Undead.vol2.pt2

CHAPTER 3

A New Weapon And Newfound Strength

“Oh, you’re here, huh? I know what you’re lookin’ for. It’s done.” Clope’s hardened features softened slightly as he greeted me, the edge of his lips curling up in a slight grin.

Glancing to a corner of the shop, I followed Clope’s gaze. Sure enough, my eyes came to rest upon a single, gleaming sword, its edge a bright hue of silver.

I suppose it actually was done, as this was the very sword I had requested from Clope.

“Is that... My sword?”

“Yeah.” Clope nodded in response. “Mana, spirit, divinity... It’s been forged to handle all three. Quite the amount of materials it used, too... But we managed to obtain enough, one way or another.”

“I will offer... Compensation. For any additional... Expenses.”

Having known Clope for a long time, I was familiar with his principles, especially when he would absorb additional costs if they weren’t quoted in advance. Because of this, I offered paying my fair share.

Clope, however, dismissed my words with a wave of his hand, thinking for a short while before offering a response.

“...Hmph. You’re always like that, aren’t you? I get it.” Clope nodded, as if accepting my proposal.

“Oh, yeah... It’s one thing to make it, but this is a special blade, see.

Not just anyone can use it, so I’d like you to try it out. If there’s anythin’ you’re not satisfied with, we can fix it up. It is one of my blades, an’ I put my all into it, after all... But a weapon for the thrice- blessed is really somethin’ else. There’s no knowin’ what could happen,” Clope said, staring straight into me.

Clope did have a point. Though adventurers capable of utilizing both mana and spirit did exist, those that could use all three abilities, divinity included, were exceedingly rare. Just being able to use all three equally in a way that was practical in actual combat was virtually unheard of. A request of this nature would be a challenge to any blacksmith, even those well worth their salt. It was more than natural for Clope to request that I test out the weapon. I’d be surprised if he didn’t.

I agreed with a curt nod.

“Should I just... Head down to your courtyard... In the back?”

Customers who visited Clope’s establishment were often invited to test out their arms there. It was an open space, with more than enough room for me to swing a sword. I supposed Clope would ask me to go there next.

Clope snorted. “Oh, so you knew of that already? That’s exactly it.

This way.”

Standing up, Clope seemed amused that I asked such a question. Maybe it was to be expected, given that I already knew his answer. With the sword in hand, Clope led me into the back of the store, passing through some familiar doors. Following behind him, it wasn’t very much of a walk at all.

Before long, Clope handed the sword to me, and I accepted the piece with both hands. It had a good grip, as if the sword had a life of its own, and was choosing to stick firmly in my palm. It would have been impossible to make something this well-fitting if Clope didn’t already

.

know of my habits and preferences in life.

There was no mistaking it: Clope made this for me knowing exactly who I was.

Perhaps my evolution into a Thrall isn’t such a bad thing after all.

That thought resonated in my mind as I tightened my grip on the instrument.

It was a markedly different feeling; not too different from when I was a Ghoul, but a definite departure from when I was still a Skeleton. I had the flesh on my hands to thank, as they were no longer dry, but considerably thick pads that, still, were not very alive.

Regardless, the tactile feel and grip I had on objects was slowly returning to how it used to be in life. That was a good sign, indeed.

“What do you think of the handlin’?” Clope asked.

“Pretty... Good. I would like to... Test it out. Give it a few... Swings.” “I see. Well, any target is fine, eh? I’ll cart a wooden dummy here,

just give me a bit.”

After a short while, Clope returned with a wooden dummy of sorts, setting it up in the middle of the courtyard. There were many kinds of target dummies, even ones with bamboo armor. An unarmed wooden one was a basic, yet simple choice. If I had in my hands a legendary weapon made of Mithril and Orichalcum, maybe something fancier would be warranted—for example, a dummy with metal armor and fittings. The weapon I ordered, however, was nothing of the sort, so I supposed a wooden dummy was fine.

Although it was a special order, it was a normal weapon in most other aspects. If I tried to cut through metal with it one too many times, I would undoubtedly damage its edge. Though, this wasn’t taking into consideration the fact that this particular sword could be enchanted with mana or spirit. I wouldn’t have to worry about

damaging the blade then, although I had no intentions of damaging it on a test dummy in the first place.

Readying the sword, I steadied my stance, giving the weapon a few good swings on the spot. I had to ensure its weight and center of gravity was accurately tuned—all standard procedure, of course.

This was what I always did after accepting a newly-forged order from Clope.

Not noticing any problems, I enveloped the sword in a magical aura, bringing it down upon the dummy. It was a light, almost effortless stroke, and with a clean, splitting echo, the sword sliced through the wood.

Clope didn’t attempt to hide his surprise.

“...Hey hey hey, what’s this? You’ve gotten a lot better, huh?”

The point of comparison in this case would be none other than myself, or at least, when Rentt Faina still drew breath. While I did have some skill in life, what I had just done was beyond me. I could split wood, but it was by no means a clean cut. If I had to describe it, it would be more of a hacking action, similar to clubbing the dummy with a metallic object rather than slicing through it with a sword.

The split pieces of the wooden dummy, on the other hand, spoke for themselves. The surfaces had been sliced through cleanly, a testament to the quality of the weapon, and, more importantly, an indicator of the wielder’s skill.

Compared to what I could do back then, my skills had grown vastly, to a point where I could take reasonable pride in my progress. It was in moments like these where I could tangibly feel and understand just how far I had come; it was an achievement to be proud of.

◆◇◆◇◆

Of course, this was only the first of many tests; I didn’t custom- order a sword that could utilize all three of my innate abilities just for show. I had much more to do, so I should give every single possible combination a try.

Clope, understanding my intent, promptly switched out the fallen dummy for a fresh one. As he finished up his preparations, I began channeling my mana into the sword, enveloping its blade with my aura.

Most adventurers skilled in the way of the sword utilized either mana or spirit—sometimes both. It was a standard of the trade, so to speak. I wasn’t capable of such overly complicated feats with my magic. Enhancing my physical blows with magical strength was the extent of my abilities, and the resultant blow had more than enough bite in it for my purposes.

There was even more to all this: mana, and the magic it is woven into, also has the ability to preserve a blade’s sharpness, prolong its longevity, and, more importantly, slice through hard materials with ease.

With yet another test swing of my new weapon, I found my blade almost slipping through the dummy before splitting it in two, a decidedly smoother experience than my first attempt. The myriad capabilities of magic were fearsome. There was hardly any strength in that swing, but it cut true nonetheless. Upon closer inspection, I discovered there wasn’t a single bit of wood stuck to the blade’s edge. In fact, the swing left an impossibly smooth surface on the parted halves of the dummy.

Magnificent.

With this, I would be able to make short work of rock-type monsters in the deeper levels of the labyrinths. I was more than satisfied with my new weapon.

Next was a test on the applications of spirit. Once again, Clope set

about replacing the wooden target dummy.

I didn’t instruct him to do so per se, Clope simply did the chore himself. Maybe this was to be expected, given that we’ve known each other for the past decade or so.

Withdrawing my mana aura, I took a deep breath before proceeding to infuse my sword with spirit instead.

In theory, the benefits of spirit were somewhat similar to that of mana and magic, such as a spirit-infused blade remaining sharp and durable even with long periods of use. There were, however, other phenomena that could be observed if one utilized spirit in certain ways.

Once again, I lifted my sword, swinging it down and into the dummy. Immediately after the blade began parting the wooden dummy, I released the spirit aura in my weapon. With a loud, splintering shriek, it promptly exploded, raining down wooden bits in Clope’s courtyard.

This was one of the many applications of spirit: the controlled explosion of a target once the blade breached its flesh. In some ways, one could say that spirit was more destructive than the common applications of mana.

The two uses contrasted significantly with each other; where practitioners of magic favored utilizing elemental enchantments on their blades to strike at monsters’ weak points, practitioners of spirit simply destroyed their targets with brute force. These could be considered different methods to solve a problem with, each with their own appropriate functions.

Personally, I preferred to tackle Slime-type enemies with spirit, while Goblins, Orcs, and the like were easily dispatched with magic. Ultimately, it was down to individual preference.

Last but not least was the application of divinity. It was an ability

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that brought about effects significantly different from the previous two, and yet, I found myself unable to describe exactly what it did. Even most individuals who could channel divinity, commonly priests and such, were hard-pressed to explain how their own application of divinity worked.

Furthermore, swordsmen who were capable of infusing their weapons with divinity were incredibly rare. Commonly known as paladins, they were often tasked with being the public face of the Church or other religious organizations, and didn’t interact with members of the public very often. It was only natural that the specifics of channeling divinity through a sword remained somewhat unknown, or perhaps mysterious at best.

Even so, I suppose the time-tested tradition of simply infusing one’s blade with divinity worked—and that much I could do.

Divinity was said to be a kind of otherworldly power originating from the gods, or other lesser spirits. As a result, practitioners instinctively knew how to use their abilities, even without established theories or methodologies. There were still ancient institutions dedicated to the research of such techniques and skills, but that was knowledge I didn’t possess, nor had the means to obtain.

In any case, this made testing simple. Without further delay, I channeled my divinity into the weapon. The first thing to consider when channeling divinity was if the weapon could take the strain of such a feat, for divinity had the power to cleanse and return an object to its original form.

However, this meant weapons forged with alchemy and other magical means would be promptly undone by the nature of divinity itself, forcibly returning to its base materials where it would eventually become a few lumps of ore. To prevent such a thing from happening, the services of a skilled blacksmith were needed. Most blacksmiths were incapable of forging weapons that could withstand the channeling and use of divinity, though.

Clope, on the other hand, was a first-rate blacksmith. My weapon displayed no irregularities as divinity surged through it, its blade encased in a soft, shimmering glow.

Turning to the dummy once more, I raised my sword, conducting yet another test of its abilities. The amount of resistance, or lack thereof, was surprising. There was hardly any friction as the blade slipped through, even when compared to my usage of magic. I suppose this much was to be expected of the gods and faeries; its capabilities were truly distinctive.

But the other effects of divinity made it a challenging ability to field. “...Hey. Something’s growing outta that dummy...” Clope said,

looking down at the fallen halves of the wooden target.

Curious, I approached the pieces, only to see sprout after sprout spring forth from the fallen dummy’s pieces.

Was this yet another example of divinity’s restorative capabilities having unintended consequences? I was just as confused as Clope.

.

“...Have you seen this... In other wielders’... Swings. Before?”

“No, nothing of the sort. They say that the abilities of each practitioner differ depending on what granted them said powers to begin with... So, where’d you get your divinity from?”

“I repaired... An old shrine. Near where I lived... In the past.” “Huh. Quite the pious act, eh?”

“There was... Not much meaning. To my actions. I just felt... Like it.”

In reality, I repaired the shrine in my free time as I couldn’t bear looking at it stand in a state of disrepair. I suppose the average passer- by didn’t stop and think they would try their hand at repairing a broken shrine, which was why it fell into disrepair in the first place.

The shrine was unfortunately taken for granted... At least, until I fixed it.

“Regardless of the reason,” Clope continued, “I s’pose that’s where you got that divinity of yours from? That old shrine.”

“...Yes.”

“Then we can assume that some sort of plant faeries lived in that shrine...or something like that. That’d be why your divinity and its aura has such an effect. Remember that priestess-saint that came to Maalt ages ago? They said she was blessed by some god of healing, cures people of minor diseases just by touching them. Yours...would be the plant version, if I had to say.”

Clope’s explanation made a fair amount of sense. While I did recall having caught a glimpse of the priestess-saint from afar a long time ago, I wasn’t feeling particularly well that day, and didn’t remember much of the incident.

If I had to put it into words, the strength of one’s divinity was directly prophorttitopnasl to:/th/emstrpen4gthdoifrthee cbetinsg .thcatogrmanted it. I

remember reading such a passage from one of Lorraine’s books.

To think I would have a knack for healing plant life, of all things... It didn’t seem like a very useful ability to have.

Clope, as if reading my mind, drew my attention to the sprouts once again.

“These sprouts are blessed, y’know. They’ll produce wood with divine properties if grown. Could I have ’em?”

“I do not... Mind. They might just... End up as regular old... Trees, you know.”

“That’s mighty fine with me, too. A hobby of mine, y’see. Maybe they’ll grow into strong trees that bear divine branches...or not. Rare stuff, nonetheless. I don’t know ’bout you, but I haven’t heard of any plant faeries-blessed saplings for sale lately.”

Clope’s words had some historical truth to them, for it was said that humanity no longer received as many blessings from gods and faeries of the woods in recent times. To top it off, human-elf relations had been deteriorating as of late, when, if memory served, the two races once interacted on relatively cordial terms.

—A thought for another time.

I found myself somewhat surprised by Clope’s gardening habit. Perhaps it was just something we never spoke of before. As I stood, Clope set about replacing the target dummy yet again, this time with a small grin on his face. While I was familiar with some of Clope’s hobbies, I suppose he really did have a soft spot for gardening somewhere in those fire-tempered hands.

To think that one with his face would have such a nurturing hobby.

Unbecoming of me to say such a thing, yes, but Clope’s markedly improved mood was undeniable.

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Having finished preparing the dummy, Clope approached me, gesturing to it with a free hand.

“Well, this is enough, isn’t it? We packing up soon?”

I stood for a while, thinking about Clope’s question. There was one last thing I hadn’t tried yet.

“...Magic. Spirit... Divinity. What would... Happen. If I channeled everything into... This sword?”

“Now look here...” Clope’s previously content grin turned into a bit of a grimace as he put a hand to his chin, closing his eyes in deep thought. “You ever hear of anyone doing something like that? ’Cause I sure haven’t. Maybe someone somewhere can. But look here...we don’t know what’ll happen if you go and try it.”

“...Is it for the best if... I did not try it?”

As Clope said, those who wielded all three aspects were somewhat rare, let alone an individual that can safely utilize each one in combat. We could narrow the pool once more if we thought of the hypothetical number of persons who could safely channel all three elements into a single instrument at once. There was a tremendous amount of focus required for one to even channel any single aspect into a weapon.

Channeling all three at once may indeed be too much for even a skilled adventurer.

Even so...

“Were there not some... Spirit arts. That involved both... Magic and spirit?”

“That. What did they call it... Mana-spirit Fusion Arts? You have to train quite a while to do something like that, see. Even you know that only a few are capable. But, well... This one’ll prob’ly take two of those at once without issue. But if you throw divinity into the mix...even I have no idea. If you really want to try it, then at least start with a twin

.

aspect Fusion Art. And with this, not your new sword.”

Mana-spirit Fusion Arts were a complicated affair, as they involved the simultaneous channeling of one’s mana and spirit reserves, enchanting both the sword and wielder. This granted the wielder immense destructive capability and stamina. Few individuals could use this in a practical fashion, and the draining nature of the application made it difficult to control. An explosion could very well occur if any mistakes were made, so it was risky to even attempt training oneself to use the technique. It wasn’t difficult to see why individuals capable of using the technique were few and far between.

...But I was of a different physical nature. I probably wouldn’t die even if my head was sent flying someplace. Similarly, injuries to the body could probably be shrugged off, as well. While I wouldn’t say it is safe for me to be practicing such a thing, it wasn’t as risky as it would be to a normal person.

The sword that Clope held out to me was the piece that I was using up until now: the sword capable of channeling both spirit and magic. If I injected divinity into it as well, it could very well shatter, so I posed my concerns to Clope.

“Well, it isn’t too expensive if that’s what you’re asking. Considering what you’ve paid for your new sword...I’ll just write it off as an expense.”

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, I picked up my old sword, handing my newly-forged piece back to Clope. I was to channel both magic and spirit into the instrument—that very same mana-spirit Fusion Art in question.

.

In theory, that’s what I was supposed to do; in practice, it felt impossibly difficult. It was like I was trying to put more things into a box that was already filled to the brim. The box in question felt full and stuffed, and to make things worse, the flow of both aspects within said box was unstable. It was likely that disaster would surely happen if the contents of the box somehow spilled forth.

From what I knew of the technique, the disaster in question involved an explosion somewhere in the wielder’s body, evident enough from the failings of the brave pioneers before me.

I didn’t have much time for idle thought. As soon as Clope was done with his setup, I thrust my blade into the ill-fated wooden dummy.

With a deafening crack, the dummy exploded violently upon coming into contact with the tip of the blade. The force and scale of the explosion was nothing compared to the spirit-induced explosion I demonstrated earlier. I could only stand on the spot, stunned as I continued staring at the aftermath of my attack.

Clope was apparently doing the very same thing.

“...If you ever mess this up, you’re going to become like that,” he said, his words slower and more deliberate than usual.

Clope was right; it was a power that came with considerable amounts of risk. It was also excessively tiring—a single attempt at the technique felt like I spent the entire day practicing.

“Just lookit that... And you still want to add divinity to it? Now see here... You don’t need me to tell you it’s a bad idea...”

Clope had his misgivings, but I already made it all the way to this point. There was no choice but to move forward. Even if I failed, this body of mine ensured I wouldn’t die.

Of course, my body could very likely be blown to bits and spread across Clope’s courtyard, at which point I would simply have to tell Clope the truth, and have him gather my body parts. After that, it would only be a matter of healing myself with divinity.

Though, I had no idea if such a thing was even possible, or if I was capable of healing such great injuries. I couldn’t even begin to picture Clope smiling peacefully as he picked up my scattered body parts from the ground.

This wasn’t simply a gamble; a strong attack required a fair amount of preparation and sacrifice. At the very least, I would like to be able to practice in a safe location, such as this one.

This was another step toward my goal—I had to become a Mithril- class adventurer at any cost. No matter what it took.

To that end, I had to grow stronger. If there was even the slightest hint of possibility, then I would do well to explore that path. It would surely be fraught with dangers and great risks.

“Well...try it if you really want. But if it looks bad, you stop right away, y’hear...?”

The problem, really, was being unable to stop when one needed to while channeling. For now, I shoved that thought aside.

Having decided upon the course of action, Clope fetched yet another dummy, setting it up as I stood with my sword still in hand.

It seemed that this was the last dummy available. I felt somewhat guilty for using up all of Clope’s supplies, but this was a necessary evil. Such services were included in the overall fee I paid when ordering my weapon, so I might as well make the best of it.

Focusing once more, I channeled mana and spirit into the sword, just like I did moments prior.

But this was easier said than done since the weapon already felt unstable as-is. I could hardly imagine it would be possible to channel anything else through the blade. Despite this, I set about doing what I decided.

Steeling myself, I activated the reserves of divinity within me, forcing it to flow into the blade. I could see the familiar white aura creeping through the blade, although it seemed to have a hard time blending with the other auras present.

I should have expected this, but even though I was somewhat disappointed, I was also relieved. But my relief didn’t last very long.

Crack.

With that innocuous sound, a series of cracks spread through the blade. Though small, I understood all too well it would only be a matter of time before it spread to the rest of the weapon. Just my combining of the auras in such a fashion could trigger a backflow in which the combined auras would forcibly flow back into me, before spectacularly exploding. For a moment, I caught a mental glimpse of that future—

This is bad...

Even Clope, who was standing a safe distance away, was aware of this.

“Hey, hey! You swing that sword right now, or you stop! Hurry!” Clope shouted, waving his arms wildly.

If I stopped now, however, the experiment would end without any results. I only had one choice: I had to swing this sword down immediately.

With that, I brought it high up above my head, bringing it down decisively in a single stroke. There was little, if any, resistance, much like when I channeled both mana and spirit simultaneously.

Yet I was momentarily confused, for nothing particularly exciting was happening—until the target dummy started creaking, quickly collapsing into itself in a self-consuming spiral.

This reaction continued until the dummy was reduced to a tenth of its size, finally dropping onto the ground harmlessly. At the same time, wide cracks spread through the entirety of the sword I was holding,

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and in an instant, the weapon crumbled into a heap of scrap metal.

Thanks to the sword’s sacrifice, however, I avoided a potentially fatal backflow accident. If I had to guess, that unstable vortex of energy was thrust completely into the dummy, and was safely dispersed after my blow.

Approaching the fallen object, I picked it up, inspecting it with a curious eye. This was all that was left: a compressed, almost ball-like piece of wood. It seemed like an immense force crushed and folded it repeatedly from the outside, before finally surrounding its entirety and compressing it into the ball currently in my hands.

If this was the effect of combining all three aspects...what effects would it have on a monster, or even a human?

It was terrifying to even think about such an event.

Approaching me cautiously, Clope stared at the ball of wood in my hands with a somewhat complicated expression. Picking up the barely- intact hilt of the destroyed weapon, Clope sighed as he turned to me.

“...No good—completely gone. Nothing left to salvage, either. Maybe the one I’ve forged for you could withstand such a technique... But. I wouldn’t try it, either way. If you insist on Fusion Arts, limit it to mana and spirit only.”

“What would I do if... That did not work on... My target?”

Although my tests felt like significant achievements, I was slashing at nothing more than a wooden dummy. With the exception of the final test, the results shown by my prior swings could be easily replicated by an adventurer of the Silver-class level. I suppose I couldn’t really call common techniques like these my trump card.

“I get what you’re trying to say...but you ever consider what’d happen to your sword after you do something like that?” Clope, looking at me with an exasperated expression, offered an almost

.

immediate rebuttal. He held up the ruined hilt of the weapon I was holding a short while ago.

Again, Clope was right; if I did insist on using such a move, it would be a one-off, after which I would be unable to continue fighting. It was a problem worth mulling over.

