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The ‘machine’, which was shaped like a beast that hissed and slurped oil, was not looking at her, but at the parade of carriages passing in the distance behind her.

The woman took a leisurely drag from the cigarette she held in her mouth.

“Whoa…A beast.”

The lumps of scrap metal in front of her were of various types.

They were broadly categorized into two types: beasts and humanoids.

The beast types were said to come in many forms, but a skilled warrior could take them on alone.

Humanoids, on the other hand, were much trickier, requiring several such warriors to deal with.

Either way, it probably didn’t matter much to this woman, who was puffing away on a cigarette in front of a fearsome otherworldly creature with oil dripping from its mouth.

Ismir, also known as Ismir the Greedy, was once a member of one of the continent’s most renowned mercenary organizations.

But it’s been nearly a decade since she settled in her native Delgrad, and she’s taken on another name: Desert Giant.

She was of average size, hardly a giant, but there was a reason for that.

Ismir flicked her shortened cigarette out of her fingers and reached for the greatsword on her back.

At the same time, the beast was spurring his legs and running.

Ismir’s body disappears in an instant and a shadow appears above the head of the beast, who doesn’t pay any attention to it and continues to run towards the carriage.

Boom!!!

With a loud crash, Ismir’s greatsword descends upon the otherworldly creature’s head.

The blade of the greatsword was dull and blunt, unable to cut through the creature’s hard outer shell, at least it should have but Ismir’s unimaginable brute strength slices through the mechanical beast head, leaving it smashed into the sand.

Ismir is not currently enhancing her body with mana, and she doesn’t even know how to do so in the first place.

When she was younger and still in the mercenary ranks, even those who were experts at manipulating mana gave up trying to teach her.

When Ismir couldn’t even manage to move her mana after several attempts, she became so annoyed that she beat up the mercenary who was teaching her and ran away.

Ismir was quite ignorant and she was quickly grabbed by the scruff of the neck by the leader, who snorted, “You can win without learning this shit,” and that night, Ismir challenged the entire mercenary corps to an arm wrestling match.

The result: 42 bouts, 42 victories.

The 42 men of the Mercenary Corps, all of whom were renowned across the continent, could not overcome the strength of a petite teenage girl named Ismir even with their mana-enhanced bodies.

Ismir could be said to be stronger than a human being but those who know her best don’t call her by her title.

[She is still an ignorant bitch…]

Sierra clicked her tongue as she watched Ismir fight from the carriage.

Her nickname, as she is fondly called by her acquaintances, is Ismir the Strong.

Soon, Ismir, with her greatsword lodged firmly in the ground, examined the mangled, unrecognizable head of the otherworlder and questioned.

‘You ignored me and headed for the carriage…’

It was a strange thing.

The beast-type aliens are wild and unruly, with no sense of calm. Their behavior was simple, always chasing and biting the nearest person in front of them first.

But this one seemed to be completely ignoring Ismir.

“Hmph…”

Squatting down and rubbing her chin in thought, Ismir stood up with a ‘certainty’ in her eyes.

‘…Maybe I was too fast.’

Scratching at her eye patch, she chuckles, then turns her head to watch the procession of carriages cross the desert.

Ismir had heard Lucia’s voice earlier, when she had stepped on a carriage.

She was well connected to House Windless since Lucia’s mother, Cicely Windless, Lord of Delgrad, was Ismir’s employer.

Smiling at the thought of seeing Lucia after so long, Ismir began to run toward the carriage.

It wasn’t just her strength that was immense; it was also her angularity that was beyond human standards.

Running barefoot and unarmored, Ismir caught up to the carriage’s speed, grabbed hold of it, climbed in, and opened the door.

She immediately stuck her face inside the carriage and opened her mouth with a smile.

“Lucia~!”

“…Who are you…?”

The nameless cadet’s voice, filled with curiosity, opened Ismir’s eyes and she glanced inside the carriage.

Lucia’s bluish hair was nowhere to be seen.

‘…This isn’t the carriage.’

She muttered, “I’m sorry,” and immediately jumped off the carriage as it sped away.

Ismir landed safely and ran to the next carriage, checking the interior once more.

This time, however, she didn’t bother to open the door, but peered through the window and knew that she was in the right place because she could see a bluish head of hair inside the carriage.

Suddenly, Lucia’s eyes widened in horror as she spotted Ismir’s sinister grin in the window.

“Heh, heh, heh… Ismir…?!”

The others in the carriage are just as surprised, especially Sierra, who notices an eye patch covering Ismir’s left eye and has a big question.

