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This is a bit of a tangent, but generally, when people hear the word “salamander,” they tend to think of it as another name for a fire lizard or a fire spirit, and that’s how it’s commonly used. Even back in our original time, Cestlavie used to ride a Salamander around (where did he even get one, anyway?), but the original, proper meaning actually refers to a “salamander” in the sense of the amphibian.¹　

And because of the resemblance, people started calling newts salamanders, then geckos as well. Since geckos are often found near fireplaces and such, the misunderstanding arose—“aren’t these lizards resistant to fire?”—and that snowballed into the idea of salamanders being fire lizards, and then eventually, fire spirits.

So, what’s the point of all this?

“They’re hard to classify—are they land animals or aquatic ones? Visually, it’s like someone mashed up a human and an amphibian. And it’s unclear whether they’re monsters or demi-humans, so… can I catch two or three and dissect them?”
“Please rein in that mad scientist-like curiosity of yours!”
“Hmmm. Then let’s give them a name. They’re sort of half-fish humanoids like salamanders, so how about one with the meaning ‘those who dive deep,’ Deepwa—”
“I’ve got it! If they’re amphibians, then Salamander—no, that one’s been used, so let’s go with Güllens! Perfect, right?!”

Coppelia was about to blurt out a name that would’ve been dangerous in more ways than one, so I hurriedly cut her off and firmly pushed my own random suggestion. Whew. That was close.

And thus, the abandoned experimental creatures were provisionally named Güllens. Their general characteristics: about 1.3 mertes tall, stronger than the average person but weaker than a goblin. Of particular note—

“…How strange. The Sleep Cloud doesn’t seem to work on them.”
“Probably because they’re breathing through gills, Lady Clara.”
“Ahh, I see.”

And so on. Their intelligence is roughly that of a chimpanzee. Maybe a bit higher, considering they’re using stone tools? They’re generally bipedal, but since they’ve adapted to the cave environment, they sometimes move on all fours, hopping like frogs when needed.

Their leg strength is quite impressive—they can close a distance of four to five mertes in a single breath—but they don’t seem to like open areas or bright light. Instead, they move from shadow to shadow, leaping out from unexpected angles or locations. This makes their movements highly unpredictable and troublesome to deal with.

“Their behavior in this regard, how should I put it… reminds me of the black devils in the kitchen.”
“Damn it, their erratic movement makes them hard to handle.”

Letting out strange screeches, the Güllens attack with stone knives and spears in hand. Cestlavie fends them off with a medium sword, occasionally releasing lightning strikes through talismanic spells, but the lightning doesn’t seem to be particularly effective.

It’s not that it has no effect—at most, it stuns them briefly with a slight jolt.

“Gueeekk!”
“Gue-gueeekk!”

Perhaps enraged by that, the Güllens suddenly puff out their throats. Like a bunch of drunken men about to do something regrettable, they let out ominous groans and all at once spew yellow liquid from their mouths.

“Watch out! It’s poison!!”
“—Whoa.”

Before my warning could even reach him, Cestlavie dodged backward just in time, and the yellow liquid—looking for all the world like a fist-sized wad of spit—splattered through the spot he had been standing in only a moment ago, striking a stalagmite behind him and instantly corroding the limestone to a crumbling mess.

“!? Just be careful of the poison! It doesn’t seem to be a neurotoxin, but with this level of corrosiveness, a direct hit could cause incurable injuries!”

The thought of chemical weapons like mustard gas from my past life flashes through my mind. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem to vaporize instantly or damage the eyes and throat like that kind of airborne neurotoxin, but even so, there’s no telling what might happen if it accumulates over time in this narrow cave.

“Slash, Wave, Dance!”

Meanwhile, Regulus had leapt right into the densest part of the Güllens swarm, putting on a display that could only be described as a whirlwind of unstoppable force.

He sliced through enemies with hand-chops imbued with mana, deflected incoming poison and projectiles using amplified mana waves, and even uprooted stalagmites with non-elemental magic, hurling them like javelins to scatter the foes.

On the side, I quietly carried out healing while doting on Sechs, the winged cat.

“…Jill. What are you doing, healing the enemy?”
“Well, it’s not as if we bear any particular grudge or hatred toward them. So if there are lives I can save, I will. —Even if it’s nothing more than hypocrisy and false comfort.”

Cestlavie looked exasperated with me, but really—if someone is suffering and bleeding right before your eyes, isn’t it only human to want to help, regardless of whether they’re friend or foe? Life is fleeting. No matter how hard you try, sometimes it just slips through your fingers like sand…

He gazed at me for a moment in silence, then simply shrugged and let the matter drop. Knowing how perceptive he is, he probably sensed how I felt without needing me to explain further.

That said, just because I’m healing them doesn’t mean I’m patching them up to perfect condition and inviting a self-inflicted endless loop of zombie attacks. Once I’ve closed their major wounds, I bind the Güllens with rope—hands, feet, and mouth—so they can’t move, and leave them lying there incapacitated.

“Lady Clara, these creatures don’t have any reproductive organs. And there’s hardly any variation between individuals. I’d say they were probably mass-produced from a single specimen. Incidentally, the average male gorilla apparently maintains a harem using their approximately three centimertes long genitalia.”²　

Coppelia, who had been flipping the Güllens over, turning them upside down, and making them strike indecent poses to examine them from every possible angle, gave a firm nod as she delivered her conclusion.

“So in other words, they’re clones… no, maybe something like artificially created homunculi?”
“That might’ve been their origin, yes. But from there, it looks like they began proliferating naturally.”

Though Coppelia’s behavior and speech were as eccentric as ever, the profile of her focused on analyzing an unidentified lifeform held a certain sharpness—perhaps the same cool-headed brilliance she inherited as a former apprentice of the great alchemist, Dr. Victor.

“Look at this, Lady Clara! Its hip joint range is way wider than a human’s—see, Peek-a-Boo~!”

…Never mind. I was mistaken.

“So we’re talking about parthenogenesis like bees—or in this case, asexual reproduction. In other words, they’re creatures that don’t need male-female reproduction to be born?”
“As expected of Lady Clara. You catch on quickly.”
“…Which means, there must be something serving as the queen bee—the original mother body, right?”

Just as I was seized by an ominous premonition, Regulus—who had chased some fleeing Güllens deep into the cave—was suddenly launched back like a ball with a pained grunt, tumbling along the cave floor until he rolled all the way back to us.

“Are—are you okay, Regulus!?”
“Guh… I let my guard down. Be careful. This one’s not like the rest.”

Thanks to reinforcing his body with magic, he didn’t seem seriously wounded, but the blow had clearly rattled his insides and brain. Gritting his teeth in frustration, Regulus forced himself upright and glared into the darkness deeper inside the cave.

“Ge-ge-ge-ge, GE GE GEE!!”

From the depths of that darkness emerged a figure—taller than the other Güllens by a head, with facial features that eerily resembled a human… specifically, a woman. She stepped into view with a stern expression, a weapon in hand.