“Well...” Clope continued, “you could bring several swords with you and use them as disposable weapons. Even if you bring a bunch of cheap ones, they would at least have to withstand both mana and spirit... If not, they might just snap immediately. Of course, if you did do something like that, it’ll cost you. Immensely.”

“I suppose... That is true. But then... How about... Throwing knives?

I would be able to... Use them as a projectile... Weapon.”

If I could do something of this sort, I would suddenly find myself with many more strategic options while exploring. Even if the weapons involved couldn’t withstand the auras channeled into it and disintegrated, the chance for backflow was low, given that the object would be far away from me by then. In such a case, these knives would have to be disposable since they would just be rendered useless after a single attack.

“I wonder... Wanna find out?”

As always, I found myself appreciating Clope’s generous gestures.

He soon returned with a cheap knife I could use.

Unfortunately, the experiment ended in failure. Maintaining the mixture of mana and spirit seemed impossible, as it would fade once it left my hands. Needless to say, I didn’t bother with attempting to infuse it with divinity.

If I only channeled a single aspect, the weapon might be able to maintain its aura until impact, or else it would have to be used in close-quarters combat.

The chief takeaways from this set of tests were that I now understood the effects of channeling mana and spirit through my new weapon, in addition to the utilization of mana-spirit Fusion Arts. That, and the channeling of all three elements wasn’t only risky, but would completely destroy a weapon, therefore I would strive not to use it with expensive equipment of any kind. Also, Fusion Arts were resource inefficient; they weren’t attacks to be used on a regular basis.

That about summed it up.

I felt I gained a fair amount of knowledge, but I was also now aware of the fact that powerful attacks often came with great consequences to the wielder, reminding me once again of the complexities of the world. Adventuring was hardly easy in any shape or form.

Despite all this, I had a trump card to use in absolute cases and situations—the proverbial silver lining. I wouldn’t dream of using these attacks unless I was faced with a strong enemy, or if my life was in serious danger.

As for the mana-spirit Fusion Arts, I felt confident I would eventually get used to the toll it took on me, maybe even up to a point where I could use it daily without many ill-effects. For this to happen, however, much practice was required. Practicing my weapon- destroying trump card would end up with me destroying a weapon every time I attempted it.

According to Clope, a weapon forged from copious amounts of Mithril or Orichalcum might be able to withstand the forces involved, but naturally, I hardly had the funds for such a venture.

In any case, all I could do now was work with what I currently had and continue my steady upward climb. Such was the conclusion I arrived at, once again being uncomfortably jolted back to reality.

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After paying Luka, Clope’s wife, the remaining payment owed for

my sword and other services, I stepped out of the store. Although Luka’s gaze suggested she had something to say, she held her peace for now, and I, for my part, looked back at her with an ambiguous expression. Although, I intended to return her concern with a smile.

But this was difficult, as the current state of my face made it physically impossible for me to form a smile at all. To make things worse, the skin on the lower half of my face was decidedly missing.

While I pondered over my unfortunate inability to smile, Luka seemed reassured for some reason, responding with a small smile of her own. Did my otherwise ambiguous expression somehow convey the words I wanted to say? I could only hope.

My next destination, having collected my weapon, was none other than the guild. I had every intention of starting work as a Bronze-class adventurer as soon as possible. Now armed with a newly-forged sword, I would surely be able to progress through the labyrinths at an even faster pace... Is what I would have liked to do. Lorraine and Sheila warned me to stay out of the labyrinths for a while, and to be honest, this greatly troubled me. Though, I suppose my circumstances were complicated enough as-is. Even if I did look suspicious, and depending on who you asked, terrifying, I would like to avoid being thought of as a kidnapper.

I couldn’t help but wonder when I would trudge through the labyrinths again.

All things considered, kidnappers and adventurers with ill-intent were all too common in labyrinths. Most adventurers were of respectable strength, and could utilize mana, spirit, and divinity. If one was captured and enslaved, they would certainly be sold for a large sum of coin.

While the Kingdom of Yaaran (which Maalt was in) outlawed slavery due to the history and pride of the ruling class, it was more of the exception than the norm. In fact, many kingdoms in these lands

trade was fueled by the perverse few with the unquenchable desire to control the lives of many; but alas, this was not quite the case. Some societies across the lands simply became unable to function without a slavery system of some sort.

For example, in dangerous industries such as ore-mining, it was difficult for employers to reach specified resource quotas without utilizing slave labor. In fact, some individuals were forced into slavery, often as a result of large debts. While they gave up a part of themselves, and with it some of their freedom, they would at least be able to maintain a shred of dignity by working away what remained of their debt. But it wasn’t uncommon to hear of individuals being mistreated simply because they were slaves. While formal laws didn’t exist in many kingdoms, the visible abuse of slaves was often not tolerated.

Personally, I didn’t know which was the greater tragedy; it was generally a sad state of affairs.

It was easy to see why slavers and kidnappers chose to target adventurers since they were so physically strong, in addition to their ability of using magic or Spirit Arts. The slavers, for their part, didn’t even have to look too far; all they had to do was enter a labyrinth and do their hunting. The potential criminals would have to deal with the guild and strong, virtuous adventurers. On the other hand, they could also seek the cooperation of adventurers with dubious morals; such was the way of the world.

It would be naïve to think the only enemy of adventurers were monsters—reality was a much harsher mistress. This was why the rank progression tests were incredibly strict, part of the purpose being to weed out such undesirable elements.

However, the slave trade was prohibited in the Kingdom of Yaaran, so kidnappings and similar incidents occurred on a much smaller scale. I couldn’t doubt that it still happened on these lands, and while I didn’t have any concrete sources, I could at least say that such occurrences hwetrteprasre.://mp4directs.com

This was exactly why the recent spate of disappearances had the guild on alert. Considering my strange appearance, I supposed it was easy to point the proverbial finger at me. Some might even go out on a limb and claim that I was behind it all, which was why I had to avoid the labyrinth, instead turning my attention to various odd job requests.

I was somewhat skilled with these odd jobs in life, and didn’t find them difficult, but my thoughts were constantly haunted with the desire to undergo Existential Evolution. At the very least, I would like to evolve into a being that could show its face safely around normal human beings. As I currently was, I was unable to dine at restaurants and taverns. I have dined at Loris’s establishment on several occasions, yes, if only because Loris accepted my circumstances. And I only did this when there were no other customers present, while also out of sight of Loris’s wife, Isabel.

While Loris thought my skin was simply some sort of prop when he first saw it, he quickly understood that it was real after a single touch, quickly withdrawing his hand. I explained it was due to an unfortunate curse, and as far as I knew, Loris accepted my explanation. I didn’t think that being a talking monster ever occurred to Loris.

If I did evolve in the future, all I had to tell him was that my curse was lifted by a passing priestess-saint, and that would be all there was to it.

Such were the thoughts that flooded my mind as I stood, looking at the request boards in the guild’s halls. There were a variety of odd jobs, from requests for a sparring partner to simple assistance for the transport of heavy items.

As I continued peering at the listings, bits of a nearby conversation drifted into my ears.

“I already said no, pal. Can ya go bother someone else? No one’s gonna go to some rural hole in the ground like that!”

“B-But...! I’m begging you! Please, please, you have to help!”

It was in the general direction of the guild reception’s counter. Upon closer inspection, the conversation appeared to be between a seemingly veteran adventurer and a flustered youth in his early twenties.

From what I had heard, the circumstances were thus:

The youth, in his desperation, was personally approaching adventurers in the hopes they would take up his request. The adventurer he was speaking with was refusing. It was also easy to guess why the adventurer was refusing to take up the task, seeing as most requests were simply left with the guild and pinned up on one of its many boards. The fact that the youth was personally doing this was suspicious enough. The request was probably already posted, but was not taken on by anyone due to its troublesome nature. Perhaps it involved long-distance travel? If this was the case, it was no wonder that the request still sat unfulfilled, and it wouldn’t be strange for the adventurer to reject the request to begin with.

However...

“You persistent bastard... If you don’t shut up right about now...”

Maybe the youth’s persistence had touched a nerve. Whatever it was, the situation was about to take a dangerous turn.

And so I decided to intervene. “...Hey.”

“What...? Who the hell are you?” the adventurer said, shifting his gaze from the youth to me.

His eyes were dilated and his expression wild; I could tell he was about to drag the youth off into some back alley or another, before engaging in acts of unbridled violence. That hostility was now directed

toward me, the strange individual who got in his way.

To tell the truth, I felt like I had to intervene. Even though Maalt’s adventurers were known for their morals and sense of ethics, this only applied to those who were primarily based in Maalt. This veteran adventurer in question wasn’t familiar, so it was highly likely he was a drifter of sorts. This also meant the odds of him engaging in acts of violence toward the persistent young man were predictably high. It was quite difficult to watch on and do nothing.

“...Is it not obvious... From my appearance? I am an... Adventurer.” “Ha. Is that right? Well, what does this high ’n’ mighty adventurer

hafta do with me?”

“I would appreciate it... If you left the young man... To me instead.” “Wha...?”

Staring at me with a baffled expression, the adventurer seemed even more surprised when I placed a silver coin into his palm, leaning in as I did so. “...I thought you... Would be in a mood to... Agree.”

Upon hearing my words, a crooked smile spread across the adventurer’s face. “Oh, is that right? Well, that’s all good then. I’m gonna have some good wine with this, so do whatever you want with him!”

With that, the man turned and walked straight out the doors of the guild.

Although it wasn’t necessary for me to have paid him, he would have surely stayed around to grumble if I simply demanded the young man’s release. If I left the adventurer to his own devices, the outcome would surely be troublesome. Avoiding such a thing was probably worth at least one silver coin.

The young man, on the other hand, seemed even more distraught.

Perhaps it was to be expected, given that the adventurer he begged for help from left him in the dust.

“Ugh...!” A pathetic expression indeed.

With the situation resolved, I had the option of simply going back to what I was doing; but I was now one silver coin short. With that in mind, I turned to the youth.

“You were... Asking him to take on... A request of yours, correct...?” “Eh...? Yes... What about it? Ah, don’t tell me...you would like to

accept my request in his stead?!” the young man asked, his face

brightening up instantly.

I shouldn’t get his hopes up prematurely, for I was hardly as strong as I would have liked to be at this point. Judging by how the previous interaction between the two went, I could deduce that the request in question was too dangerous, even for a veteran adventurer.

So I responded accordingly: “I cannot... Promise anything. But... I will at least listen to what... You have to say. Come.”

Saying so, I turned, walking out of the guild hall with a brisk step.

There was no way of telling if anyone else overheard the previous conversation between the youth and the adventurer, so I wanted to discuss this matter elsewhere, lest my actions appeared suspicious.

To tell the truth, I always wanted to do something like this at least once. But there was no way of knowing if the youth would follow behind me, however. He could still be standing there, mouth agape.

“Ah, yes! Wait for me!” the youth said, before running after me. I suppose it worked out after all.

Turning to him as he caught up to me, I informed the youth of our next destination.

“There is an... Eatery. Nearby. Let us head there... First.”

With that, I walked off briskly once more, the youth following close behind.

◆◇◆◇◆

“Well... Then. What kind of request... Is it?”

The eatery we headed to was none other than the Red Wyvern Pavilion, run by the ill-fated, now presumably retired ex-adventurer, Loris. Me visiting his establishment at such an early time of the day was rare, and most other shopkeepers didn’t bother hiding their involuntary repulsion when someone like me stepped through their doors. Loris, for his part, was incredibly grateful for my assistance, and always welcomed me with open arms. It was at times like this that I, too, felt a deep sense of gratitude for Loris’s hospitality.

In return, I occasionally treated all diners present to dinner on my visits, which drew more customers to Loris’s restaurant. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. I could afford to do this much nowadays, as I was no longer having to scrape every single bronze piece together to make ends meet.

“Will... Will you really help me...?” the youth seated across from me asked, a somewhat apprehensive look on his face.

I couldn’t just agree without first hearing the details.

“I cannot... Give you an immediate... Answer. How about you first...

Tell me what needs to be... Done. I will decide after... That.” Was I being too cautious? Trust did go both ways, however.

Although the greater half of adventurers in these lands were capable individuals, they still failed requests occasionally, or sometimes withdrew from a request they already took on. A good adventurer was responsible about the types of requests they accepted in the first place,

minimizing failures and withdrawals. Practicing good adventuring ethics would draw more repeat customers to said adventurer, eventually even specifically asking for them via the guild, or in person.

As for myself, I had my doubts about having a trustworthy reputation, given how I looked. Even so, I suppose everything had to start from somewhere.

“O-Oh... Is that how it works? I’m sorry...” The youth nervously apologized.

Regaining his posture shortly, he took a deep breath. “...Well you see, the situation is...”

And with that, I finally began hearing the specifics of this peculiar request.

◆◇◆◇◆

“I live in a small village to the east of Maalt. It’s a village near a lake...Ruiess Lake. It may be in the middle of nowhere, but it’s a nice place...”

I suppose the veteran adventurer turned down his request because of its rural nature. Ruiess Lake, too, was by no means large. I vaguely remembered its geographical location with respect to Maalt.

“Todds... Village? Was that... It?”

Upon hearing his village’s name, the youth broke into a wide smile. “Y-You know of Todds Village?!”

He was probably as surprised as I was that I could remember the name of such a rural village. While I couldn’t possibly know the names of each and every single village in the general vicinity of Maalt, I did make an effort to learn a little bit more of the surrounding areas. It just so happened that Todds Village in particular was known to me, and for a spehciftictpreasso:n/,/amt thpat.4directs.com

“I... Suppose. If I recall... That village hosts a... Strange festival of some sort. I’ve... Heard. That much. Always wanted to go... At least once.”

If memory served, the festival involved the local villagers setting small wooden boats adrift on Ruiess Lake. Then, a young woman with magical aptitude and considerable beauty would be chosen from among the village’s population, and offered to the Lord of the Lake.

However, the offering wasn’t an actual sacrifice by any means. Local legends spoke of how a maiden was offered to the Lord of the Lake in ancient times to protect the village from a disaster. The villagers merely continued the custom ever since.

If I had to guess, this Lord in question was probably a monster of some sort. Not all monsters were hostile toward humans, after all. In fact, there were some monsters that peacefully co-existed with humans in some capacities. The monster living in the depths of Ruiess Lake would probably be one such monster, I thought.

But the youth had a difficult expression on his face.

“Well, yes...that’s true. However...that very festival is the problem...” he said in a faltering voice.

“What... Do you mean?”

“Well... I suppose you understand that we’ve been going through the motions of offering sacrifices to the Lord of the Lake, as usual. But...”

Of course I knew that much. What the youth had to say next, though, genuinely surprised me.

It would seem that the Lord had, as of late, begun to consume the sacrifices.

◆◇◆◇◆

from the motions of the horse carriage.

He probably meant to ask if I truly should have accepted his request. Perhaps a little late to be asking such a question, given that I was now on a carriage with him, en route to Todds Village; in fact, we were close to the end of our journey.

Maybe it seemed strange that I was so eager to leave Maalt, but in reality, the village wasn’t too far away, requiring only half a day’s worth of travel by carriage. The fact that the veteran adventurer refused to take on the request indicated that he didn’t normally operate out of Maalt.

To me, as one who did operate out of Maalt, Todds Village wasn’t an excessively rural location. Even Maalt was a frontier township in and of itself. If anything, it was the scenery that didn’t really change much at all.

“I do not... Mind. Although I... Agreed to follow you, I have not formally... Taken on your request. After all... You yourself told me that... I could appraise the situation first. Carry out the request if it seemed... Possible. If not... I would give up. Right...?”

It was exactly that. I ended up following the youth without formally agreeing to his request.

To be absolutely honest, it seemed impossible for one such as myself to “do something” about a monster like the Lord of the Lake. While it was true I was stronger than I used to be, I was still very much a realist at heart, and I had no intentions of picking fights I couldn’t win. One lives only once... An ironic thought, coming from me.

It would seem strange for me to make such a trip, then. Why travel when I was certain I was of no match for the monster in question?

Well, defeating the monster wasn’t what the youth asked of me. Instead...

anything. Even if you cannot promise the same, I am grateful you are willing to at least try...”

As he said, he wanted to save his sister, not for me to engage in any heroic monster slaying.

Yes... If I recall, the youth’s name was Ryuntus, and, as he stated, his sister was Amiris.

The problem was this festival in question...and the sacrifices it involved. According to Ryuntus, the “sacrifices” so far were mostly ceremonial; the girls involved never lost their lives.

This all changed a month ago when the sacrifice who was set off to the middle of the lake apparently never made it back. And while the sacrificial festival was normally held on an annual basis, the Lord of the Lake now demanded a sacrifice every ten days.

I wondered how a monster that lived in a lake could demand sacrifices... Ryuntus, sensing my confusion, went on to explain that the Lord in question had Kelpies under his command, monsters that left marks on the doors of the sacrifices the Lord desired. Kelpies themselves were monsters that lived in lakes and the like, and resembled horses with scales. They were also extremely strong monsters...

“Is the Lord of the Lake... A large... Kelpie?”

Ryuntus shook his head. “It’s said that the Lord lives even deeper in the lake. The Kelpies are...well, something like his familiars, I suppose...”

To make strong monsters like Kelpies bend to its will... Did such a fearsome monster really exist?

While I had my doubts, Ryuntus claimed the Kelpies didn’t attack anyone in the village. They simply journeyed in, left a mark on a door, and left.

.

“Is that... Still the case, now?”

“Well, no... Everyone’s afraid now, and we all stay in our homes at night... But there will surely be a mark left on someone’s door come the morning.”

Although I didn’t want to be suspicious of my potential client, I couldn’t help but find Ryuntus’s words...strange.

◆◇◆◇◆

“Well, it seems like we’re here,” Ryuntus said, peeking out of the carriage before alighting altogether.

I followed soon after, and was greeted by a scenic view. I supposed this was somewhere near Todds Village.

“Big Brother!”

A young girl flew into Ryuntus’s arms as soon as his feet touched the ground. Judging by her looks, I would say she was young, maybe 15 or

16. Upon closer inspection, she was quite a beautiful girl, with eyes of glinting sapphire. The very image of a potential sacrifice, if Ryuntus’s words were to be believed.

—A joke I would only make if the sacrifices in question weren’t actually consumed by the Lord. Given the current circumstances, a statement like that would be in poor taste. The very thought of young girls dying because of this tradition was hard to swallow.

“Amiris! Why have you come all the way out here? Isn’t it dangerous?”

Ryuntus hardly seemed to be in the mood for a family reunion, and I could understand why, given the circumstances.

We arrived a short distance away from Todds Village. While the gates were well within view, the path leading up to it was surrounded by forest. Onhe ctotupldsn’t:g/u/amranptee4thde pirateh wcotusld.bce ofreme of monsters,

so it was certainly a dangerous journey for a young girl to make on her lonesome. It was, however, all too common for girls living in rural areas to venture into wooded areas alone for some reason. It was understandable that Ryuntus came across as somewhat over- protective of his sister, in light of recent events.

It was plain to see that Ryuntus cared for his sister deeply, and was willing to journey all the way to Maalt for a chance at saving her life.

“But you just suddenly vanished, saying something about going to the city... Oh, who is that person over there...?”

Amiris narrowed her eyes, staring in my general direction. Her gaze was cold; it was easy to see she was suspicious of my presence. I felt somewhat discouraged—to think that someone who just met me would view me this unfavorably!

But, I understood why she felt that way, for I was a strange, skull- masked man in a black robe with a sword slung behind his back. I’d be surprised if Amiris welcomed me with open arms.

Ryuntus, however, quickly offered an explanation in my defense. “Ah, this person is going to save you from becoming a sacrifice,

Amiris! He’s an adventurer named Rentt. He’s a Bronze-class

adventurer, you know?”

Ryuntus placed me on quite the pedestal. Perhaps this was to put Amiris at ease. He went through the trouble of fetching an adventurer all the way from Maalt for the express purpose of protecting his sister, after all.

But Amiris didn’t seem impressed in the slightest. Her suspicious gaze remained as she pulled her brother off to a corner, speaking in whispered tones. A conversation she did not want me to hear, no doubt.

Alas, such measures were futile, given the sharp hearing I was

.

bestowed with ever since I evolved into a Thrall. I stood still and listened calmly.

“Big Brother, have you been tricked again?! I’ve told you so many times not to get involved with strange-looking people in the city!”

“B-But... Mister Rentt is a great person! He helped me out of a bad situation in the city, and he even offered to assist with the situation going on now...”

“All lies, Big Brother... How could you even hope to afford a Bronze- class adventurer? You know how poor we are! Why would a Bronze- class adventurer come all the way out here with just any old request?”

“Listen... It wasn’t a request I had the guild just put on the board. I personally asked him to come here with me...”

“You’ve been lied to again... Sigh. They could get angry if we simply dismissed them now... What a situation you’ve gotten yourself in!

Well, I’ll take care of it, Big Brother. All you have to do is follow my lead. Ugh... I can’t help but worry about you! What will you do with yourself when I’m gone...?”

What a conversation, and not a pleasant one by any means. I had no means of cheating anyone, or robbing my clients of their coin, so it wasn’t difficult to see why one would make such an assumption given Ryuntus’s character. But those were some big accusations, nonetheless.

Apparently finished with their discussion, Amiris approached me, addressing me in an excessively formal manner.

