac. As a soldier of Celesta."

User: "Calm down. Hold on. Let’s stay rational as soldiers of Celesta."

User: "Yeah, yeah. No one’s lost their rationality yet."

"…………"

Even though there was nearly a two-foot height difference, the bull slowly backed away.

"Guh……"

"Yeah, yeah, so you’re getting that into training, huh? Good attitude. You’ve got what it takes to be a future centurion."

"IYO! Acting Centurion Assistant!"

"You’re shining bright!"

The soldiers cheered as they hurriedly headed toward the armory.

Meanwhile, several of them had already returned and began cranking up the crossbows with nostalgic smiles.

With a full grin, Bit declared to Kelly:

"Would you rather take cover behind a shield or run away empty-handed?"

"What kind of two-choice is that?!"

"It’s better to hurry! I’ve got my weapon ready since I was just doing target practice earlier."

[Guh…… Ugh…… Waaaaah!!]

Kelly ran for her life toward the armory.

[Captain]: "Alright, everyone chase him! Shoot when he grabs a shield!"

[Yes!!]

The crossbow corps chased after him with delight.

[Bit]: "Wait… hold on, what are you doing to Kelly-san?!"

[Captain]: "It’s fine, it’s fine."

The only remaining member of the Anzeros Squad (the escort infantry unit), Hank Bronson, grabbed her shoulder firmly and stopped her.

[Captain]: "This is a ritual."

"A ritual…?"

"Yeah. …You know, since there’s no centurion or Anzeros captain right now…"

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

While they were still having an incomprehensible conversation, the crossbow training exercise targeting Kelly had already begun.

[Kelly]: "Owaaaah!! D-don’t you idiots mean business?!"

[Captain]: "Sorry, Captain Isaac! It hurts my heart, but this is for training! Die."

"We’re not doing this just because we want to! Drop dead!"

"I’ll let you go back to your village and find a pretty girlfriend, but don’t think you can just waltz in here and act all proud and then walk away scot-free! I’m sorry!"

"Don’t swear at me with such awkward grammar!!"

The so-called shield they were using was, for some reason, the super-heavy shield lying around the armory. It could technically deflect crossbows at close range, but Kelly’s massive frame wouldn’t fit behind it.

[Kelly]: "Ow! I got hit! I got hit, damn it!!"

Even so, Kelly managed to escape.

[Captain]: "...What kind of squad is this place?"

"Welcome to the friendliest unit in the Northern Legion."

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

Nighttime.

After the commotion of the day had settled down, everyone gathered in the mess hall for dinner, and Kelly and Lina, the newly paired couple, began teasing each other about how they met and what they liked about each other.

"It’s kind of a celebration, you know. For our comrades."

"...When I started dating Sylvia-san, having both the centurion and Anzeros decanus here was a big help..."

"Haha, well, if it wasn’t Isaac, we wouldn’t have been able to pull off something like that."

Sitting a little distance away, Kelly and Lina looked at each other with a mix of anger and happiness while Arnie secretly wiped cold sweat from his brow and breathed a sigh of relief.

Yeah. Everyone’s scary.

"But..."

Now Kelly has a girlfriend too.

That means there’s no reason for him to be cold about love-related advice anymore.

And Kelly, even if he’s an ogre, shares the same understanding about horns.

"Alright."

After finishing the chunk of spiced meat (a hearty dish for ogres with big appetites) that had been served, Arnie followed Kelly, who had already stood up from the table.

"Horns?"

"Just trim them, right?"

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

"No, but... I don’t want to cut off something that’s a part of our memories."

"You’re such a romantic, Boyd."

Kelly laughed heartily, while Lina smiled and nodded.

Kelly, who was rather blunt but caring, and Lina, who was quiet but reliable. Standing side by side like this, they almost looked like the perfect couple.

"It’s fine to be romantic, but... well, Sylvia-san and I are from different races, so... I don’t want to lose anything that could bring us closer."

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

"Physical things are nice, but if you’re too focused on them, the woman might feel insecure. ‘The memories are cherished, but my love isn’t?’"

"Oh, I see..."

"So, why not make it into something new? Like, trimming your horns in a cool way could become a new memory for the two of you."

"...I-I think... this is good."

Click-click, click-click.

Using Arnie’s favorite small knife (though to humans, it looked more like a cleaver) and a file, Sylvia carefully shaped the horns.

"Ah, don’t round off the tip too much, okay? That’s how you’d trim a child’s horn."

"Yes, ma’am. ...Hey, why are you letting me do this?"

"Well... I guess..."

"An Ogre's horn is important. It carries pride in its form. That's why I don’t let others touch it."
"To hand it over to someone else… well, in our colony, but… it’s also one of the more serious acts of affection."
"...Hey, Kelly-san. Could you… let me trim it too?"
"Huh? …Oh, yeah… damn it, you’ve started acting all clingy."

"My pride is that Sylvia-san came to like me… If the horn is the form of pride, then the horn trimmed by Sylvia-san’s hands is what I’m most proud of right now."
"...You’re so cheesy."
"Well, I learned that line from Isaac, the squad leader."
"No… I’m happy."

"So, I’ll take the right horn—"

"Kate!?"

"Then I’ll take the left one…"

"I’d be fine with having both my horns trimmed by Kelly-nii-chan and Onee-san instead of just one…♪"

"...Horn-trimming… gulp…"

"Hey, wait!"

"Haha, Isaac. What a coincidence."

"W-Williams!?"

"And who’s this lookalike of the official soldier from the mirror over there making such inappropriate remarks?"

"No, calm down. Let’s talk it out. First off, this kid has trouble with standard Japanese."

"Yeah, yeah… Let’s go ask where that 'horn-trimming' dialect is from in the barracks while we work up a sweat."

"Wait! Listen to me!"

The side story featuring Isaac is also heavily intertwined with this one.

I’ll post that one soon too.