[Where did she lose her eye…?]

It’s understandable, because the Ismir Sierra met when she was alive was a cheeky little guy with both eyes intact.

She wondered what had happened over the decades to cause her to lose one eye.

Once inside the carriage, Ismir flung open the door, her eyes locked on Lucia, and she began to walk toward her.

Ismir smiles a devious smile, and then she speaks.

“Lucia, long time no see.”

“Hm… Hmph….”

Ismir hadn’t done anything yet, but Lucia had somehow intuited what was about to happen, and she cowered in the corner of the carriage.

The corners of Ismir’s mouth curled upward as if she liked her reaction, and she spread her hands in the air.

“My dear Lucia, how big have you grown since I last saw you, let me touch your teats.”

*****

There was a strange atmosphere in the wagon as it traveled across the desert.

It was caused by a brown-haired, copper-skinned woman with a black patch over her left eye.

“My name is Ismir. I’m here to help you with your desert life… yeah, like a teacher.”

Ismir said, sitting in one of the wagons and snapping her fingers. The others in the wagon nodded silently at her words.

She was sitting where Lucia had once sat.

The carriage was spacious, but there wasn’t room for Ismir because of Amon’s size.

But where was Lucia?

She was sitting on Ismir’s leg, blushing, her head resting on her shoulder.

Amon was forced to turn his head at Ismir’s unexpected announcement that she was going to step into the carriage and touch Lucia’s breasts.

…Zetto tried to turn his head as well, but he didn’t want to look odd, so he did his best to keep it out of sight.

Lucia’s moans that followed, echoing without resistance, turned everyone’s ears red.

Sierra shook her head, thinking that this was something that didn’t change with age and she remembered being subjected to it often.

Ismir liked women’s breasts, especially big ones. It was part of the reason she wielded the greatsword.

This was entirely due to Ismir’s taste for ‘big and heavy’ in everything.

Feeling that Lucia’s breasts weren’t quite enough, Ismir glanced at Zetto.

He was a very good-looking man, highlighted by the white bandages over his eyes.

‘Ah, is this the…’

There was a blind man at the academy who was good with a sword.

She remembered hearing about it while talking to Cecily, who attended the open class.

The man had dark hair.

‘From the East.’

Ismir thought of a woman she knew from the East.

Her breasts had felt so good to the touch, and it was a shame that she could no longer touch them.

As Sierra watched, she unnecessarily assumed that Ismir’s ‘lustful gaze’ was directed at Zetto, making her wary.

[Disciple, I know this woman well… she’s a madwoman… so I think it’s best to stay out of her way as much as possible.]

Zetto agreed and Sierra hadn’t been entirely wrong.

Ismir, the desert giant.

Zetto was thinking that the domineering personality he’d seen in the game was still there and he remembered her being almost as unruly as Edward.

However, Zetto did have questions about why they had already met Ismir before arriving in the city.

As the question passed through Zetto’s mind, Aizel and Yuri stole glances at Ismir’s ample chest.

They had to swallow the bitter feeling of defeat that came over them at the sight of Ismir’s overwhelmingly magnificent chest.

Amon, next to Ismir, also glances at her. However, his gaze was not directed at her breasts, but at her muscles, which were clearly visible due to her revealing outfit.

‘What kind of exercise does she do…?’

Amon was a mage, after all, but like his father, Maxim Caligus, he was interested in strong bodies.

“Hmph…”

Amon decided to ask Ismir a question while she was teasing Lucia’s bouncing breasts with a sinister laugh.

Swallowing hard, Amon cautiously speaks up.

“Hey, Ismir……I was wondering how we should call you…”

“Hmm? Feel free to call me teacher.”

Ismir said, turning his head to look at Amon.

“‘Teacher Ismir, I would like to know how you usually train…”

Ismir frowns at Amon’s question.

“Training? Why would I do something like that?”

“What…?! So these muscles…”

“They’ve been like this since I was a kid.”

“Ah…”

Amon scratched his head in disbelief, unable to come up with any answer.

Ismir did not take care of herself.

Despite her debauched routine of drinking, smoking, and stretching, her muscles grew harder by the day, and even her skin remained taut.

Zetto, who was well aware of this, thought that her body must have been given to her by the gods.

Their thoughts were interrupted by the sudden appearance of Ismir.

Lucia, who had been staring at the window with her mouth agape, jumped to her feet. It was the most natural time to get away from Ismir, she thought.

Lucia pointed to the window and exclaimed excitedly.

“I can see Delgrad…!”