“Adventurer...Rentt, yes? Thank you very much for accepting my brother’s request, and for making the journey to our village.”

“Well...”

I wanted to tell her not to worry about such things, but I was

.

interrupted before I could go on.

“However, the Festival of Offering has been an uninterrupted tradition in the village since days of yore. I could not possibly hope to end the tradition because of my own selfish desires. As such, I would greatly appreciate if you forgot about this entire conversation and returned to Maalt...”

Unlike her brother, Amiris had a good grip of the world at large. Ryuntus, still standing some distance away from us, gestured wildly,

presumably asking me to convince his sister otherwise. I apparently

didn’t have much of a choice otherwise, so I turned to Amiris.

“I accepted a... Request. From Ryuntus... The only person who...

Can alter the terms... Of the contract. Is Ryuntus alone.”

“But...” Amiris turned around, angrily glaring at her brother.

Ryuntus only shook his head in rapid denial. Giving up, the girl sighed. “I understand... If you are to stay at the village for a while, then you may stay at our home. However, you are not to interfere with the festival. I have chosen to become a sacrifice of my own free will.”

Is that right?

While I had my own suspicions, I simply nodded, not wanting to complicate things further.

“...Well, then. I am in... Your care.”

◆◇◆◇◆

“You really helped me out there, Rentt... You’ve now seen firsthand how stubborn my sister is! See, my sister is so stubborn! Once she’s made up her mind, there’s no more room for discussion...” Ryuntus shook his head.

Having made my way to his and his sister’s home, we were now

.

seated and engaged in discussion. The topic of the conversation was obvious: we had to come up with a course of action relatively soon.

“Look at... What your sister. Is saying... How would I save her... Like this? What will you do...?”

“Well... I actually had a plan from the start...” “Oh...?”

An unexpected development. One would hardly think Ryuntus had it in him to carry out any kind of decisive action, let alone formulate a plan.

Ryuntus continued: “Amiris will be sacrificed at the lake the day after next. The process is simple: she will be placed on a small boat of sorts and float out to the center of the lake. However, there will be three other boats present, as well; escorts for the sacrifice, if you will... All you have to do, then, is get on one of those escort boats.”

“... I, of all people. On the boat?”

I assumed the role of an escort was a rather important one.

Ryuntus, however, simply continued with his explanation.

“Well, you see... Those tasked with escorting the sacrifice are required to wear masks. All you have to do is take the place of one of the escorts, and there shouldn’t be any problems. In fact, I’m one of the escorts, being the sacrifice’s brother and all that. All you have to do is replace one of the two remaining escorts, then...”

“I see. You have really... Thought this through.”

Unexpected, indeed. The plan seemed like it could actually work, and that was the most surprising part.

“Those tasked with guarding the sacrifice will be waiting by the lake before the festival begins. During that time, there won’t be any guards, which is to bhe etxtppectsed:/si/nmce tphe4esdcoritrsearectthsere..c.. Aonmd they’re just

normal villagers, Rentt. So, basically, adventurers like you...”

Ryuntus ended his explanation there, looking somewhat apologetic.

I understood his sentiment—even if I could easily knock out the escorts in question, they were still his fellow neighbors.

I nodded, finding the plan acceptable. Ryuntus, for his part, seemed relieved at my response.

◆◇◆◇◆

This undead body of mine doesn’t desire sleep or rest, even into the depths of each night, so I couldn’t help but feel bored, having to wait for daybreak. Rising from my bed, I made to leave the room. A breath of fresh night air didn’t seem too bad of an idea. As I placed my hand on the door, however, I felt the presence of a living being behind it.

Sitting on a log outside their cottage was Amiris, who had apparently been staring at the stars in the night sky all this time.

“What... Are you doing?”

“Eh...?” Amiris seemed surprised at my sudden intrusion. “Ah, Mister Rentt... Is something wrong? It’s pretty late...”

She turned toward me, some tears still clinging to her face. It was to be expected, I suppose. Contrary to what she said during the day, Amiris was evidently afraid of her impending fate.

“I... Could not. Sleep. I see you are... The same.” “No, I...”

“You were... Crying. Filled with sorrow over... Your destiny. Of becoming a sacrifice...”

Amiris could only stare at me blankly when confronted with my blunt words. She probably wasn’t expecting a stranger like myself to make such dhecltatraptiosn:s./T/hmougph,4ifdI giarvee hcerttshe.cchaoncme, she would

surely offer one witty rebuttal or another. This was why I continued with my monologue.

“Do not... Fear. There is no reason to be... Sad. I will do... Something about the... Situation. When there is a will... There is. A way.”

There was no basis for what I just said, other than the personal experiences that I picked up over the course of my short life. Although becoming a Mithril-class adventurer was impossible for me in life, I had died and was reborn as a monster, granting me an unexpected opportunity at fulfilling my dream. Maybe then I would be able to do something about this sacrificial festival, and protect this girl’s life.

Again, I had no basis for my assumptions, but I couldn’t dispute the possibility of such a thing. I, too, couldn’t find a way to put this possibility into words.

“Are you...serious? About helping us...?”

“Of... Course. I am serious. You should also... Not do anything rash.

Think about your brother. If there is even... A flicker of hope. Then struggle... Fight back. That is all... I want to say.”

With that, I turned around, walking back into the cottage once more. I had no way of knowing how Amiris would take my words, so this all could have been for naught. Just as I stepped through the doors, however...

“Thank you... Thank you very much...”

And those were the last words I heard that night.

◆◇◆◇◆

“Quite... A depressing atmosphere. This village.”

I set out for a sightseeing trip the very next morning, intending to take in the sights of Todds Village. As the festival was the day after this

one, I foundhmytsteplf wsit:h//sommepfre4e dtimiereoncmtysha.ncdso.  m

The village itself, while bustling with activity, didn’t exactly seem like a happy place, if the villagers’ expressions were anything to go by. It was a reasonable reaction, I suppose, given that a previously benign festival had now become a death sentence for the sacrifice involved. If there was anyone who was happy about being sacrificed, it would be quite a sight to behold.

“It’s not as if we have a choice. No one in the village wants a festival like this.”

Turning around, I was greeted with the sight of Amiris. “...I see you have... Changed your tone. Quite a bit.”

Amiris sighed in response. “There isn’t much point in pretending anymore, right? Big Brother was very happy this morning. You said something to cheer him up, didn’t you? Just like you said something to me. There were no traces of our home being run-through, either... So I guess you’re not going to cheat or steal from us or anything like that.”

As expected, Ryuntus’s expressions were far too easy to read. I had no intentions of searching their home for valuables, so to think Amiris was this suspicious of me... It was truly saddening. But then again, this was how adventurers were normally regarded.

Though, there was now the fact that Amiris behaved around me in a notably different way after our previous conversation. If nothing else, I should be grateful for that.

“I will thank you for... Trusting me.”

“I don’t trust you that much... Though, I guess I trust you enough.

But...are you really gonna do something about it?” “...Perhaps.”

Amiris’s expression was as unreadable as my response was vague. “...Then...Ihwtotnp’t esxp:e/c/tmmupch4oudt oifryeouc. Btust i.f cyoou cman really do

something...then I’ll fight, too. Is that acceptable...?” A satisfying response.

“...Yes. That is... Acceptable. By the way... There seems to be quite...

A lot of. Outsiders. In this crowd...”

With the conversation brought back to more mundane matters, Amiris’s expression softened, eventually returning to a more normal state.

“Yes. The villagers are more generous with their expenditures during the festival... Most of the outsiders are probably traveling merchants. It’s a small village, but not necessarily a poor one...”

“...I see. Is that man over there... One of those traveling merchants?” I asked, pointing to a man seated on the ground with a mat.

A textile merchant of sorts, bales of cloth were neatly stacked before him. What caught my eye, however, was his physique. The man was more built than the average individual. I supposed being a traveling merchant was more physically demanding than I thought.

“Yes, he is a traveling merchant that visits often.” Amiris offered a quick answer to my question. “His wares are a great help, and he even visits the village when no festivals are being held.”

“Is that right...?”

One occasionally hears of good-hearted merchants like him in rural villages. The merchants weren’t necessarily saints; it was sometimes a symbiotic relationship. In return for their wares, villagers would sell the merchant their harvested crops at cheaper prices. In that sense, I suppose both parties profited off each other.

Amiris continued guiding me through the village. According to her, the atmosphere in this village was nowhere near this brooding in the past. It only became this way after a sacrificial villager lost their life in

.

what was supposed to be a harmless ceremony. From what I was told, the villagers were more than eager to put an end to the practice, but they feared reprisal from the Kelpies or the Lord of the Lake itself. All they could do, then, was continue the so-called tradition.

Quite the burden this village was carrying, but maybe they truly had little choice in the matter. After all, if this village had as much military might as Maalt, the Lord could easily be defeated, and the tradition ended permanently.

For such a small village, however... That didn’t seem to be a valid option. This was precisely why I wanted to do something about the problem at hand.

◆◇◆◇◆

The festival was beginning. Crowds gathered by the side of the lake, with many of the people holding candles. The crowds were looking in the direction of a few whimsically decorated boats, adorned with a fair number of glittering trinkets.

On this day, a young girl would sail to the center of the lake on one of those boats, becoming a sacrifice to the Lord of the Lake. The villagers naturally felt their fair share of guilt.

Reality was stark, however: should a sacrifice not be provided, the village would come under attack, either from the Lord or the Kelpies under its command. All the villagers could do was close their eyes and apologize. This was probably their only course of action. What else were a few villagers from a rural village to do?

Amiris, who was due to ride on one of the boats on this very night, stood a short distance away from the decorated boats on the lakeside. Dressed in robes woven from glittering fabric, the bright colors cut a sharp contrast to the ceremonial makeup on her face. She was undeniably beautiful.

She was to board the boats with her escorts, before setting off

.

toward her final destination.

Standing around her were two figures, watching over her.

Originally, there should have been three—at least, that was what those familiar with the festival would think. The role of a Sacrificial Escort, however, was decidedly a supporting one. Originally, any number of escorts was acceptable. Most villagers were usually selected for the role against their will.

“It still seems a little risky, this entire business... Will we be found out?” Ryuntus, one of the escorts, said.

“No guarantees, Big Brother... People usually only look at the sacrificial maiden during festivals anyway... It’s probably fine,” said Amiris, the sacrifice in question.

“...You two are... More relaxed. Than I thought you... Would be,” I said to the pair.

“Only because you’re here, Rentt! I’m counting on you!” “Exactly. Although...I probably won’t expect much out of you.”

In some ways very similar, yet very different in others. What a strange pair of siblings.

Thankfully, the festival’s proceedings went on without much issue, with Amiris herself stepping toward the boats as the village elder blessed her with the appropriate rites.

“Let’s go, Rentt...”

I followed closely after Ryuntus. Although he provided a detailed explanation of the ceremony, I left most of the complicated steps to him, copying his actions where I could. Fortunately, our party seemed to have escaped close scrutiny, with Ryuntus, myself, and Amiris successfully boarding the boats and sailing out toward the center of the lake.

.

Although several villagers regarded our smaller than usual number of escorts with strange gazes, no one in particular raised any complaints. I suppose they, too, were mentally exhausted from this entire business of sacrificing one of their own on a regular basis, and were unable to say much more in protest.

After some time, our small fleet reached its destination. We were well out of sight from the villagers, having sailed a long distance from the shore.

“Is this... All right?”

“Yes, I think so.” Amiris was quick to respond. “This is the middle of the lake, after all... And the Orb is glowing. This is definitely the place.”

Amiris held up her palm; in it was a crystalline ball of some kind, apparently a mystic artifact passed down by the village. It had the ability to glow when brought to the center of the lake.

It was by no means a complicated object. Even Lorraine would most likely regard it as a silly trinket. To the villagers, however, it appeared to be a valuable treasure, one that was essential for the festival.

“Originally, the escorts weren’t supposed to guard the sacrifice at all... Their role was to retrieve this Orb, then leave the sacrifice behind...”

Ryuntus’s explanation made some degree of sense. If I had to infer, the original condition of having three escorts in the fleet was to ensure that no single person absconded with the treasure.

In any case, we reached our destination.

“...So. The Lord of the Lake... Will appear here?” “According to the legends, it—”

Just as Ryuntus attempted to answer my question, the previously still surface ohf tthteplaske:w/a/smdisprup4tedd biry ea scertiess o.fcuonnmaturally rough

waves.

“Something’s coming...!”

Panicking, Ryuntus squatted down in his boat. “...Hold on... You’re... You’re joking, right...?” he whispered under his breath, staring at the monster before him.

But I understood why he said such a thing. The Lord of the Lake that appeared before us was none other than a Kraken—the very same kind of Kraken that, under normal circumstances, could only live in the wide, open seas.

◆◇◆◇◆

“Ugh...! What... What is this?! How can we defeat it? How’d it even get in this freshwater lake...?!” Amiris shouted, her boat rocking violently in the waves.

While I felt the same way, I couldn’t falter. Adventurers didn’t give up.

Turning to Amiris, I proceeded to issue my instructions: “Amiris...

You switch. To Ryuntus’s boat.”

“Are... Are you serious?! You’re going to fight...against that?!”

An incredulous expression; I expected no less. Any typical person would question my sanity. Yet I have stood face-to-face with a Dragon in the past. Was there anything greater to fear?

Back then, all I could think of was escaping. Now, however... “Quickly, now. Amiris. Switch... Boats.”

I jumped off my boat, running along the water’s surface. Grabbing Amiris off her sacrificial craft, I threw her into Ryuntus’s boat, readying myself for the battle to come.

.

“Ehhh?!” A simultaneous reaction from the sister who was thrown, and the brother who caught her.

I, however, didn’t turn around. Instead, I drew my sword, facing the direction of the Kraken. I braced myself, getting into a combat stance as I held up my blade.

One may question why I was standing on the water. See, I had asked Lorraine to craft such a magical tool for me before I journeyed here. It turned out, however, that she had something fit for the purpose all along.

Lorraine, who was interested in the festival, had wanted to come along, but she was unable to do so as she had to compile some documents for a client. Upon hearing that my destination this time was a lake of sorts, however, Lorraine merely handed the relevant magical tool to me, and that was that. As expected of Lorraine— alchemists were great friends to have.

“Rentt! Don’t do anything crazy! If... If it’s impossible, I’ll just give up and become a sacrifice, so...!”

I was grateful for Amiris’s concerns, but I couldn’t concede to her sorrowful wails, not after coming all this way.

Tightening my grip, I slammed my foot onto the water’s surface, propelling myself, blade and all, into the Kraken’s grasp.

◆◇◆◇◆

It was...large. A fact I was made to understand as I approached the Kraken. Its body and tentacles were covered in slime, and if I had to guess, it was at least ten meters in length.

Compared to the variants that inhabited the high seas, however, this one was on the smaller side of the spectrum. According to what I had learned from some books, oceanic Krakens were capable of folding gigantic ships and vessels in two with a single strike, and were

typically 30 to 50 meters long. That should have been their normal size.

This one was smaller—a lot smaller.

A flurry of incoming tentacles jolted me out of my thoughts. The Kraken saw and now sought to crush me.

Given the number of tentacles, it was quite the task to dodge each and every one of them. They weren’t impossible to dodge, however. Thanks to Lorraine’s specially-manufactured water-stepping boots, I found myself able to move easily, treading atop the water’s surface as if it were solid ground.

Without warning, the Kraken opened its mouth, apparently intending to launch something at me. Quickly stomping on the lake’s surface, I dodged to the side, only to see that I had narrowly avoided a large fireball, the projectile causing steam to rise up from where I was just standing.

“A Kraken... Spitting Fire?” A strange combination.

Laughing at the absurdity of the situation, I propelled myself forward once more, finally closing in upon my target. With a mighty leap, I brought my sword over my head, slicing down on a tentacle with a savage horizontal slash.

As I did so—

Riiip!!!

This was hardly the sound an invertebrate would make when cut. “Wh... What?! What is this? The Kraken...!”

I could hear Amiris’s voice over the waves; she seemed surprised.

“Why...?” Even Ryuntus had something to say.

I supposed they would feel that way. The Kraken I swung my blade through promptly disappeared. In its place remained a large piece of cloth, and a wooden vessel several times larger than the sacrificial boats we had used. This vessel was crewed by a few men.

This was no Kraken.

“You bastard! Don’t mess with us! Kill him! KILL HIM!!!”

Pointing at me, the men shouted animatedly before sending a number of arrows and magical attacks in my general direction.

They were far from skilled. Easily avoiding the incoming attacks, I launched myself into the air once more, landing on their vessel with a single leap. In a series of familiar motions, I knocked out the men one by one, eventually sheathing my sword.

◆◇◆◇◆

“So... What...? What is...all this?” Amiris asked, still visibly confused.

“These are the... People. Who have been... Making unreasonable demands. Of the village. Also, Amiris... Isn’t this man familiar... To you?” I asked, pointing toward one of the now-subdued men.

Finally noticing, Amiris gasped in surprise. “The... The traveling merchant!”

“That is correct.” “But...why?”

Ryuntus and Amiris stood staring at me, unable to believe their eyes. In response, I gave the restrained merchant a good kick in the side with Lorraine’s specially-manufactured water-stepping boots.

“Answer... Her.”

Slowly, and somewhat unwillingly, the traveling merchant began talking.

According to him, the merchants had caught wind of the festival, and before long decided to profit off it. Their methodology was simple: they would pretend to be the Lord of the Lake and kidnap whatever sacrifice was offered, before selling her off as a slave or commodity. To this end, the men had a mage cooperating with them, as well as a merchant who was familiar with underground slave trade routes.

Although they were originally just a traveling merchant and his escort, they were overcome by greed, and they had decided to exploit the people of this village.

The vessel itself was a simple fishing boat borrowed from another village on the lake.

The marks on the doors were also left by the men in question, not Kelpies. Due to the collective fear that had fallen over the villagers, no one came to realize this fact.

Quite an intricate enterprise...

The illusion of the Kraken was just an image projected onto the cloth by the mage. The tentacles, too, were nothing more than ropes controlled and moved by magic. It goes without saying that the fireball from the Kraken’s beak was nothing more than a regular fireball, a measure taken to deal with the escorts who accompanied the unfortunate sacrifices. This was apparently the first time the fireball failed to work. Of course, the entire image of a Kraken spewing fire was laughable at best.

Although these men had planned their evil deeds with considerable effort, they clearly weren’t strong enough to stand up to anyone who had more strength than a frightened villager.

“Then...what of the girls who have been ‘eaten’ up until now...?”

.

The merchant answered Ryuntus’s question truthfully: it would seem that they were all in the ship’s hold. While they had been kidnapping girls for the past two or so odd months, they only intended to make a sale once they reached a certain number, much to the fortune of the now-rescued girls.

“Rentt... Did you know...? From the start?” Amiris asked. “Well... It was suspicious... To some degree. In my personal...

Experience. The true Lord of a place... Would never suddenly decide...

To become unruly or... Unreasonable. Also... When we passed by... This traveling merchant... In the village. I noticed... The smell. Of blood.”

This was very much in accordance with the fact that I was an Undead who subsisted on blood—not that I could explain it to Ryuntus and Amiris.

In any case...

“With this... The mystery. Is solved... I take it the request... Has been fulfilled. Adequately?”

“Of course!” “Yes!!”

The siblings’ responses were almost simultaneous.

◆◇◆◇◆

Finding the merchant’s explanation satisfactory, we set sail for Todds Village, only to be greeted by a predictably large uproar. Amiris, who was supposed to have been sacrificed, was alive. With her were the kidnapped girls, and the traveling merchants, bound from head to toe.

Upon explaining that we uncovered the truth behind the recent incidents, the villagers thanked me profusely, and even offered to report the incident to the guild so that I may be recognized for my

.

efforts.

I politely declined.

On the surface, I claimed this was due to the nature of the request, that it wasn’t accepted through formal guild channels and as such, wasn’t something I could take credit for. In reality, I just didn’t want to be connected to this kidnapping incident. If word got out that I busted up a kidnapping slaver ring, it would only serve to place more suspicion on me. Even if I did resolve the incident in question, I could easily be suspected of “solving” a problem I was “responsible for” in the first place.

I was suspicious-looking, though there was little I could do about that. In any case, I decided to not do anything unnecessary. The villagers, convinced I was just being modest, were quite against this at first, but I have Ryuntus and Amiris to thank for convincing them otherwise. The siblings thanked me profusely, but maybe I was the one who should be thanking them instead.

The villagers suggested for the festival to be redone, if only to properly express their gratitude to the Lord of the Lake. It would be a much simpler affair, with no more sacrifices like Amiris floating out into the depths of the lake. Despite its simplicity, the atmosphere in Todds Village was now markedly different; no longer sullen, but instead bright and full of hope. If memory served, this was how the festival was supposed to be in the first place.

In the midst of the celebrating villagers, a small speck on the far corner of the lake caught my attention. A translucent maiden on the back of a Kelpie... The true Lord of the Lake, or possibly an elaborate illusion of the light. In an instant, they were gone, with silence once again returning to the lake’s surface.

◆◇◆◇◆

“You’re leaving... Honestly, you should stay a bit longer...” Amiris said as she stood before the horse carriage.

“That’s right... And the festival has been extended, too!” Ryuntus continued.

I just shook my head. “I am... An adventurer. Much work remains...

To be done.”

