There were no female prisoners this time. That's rare.
In recent years, there have been strong public protests for gender equality, and it has been customary for conscripts to be selected through random selection and aptitude tests, but I wonder if they are finally starting to see the reality.
There's a rumor in the fort that female prisoners of war were being used by the aliens as a breeding sow to replenish their forces.
In reality, it's much worse.
It is more accurate to say that they are being used as experimental materials to create stronger soldiers. Therefore, they are treated more as guinea pigs than as babies makers. Naturally, they don't care for them that much.
That's why I'm struggling alone.
However, I can't start without a partner. Today, I'm not working on my specialty.
And now I'm being forced to work on something else. It was…
With a thud, the meat was sliced into pieces on the cutting board.
A legitimate job as a butcher. It's a butcher's job.
It's not a metaphor. I'm really working as a butcher.
It's a surreal scene, but I'm cutting meat in the back of a butcher store in an alien city. There are jobs like this in here too.
I'm dressed in combat style. I'm wearing a butcher bag and a {butcher apron}.
The Butcher's Apron may sound weak, but it's actually a bullet-proof, stab-proof apron.
This apron is super capable of withstanding anti-tank rockets if it got shot directly in the front. Butchers are supposed to wear this apron on top of their naked bodies as formal attire. I wore this apron when I was out on a field trip the other day.
I don't know why they let me wear such a stupid apron, but there must be a deeper reason.
My guess is that if the Butcher is fully armed, the aliens will suffer immensely if it goes out of control, so they've left a weakness. Maybe ..., no, definitely not. It's a good idea to have a good idea of what you're doing.
If you wear a paper bag on top of such an apron, you will look like a giant, creepy man carving meat in the back of the store....
–One kilo of beef thigh. Two kilos of beef intestine. Two kilos of pork shoulder loin.
As I listened to the instructions coming from the control unit, I cut the meat one after another.
When I'm processing the intestine, I separate the tools and the work area. I'm a professional. I don't skimp on my work as a normal butcher.
By the way, this meat is not only beef, pork, and chicken, but also human meat. Mainly male prisoners end up like this. Women's meat is too fatty for them. If you mince the meat and grind it into a blend of men's and women's meat, it seems to sell reasonably well, but it's not a popular product.
I can see the front of the store from my work area. While I was working, I saw a lot of different-looking aliens coming here for the meat.
They come in all shapes and sizes. Some of them had the usual fantasy look, while others had a full-blown, incomprehensible appearance. I wonder if they're called spaghetti monsters?
Observing them like this, I realized that even though they are aliens, their lifestyle is not so different from humans. They even seem to have currency.
They are both male and female, and they are more attractive and stylish than humans.
When an ugly butcher like me is mixed in with them, I stand out like a sore thumb. No wonder the aliens are physiologically afraid of the Butcher.
By the way, these aliens are not from outer space.
They were called aliens because that's what they were thought to be at first, but in reality, they come and go from Earth through a gate called the {Eldritch Gate} (異界門). Although humans knew this fact a long time ago, But it was difficult to clear up the misunderstanding once it became widespread, so they still call us aliens as a custom. The official term is {Stranger} (異邦人).
nevertheless, they are called fantastically according to their appearance.
By the way, the owner of this butcher store is a ... Minotaur or some sort.
A cow is selling meat from a cow. ...
But the manager Minotaur is a surprisingly nice guy.
He never forced, fed me on time, and often talks to me in a friendly manner. He let me takes a break and returns me to the facility on time every time. I have never experienced any mistreatment from him.
Occasionally, he would sneak me a piece of meat to eat as a bonus.
It's a dangerous act that stimulates the Butcher's aggression, but because it's cooked, it doesn't overwhelm him. The manager's thoughtfulness made me very happy, and as I'm usually only allowed to eat crunchy food, I felt like I was about to burst into tears.
This part-time job is extremely simple and 'white'. Compared to this work, my work as a scout for the human side was pitch 'black'.
Every now and then, manager would talk to me brashly, probably smiling, but he would also offer me some kind of grass that I couldn't recognize. What is this grass? Anyway, it's such a friendly atmosphere.
"○※△〆§■ー,☆☆＆＋! ★〒★〒★〒★〒!"
I have no idea what you're talking about.
The manager is always cheerful. I like him, especially his booming voice.
The Butcher, who vows to revenge, was easily fed by the Minotaur Manager.
The manager took me out of the store as the sun was setting.
The alien city I saw on the way home was a familiar sight to me.
This city used to be a human fortress city called {Fort 89}. It was close to Fort 88, to which I was officially assigned.
It was surrounded by a high circular fortified wall with a human city inside. The aliens seemed to have occupied it as it is and is using it with some modifications.
I really wonder what these aliens are doing here on Earth.
As I watch, the city is peaceful, and I didn't feel like they were invaders.
I guess they have their own reasons. I've thought about that when I was fighting as a human.
I'm sure they look very violent when they suddenly invade the earth without asking any questions.
... No, I guess humans are the same. If you flip through the pages of human history, you'll find plenty of invasions and massacres. Humans are in no position to complain.
But I don't care about any of it anymore.
Sooner or later, I'm going to trample this whole city down.
I wonder if the alien man will beg for his life.
I wonder how many women will cry.
I put such gloomy thoughts to rest in the pit of my stomach, and with a fluttering wave from the minotaur manager, I passed through the entrance of the usual facility.