Due to the fact that my little excursion to the lake didn’t count as an official job, I found myself facing down a few administrative deadlines. The guild wouldn’t have many good things to say about a Bronze-class adventurer who didn’t do meaningful work, and this meant a quick trip back to Maalt was in order.

“How is it that you do good work, but you don’t want to be credited for it? It’s just...strange.”

“Is... That right? Things like this are... Not as rare. As they seem to be. In any... Case. I will be going now.” I placed a hand on the carriage’s door handle.

“Rentt...!”

I turned around at the mention of my name, and without warning, Amiris flew into me, her lips pecking the side of my face...

Or, should I say, my mask.

.

“Wha—Amiris...?”

I could hear Ryuntus’s quivering voice.

“What? It’s a gesture of thanks, okay?!” Amiris said, her face a deep shade of red.

A warm little exchange, indeed.

“A little... Surprising. But thank you, Amiris. A kind... Gesture. If you ever find... Yourself. In Maalt, do visit... Me. I will be your guide, then...”

“Okay...!”

“You take care... Too. Ryuntus.”

“Yeah. Thank you so much, Rentt... I’ll definitely visit the next time I’m in Maalt...!”

Nodding, I waved at them, finally boarding the horse carriage. Its destination was none other than the township of Maalt.

For some reason, it almost felt like a lifetime had passed since I stepped through its gates...

◆◇◆◇◆

“Wait, don’t tell me, Rentt. You went all that way to charm the heart of a little girl?”

A dinner with Lorraine was in order after my long departure from Maalt. Lorraine’s words, however, nearly made me spit out my meal.

“...Do not be... Silly. Lorraine. Nothing of... The sort.” “A joke, Rentt. But you see, that girl definitely...”

I knew what Lorraine was about to say, so I stopped her mid- sentence.

“She will forget. About someone... Like me. Soon enough.” Such was life for a wandering traveler.

The girls of rural villages had their own brand of happiness, as they would one day find a suitable partner in their village, get married, and most likely have children. The very picture of a rural villager’s joy.

Needless to say, from the very beginning there was no place in such a happy picture for the likes of me.

Lorraine sighed, gesturing at me with her utensil as she spoke. “You, Rentt...should be punished gravely for your sins.”

It was regrettable, to say the least. Truly regrettable, but... This was just how things were.

I would still offer them a guided tour of Maalt should those siblings ever visit; it was the least I could do.

CHAPTER 4

Dragon Blood Blossom

“I suppose I should... Accept a proper request. This time,” I said as I stood by my lonesome, staring at one of the guild’s many request boards.

Although I resolved the incident at the lake not too long ago, that request wasn’t filed through official guild channels, and it wasn’t something I could take credit for.

I have to get my act together.

I continued my search... “One right here...”

My eyes stopped on this particular request. It was nothing noteworthy since the reward for completing the request was a single bronze coin. No wonder it was left on the board as-is; one could earn more coin by slaying a Goblin.

But what, exactly, did this request entail?

My interest piqued, I examined the rest a little more closely, only to find that it was by no means a simple task.

“Rentt...? Are you thinking of taking up that request? We would be most grateful if you did...”

Turning around to the source of the familiar voice, I saw none other than Sheila, who had apparently been on receptionist duty this entire

time.

I only visited the guild during its more quiet hours, so there were few, if any adventurers in the hall at this time. Sheila, too, didn’t exactly have much receptionist work to do, hence her wandering over to where I stood.

“The reason why... This request. Still remains here... It is not a matter of... Compensation, isn’t it? More of... The request’s details.”

“Yes. At a glance, a single bronze coin isn’t very much, but seeing who requested it, it does make sense. It is a tradition of the guild, after all.”

This tradition was the offering of a single bronze coin as a reward. This was something done by individuals who needed an adventurer’s aid, but couldn’t afford to offer a large sum of coin as a reward. I suppose one could say it was something quite similar to volunteer work. Requests like these have been common from the establishment of the guild itself, and new adventurers often learned of this tradition from their seniors.

Clearing her throat, Sheila continued.

“However, even though there were adventurers willing to work on a pro-bono basis, the contents of the request are...a little...”

“To gather... A Dragon Blood Blossom. A difficult request... Around these, parts. Very difficult.”

A Dragon Blood Blossom was a flower with crimson petals as red as blood. It was a rare plant, with both ornamental and medicinal uses.

From these flowers, a fluid of the same color referred to as Dragon- Flower Blood could be extracted, and from this fluid a variety of medicines could be made.

Legend has it that a human maiden fell in love with a Dragon, their relationship transcending the boundaries of species. Through a series

.

of unfortunate misunderstandings, however, a hero came along and slew the Dragon. Its blood, in turn, became these flowers as it seeped deep beneath the ground. To this day, Dragon Blood Blossoms are sometimes given as gifts to fair maidens in love.

Perhaps a strange idea of a gift, given the sad nature of the tale. But in the story, the hero was the maiden’s brother. Although the Dragon could have defeated him without much effort, it instead chose to offer up its own life out of its love for the maiden. As a result, this flower came to represent one’s unyielding determination in the face of all odds, hence its contemporary status as a romantic gift.

Its rarity meant it was near-impossible to obtain such flowers. They were hardly sold at the common florist, and they commanded a large sum of coin.

This request asked for the retrieval of these very same flowers. It was highly logical to assume the common adventurer wouldn’t be motivated to take up such a task.

Although, Sheila did mention that quite a few adventurers considered taking the request. The reason was due to the name of the client in question.

Written clearly in block letters on the request were the following words:

“CLIENT: ORPHANS OF THE SECOND ORPHANAGE OF MAALT”

Despite its nature, it wasn’t written to invoke pity in any way. The details of the request were written neatly, clearly, and formally. And while the reward for this task was negligible at best, it was up to the adventurer to decide if this request was worth his or her time.

“What will you do...?” Sheila asked, with a slight smile on her face.

Knowing Sheila, she already knew my answer.

◆◇◆◇◆

The Second Orphanage of Maalt—

Although Maalt was a frontier town in most manners of speaking, it was blessed with the existence of two labyrinths in its vicinity, and as a result, it had a sizable population of its own. Maalt was by and large a somewhat well-established township. There were a fair number of public facilities available—at least a number proportionate to Maalt’s population. The orphanage I was heading toward was one such facility.

Depending on the area and kingdom, orphanages were run by a variety of organizations. This particular one in Maalt was run by a collective of monks and nuns belonging to the Church of the Eastern Sky. This church believes that an angel once descended from the skies over the eastern parts of Yaaran, with said angel apparently performing a variety of benevolent miracles. The Church, in turn, thinks of the angel as a materialization of God, thus being the target of their worship. As their activities suggested, they were a comparatively peaceful organization, not engaging in aggressive missionary work, nor demanding donations from the general public.

However, they were more impoverished than other organizations of a similar vein. Followers of the Eastern Sky were known for their frugality and noble intentions, and they were respected throughout the Kingdom of Yaaran. This phenomenon only extended to Yaaran, though. Due to the fact the organization never did expand much, its name was apparently not heard often outside these lands.

In any case, I suppose that was how local religious organizations concentrated in certain parts of the land fared.

The presence of the Church in Maalt was represented by the Second Orphanage, although it didn’t make for much of a pleasant image. The building itself was run-down and in dire need of repair, but I suppose that was just how things were. Cracks and holes in its walls were filled up with pieces of white gravel here and there. While the makeshift

the Church of the Eastern Sky was painfully evident in these observations.

According to the books I had read and some of Lorraine’s ramblings, a certain empire to the west of Yaaran was home to quite a few large religious organizations. The power they wielded was immense, holding as much power as the empire itself. Its priests and representatives were said to be dressed in such an overwhelming amount of gems and finery that one would often mistake them for jewelers. In Yaaran, however, not a single one of their followers could be seen.

Looking at the state of the orphanage, I felt the Church of the Eastern Sky would do better with a copper cooking cauldron as opposed to jewelry. But copper cauldrons were expensive, so that was neither here nor there.

I soon found myself standing in front of the orphanage, its door equipped with a sizable knocker. Raising a hand, I gripped the metal handle, intending to announce my presence. That was what I wanted to do, until the knocker itself ripped off the door, now an inert metal part sitting in my palm.

“...I saw... Nothing.”

Fortunately, metal contacts existed on both the knocker and the door, so a simple repair job was in order. Withdrawing a vial full of Slime fluid from my tool belt, I poured some onto the knocker before holding it in place against the door for a few quiet seconds. Slowly releasing my hand, I was satisfied to see the knocker return to its original position.

Not wanting to demolish any more of the orphanage’s infrastructure, I rapped on the rickety wooden door—softly, lest I take the door off its very hinges. Avoiding the area around the knocker, I continued my rapping, ensuring enough sound transmitted through the door’s surface. A most technical maneuver, this was probably the most elaborate door-knocking I had ever performed in my career as an

adventurer. But the act of doing so caused me to momentarily ponder what exactly was I doing with my life. Thankfully, the door soon began to open, jolting me out of my increasingly sidetracked thoughts.

A series of wild thuds emanated from the other side of the door— and to think I had just repaired the door’s knocker! In the next moment, the wooden door finally opened, the person on the other side apparently not caring much about the state of the door, nor my suspicious, skull-masked presence. In fact, she smiled.

“Ah, a guest? I do apologize, but Lillian is not in today...”

A girl about 12 years old, at best. Her short, but tidily-cropped hair stood out. Despite her poverty, she was well-groomed, with an air of refinement about her; I suppose even the perils of poverty weren’t enough to take that away from her.

.

But I had no idea who Lillian was, and no idea how to respond. So I decided instead to explain my reason for visiting.

“...I am an adventurer... From the guild. Who accepted your...

Request. Or would you turn one... Such as myself, away?” The girl’s eyes widened at my words.

“Ah! Why didn’t you say so? I assumed you were one of the debt collectors... Please, do come in. I hope it isn’t too cramped for your liking.”

The girl opened the door wide, welcoming me into the orphanage.

◆◇◆◇◆

“...Do the children... Need something, from me?” I asked as we made our journey inside the building.

Many pairs of curious eyes stared at me as we walked—orphans of all ages and sizes. Some were young girls holding infants in their arms, while others were near an age where they would soon be working in the outside world for their keep.

Orphans came in a variety of ages, sizes, and histories. Some were orphaned when they lost their parents to monsters or bandits, and others were simply abandoned at the steps of an orphanage after they were born. Although the latter was somewhat rare in Maalt, the former was an all too common occurrence. After all, anything could happen once one left the safe confines of a walled town. Even if a village was established in an area that was supposedly safe and not frequented by monsters, it could be just as easily demolished by a roving band, or monsters that were attracted to human presence. These unfortunate events occurred daily, and more often than not, were too numerous to count.

These orphans could be counted as lucky, if only because they still drew breath and had a roof over their heads.

The gazes of those girls would perhaps be understandable, given my appearance.

Having been led into a reception room of sorts, the short-haired girl left to get me some tea. In her absence, the room started filling with children; orphans filing into the room one girl after the other, eventually turning into quite the crowd. I suppose I looked interesting to them—I was a masked, robed adventurer—and was probably not the type of person they came across on a regular basis.

There were countless adventurers dressed in a similar fashion as myself, but to those outside the profession, I suppose mine was a different sort of look.

Occupational hazards common to the standard adventurer weren’t exactly shared with normal townsfolk. For instance, a townsperson wasn’t exposed to encounters that could irreversibly burn or scar their face on a regular basis. The darkness of my robe only contributed to this image; although adventurers mainly wore robes for concealment from monsters when moving through labyrinths or forests, they commonly wore dark brown robes for this purpose. Mine was pitch black.

Considering all this, I could hardly blame the girls for gawking at me. To top it all off, I, an adventurer, personally paid a visit to their orphanage. Needless to say, the typical adventurer wasn’t exactly known for visiting orphanages, if only because most orphanages couldn’t afford their services.

This phenomenon was echoed throughout most other kingdoms and countries in the land. Being a nonprofit organization to begin with, few funds would be assigned to an orphanage like this. Discounting the Church of the Eastern Sky’s frugality and financial troubles, one didn’t have to look too far in Maalt to find that other religious groups’

In other words, the presence of an adventurer in any orphanage was a rarity in and of itself, hence the curious crowd before me.

This sight somewhat saddened me. While I was relatively harmless, adventurers were typically characters of questionable morality, and they were hardly the type of people children should be so readily approaching.

The orphans didn’t seem to understand this.

As if to interrupt my internal monologue, the door to the room opened once more, revealing the girl who had greeted me at the door. In her hands was a tray, along with a simple cup and saucer set. Tea for me, perhaps.

The girl stopped right in her tracks, the tea-tray still in her hands.

The presence of such a crowd seemed to have surprised her, if her rapidly widening eyes were anything to go by.

“What are you lot doing?!” she shouted, visibly agitated.

This girl was clearly different. She knew of the dangers a typical adventurer posed, and she was warning the other orphans to steer clear of me.

I wouldn’t put it past a typical ill-tempered adventurer to cut down a child who carelessly approached them, or for them to beat up a room full of curious children who got a little too close for comfort.

“Why don’t you listen? I told you clearly not to approach our visitor under any circumstance! Do you lot understand?!”

With a mighty roar and a cacophony of numerous crying orphans, the girl chased her “siblings” out of the room, before turning to me with an apologetic expression.

“I... I mean... I am most sorry, I didn’t mean to suggest you were an unsavory character...” the girl said, somewhat stuttering. Her tone was

immensely forced.

Is she scared of my response?

“...No. In fact, I am... Reassured. Those children approached me...

Without a trace of suspicion. If anything, I was... Worried. I was beginning to wonder... If no one had told them... Anything. About adventurers.”

I accepted her apology without much fuss.

The girl’s words rang true. Although the way in which she shouted at the other children in my presence was slightly unbecoming, she had done so in the name of the other children’s safety; she had the right idea.

It just so happened the adventurer present at this establishment today was myself, and not some violent lout from a local tavern. This did little to change the fact that adventurers were inherently dangerous individuals, though.

With that said, an adventurer that took on an orphanage’s request for the grand price of one bronze coin probably wasn’t a violent individual either way, but it was always more prudent to err on the side of caution. It was common sense to the weak and downtrodden to be wary of the strange and eclectic—namely, adventurers and their ilk.

The girl, having inferred my intent from my words, lowered her head slightly. “I really do apologize... Those children, they never listen, even if I tell them not to stick their noses into danger. They’re always so much trouble. They’re usually well-behaved, but once you look away...”

Once their caretaker looked away, curiosity took over. I understood what the girl was trying to say. I supposed all children were like this, but there were some slightly older orphans in their midst. They, too, had no sense of danger or apprehension.

“A sense of curiosity... Is not necessarily a bad. Thing. Not with the young. However... They would do well... To be more careful. Although most of Maalt’s adventurers... Are well behaved. Drifters often... Visit the town on their travels. If the appropriate caution... Is not taken during those... Moments. It could become... Quite the incident.”

Murders and the like always led to huge problems, but even if it didn’t come to that, there always remained the potential for large, undesirable problems. Even if one was to look for the culprit, a drifter could easily move to the next town on their map—and that would be that.

“Yes. I understand. I will make sure to lecture them sternly afterward.”

Nodding at my words, the girl looked at me, her expression tinged with a mix of curiosity and disbelief. “Even so... You’re a kind adventurer, right? Although it’s known that most adventurers based in Maalt are reasonable... Few would care to this extent.”

While it would be inaccurate to say that adventurers who cared as much as I did didn’t exist, many would choose to ignore the children and laugh vaguely when offered an apology. Few would care to give their client a lecture on the dangers of adventurers.

I wasn’t exactly in the business of lecturing my clients either, but at the very least, I thought it reasonable to give this much of a warning. That way, I wouldn’t regret not having said enough should anything unfortunate occur somewhere down the line.

It was probably a blessing that we were having this conversation now, then, given that it only happened because I met with those children moments ago.

I suppose I have come to appreciate life a little more, given my own experiences with life, rebirth, and undeath; even so, I did overstep my boundaries slightly.

“Even if... It was another adventurer... Instead of me, they, too... Would have said something, given how... Innocent. Those children were. I suppose that... Is in indicator of just... How happy they are, living... Here.”

An orphanage was by no means hellishly poor. They did receive funding to operate, but orphans were treated in various ways, depending on where they lived. This variation can be clearly seen in orphanages not run by the Eastern Sky; orphans in those places were often treated as a burden, and they weren’t cared for kindly.

The orphans here were different. They’d been showered with love and treated adequately. This much was evident from the way they had behaved: curious, but not with fear or resentment.

The caretaker of this orphanage must be an individual of upstanding morals.

While I had accepted requests from the First Orphanage of Maalt twice, maybe thrice a year, I never took on a request posted by the Second. This was because someone else always accepted the requests before me. I, however, didn’t remember much of this individual, and try as I might, my recollections were hazy. But their name was on the tip of my tongue.

The girl’s response interrupted my monologue once more.

“Yes... Lady Lillian was really good... I mean, she took great care of us...”

While the girl had been exceedingly formal up until this point, she seemed to have forgotten about her forced tone of voice while referring to herself. She spoke well for a child, but her manner of speech was by no means perfect.

Even so, her effort was admirable, if not misguided, since addressing someone like me in such a formal manner was strange, at best.

“You seem... To be tripping. Over your words. I do not... Mind. Do speak... Freely.”

“Eh? Really? But...”

“Do not... Worry about it. Perhaps you should... Be careful. When speaking with other... Adventurers. But I am not... Particular. About such things.”

Adventurers who were particular about such things did exist, but they were the exception and not the norm. Adventurers who had a formal and somewhat more refined way of speaking were often thought of as a bit snobbish. Adventurers often made fun of each other for various things, their manner of speech being a common topic. Such jibes were absent when a particularly refined adventurer spoke to a female guild staff member, however, and their so-called chivalry was praised. Adventurers were indeed a complicated and conflicted existence in many ways.

Most adventurers weren’t beyond speaking to and sleeping with the common wench, but it is said they often seek women of class to make up for their own lack of social elegance. That’s just not a notion I can understand or empathize with.

In any case, I didn’t care much about a formal tone of voice—quite the segue I went on.

Basically, most adventurers didn’t particularly care for being addressed formally.

Pausing momentarily, the girl stopped to think, before nodding at my words. “I understand. But don’t get angry, okay? You said it yourself,” she said, speaking in a more natural manner.

I suppose this was a more natural manner of speech for a child, or so I presumed.

orphan, much like the other children here. She would have to make an effort to train herself in speaking formally and being socially alert, lest she become embroiled in some unpleasant incidents down the road.

Should she not have these skills, she would be unable to resist, and possibly lose her life, seeing as the social position of an orphan was not strong by any means.

From that perspective, maybe I’d done something unnecessary. The girl did seem more relaxed speaking as she was, though, and maybe that was for the best.

Even if I did her a disservice in some capacity, I would at the very least see to it that her request was fulfilled.

“Yes... Of course. I will not... Be angry. About the... request. But...

Before that. We should really... Introduce ourselves. My name is... Rentt. Rentt... Vivie. A Bronze-class... Adventurer.”

“Bronze...? I assumed you were an Iron-class adventurer... You know, since this is an orphanage’s request and all that... Oh, I’m Alize. I have no surname.”

Since orphans came from a variety of backgrounds, it wasn’t uncommon for some orphans to have no surname, if only because the identities of their parents were not known. Orphans were often given a surname if they were ever adopted, or when they became independent.

Alize was probably in similar circumstances.

In fact, it was a well-known practice for orphans to adopt their caretaker’s surname should the need arise. For this particular case, I didn’t feel that it was necessary, as I was an adventurer, not an office or organization of some kind.

Essentially, I didn’t need Alize to have a surname to sign the relevant documents.

“Now that... We know each other’s... Names. I would like to...

Inquire more. About this request.”

With that, Alize readily nodded, quickly offering an explanation. “About that... It’s nothing fancy. What I want is written on the request.”

“You want a... Dragon Blood Blossom.” “Yes. Can I ask that of you?”

“Well... I have already. Accepted it once. There is no reason... For me to refuse. But... I am sure... You understand. This plant is not... Commonly found. In the areas around... Maalt. At the very least... I would like to know. Why you would ask... Such a thing of me.”

Alize turned her gaze downward, a difficult expression on her face. “That’s...”

I suppose she had her own reasons. Despite this, she soon continued her explanation.

“Yes. I know. You aren’t convinced... Well... Could you wait for a while?”

“Sure...?”

I was under the impression that Alize would speak plainly of her reason to me, but she was soon out the door. I didn’t have to wait long for her to return, however.

“Please, come this way... I’ll show you why we asked for such a thing.”

Beckoning me with her hand, Alize turned, walking out of the reception room.

I followed behind Alize, but we didn’t have long to go, as we soon stopped outside a room. Approaching the door, Alize knocked on it twice.

“It’s Alize...” she said, as if looking past the door before her. “Enter.”

It was a quivering, almost inaudible voice—the voice of a woman. Alize nodded. “Pardon me...”

With that, Alize opened the door, stepping into the room. Glancing over at me, Alize tilted her head slightly, motioning for me to enter as well.

It was a simple room, furnished with a small shelf and table, along with an equally simple bed. In that bed lay a middle-aged woman, who struggled somewhat to sit up in her bed at the sight of Alize and me.

“Pleased to meet you. Thank you very much for accepting our request...of cleaning the orphanage’s basement storage rooms. We do not have very much to repay your kindness with, but know that we are truly grateful for your charity. I am the caretaker of this orphanage, Sister Lillian Jeunne, of the Church of the Eastern Sky. We are in your generous care.”

The disparity between Alize’s request and the sister’s words made me turn my head slightly. Alize’s gaze back convinced me to remain silent on the matter. I supposed I should introduce myself, either way.

“Ah... Yes. I am... Rentt Vivie. Of the adventurer’s... Guild. Taking on requests... Like this. From time to time. Is not... Too bad.”

Realistically speaking, I took on this request because I felt like I should; therefore, the acceptance or denial of requests was up to the adventurer. But as long as one accepted the request in question, one would work, and such was an adventurer’s way. The client and

adventurer were both considered to be equals, so there was no real reason for the client to defer to the adventurer in question.

“Your words bring strength to my heart... The basement storage space of the orphanage is small, but due to the presence of monsters, I could not have the children do it. If I were in better health, I would fight the monsters myself, but now...”

I wondered if it was possible for Sister Lillian, a slightly rotund woman in her forties, to be fighting monsters, but Alize’s relative silence and respectful gaze were enough to convince me otherwise. Monks and priests were often trained to have some sort of combat capability, so they were the only profession other than adventurers to commonly have proficiency in combat techniques.

There were considerations of the use of divinity, as well, in which case the sister’s physique hardly mattered. The cleansing flames brought about by one’s divine aura were more than enough to set monsters alight in a small, confined space.

Compared to what Sister Lillian was theoretically capable of, my own divine powers were weak. I wasn’t a devout believer in any religion, after all, so nothing much could be done about that disparity.

I did not mind too much, having learned a great deal about the possible applications of divinity at Clope’s. As long as I was creative about how I used my divinity, I could produce respectable results.

On that note, I did try a Fusion Art with divinity and mana, and that test ended in a failure. The reaction observed when mixing divinity and mana was far too violent, especially when compared to that of mana and spirit. Mixing divinity and spirit didn’t yield more positive results, primarily due to the fact that the energies within the weapon dissipated the moment they were mixed. Maybe they were simply incompatible, or at least of a low compatibility. In any case, a successful application felt possible with enough practice, or maybe some sort of technique yet unknown to me.

Sister Lillian used to have combat ability, but she was now unable to fight like she used to. It was plain to see that the good sister was unwell.

“Are you ill... Sister Lillian...?”

“Yes, unfortunately... It would seem like my strength has left my body as of late. However... I never did have any problems with my health. I am sure I will recover with some rest. So... if you would be so kind as to assist us during this time...”

Unsure of how to respond, I turned to Alize, whose expression seemed to be one of pleading silence.

“...I will do. What I can. Do take care... Of yourself. Sister Lillian. I should... Get going soon. Alize.”

“Yes... Well, then, Lady Lillian. We have to discuss the specifics of the request at hand...”

Lillian nodded at Alize’s words. “Yes. You are a most helpful child, Alize. Mister Rentt... Do think of Alize as my second. If there is anything at all that you do not know...just ask Alize.”

Nodding, we both made our way out of the room, Alize closing the door behind her.

“...I have many... Questions. Alize.”

“Well... Let’s return to the room we were in first.”

Alize started walking down the hallway—I suppose it would all be for naught if Sister Lillian caught wind of our discussion.

I held my peace, following closely after Alize.

◆◇◆◇◆

It was only a single word, but Alize understood my question well enough.

I suppose that was a given, if only because Alize was the one who signaled me to remain silent during our conversation with the sister.

“Sorry for all the trouble... There is a reason...” Alize said, apologizing.

I couldn’t blame Alize for what she did, especially not with her finally willing to tell me the truth. I had no intent on grilling Alize or putting her on the spot, but I did want to know why we had to lie in front of the sister.

“Well... You saw how she was doing, right? Lady Lillian... She doesn’t realize it herself. But she’s very sick...” Alize finally started to explain.

“I see.”

With those words alone, I largely understood the nature of Alize’s request. However, I didn’t want to make any assumptions, so I allowed Alize to continue.

“We saw a healer for it... Sister Lillian’s illness, I mean. But it can’t be healed with magic... Only with the divine powers of those who have been blessed by healing spirits of some kind...”

“Perhaps it is... Rude of me... To be saying this. But you must have paid... The healer. A fair sum of money... For them to even see... Sister Lillian.”

Alize laughed at my words, pointing a finger at me. “There are more people like you than you realize! They said they wouldn’t take any money if it was for Lady Lillian. Well, that’s what they said, anyway.”

I suppose that was understandable since the sister was a member of the Church of the Eastern Sky, as well as a nun who took care of an

orphanage. Surely there were many who have been saved by her benevolent hand, or even by her divine prowess against certain odds. She was quite capable of fighting monsters while she was still in good health.

“Well... So, that’s why. Unless a priestess-saint or a great priest comes by, we would need medicine to cure Lady Lillian. In fact, a priestess-saint did come by a while ago, but Lady Lillian was still in good health then...”

If memory served, one such priestess-saint visited Maalt while I still drew breath. I suppose they would consider me a target for purification should we cross paths now...

Some say that simply looking at a priestess-saint made them feel better. If I were to carelessly approach such an individual, I might just disappear. I should definitely be more careful about this from now on.

“And for this... Medicine. You need a... Dragon Blood. Blossom?” “Yes, exactly. The medicine will be made with the aid of that healer I

mentioned... They said they’ll look for someone who can make it. And

as for the fees... Well, I said I would pay, but they declined to receive anything from us.”

Surely, the healer in question intended to pay on Alize’s behalf. I suppose things like this happened from time to time, and in this case, Sister Lillian’s kindness had come full circle, with many individuals now wishing to aid her.

“I see. I understand... Your circumstances. Now. If I may ask... What is the name of... The sister’s illness?”

“It’s apparently called Accumulative Miasma Disease... It’s a type of illness that only afflicts practitioners of divinity. The stronger their divinity is...the more miasma their body absorbs every time they use their divinity, like a kind of recoil, I guess... And their health deteriorates over time. But...a Dragon Blood Blossom has the ability to

.

dispel that miasma...”

Accumulative Miasma Disease...

Given that I am a practitioner of divinity myself, this could one day concern me. But I didn’t recall having such experiences in the past, probably because the amount of divinity I could muster was far too small to begin with, leaving no space for any miasma to enter.

Purifying a cup of drinking water, or easing the infection in a wound was just about all I could do. Compared to my minor feats, Sister Lillian probably channeled quite a lot of divinity in her lifetime.

Come to think of it, even I utilized a fair amount hunting monsters...

But that was a thought for another time.

“...What about that... Talk, about the basement... Storage?” I asked, recalling Lillian’s words.

“Just a...roundabout way of speech. After all, if I asked outright for an adventurer to gather Dragon Blood Blossoms, Lady Lillian would know what I was trying to do right away. After all, only Sister Lillian is capable of using any divinity here...”

“Is it a big... Problem. If this is publicly known...?”

“Of course it is! Lady Lillian would never ask for anything like that. Also...people don’t die from Accumulated Miasma right away, and that fact only makes asking for help more difficult. It’s a disease that slowly eats away at the person... From what the healer said, it would take a previously healthy person at least five to ten years to perish from it...

Lady Lillian would just ask for her to be replaced by some other nun from the Eastern Sky if she got wind of this!”

Sister Lillian’s frugality was the genuine article.

One couldn’t hope to hire an adventurer to go Dragon Blood Blossom picking with a normal sum of coin, so I suppose this was the reason Sister Lillian held off making such a request.

.

One would think the good sister would ask for help, given that the orphanage wouldn’t run without her. Due to the nature of the illness, however, it would seem like she preferred to have another of her colleagues replace her instead of spending coin on a cure. While it made some degree of sense, it was a most troublesome thought process. I began to see why Alize had pleaded with me to keep silent on the true nature of this request.

While most of the nuns and monks who lived by the teachings of the Eastern Sky were indeed saintly in disposition, this same behavior had now become the root of this problem. Even when threatened with death, Sister Lillian thought of it as nothing more than her divine duty.

The disease could be easily cured as long as one had the appropriate amount of coin. Sister Lillian, on the other hand, would be loathe to spend such an exorbitant amount on herself. This was probably why Alize had to resort to such a roundabout method, and it was indeed a good thing that I held my tongue.

But Alize appeared to have other worries.

“Well... That’s how it is. But...can you really obtain a Dragon Blood Blossom? What you said is true; if one were to obtain it near Maalt...it would only be in the ‘Swamp of Tarasque’...”

The swamp was, as its name suggested, a swampy area ruled over by a fearsome monster, appropriately named Tarasque. They were a type of monster somewhat related to Dragons, primarily inhabiting swampy areas. They were armed with a thick shell, six legs, and a potent poison—a truly terrifying beast. Low-ranked adventurers couldn’t hope to face such a monster in combat, let alone go searching for Dragon Blood Blossoms in the swamp.

It was inevitable for Alize to have doubts about a Bronze-class adventurer such as myself, and not about my commitment to the request, but if I would even make it back alive.

A valid consideration.

.

“I do not think... I could. Best a Tarasque. Though... I do have my ways. After all... They are not exactly... Goblins. There are not... That many. Of them.”

“Really...?”

“Yes. All you have to do... Is wait for me. I will definitely... Retrieve the requested flowers.”

“Thank you. We’re all counting on you... Well... Will you be leaving right away, then?”

“...Not quite. The Swamp of Tarasque... Is quite a distance. Away.

Many of the... Monsters there. Are nocturnal. I will be headed there... Tomorrow.”

Alize probably wanted me to set off right away if it meant I could cure Sister Lillian just a little faster, but that wasn’t a wise course of action. If I just up and left without any due preparation, the chances of me never returning to Maalt again were considerably high. Taking some time to prepare in advance was the logical choice.

“Is that right? Hmm... I guess you’re an adventurer that knows his stuff, even for a Bronze-class. Since you know this much, I guess you really are a professional.”

Alize’s words piqued my interest.

“Are you, perhaps... Interested. In the ways... Of the adventurer?” “Oh, have I been found out? Well, yes. It’s been my dream since I

was a little girl. I do have some luck, I suppose. I have a little bit of mana in me. Given how things are at the orphanage, though...it seems like I won’t be able to do very much for a while. At the very least, I need to stay with Lady Lillian until she recovers...”

If the words of Sister Lillian were to be believed, Alize was her second in the orphanage, so it wasn’t too strange for Alize to feel like

she had to shoulder all responsibility.

In fact, if Alize was indeed blessed with a reservoir of mana within her, she had potential to become a great adventurer, unlike the two-bit counterpart I was in life.

“When you want to... Become an adventurer. Tell me. I will... Aid you.”

“You’re really a nice person, aren’t you? Well... I have no idea when it’d be possible, but I’ll definitely come looking for you when the time comes,” Alize said, a small smile lighting up her face.

◆◇◆◇◆

Although I wanted to return to Lorraine’s and make the appropriate preparations for the morrow, Alize had one more request for me.

Apparently, her talk of monsters in the basement storage of the orphanage was, in fact, real, so I decided to offer her my aid.

The greater half of monsters that did infiltrate human settlements weren’t very threatening. While those that had the ability to disguise themselves as humans, attack from the skies, or infiltrate towns through some special means could be dangerous, the same could not be said for monsters that snuck around in the basements of buildings.

Following Alize’s lead, I made my way to the basement storage, wondering about the kind of monster that decided to nest there.

The cool air of the basement was somewhat appealing to me. I suppose becoming an Undead had a major influence on my preferences. Specifically, I found myself more drawn to dark and damp places like this, moreso than I was in life. Not necessarily a bad thing, but I digress.

“...Ah. There they are.”

“Eh? Where? Where?” Alize asked, turning her head this way and

that.

In her hands was a small knife, probably meant for self-defense.

One could never be too cautious; we were dealing with monsters, no matter how weak.

I pointed at the dark corner of the room. “There... Do you see it? It is sitting right... There. That round... Thing.”

“Ah... That? That, huh... It’s a little big, isn’t it?”

Sitting in the corner of the room was none other than a Puchi Suri, a small, mouse-like monster.

Recalling my past discussions with Lorraine, it was a monster that was frequently experimented upon by scholars. Under normal circumstances, they were only slightly bigger than a sewer rat. This one was at least five times bigger, hence Alize’s observations. Perhaps the environment here was conducive to its growth.

Finally noticing us, the Puchi Suri turned around, hissing and baring its teeth. I had to give the mouse some credit: its teeth were considerably sharp, like knives shining in the dark.

Maybe I shouldn’t have brought Alize with me—a lapse of judgment.

Still, I readied my knife. While I would usually draw my sword, the basement was by no means a large space, and swinging it around here would not bode well for anyone.

I suppose it was a stroke of luck that I had my dissection knife with me, even if it only allowed me to channel mana through its blade.

Given that my opponent was a Puchi Suri, however, this wasn’t much of a problem.

“Steel yourself.”

Saying so, I tightened my grip on my knife, before promptly putting my foot dowhn otnttphesco:l/d/bmrickps 4of tdheirbaesecmtesnt.acndoprmopelling myself

toward the monster.

Puchi Suri were simple organisms. They were faster than the average townsperson, which made catching them quite a task.

But this wasn’t the case for an adventurer. Before one who strengthened their body with mana or spirit, a Puchi Suri had no hopes of victory.

Taking aim, I lightly slashed at the incoming Puchi Suri with my dissection knife. The monster was sent flying, and I had my mana and my undead strength to thank.

Hitting the basement wall with a thud and squeak, the monster slowly slid downward, eventually coming to rest on the cold, brick floor. It still drew breath, though there wasn’t much left in the creature.

All I had to do was put it out of its misery. I slowly advanced toward the fallen monster, knife raised high. What I did not expect, however, was for it to spring back up at me in a final move of defiance.

I could dodge such an attack, given its pathetically slow speed. But the problem was that Alize was behind me. Instances like this made me reconsider my stance on solo adventuring. All the time I spent adventuring alone had seasoned me to only think about my own safety, as opposed to that of any others. A lapse in judgment indeed...

Given that Alize was behind me, there was no way I could dodge the monster’s final blow. And even if I were to strike with my knife, the angle it was currently held at did not lend itself well to such an attack.

I had little choice—I instead struck out with my free hand, intercepting the airborne monster. Though, I had the misfortune of punching the Puchi Suri right in the teeth. I could feel a tingling sensation in my hand, but that was an afterthought.

Did I finally slay the beast?

What I saw confused me: I hit the monster with enough force to kill it instantly, yet it was convulsing on the ground, its breath in short, painful gasps.

“What is... This?”

Not wanting to take any more chances, I slowly put some distance between myself and the writhing mouse. I had no idea what was about to happen, or what could possibly happen.

The Puchi Suri, for its part, continued to trash for a few moments, before finally relaxing entirely, sprawled out on the cold, damp bricks. Its previously gray fur had now turned a deep, dark shade of black. At the same time, I felt a strange sensation well up from deep within my being.

Shaking its head, the Puchi Suri slowly stood up, quietly staring in my general direction. Our eyes met, and I finally understood.

The monster somehow developed a connection with me. Lowering my knife, I approached slowly, quietly, cautiously. The

Puchi Suri remained quietly unmoving, maintaining its gaze at me.

“Eh...? Wait... What? What is this?”

I could hear Alize’s panicked and confused voice from behind me. Even I didn’t fully understand what I was looking at. In any case, the Puchi Suri continued its silent vigil.

“Slowly. Turn three times... On the spot.”

As if obeying my words, the monster did as it was told, turning three times slowly where it stood. Alize’s confusion seemed to intensify upon witnessing such a sight.

“Eh? Ehhh? What’s going on?”

Raising my punctured glove up to my eyes, a dark fluid could be seen oozing from the wound—blood, I suppose. My blood.

Although my Thrall body was dry and withered for the most part, there were parts of it that were more human than corpse. There wasn’t very much of it, but some amount of blood flowed through my veins.

Even so, I didn’t bleed much when cut.

It just so happened that the Puchi Suri’s teeth had come into contact with a living part of me. In doing so, it ingested some of my blood, with this being the result of that contact. It made some degree of sense, given that I was a Thrall. Thralls were Vampires, albeit not very powerful ones. Vampires created familiars by biting humans and injecting their own blood into the unfortunate victim. The victim would then transform into a monster, and sometimes they would transform into a Thrall. Going by that logic, it was safe to assume that Thralls, too, could create familiars of their own.

Under normal circumstances this shouldn’t be possible. Thralls were said to be mindless, shambling zombies of some sort, so they were by no means capable of complicated thoughts. One would be hard-pressed to find a Thrall that actively sought out victims to create familiars with. Even if it somehow succeeded in creating a familiar, it would not have the required intelligence to direct and instruct it.

A Thrall did have a will of its own, no matter how simple and frail.

This simple will allowed them to follow orders from higher-ranked Vampires, and enabled them to create, albeit not control, familiars. In that case, a Thrall would be able to create familiars by injecting its own blood into a victim. The victim of a Vampire attack would then have their bodies forcibly altered by the Vampire, eventually transforming into a familiar-Thrall.

And now...my blood somehow found its way into the Puchi Suri, hence the convulsions, as its body was forcibly altered by my blood.

The result of the process was the mental link I now had with this

me, albeit a smaller, detached, mouse-like part.

The Puchi Suri had become my familiar; this was the only educated guess I could make.

Of course, telling that to Alize would not be a good idea. Only Vampires and some other kinds of monsters were capable of such a feat. I had to find some excuse to justify what she had just seen, somehow. To Alize, this entire spectacle must have been incomprehensible and strange. Thankfully, I had the perfect explanation to gloss it over with.

“It would seem like... My will has passed into the monster.”

“Pass” was an ancient and specialist term used by monster tamers. It was used to describe the moment in which their specialized magic dominated a monster’s mind, turning it into an obedient servant. I was basically trying to convince Alize that what she had just seen was an act of monster taming, and not of me turning the monster into my familiar.

“Eh...? What does that mean?”

Apparently, Alize didn’t have much knowledge concerning monster tamers. If anything, she seemed even more confused by my words.

Nodding, I offered an explanation. “I have... Succeeded. In taming and dominating the mind... Of that monster.”

“So...you are a monster tamer...with the ability to control monsters?” Alize was beginning to get the picture.

I was by no means any sort of monster tamer, but with this, I could control what Alize knew safely. She could discover that I was no such thing with some simple research, and this was why I said:

“Not... Quite. I am a swordsman... But. I learned the methods...

I thought I... Would try it out.”

“Oh! Adventurers are really something else, huh? That’s amazing...”

Although the art of monster taming was exclusive and usually never taught to those outside their secretive order, Alize didn’t need to know that. Even if she did do some research on me after the fact, there was no way to deny that such a thing was possible. With this, there were no more problems.

“Then...” Alize continued, “is that monster safe now? It won’t attack us anymore?”

Now this was a question I could answer truthfully.

“Yes. In fact... It will now listen to whatever... I say. This is...

Convenient. We could have it... Guard the basement storage. You did say that... Monsters occasionally found their way... In. Yes?”

A cold, damp place that often attracted monsters... I felt somewhat sorry for Sister Lillian, who must have purified this basement numerous times.

In any case, we now had a newfound guardian for the basement. But Alize didn’t seem too convinced.

“You’re sure...? About it not suddenly turning around to bite us in the behind? Really sure?”

Despite Alize’s suspicions and apparent distrust, she eventually relented after some waving and pokes, placing some degree of trust in the oversized, reanimated monster-mouse that had become my familiar.

◆◇◆◇◆

Given that the Puchi Suri in the orphanage’s basement storage had

contract to begin with, so my intervening probably changed little in that regard.

A more detailed search after we dealt with the larger Puchi Suri revealed quite a few of his smaller counterparts. These small ones weren’t much of a threat, and I figured it was safe to let Alize tackle one of them head-on. It goes without saying that Alize only fought a single one, as opposed to the entire flock. Even so, she managed to defeat the Puchi Suri successfully, a jubilant look on her face. It reminded me of the look novice adventurers had upon scoring their first monster kill.

I told Alize to keep the magic crystal as a bit of a supplement to her allowance, if nothing else. One had to register as an adventurer to sell one’s spoils to the guild, but one could also easily trade the crystal away to some merchant in the surrounding area. Their prices were fair, as far as street merchant prices went.

While Alize was busy celebrating, I decided to test out the capabilities of my newfound familiar. Although he ran into some difficulty on his quest to subdue his speedy brethren, my familiar had a trick of his own up his proverbial sleeve. A quick stare from him was enough to immobilize the lesser Puchi Suri, much like how a mouse froze in the gaze of a snake. So potent was his immobilizing stare that his victims wouldn’t move a step, not even after I approached and poked them with my finger. The Puchi Suri just stood in place, as if afraid of some sort of punishment should it dare move a muscle.

“...Did you make it... Obey you?”

I felt a sense of affirmation through our shared mental link. It would seem my familiar had an ability to control weaker variants of its species, much like how Vampires could control the Thralls they created. It was a phenomenon observed in monsters from time to time in which a greater variant of the monster ruled over the lesser of their kind.

A good example would be that of Goblin Generals or Goblin Kings

who, as their titles suggested, had many Goblins under their command. The vampiric ability to turn monsters outside of its species into its obedient slaves could be thought of as a higher-ranked version of this skill. A Vampire had to inject its own blood into the victim for the process to work, though, and Vampires probably prioritized quality over quantity, unlike the ever-present Goblins.

I couldn’t be sure of my familiar’s commanding abilities, however. Exact perimeters, such as the area in which its control would remain effective, were unknown to me. There was always the possibility that this larger Puchi Suri ruled over his smaller relatives in this basement from the very start, and their obedience had nothing to do with my familiar’s skills.

More research was required on the topic, which would thrill Lorraine.

I thought to simply take my familiar-mouse home with me, despite having him originally tasked with guarding the basement in Sister Lillian’s absence. But with his smaller relatives now heeding his every word...could I not have the smaller mice guard the place while we were gone?

Yet another question for my familiar, so I projected a thought at the oversized mouse.

“I wanted... You to guard this basement... At first. But could we leave it... To these smaller ones, instead?”

Fixating its red eyes unto me, the Puchi Suri stared straight ahead, before transmitting what felt like yet another affirmative thought to me.

.

I supposed the ability to communicate without words or a shared language was a unique boon between master and familiar. And quite convenient, as well.

I turned to Alize, explaining the situation.

“I don’t really get it...at all. So you’re telling me that...the monsters will guard this place from now on? Will the other children be fine down here? I tell them not to play in here, but sometimes they sneak in...”

I relayed the question to my familiar, and soon received a strong mental impulse in response. It was calming and reassuring in nature.

Turning to its smaller brethren all neatly lined up before him, my familiar stared, his intimidating gaze hanging heavy in the air. The smaller Puchi Suri straightened their backs as they squeaked in response.

“It says... That there will not be. Any problems.”

“Looks that way...” Alize said, nodding as she continued observing the Puchi Suri with surprise all over her face.

To me, it seemed more like some sort of obedience brought about by fear—the Puchi Suri were terrified of my familiar. I suppose traditional hierarchies no longer held water, given that one of them was a half- Vampire mouse.

Satisfied that the problems at hand were solved, I took my leave, intending to finally return to Lorraine’s to make the appropriate preparations.

“Welcome ba—?!”

◆◇◆◇◆

As usual, Lhortrtapinesw:a/s/lmyingpdo4wdn oinrehercstosfa,.hcolodinmg up and

reading a book against the light. The sound of the door opening caught her attention as it always did. She slowly turned to face me, only to stop halfway through her greeting as she very audibly swallowed her breath.

Finally, with a deep breath, Lorraine began speaking, slowly and calmly.

“If I may ask, Rentt... What exactly is that rotund and oddly-sized black mouse doing perched on your shoulder? I don’t suppose it is some sort of hallucination.”

So shocked was Lorraine at the sight of the Puchi Suri that she assumed she was hallucinating.

Sniffing the air slowly, I caught wind of a foul odor—Lorraine had been mixing strange medicines with the windows closed, yet again. Striding toward the windows, I threw them open, then returned to my original spot.

“I found him... In the orphanage basement... Storage. He will be in our... Care. From this day on...”

“A bit too apt a summary, Rentt. You would at least have to start from the beginning for me to comment on the matter.”

“Yes... I suppose I would.” An explanation was in order.

After sitting through my description of recent events, Lorraine nodded, seemingly lost in thought. “I see... It is very like you to take on such a request. But to the Swamp of Tarasque of all places? Even I dread to set foot in there, Rentt. Will you be all right?”

“I have thought of... Many. Contingency plans... There will be. No issues.”

“I suppose there would be no problems if you put it that way, but I

think you are capable of even creating and controlling your own familiars... I have performed many experiments, yes. But none that involved feeding your blood to other living things.”

Lorraine’s conclusion was reasonable; being a lower-level Vampire, Thralls were thought to lack the ability and intelligence to create familiars of their own. It made sense that she wouldn’t feed my blood to any animal she got her hands on. Lorraine, for her part, mentioned that her experiments centered around ensuring I was healthy to begin with, along with any other major traits and abilities my Thrall body possessed. I suppose less prominent abilities like this would naturally escape her detection.

“Can we... Keep him?”

“Do as you like, Rentt. A little late to be concerned about that, no?

An Undead lives in this house, said Undead being you. One more mouse or two hardly makes a difference. He will, however, have to earn his keep.”

“He has to... Pay. Rent?”

“Don’t be so daft. Samples! A blood sample from the mouse, and some hairs, will suffice. I can think of many experiments, yes... A great deal of tests. Of course, I would not drain him dry. A healthy amount is enough. Speaking of health, Rentt. What does he eat?” Lorraine extended her hand toward the Puchi Suri.

My familiar leaned out, sniffing Lorraine’s fingers and closing its jaws around one.

“Oof!”

It was a light bite, enough to puncture Lorraine’s skin, but not cause grievous harm.

Loosening its grip on her finger, the Puchi Suri licked Lorraine’s

“I see. Blood? Like your maker? Hmph. Predictable,” Lorraine said, exasperated. “At least he is easy to understand. Even so...my blood is quite the commodity these days, no?”

I couldn’t quite make out if Lorraine intended her statement to be a joke, but she seemed to be in a good mood. I supposed that was enough for now. Lorraine was no doubt excited over all the new experiments she had in mind concerning our newfound furry friend.

My familiar, on the other hand, wasn’t too keen.

“Spare me...” he seemed to be saying. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do much about Lorraine’s tendencies to engage in mad science, having endured the exact same processes and experiments in the past. All I could do was tell my familiar to bear with it. The Puchi Suri responded with a marked sense of apprehension and fear.

◆◇◆◇◆

A new day dawned upon Maalt. The sun, slowly rising above the clouds, flooded the streets of Maalt, or what I could see of it from my window. In the sun’s rays, previously purple clouds turned red, and with that, a new day began.

It was a sight I saw on a regular basis. Not exactly a rare sight, but one I had to wake up for in life. Sleep wasn’t so much something I needed now that I was a Thrall. This seemed to be a fact that held true ever since I became one. I caught some shut-eye every now and then, but it was no longer necessary for my body to function.

This was terribly boring. All I could do to pass the time was look outside the window, or light a lamp and read a book. This allowed me to operate around the clock while I was fulfilling a request, though an adventurer that didn’t require rest would surely come across as suspicious to others. Adventuring wasn’t exactly a job where one finished all of one’s tasks immediately; no matter how seasoned the adventurer, a lack of rest could lead to serious complications. As such, I had no choice but to rest.

.

Thanks to my newfound nocturnal tendencies, however, I had become more of a scholar than before, and it had gone this way for the past month or so. My knowledge was nothing compared to Lorraine’s, though all I had to do to get answers was ask. A convenient benefit, if nothing else.

The Puchi Suri I brought back with me from the orphanage required a fair amount of sleep on the other hand. He was currently snoozing on his back, sprawled out on the desk I was reading at.

I found myself somewhat resentful of my familiar. Here I was, its tragic master, fighting an ailing battle with solitude in the middle of the night, while the mouse was sleeping soundly.

Does a familiar not share all of my traits?

I assumed it to be as such, but reality was quite different.

What a carefree mouse...

Then, I felt the slightest bit of thought from my familiar, as well as some basal emotions I could understand. I suppose being asleep didn’t completely sever our connection. Testing and proper experiments would most likely reveal more details, but I supposed the specifics could be left to Lorraine. After all, she would engage in such experiments unprompted.

I felt a little guilty for leaving everything to Lorraine, but I had my Existential Evolution to worry about, so that was that. As things were, however, I found myself with an excessive amount of free time. One would possibly even call me a bit of a freeloader.

I would do well to set such thoughts aside. Outside, the citizens of Maalt stirred, some already leaving their homes. It was during these idle thoughts that a strange scent wafted past my nose.

Where was it from? Outside? Impossible. I made sure all the

Then...

My sense of curiosity piqued by this strange scent, I walked toward the source of the smell, which was apparently the kitchen of the abode.

For now, I decided to leave my familiar where it was, for if it should wake, its keen sense of smell would tell me what the scent was immediately.

I was greeted by a strange sight upon arriving in the kitchen. “I would almost... Think. That it would snow... Today,” I said,

amused at the sight.

“Don’t be silly, Rentt. Even I can cook if I put my mind to it.”

That answer came from none other than Lorraine, who had decided to take a turn at cooking breakfast for one reason or other. Numerous magical and alchemical magic tools were present in the kitchen, and Lorraine manipulated each one with a trained hand.

Normally, Lorraine would be sound asleep at this hour, but as she said, it wasn’t strange that she was reasonably capable at cooking. I could take credit for that, of course, being the individual who taught her how to cook in the first place.

Lorraine, for her part, would cook from time to time should she feel like it. If I had to guess, today was one of those times.

“Is there... Any. For me?”

While I could survive off nothing but blood, I did enjoy a good meal every now and then.

“Yes, yes.” Lorraine’s response was reassuring. “I am working on it, Rentt, as you can see. Sit down, it will be done soon.”

Nodding, I turned and headed for the dining table.

◆◇◆◇◆

“Well, then. Eat up,” Lorraine said, gesturing to the dishes laid out on the table.

Black bread and milk, along with some steamed dishes... A classic Maalt breakfast.

Lorraine was probably steaming these very dishes when I walked in on her in the kitchen a few moments ago.

It was a simple steamed stew of the Orc flesh I had preserved some time back, along with some legumes and root vegetables. The rich aroma of stock permeated through the ingredients—quite a most mouth-watering dish.

Being a Thrall, my stomach didn’t bloat or hunger very much at all, but I still had a sense of taste. My memories of food and their taste were vague during my brief tenure as a Ghoul, becoming much sharper upon my evolution. I could now enjoy and taste all manners of food, much like I did in life.

If I had to pinpoint one change, it would be my newfound appreciation of blood. I found the taste of blood unbelievably enjoyable, though it wasn’t exactly something I would bring up at the dining table.

Clasping my hands together before Lorraine’s hand-prepared breakfast, I closed my eyes briefly, uttering a prayer before picking up my set of utensils. Needless to say, I hardly believed in the existence of gods of any kind, merely doing so out of habit.

“An Undead praying to the gods before a meal? A most jarring and strange sight, Rentt.”

situation.

While each major religion had its own separate views on the Undead, they were mostly viewed unfavorably, as enemies of the gods, traitors of the heavens, or far worse. In any case, I could always be sure of the fact that most of these religions viewed the Undead as a crime against the creations of God.

“...What do you propose... I do. Walk into a church... And offer up a prayer there?”

“Ho, would that not be blasphemy? Or perhaps you could even call it a change of heart... To think that an Undead would consider offering a prayer to God...”

As expected of Lorraine, she had somehow managed to give serious consideration to what was clearly silly banter. I hadn’t really thought about defying the gods in the first place, nor had I thought much of the gods at all. To call it a change of heart would be inaccurate, but I did wonder what would happen if I entered a holy place of sorts.

Come to think of it, that orphanage was run by the Church of the Eastern Sky, and if I had asked, I would have been granted access to their local altar or place of worship. A missed opportunity—most unfortunate.

However, given that I was so close to a holy place and felt nothing amiss... Maybe there really was nothing to worry about, then.

With that said, there was something strange about the food today. If I had to put it into words...it was, for some reason, most delicious.

I didn’t mean to say Lorraine had somehow miraculously improved her cooking skills. Instead, it simply tasted...better. In fact, it tasted better than everything else Lorraine had ever prepared for me.

For a while I sat, an expression of amazement on my face. Lorraine, noticing this, beamed widely, a satisfied expression coloring her

features.

“Oh, so you have noticed. It is good, is it not, Rentt?” Lorraine asked.

“What... Did you put. Into this?”

“It is quite simple, really. I mixed in a single drop of blood for your sake at the very last step of my preparations. While I would not exactly call it a spice, I thought it would be more suited to your palate. Am I wrong?”

I did appreciate Lorraine’s efforts in preparing food that was to my taste, but I couldn’t help but wonder...

“...But then, Lorraine. That would mean... There is blood. In your breakfast... Too.”

Was our breakfast really stew with a drop of blood? And Lorraine would be fine with it?

“Well... Even if it is my own blood, I am not in the habit of having bloody stew for breakfast. Rest assured, Rentt, I simply removed a portion for you and left a droplet in that. Did you think I would simply give my finger a good nick and submerge it into the stew pot? That would really be a witch-like thing to do, no?”

I was relieved Lorraine had not ruined an entire pot’s worth of breakfast for my sake. If I thought about it, I suppose mixing blood into food was somewhat witch-like, if the fairy tales were to be believed.

“I do not engage in such practices, mind you,” Lorraine continued. “In older days, however...fortune-telling witches would often advise young girls to do strange things. I do pity the men, really.”

A terrifying prospect. Thinking it just had to be a joke, I asked for more information, only to instantly regret it as I looked up and met

Lorraine’s focused eyes. She was apparently serious. “When did they... Engage. In such a... Practice?”

“During that one festival... What did they call it again? That one where it was socially acceptable for women to propose to men... It was on some saint’s birthday or the like. You remember the feasts, dances, and whatnot that went on during that time, yes? The deed was done then.”

I recalled such an event. While I never attended it myself, nor had anyone propose to me, I often heard about it from friends and acquaintances—namely, former adventurers who had gotten married.

Lorraine continued once more. “I suppose you could say it was a folk curse of sorts that worked much like how Vampires create Thralls to be their obedient slaves. In this case, however, the women have bound men to their will. Almost parallel examples, if you would.”

Lorraine, apparently satisfied at giving me a historically accurate explanation of the custom, sat down and continued eating her breakfast without another word.

◆◇◆◇◆

“Do be careful on your journey, yes?” Lorraine said as I made to leave the abode.

Come to think of it, there was meaning in having this specific type of stew for breakfast. According to local customs, it was something akin to a blessing or prayer for a peaceful journey ahead. This was why Lorraine had woken up early to prepare it. The Swamp of Tarasque was a dangerous place, after all.

“...Don’t worry about... Me. Lorraine. If it ever gets... Too dangerous. I would escape... Without hesitation.”

“And you expect me to believe the words of one who was eaten

whole by a Dragon in his previous life? Well... I suppose that was a stroke of bad luck, more than anything... Ah, yes. One more thing... This mouse over here. Will you not be giving him a name?” Lorraine asked, pointing at the familiar-mouse on my shoulder.

While I was surprised at myself for not having thought about it until now, I did agree with Lorraine: a name was needed for my familiar. I hadn’t thought it necessary due to my simply treating it as a pet monster of sorts, and didn’t expect much from it. I couldn’t imagine calling him a Puchi Suri forever, as that was a most inconvenient thing. Now would be a good time to fix that problem.

“Well... He is. Black in color. We could call him... Black.” Lorraine’s brow furrowed at my terrible naming sense.

“A little more effort would not hurt, Rentt. ‘Black’? Really?” “Even if you... Say that...”

I’ve been pursuing my goal of becoming a Mithril-class adventurer all my life. Therefore, I had no children, and naturally didn’t have much of an opportunity to give names to anything. Come to think of it, I didn’t raise any pets when I was younger, either.

“You are hopeless, Rentt. I will give him a name, then. Hmm... Aha.

How about Edel?”

Edel...

I didn’t have strong feelings for the name, nor anything against it.

But I was certainly curious about the origins of such a word. “Where did... Such a name. Come from?”

“Well, from what you told me, that mouse of yours lords over smaller Puchi Suri, yes? Much like a king of sorts... Hence, ‘Edel.’ It means ‘noble one’ in an older, lost tongue.”

“Noble... One.”

Personally, I felt my familiar was more of a mob boss than a noble; an intimidating dictator than a pious king. Catching wind of my thoughts, my familiar gave my shoulder a thump with his foot, as if disagreeing with my analysis of his character.

Was I wrong?

I wasn’t, but that was an argument best left for another time.

Lorraine continued: “I do have other suggestions, considering how large he is. The fat and rotund Moppel, or the gluttonous Fressa...and other ancient terms. What do you think?”

I stood, thinking about Lorraine’s suggestion for a few moments. My familiar was quite the glutton, having finished the small portion of Lorraine’s blood-stew I had offered him in mere moments. So fast was the mouse that we could hardly keep up with his actions, and I suppose that left quite an impression on Lorraine. I didn’t think fondly of either of those names, and my familiar seemed to prefer Lorraine’s first suggestion, strongly projecting that thought to me in response.

Perhaps it was a quirk of this particular familiar, but I felt the mouse on my shoulder had too much a will of his own.

Maybe I should just call him Moppel and be done with it. That, however, would be the gesture of a petty man. Though, I was no longer a man at this point; at least, not a living one.

“Let us go with... Edel. The others... He does not seem. Fond of.” “Is that so?” Lorraine seemed a little disappointed at my words.

“Both Moppel and Fressa are great names, are they not? Yes?”

It would seem like Lorraine had taken quite the liking to Moppel and Fressa. In any case...

“The man... Well. The mouse. Himself. Says that Edel... Is good. We

.

should respect... His wishes.”

“Ah, yes. That mental link between you and the mouse. You mentioned that earlier... Well, if he prefers it, then Edel it is. It is a pity, but I will not insist. From this day on you are Edel, and I am the person who named you. Don’t you forget!” Lorraine exclaimed, patting Edel on the head.

With that, we said our goodbyes to Lorraine, turning and finally walking out of her home.

◆◇◆◇◆

“Hey... We’re here,” the coachman said, before stopping the carriage and horses and allowing me to disembark. Edel, for his part, was calmly perched on my shoulder.

Alighting, I looked out into the distance, near the vicinity of the swamp in question.

“From here on out ’n’ down that path s’the Swamp of Tarasque... You’ll be all right? S’not a place for solo ’venturers!” the coachman warned, worry apparent in his voice.

He was right, of course. This wasn’t a place I would’ve thought of wandering around in while I still lived. Even if I was forced to enter such a dangerous area, I would simply enlist the help of others and form a last-minute party of sorts, forgoing my solo philosophy in the name of safety.

This time, though, I had no such options. There were several reasons for this, but now was not the time to be reminiscing.

“I have... No intentions. Of fighting the Tarasque. Just a little in and... Out. Trip. So do not... Worry. About me.”

The coachman didn’t seem convinced. If anything, he seemed even more concerned.

.

With a shrug and an exasperated sigh, the man continued. “You ’venturers’re all like that. Well... You’re ’sponsible for your own life, but don’t do anythin’ reckless, y’hear? If the situation turns sour...y’should run back here immediately.”

Kind words, but rare ones as well. Individuals like him weren’t usually so overly concerned about their passengers.

Curious, I asked after the man.

“Y’know of recent goin’s on, yeah? What with new ’venturers goin’ missin’ in the labyrinths ’n’ all that. S’a lonely thing, y’know, the folks y’met yesterday, suddenly gone. So... Maybe I’m gettin’ a little emotional. Anyway... Do your best. I’ll return in the evenin’. I pray you’re here then since I can’t approach the swamp any closer’n I already have. Well’en... I’ll be goin’ now.”

The coachman raised his whip, spurring his horses forward. Soon, he was just a speck in the distance.

Adventurers that challenged the Swamp of Tarasque were few and far between. Horse carriages stopped at this pick-up point twice a day: once in the day and once in the evening. Should an adventurer miss the carriage, he or she would have to spend the night in the wilderness. I made a mental note to be aware of the time lest the same happened to me.

With that, I headed down the path, following the advice of the kind coachman.

The Swamp of Tarasque—

◆◇◆◇◆

Northwest of Maalt, it took a few hours to reach by horse carriage.

As its name suggested, it was a swampy, dreary area. To be precise, the swamp had some other official name assigned to it by geographers a long time ago. That name, however, had been forgotten, with society at

.

large referring to it as the Swamp of Tarasque instead. This was presumably done in honor of the strong monsters that lived there.

Tarasques were a subspecies of Dragon, or a distant relative. Armed with a turtle-like shell and three pairs of legs, it also sported a potent poison, making it a truly fearsome beast. While its armored shell, scales, and poison veins served as incredibly useful materials for weapons and armor, one had to be a Silver-class adventurer or above to even stand a chance against it. However, even an adventurer of such a rank would find themselves hard-pressed to hunt when surrounded by a few of the beasts.

In other words, it would be unwise for a Bronze-class adventurer such as myself to fight with, or even cross a Tarasque’s path.

Of course, merely running into one wouldn’t kill me. Though, it would still put me in quite a pickle. This was why I had a principle of exploring carefully: instead of desperately fending off a Tarasque, it would be best not to encounter one at all. To make things worse, a wide variety of monsters called the swamp their home as well, so it would be foolish to not take precautions against them, too. This, along with a few other unpleasant factors, made swamp exploration a most taxing affair.

To think I’m doing all this for just one bronze coin!

Even so, it was only right for an adventurer to be charitable from time to time. If I went about my hunt in a prudent manner, I might even be able to gather some rare materials from the monsters here, or at least some medicinal plants that could fetch a fair sum of coin.

It was obvious to see this wasn’t a place an adventurer would willingly visit. This meant there was always a demand for rare materials that could only be found here. Even if I really did end up in a bad spot, all I had to do was escape—not necessarily a skill I could brag about, but escaping was a more attractive prospect than dying a second time.

.

In fact, I was now able to employ a mobile distraction. Edel bristled at the thought. My familiar apparently wasn’t too keen on the dangerous jobs I had in mind for him.

Are you not my familiar, Edel? Should you not be risking your life for your master? Or so I thought would be the case, but Edel didn’t seem very loyal to me.

I suppose that’s just the way it is.

I set foot into the Swamp of Tarasque, hoping not to cross paths with one of the menacing creatures in my travels.

◆◇◆◇◆

If I had to describe the various dangers that filled the Swamp of Tarasque, I would definitely have to talk about the Tarasques themselves. Not to say there weren’t a multitude of other dangers, though.

There were many lakes and ponds in the swamp that were extremely poisonous—as were the jets of air that occasionally erupted from them. Even walking around in the swamp in and of itself was a dangerous thing. To adequately conquer the swamp, one would first require a means of breathing in such a hostile environment, in addition to neutralizing the poison in the air. A poison-resistant magical tool would fulfill this purpose, as would the continued usage of divinity to purify the air around the adventurer. One would also need protective gear and attire to safely traverse the poisonous terrain.

To make things worse, such an intensely poisonous environment had profound impacts on its inhabitants, most notably the monsters that lived in the swamps. There, Slimes had evolved into Poison Slimes, Goblins held poison-coated weapons, and the Sea Snakes swimming in these murky waters were armed with deadly poisons in their bodies.

Taking all those factors into account, one realizes the treachery of

the swamp: one does not simply walk into the Swamp of Tarasque.

And as I said, there was the issue of the Tarasques themselves. The swamp was a place that people avoided at all costs.

While there was a high demand for ingredients from the place, most adventurers held their life in higher regard than a pile of gold coins.

Even I wouldn’t have come here if I had a choice in life. It was the common perspective that most adventurers held.

But in my current state, the Swamp of Tarasque didn’t pose very much of a threat to me at all. I would’ve avoided the place upon the pain of death while I still drew breath, but as an Undead, I cared little about the poisonous terrain, air, or gas that permeated the swamp.

Due to my newfound poison-resistant nature, as verified by Lorraine’s experiments, I could safely disregard 80% of the swamp’s dangers.

Even poisons from monsters had no effect on me; to me, the inhabitants of the swamp were quite unchanged from their normal brethren.

Hypothetically, should a dangerous poison affect me, I would be able to easily cleanse it with my divinity. As such, I could safely write off poison from the list of environmental threats I had to deal with.

Even Edel, who was still resting upon my shoulder, had some degree of resistance to poison. While we didn’t have much of a chance to experiment and verify this, I suppose it would only be natural that my familiar inherited some of my traits.

Since Edel lived in a basement to begin with, he should be used to dirty air to some degree. I did purify him with divinity before bringing him back to Lorraine’s, however.

Even if I did fall into a pool of poison, my divine aura would cleanse us both, allowing us to board the carriage in a relatively clean state.

I put another foot forward, venturing deeper into the swamp.

◆◇◆◇◆

The terrain of the Swamp of Tarasque was most unfavorable. More than half of the ground was soft and unstable; not exactly the best conditions for combat. There were also the issues of sinkholes and pitfall traps in which one would need to be relatively agile to escape such deathly maws.

In addition— “Huh...?!”

I drew my blade swiftly, jumping backward and slicing an incoming arrow in half.

Am I flanked?

“Squeak!” Edel quickly informed me of the position the arrow came from via our mental link.

Turning quickly, I spotted a bow-wielding Goblin staring in our general direction. The Goblin seemed to show no interest in approaching us. Instead, another arrow flew at us from a different direction. Slicing the arrow in two once more, I turned and, as expected, found another Goblin.

A quick scan of the surroundings confirmed my fears: we were surrounded by Goblins.

There were about ten of them in all. I couldn’t help but wonder where they had appeared from. With my sword drawn, I did yet another quick visual sweep of the area. A distinct scraping sound filled the air—sounds from beneath my feet. Burrows, perhaps, or a series of warrens and caves present in the area.

I wondered how these Goblins could breathe in the swamp muck. My question was answered with a more detailed glance at the bow-

straw of some sort for breathing as they swam in the swamp?

The swampy terrain also worked in the Goblins’ favor; even if I was alert, it was impossible to immediately notice something hidden in the surrounding bushes.

Cursing at myself for being distracted as I trekked through the swamp, I began formulating a battle plan—I could not be defeated here.

Their long-range attacks were annoying, and the Goblins still showed no signs or intents of approaching me. A strategically sound choice, given the fact that they were faced with one such as myself. I suppose the Goblins felt some degree of caution was necessary. If they carelessly approached me, I would swat them aside with ease.

I infused my legs with spirit, allowing myself to step on the swampy ground without sinking. In a motion that was all but too familiar, I readied my blade, rushing toward the Goblin Archers.

While I was moving at a pace that was significantly slower than what I was capable of on solid ground, I was still several times more agile than these muck-dwelling Goblins.

Panicking at my rapid advance, the Goblins lowered their weapons, turning and attempting to escape. Goblins were known for their cowardly nature, though I wasn’t too different a short while ago.

A rapid escape was a sound choice if one couldn’t win—this much was never in doubt.

Death was the great equalizer, the proverbial end for both humans and monsters. I suppose I was an exception...

In any case, I had no intention of letting the Goblins escape. Not all Goblins were necessarily evil or malicious. Some Goblins were known for being peaceful and cooperative, while in other parts of these lands, such Goblins were seen as a sort of beastmen, and were able to live

.

without fear of persecution.

The Goblins here, however, sought to prey on adventurers exploring the swamp. I didn’t feel like they were benevolent Goblins in any shape or form.

Of course, they did live in this swamp, and probably had varying views on humans in general. Even so, dying wasn’t exactly in my interests, and should I let them go, they would definitely attack other adventurers.

Given that they had chosen to interact with humans in a hostile way, mutual bloodshed was unavoidable. This was why I brought my blade down upon them without hesitation as soon as I caught up with one of them.

They seemed notably stronger than the Goblins in the Labyrinth of the Moon’s Reflection. I suppose this was a given due to their ability to live in these poisonous environs, and their ability to hide in the swamp’s waters.

But that was really all there was to it.

While the Goblins were intelligent enough to use the terrain to their advantage and shoot arrows at unsuspecting adventurers, they didn’t seem to have many close-combat capabilities.

With a single swing, a Goblin fell face down in the muck. The next soon followed, and the one after it. Before long, all ten Goblins were dead, sprawled out on the mud.

Confirming there were no more immediate threats in the vicinity, I made my rounds, collecting magic crystals from the Goblin’s corpses. The crystals were mediocre in quality at best, but at the very least, would be worth some amount of coin. Since there were no known uses for a Goblin’s skin, I simply made a large incision with my dissection knife, prying out the magic crystals from next to the creatures’ hearts. I would leave their corpses here as fertilizer for the swamp’s flora.

.

Then...it occurred to me that Edel did little to no work at all in this encounter, other than telling me where the first arrow had been shot from.

Does this mouse even think of itself as my familiar?

I instructed Edel to earn his keep in our next battle. Edel just told me that he would work should there be a need to.

Does this mouse even think of me as its master...? I couldn’t help but wonder...

◆◇◆◇◆

While the swamp wasn’t a place most people would voluntarily enter, one couldn’t deny there was a wide variety of flora and fauna there, all of which could be harvested and utilized as ingredients or materials. For this reason, certain elements of infrastructure to facilitate this process were in place.

For example, bridges and the like were often found over large bodies of water. This much was necessary for a normal human being to explore the swamp, since no human with my degree of poison resistance existed in these lands. And given that no sane person would try swimming across a large body of poisonous swamp-water, bridges were a necessity in these parts.

Even though I was immune to the poison’s effects, I wasn’t exactly interested in taking a dip if I had the choice. Basically, I would gladly cross a bridge should I come across one.

And yet, there was still one problem—

Creeeak... Creeeak...

A sound I did not wish to hear; not here, of all places.

The materhialtotfpa bsri:d/g/emdiffpere4d ddeiprenedcingtson.wchoeremit was built,

and this specific bridge was made of wood. Ease of construction was the main factor when choosing materials for a bridge. However, one would be hard-pressed to find enough materials to build a metal bridge in a swamp. In fact, such a feat would only be possible if multiple adventurers were hired. These adventurers would also have to work on the project for a long period of time.

This was why a wooden bridge hung here instead.

Naturally, the wood used for this bridge came from a type of poison- tolerant tree that grew in the vicinity. Due to its properties, it was a lot hardier than normal wood.

Even so, a wooden bridge was a wooden bridge. For all intents and purposes, this bridge was a simple affair, and its simple construction led to it decaying at an accelerated pace. One day it would fall into and be devoured by the swamp once more.

—And today was the day this bridge decided to fall, with me on it.

Snap!!!

I had no choice but to steel myself; even so, I wasn’t quite steeled enough, so I attempted to run off the bridge, putting considerable weight in my steps. If I had calmly thought about the situation at hand, I surely would have chosen a different course of action.

Unable to withstand my weight, a rotting plank gave way.

Now, Thralls had significantly more physical strength than the average human. Thus, my careless stomping had brought about an all too predictable outcome.

My foot, now firmly driven through the plank, caused the already weak bridge to deform, with me dropping dangerously close to the surface of the swamp. Edel, for his part, had already jumped off my shoulder, clambering up the strained bridge and onto the safety of the opposite shore.

.

You traitorous mouse, you!

Edel’s actions had merit, for I didn’t know exactly how resistant to poison he was. The possibility that such a fall would be fatal for Edel couldn’t be discounted, so I forgave my familiar for now.

The bridge, finally giving way, plunged into the depths of the swamp, taking me with it. I didn’t feel any pain or shortness of breath; I suppose the Undead did not need to breathe very much, if at all. This was news to me, if only because I had water-stepping boots during my excursion to Todds Village.

If I could swim in the first place, I probably didn’t need such an expensive magical tool. But I guess I would’ve appeared suspicious to Ryuntus and Amiris.

That was all in the past, however.

That said, I did breathe when on land—I would’ve appeared strange if I didn’t. Humans did this unconsciously, though in comparison, my ability to not breathe while submerged in a poisonous swamp was indeed convenient. Although I looked unsavory and strange, I probably wouldn’t mind having such a body for the rest of my life.

Needless to say, I would be single for my entire life, but I would still have my dream of becoming a Mithril-class adventurer to keep me company.

Well, I hadn’t intended to get married to begin with, so that was neither here nor there. The fact that I occasionally had such thoughts, however, probably meant that I hadn’t given up on the notion of doing so.

Bringing my mind back to the current situation, I realized that the poisonous waters of the swamp seemed impossible for most living things to live in. This was because most living things would instantly turn purple if submerged in the swamp, then die in the next five minutes or so.

.

But the sight that greeted me as I sank into the swamp’s waters was quite different. I couldn’t call it a beautiful or scenic sight, but there were living things in the depths. Fish-like monsters, each about the size of a man, headed toward me with their jaws wide open. There were more than just a few of these fish, as I could count about ten in my immediate vicinity.

I probably wouldn’t die if nibbled on by these monsters, and I even wondered if I was edible to begin with. As long as I endured it, these monsters would probably leave me alone after some time. What little parts of me that did remain human, however, seemed revolted at the prospect of being eaten by these monsters.

Drawing my sword from its sheath, I readied myself in a combative stance as I faced the approaching fish abominations. Fortunately, my feet were now on solid ground, and I was able to fight.

The plank that I had unfortunately stepped through was still stuck to one of my feet, but I planted it firmly upon the ground in response. I could swim freely if I simply cut the plank free, but I instead decided to remain in place, striking out at the attacking fish.

Immediately, a large fish rushed toward me, its jaws wide open. Holding my ground, I brought my blade down on its head, neatly severing it from its body. My sword was still sharp enough for my purposes, despite being significantly heavier under water than on land. While its current performance couldn’t compare to what it was capable of on dry ground, the infusion of some spirit into the blade was more than enough to behead a giant fish.

Even so, I found it somewhat difficult to defend against four or five of the beasts at once. It was difficult for me to be aware of all directions if only because I remained standing in place. My movements in the water were also considerably sluggish.

The fish, on the other hand, had evolved to move through water quickly. I should have thought more about the predicament at hand.

The fish didn’t care about my regrets or bad decisions. Approaching me from all angles, they instead clamped their jaws down onto my body. Swinging my sword in a broad horizontal arc, I managed to dispose of three of them approaching me from the front, only for two others to attack me from behind, sinking their teeth into my skin. In response, I thrashed about, swinging my sword wildly. My actions, however, had little effect.

I felt a renewed sense of peril; if I didn’t act quickly, I would be in danger of losing my foot. I was in a situation where my life was in jeopardy, so I should feel threatened. It wasn’t my skills that lulled me into a false sense of security, but this ridiculously sturdy undead body of mine. I probably wouldn’t die even if my head was removed from my body, and as a result, I no longer had an accurate or reasonable sense of danger, unlike what I had in life.

This was most unbecoming. I had to do something about it; well, after I got myself out of this mess. So, I resolved to put up a real fight.

No longer maintaining my spirit aura, I instead infused my body with divinity. Divinity went a longer way to strengthening my body; although a mana-spirit Fusion Art would have been stronger in this situation, I didn’t dare use it while under such strain. If I really had to use it, it would be when my life was truly in danger, as opposed to me facing the loss of a foot.

As the divine aura coursed through my body, I felt my movements quicken. As expected, it was now easier for me to move through the water.

With renewed strength, I pulled one of my feet away from the offending fish. The other fish still remained resolutely attached, refusing to let go.

Was this undead, bony flesh of mine really that delicious? I suppose food was in short supply in the swamp, and it was part of the fish’s instincts to not let go once it caught its prey.

That was horribly unacceptable to me. I had greater plans in life than rotting away at the bottom of this swamp.

With one of my feet now free, I was able to change my orientation. Twisting my torso, I raised my sword high, intending to end this fishy menace once and for all.

The trajectory was clear: I would now slay this foot-chomping fish.

Just as that thought crossed my mind, however, understanding seemed to dawn upon the fish. Rapidly swimming upward, the fish dragged me along with it, before finally leaping out of the water’s surface and hurling me onto dry land.

“Guh...!!!”

And with that, my crossing of the swamp was complete, albeit ending with me slamming onto the ground with a pathetic sound.

I was completely soaked, poisonous water dripping onto the ground.

Surprisingly, my robe remained impossibly dry. A testament to its quality, I suppose. Maybe it was never wet to begin with... This robe was as mysterious as the woman who gave it to me.

Turning around this way and that, my eyes came upon a familiar sight: Edel, the very same familiar who abandoned me to my watery grave.

“...You. What... Are you doing?”

Edel’s face...snout, more likely, seemed oddly puffed out. Grabbing him roughly, I opened his mouth with my gloved hands, only to find an assortment of nuts stashed in his cheeks.

My familiar left me, its master, to die, deciding instead to gather food from the surroundings.

It would seem like Edel had less of a reliance on blood for

But there was also something else that disturbed me—namely, Edel’s lack of faith...and loyalty.

Are the familiars of Vampires all this way?

But of course, no one could answer my question. Who would I even ask...?

◆◇◆◇◆

Perhaps expectations existed to be betrayed. A sudden and blunt observation, and maybe even a tad fatalistic; quite sad, really. But I wasn’t in a situation where I could just lie on the ground and ponder philosophy. Not to say I didn’t still feel an overwhelming sense of despair, however, probably because that despair was now standing a short distance away, staring at my drenched figure.

With a turtle-like armored shell and six powerful legs, it was covered in tough scales, sporting a relatively plain, but still impressive Dragon-like body. Its eyes indicated a creature that was more savage than intelligent—the eyes of a beast. Reflected in those eyes was my own image, a weaker organism that would be hunted and consumed.

—A Tarasque. The very creature from which this swamp’s name was derived from.

While I preferred not to have encountered one on my journey, I wasn’t surprised that I ended up crossing one’s path. Simply put, the Dragon Blood Blossoms that I was looking for only bloomed around trails and areas favored by Tarasques. Completing my task without ever bumping into one would be difficult, if not impossible. If one had a keen eye for such matters, however, one could identify Tarasque tracks, as well as the territorial markings they left to warn other monsters of their presence. I tried to do the same—and then spectacularly failed at my task.

What a predicament...

Looking at the situation at hand, I had little choice but to fight.

If there was any silver lining to this situation, it would be that I was immune to Tarasque poison. So all I had to do was fight it like a normal monster, presumably leading me to victory.

While I wondered if I possessed the necessary skills, the Tarasque didn’t seem keen on my ponderous thoughts.

“GRUAAAAH...!!!”

An ear-splitting, thunderous cry that was no doubt a declaration of hostility. This wasn’t what I had planned for at all, but I had no choice but to fight.

Drawing my blade, I stood still, facing the Tarasque. As soon as I braced myself, the beast charged, hurtling toward me at full speed.

Given the Tarasque’s size, any normal human hit by such an attack would surely be sent flying, or be trampled and crushed underfoot.

Needless to say, both these options didn’t particularly appeal to me.

I held my ground, waiting for an opportunity.

Since a Tarasque was encased in a hard shell and had a long, flexible neck, my strategies were limited. I really only had two options open to me: I could either break through its shell with an attack, or send its relatively softer neck flying.

To even think of breaking a Tarasque’s shell, however, one would have to possess enough strength and skill, as well as a well-forged weapon. Its shell was commonly used as an armor material favored by Silver- or Gold-class adventurers, after all.

A Tarasque’s shell could be turned into quite a respectable material, provided one found an equally respectable blacksmith. Tools and armor produced of this material had immense defensive capabilities.

such a shell. There was the option of fusing mana, spirit, and divinity into my blade all at once, though... While that could possibly breach the beast’s shell, the consequences of the move backfiring caused me to indefinitely shelve the thought. If I were to carelessly lose my weapon in such a fashion, I would surely lose my life. It would be a last resort, and hopefully one that I didn’t have to employ.

I decided to go after the beast’s neck instead.

Jumping up and toward the charging Tarasque, I landed on its shell, steadying myself and swinging my weapon down upon its neck—that was my intent, anyway.

Clang!

With a sound similar to that of clashing steel, my blade bounced off the Tarasque’s skin harmlessly. The beast, now alerted to my presence on its back, quickly threw itself upon the ground, rolling its large body over in an attempt to dislodge me.

Ka-thung!

With a low, rumbling sound, the Tarasque continued rolling, sweeping up the swamp around it as it went. Kicking up a cloud of poisonous gases and flying mud, the Tarasque retreated behind this smokescreen, as if to obscure my vision. An intimidating attack, one that would fell a normal person. Unfortunately for the beast, I cared little about poisons.

It was an attack that was both defensive and offensive at the same time; quite the treacherous beast. Poisonous mud was nothing more than mud to me, however. In addition, I possessed eyesight superior to that of a normal human’s. While the beast’s efforts did impede my vision slightly, I could still make out its shape beyond the settling mud and gas.

A curious and convenient ability, and one that I hadn’t used so

Deciding that I could trust my enhanced senses of perception, I leapt through the rain of mud and swamp water, making a beeline for the Tarasque. The beast, on the other hand, still maintained a low profile, having slammed its shell into the soft, swampy ground to deter my advance. While the tremors were impressive, the Tarasque was now in a disadvantageous position, as its neck was now much closer to the ground. That was an opportunity I would greatly exploit. As long as I struck at the right moment, I would surely be able to behead this beast.

I suppose this would be as good a time as any other to enhance the sharpness of my sword. And I had just the technique in mind for this very purpose.

I began infusing two auras into my blade, the auras of mana and spirit. It was time to put my technique to the test: a mana-spirit Fusion Art.

If I couldn’t cut through its shell, all I had to do was crush its organs from the inside, and that would be it.

Of course, true practitioners of the Fusion Arts would be able to focus both these auras into the edge of their weapon, increasing its sharpness by an almost astronomical degree. I, on the other hand, was currently incapable of such a feat. I would instead rely on my brute strength, and blow through the beast.

I steeled myself, expanding my spirit aura from my blade to my entire body. Propelled by an intense concentration of spirit, I found myself beside the Tarasque’s neck before I knew it.

The beast continued to struggle, and I had no intention of waiting for it to right itself. With a swift motion, I swung my sword down on its neck.

A thunderous crack filled the air as steel met scale.

accompanied by a small shower of broken scales, apparently having been freed by my blow.

Did I slay it, I thought, momentarily stopping. Unfortunately, a Tarasque wasn’t a weak monster by any means—

Before I could react, a series of sharp claws flew toward me, intending to crush me right on the spot, robes and all.

Dodging the blow with a panicked step, I reoriented myself, intending to strike at its wound once more. Instead, I discovered that the Tarasque had raised its neck up high.

Looks like the beast has finally righted itself...

All that trashing and rolling couldn’t have been good for me had I still remained a human, but the beast’s currently raised neck wasn’t good news either. A human wouldn’t be able to fight a Tarasque to begin with—but now wasn’t the time for idle thought.

With its six legs, the beast bore down upon me once more, albeit at a slower speed than before. Already, the Tarasque was wary of being mounted by me again—truly a fearsome monster.

To think that it could learn and adapt in such a short time... It was a savage beast that largely lived and died by its instincts and senses, but one would almost think it was in possession of a somewhat logical mind. Personally speaking, I would much rather prefer a stupid, brutish Tarasque.

I supposed nothing could be done about the intelligence of my foe. I had to think of a new strategy.

While climbing onto its back and striking at its wounded neck was the best way to end this fight, my opponent seemed aware of this fact, and it was now visibly more cautious.

What should I...?

.

Edel—

Edel, the familiar-mouse on my shoulder, was missing.

Where did he go?

Looking around, it didn’t take me long to spot Edel’s silhouette, running at breakneck speed in the midst of the Tarasque’s feet.

It was a dangerous approach—one wrong step, and my familiar would be crushed! But Edel weaved and danced through the monster’s legs, avoiding its frenzied stomps and neatly landing on its back.

You’re pretty good, little mouse.

For the first time since I had set foot in the swamp, I felt grateful for Edel’s existence.

And yet, Edel was still nothing more than a Puchi Suri, a small, mouse-like monster, compared to the large and ferocious Tarasque.

Just as this thought entered my mind... “...What?!”

Almost falling over, I caught myself; it was like all the strength in my body just left it all at once. Then, Edel’s body started glowing.

What is happening...?

I could sense Edel’s intents. He had a plan, and all I could do now was watch.

I stared at the scene unfolding before me, of Edel and the Tarasque. Now shrouded in what appeared to be a veil of light, Edel ran up the

Tarasque’s neck, propelling and slamming his body into the exposed

wound left by my previous swing.

.

Edel was large for his kind, but he was still a Puchi Suri. His valiant attack couldn’t possibly leave much of a mark on the Tarasque.

Contrary to my expectations, however, the beast began trashing, evidently in great pain.

“Gruuuaaaaaarrrggg...!”

It was a howl of fury—fury at having been injured in the same place twice, and possibly the indignation of having been dealt a blow by something so much smaller than itself. While only the Tarasque would know which of these was more frustrating, the force and resultant impact of Edel’s attack couldn’t be denied.

Twitching and struggling, the Tarasque suddenly rippled its neck like a scaled whip. It swept across its back in a wide horizontal arc, at a speed I didn’t think possible for an injured monster. It would seem like Edel shared my thoughts as the sheer speed of the blow caught him unawares. My familiar was soon sent flying, the victim of a suitably violent impact.

Running in the trajectory of his flight, I leapt, catching him before he hit the ground.

“...Are you. All right?”

Edel, however, insisted he was fine, and I should do more than just running around catching flying mice.

You terribly cheeky thing... I suppose I should appreciate his vigor.

I began healing his wounds with divinity, but he didn’t seem to have any injuries. Come to think of it, I was drained of a significant amount of power just now—not mana or spirit, but divinity.

It would appear Edel utilized the divinity he drained from me for both offensive and healing purposes. I did not recall giving him permission, but here he went again, doing it anyway. I suppose that was just how familiars were...

.

Do all of them simply demand and claim power from their masters as and when they feel like it? Why does our relationship feel so inversed...?

My thoughts were quickly interrupted by a series of overwhelming roars—

“Gruaaaarrgg...! Gaaarrrg! Gaaarrrgg!!!”

The Tarasque’s pained cries jolted me back to reality. It would seem like the beast had been running in circles all this time, the weight of its large body working against it. It possessed fearsome speed when charging straight in one direction, though it didn’t seem to handle turning very well. If there was a chance for escape, it would be now.

Despite being some distance apart, I couldn’t guarantee that an escape would be useful or prudent. The battle could evolve into a stalling game, with both sides waiting to see if the opponent would run out of stamina first. Or perhaps I could stall for time and heal myself?

Though, Edel needed no such rest. In any case, Edel’s attack on the Tarasque seemed to have left quite the mark. The beast could no longer move its neck as freely as before.

Slowly approaching it, my attention was drawn to a plume of smoke rising from the Tarasque’s open wound.

Did Edel have the capability to launch fireballs? I didn’t recall seeing such a thing. No, this phenomenon was unmistakably caused by his body slam.

Is it some special ability of his?

No...that didn’t seem to be the case either.

Although he glowed, that glow was brought about by my divine aura, so the Tarasque was reacting in this fashion after it had been struck with a divine attack.

.

Quite the hint, little mouse...

I guess a Tarasque was more vulnerable to divinity, as opposed to spirit or mana. If only I used my divine aura from the very start... The hints had been in place long before I set foot in this swamp.

Due to the habitat of the Tarasque, they hated holy water, so most adventurers in these swamps carried some as a ward. It was said that dousing oneself in holy water could make even the most ferocious Tarasques wary.

To tell the truth, I wanted to do the same, and had purchased some Holy Water for myself, but this was the unfortunate result. This was no fault of the water itself, and all things considered, I probably ended up purchasing fake holy water by accident. I spent a fair amount of coin on the preparations for this trip, and ended up skimping on certain supplies. For instance, I had purchased this holy water from a somewhat suspicious roadside store—not exactly the wisest choice.

Holy water could only be obtained from churches, and it fetched a high price. I didn’t really want to set foot inside a church, at least, not with my body being what it was. This was why I purchased this relatively cheaper bottle of holy water from a roadside merchant...

I suppose one gets what one pays for. A lesson well learned.

Although I wanted to make a supply of holy water for my own personal use, the methods involved in its creation were closely guarded by the church. My attempts at creating holy water were unsuccessful, as any aura injected into the water would only hold for a few seconds, before once again becoming normal drinking water. After several tries, I gave up. I suppose it was impossible to create without some sort of special method.

Craaack!

A deafening crack snapped me back to attention. A nearby tree had been uprooted and tossed through the air.

.

The Tarasque’s neck remained wounded, but its body still functioned normally, and the beast was once again hot on our trail. This time, it was spewing forth clouds of poison, not that this concerned me.

Edel, who was once again on my shoulder, didn’t pay it much heed, either. To us, it was nothing more than a warm, purple cloud. In fact, its poison breathing opened itself up to attack.

I felt sorry for the environment around us, but I wasted no time diving into the cloud, quickly emerging on the other side. I was now close to the Tarasque—a bit too close for comfort, judging by its panicked attempts at retreat.

It wasn’t too difficult for me to understand how it felt. I suppose I was the first poison-immune being it ever came across in its life. At the very least, a human being would require some sort of magical tool that completely nullified all sorts of poisons. But I had my Thrall constitution to thank.

Regardless, I should finish the job. Unlike my previous halfhearted blow, I would now go in for the killing blow.

I focused my divine aura, wrapping it around my sword. Reacting with the poisoned air around it, my weapon glowed a faint gold-blue, the purple haze surrounding me receding rapidly. With my surrounding visibility improved, I saw a clear path toward the Tarasque’s neck.

I leaped—

With a single, decisive swing, I struck at the Tarasque’s already wounded neck. In the light of my divine aura, the beast’s scales melted and distorted. Unlike my attempts at slaying the beast with a mana- spirit Fusion Art, my divine-infused blade cut through the Tarasque’s flesh without a sound. The resistance its soft flesh offered was much like that of lesser monsters I had encountered. This was an interesting

The Tarasque put up quite a struggle. It intended to break free from the burning blade that was now in the process of removing its head from the rest of its body. But I didn’t allow that to happen.

With a final burst of strength, I drove my blade into and through the beast’s neck, scales, flesh, bone, and all. With a dull thud, the Tarasque’s head fell to the ground.

◆◇◆◇◆

Yet another peal of thunder echoed through the swamp as the beast’s gigantic body fell to the ground. Struggling and thrashing for a few brief moments, the body of the headless Tarasque eventually fell silent. Its snake-like neck, coiled up in agony, was a disgusting sight to behold.

To think that something of this size could writhe and squirm in such a fashion; a sight I hoped to never see twice.

Probably a strange statement for me to be making, given that I had slain the Tarasque. I didn’t really intend to do so in the first place, though; I blame the beast for chasing us down.

I won’t apologize, monster.

Being the beast it was, the Tarasque held a magic crystal, much like all other monsters. While the position of the crystal varied between monster types, one could usually and safely assume it was near the beast’s heart.

But for a Tarasque’s crystal, it was buried deep within its shell, and I had no choice but to dig it out. But doing so would take a considerable amount of time, and the Swamp of Tarasque wasn’t a place in which one could safely idle. It was almost warranted that another Tarasque would come trudging along while I set about my dissection work. That was something I had to avoid at all costs.

now knew the weakness of their kind. But I had no way of knowing this until we actually fought. Though I also realized I didn’t have much to fear from a Tarasque. Edel would be able to assist me as well.

The only problem in all this was the amount of strength I had left in me. Having used a large amount of divinity, I would be hard-pressed to cut off another Tarasque’s head. To make things worse, I had a considerably smaller reservoir of divinity, at least when compared to that of my mana and spirit. As a result, I often ended up using more of it, and it naturally took longer to recover.

I couldn’t rely on employing the same techniques over and over again without rest. This was why I was trying to conserve my divinity, and, as a result, why I ended up using up most of it.

Quite the conundrum.

Then shall I give up on the corpse of the Tarasque, and the magic crystal within?

No. I could do no such thing. I wouldn’t do such a thing.

I was incapable of doing such a thing.

—I was greatly in debt. To make things worse, the orphanage’s reward for me retrieving a Dragon Blood Blossom was the princely sum of one bronze coin. Despite my debt, however, I made sure to pay out of my own pocket for a very specific item before arriving at the swamp: none other than a magical pouch.

I already owned such a pouch myself, but that one was comparatively small, barely able to contain the body of an Orc. There was no way it could contain the body of a beast as large as a Tarasque.

I could just dissect the Tarasque and extract the valuable materials in it, but this wasn’t a location conducive to such an effort. This was

.

why a large-capacity pouch was needed, and why I obtained such an item before my foray into the Swamp of Tarasque.

My justification for obtaining such a pouch ahead of time, however, was much simpler: I had, as of late, taken into account my relatively terrible luck. Who, exactly, could say they were eaten by a legendary Dragon and turned into a Skeleton merely exploring a beginner’s labyrinth?

If anything, I came to expect the worst from the world.

What, then, would happen if one such as myself ventured into the Swamp of Tarasque? Against all odds, I would run into a Tarasque. Yes, quite the fatalistic vein of thinking, but it appeared that my assumptions—and gut feelings—were correct.

Maybe I obtained some sort of primal instinct after becoming a monster...

As it turned out, I had run into a Tarasque. I could even say my instinct was reasonably honed.

With that being said, this high-capacity magical pouch was just an item I had rented. A given, perhaps, considering such high-quality magical tools were worth their weight in gold. One would even be able to buy a house with the asking price of this bag.

Luckily, renting it was possible, as long as one had sufficient amounts of coin. One would think such a valuable item wouldn’t be so easily rented out, but they would have to look no further than the guild, from where I rented mine. Should any adventurer be foolish enough to run off with it, the guild’s trained retrieval specialists would be after them in an instant. Depending on the value of the tool in question, even Gold- or Platinum-class adventurers would be mobilized for the effort. That meant it would be difficult for any offender to live peacefully no matter the kingdom, which was why thefts of this nature were few and far between.

.

These thefts almost seemed to represent the infinitely dark nature of man, and possibly the world at large.

Either way, I was now armed with a means to transport the carcass of the slain Tarasque.

Its body was a goldmine of materials. Even if I excluded the proceeds from selling its magic crystal, the scales and shell of a Tarasque on their own were worth enough coins to fish me out of debt. The overall proceeds from this carcass alone would be enough for me to turn a profit, and that’s taking into account the costs of this expedition.

To think I would be able to freely spend once more, and that I managed to do so with the spoils from a single battle! This was one of the many reasons as to why I couldn’t stop adventuring.

This was my first time experiencing such a grand windfall over the span of the last decade, most of which I had spent adventuring.

Although I harvested a large magical crystal from the giant monster I had slain a while ago, the situation at the time meant I didn’t profit from the event at all.

This time, it would be different. I opened the bag, kneeling down next to the Tarasque’s carcass. I didn’t mean to say I would have to somehow fit the bag over this impossibly large carcass, for that was unnecessary. One only had to allow the magical bag enough time to attach itself to the object, and before long it would be transported effortlessly into its bottomless depths.

Most convenient tools indeed.

Even the severed head of the Tarasque was valuable, so I dutifully allowed the bag to consume it as well. If memory served, its eyeballs, brain, and poison glands were of some value as well.

Having finished my task, I took a quick stroll around the premises,

vicinity. As expected, there were a few Goblins hiding in the bushes, hoping to scavenge for leftovers, I suppose.

To them, the body of a Tarasque contained many important crafting materials. One only had to observe a Swamp Goblin to discover they weren’t picky about the materials they used. Anything was fair game, even shattered fragments of Tarasque scales and shells. This was then weaved together in a haphazard fashion.

A perfect opportunity to observe the swamp’s ecosystem, and the everlasting cycle of life and death that permeated its reaches. I, however, picked up a series of stones from the ground, hurling them with all my might at the Goblins in question. While this may seem cruel, I was merely acting in self-defense, for the Goblins had already started drawing their bows, pointing them in my general direction.

The rocks, fanning out in a wide arc, caught one particularly unfortunate Goblin between the eyes. Witnessing the sudden collapse of their compatriot, the other Goblins promptly scattered. Not a single Goblin stopped to help their fallen friend, and the unfortunate Goblin remained shivering on the ground for some time before finally getting back up. Shaking its head rapidly, it limped after its companions in a panicked fashion.

A heartwarming, or somewhat amusing, scene. I felt some stability return to my nerves, my psyche decidedly frayed after my encounter with the Tarasque.

Then, without warning, the fish-monster who had thrown me out of the poison lake arose from the depths once more, snatching up several of the escaping Goblins before disappearing again under the waves.

The only surviving Goblin was the one stunned by the rock I had tossed.

Just the laws of the jungle...

Apparently stunned by what just transpired before its eyes, the lone Goblin stood, seemingly at a loss. Staring at its silhouette, I couldn’t help but wonder if it felt a sense of despair. Would it feel pity for the loss of its friends, given that they had abandoned him to his fate mere moments ago?

Such was the way of the world.

I suppose I should move on; I still had a Dragon Blood Blossom to find.

Affirming there was now a fair amount of distance between myself and the lone Goblin, who had at some point decided to retreat into the swamp, I returned to my search. Needless to say, I moved cautiously and slowly, not wanting to encounter another Tarasque.

Luckily, I didn’t run into any more dangerous beasts, perhaps in part due to my cautious advance. Plus, the outcome of my battle affirmed that Tarasques did indeed dislike holy water. Along that vein of thought, I suppose I could assume they disliked divinity in general, and would avoid sources of it whenever possible.

I shrouded myself in a faint divine aura, slowly advancing through the swamp once more.

◆◇◆◇◆

Having finally exited the Tarasques’ territory, I found myself in a truly breathtaking place, and was momentarily lost for words.

Given that the Swamp of Tarasque was filled with poisonous gas, water, plants, and monsters, one would assume it was an unbridled hellscape. A reasonable assumption, to say the least. After all, the only individuals who set foot in the swamp were fearless adventurers, and those who weren’t quite as right in the head. Townsfolk and other more mundane folk would hardly dream of approaching it in the first place.

One would also assume that the very depths and heart of the swamp played host to the most dangerous of monsters and the most potent of poisons. While it was logical to think this way, what I saw before me defied that logic.

Yes... This must be true beauty...

I never imagined such a sight was possible, and within the Swamp of Tarasque of all places. It was undoubtedly a paradise.

Before me was a beautiful pond, with waters so clear I could see the bedrock beneath. Crimson flowers ringed the waterside, with the occasional petal falling and floating on the water’s surface. The flowers surrounded and bloomed around the pond, like an army of red, loyal soldiers protecting their queen from the swamp’s other flora.

Among the flowers were insects, birds, and even the occasional beast, all milling about in relative harmony. This was the last thing I expected to see at the end of a poisonous swamp.

The reason for its existence was due to the flowers. These red flowers were the very same blossoms I had been looking for:

Dragon Blood Blossoms.

These blossoms had the ability to purify and cleanse their environment, and it was these very flowers beneath my feet that were responsible for the purified bubble that I now stood in.

Although the flora and fauna within this bubble seemed protected by the Dragon Blood Blossoms, reality was much more cruel. While they could live and breathe freely within the protective bubble of the Dragon Blood Blossoms, they would die within the hour if they had somehow been transported outside of it.

A paradise, yes, but at the same time, an eternal prison.

A variety of rare birds, insects, and beasts called this prison their

.

home, and they were worth their weight in gold if transported out of the swamp. This process would be exceedingly difficult, given that one would have to transport the organism out from this bubble of clean air and into the poison of the swamp that surrounded it. Just transporting one creature was a tremendous undertaking, as one had to retain a relatively pure area of air around oneself at all times. Certain magical tools could achieve this, as well as some specific types of wind magic, when indefinitely maintained by a mage with high reserves of mana in their being.

While one could expect a certain degree of recognition for such a feat, the effort involved often dwarfed the rewards. This was why the ecosystem of this fragile bubble had been largely maintained.

If someone did manage to damage one of the few ecosystems in which Dragon Blood Blossoms could thrive, they would surely come under fire from a multitude of groups and organizations. As long as one was careful with the way they harvested the flowers, there wouldn’t be any lasting damage. Dragon Blood Blossoms possessed a particular zeal for life, and they would often regenerate any damaged portions relatively quickly. A testament to this was that said blossoms grew here, of all places, along with the fact that they had the ability to absorb poisons in the environment, converting it all into life energy.

This was most likely why it had taken root here, among the multitude of poisonous gases, beasts, and Tarasques.

The carcass of a Tarasque did give off tremendously poisonous gases while decomposing, and this was one of the many reasons why the swamp was so polluted. This also led to a strange gathering of organisms that fed off the poison, eventually culminating in this strange wonderland amidst the poisonous fog.

The Tarasques truly were the pillar of the swamp ecosystem; if they didn’t exist, neither would these Dragon Blood Blossoms before me.

Ironic, considering the legend behind these flowers, and the fact Tarasques were distant relatives of Dragons.

...Maybe Ihshtotupld sre:tu/r/nmto tphe4tadskiartehacndt.sLo.rcraoinemwould be far

more suited than I when it came to explaining such concepts.

Now, to fulfill the details of the request....

I put one foot forward, stepping into a crimson garden. I briskly walked through the flowers; brutish, but such damage was well within the regenerative means of these blossoms.

According to a tome I once chanced upon, a Dragon Blood Blossom would recover in a day even if violently crushed underfoot. This was a necessary measure, if only to rid my boots of the poisonous mud that clung to them.

The gathering of the blossoms was easy, as one only had to dig up the entire plant, roots and all. Even though one could cut and retrieve only the stem, such a method would result in the loss of some fluid.

This would essentially defeat the purpose of my current excursion.

Given the troublesome nature of this entire affair, one would wonder if it was possible to just transplant some of these flowers in a safe location, periodically feeding them with concentrated Tarasque poison. It had been attempted before, but such flowers hardly turned red, and they couldn’t be used to produce Dragon-Flower Blood.

Instead, beautiful white flowers would bloom, albeit without any healing or medicinal properties. Known as White Dragon Blossoms, these flowers were purely ornamental, and they didn’t have any other known use. But I suppose that was just how things were.

Kneeling down, I dug out a fair amount of earth, pulling out a bunch of flowers with their roots and all. Wrapping the extracted dirt in some cloth, I opened the magic bag once more, gently placing the flowers within its depths.

I could have picked only the one flower, but several thousand of the plants bloomed here, and a few’s absence would hardly be felt. This patch of earth would probably be overgrown with Dragon Blood Blossoms again in a little under a week.

.

Having come this far, I already had plans for the spare flowers, where some would make their way to the florist, and some others, to the apothecary.

In life, I once thought of the benefits of owning such a medicine, and this sentiment was shared by my fellow adventurers. I would, of course, sell these at a suitably high price. Young couples who wished to propose to each other in particularly romantic ways could take a trip to the florist, while those who needed special medication could purchase some from Maalt’s apothecary.

Even so, I wasn’t too greedy, taking care to only harvest about ten stalks. This was more than enough, and once again I couldn’t help but feel indebted to this high-capacity magical bag.

Come to think of it, this was the first time I had managed to gather Dragon Blood Blossoms with my own hands. Given that there was no way I could have possibly gathered these flowers in life, I felt a little happy at the accomplishment.

“...Ouch.”

I felt a pinprick of pain run up my finger while digging through the ground, but if memory served correctly, Dragon Blood Blossoms didn’t have thorns.

Curious, I examined a nearby flower closely, only to find that a numbing sensation ran through my finger when I touched a petal. Some sort of self-defense mechanism, I surmised. It was only natural, given how it survived in such an environment.

Having finished my harvest, I stood up, dusting myself off. All that was left now was to return to the pickup point, return to Maalt, and hand a flower to Alize. Her herbalist friend would visit, and then my job would be done.

I began making my way back to the entrance of the path, only to be greeted with a silhouette in the distance.

An enemy...? No, not quite. It didn’t seem like a Goblin, and there were no other humanoid monsters in the Swamp of Tarasque.

An adventurer of sorts, I suppose.

Even so, I had to be cautious. Under certain circumstances, adventurers could very well draw their blades on each other. While adventurer cards were easily found in the confines of the Labyrinth, fighting in a place like the Swamp of Tarasque could very well result in the evidence of one’s demise sinking into the poisonous depths.

More than enough of a reason to be cautious, so I drew my blade once more, steadying my stance as I waited, until I was able to see the whites of their eyes...

To be continued...

.

AFTERWORD

Hello, everyone, it’s been quite a while.

I’m Yu Okano.

At least, that’s what I would have wanted to say. Book two is out sooner than I expected, but it hasn’t actually been that long, has it?

Recently, I have fallen into quite the self-deprecating slump. With the publication of this book, and the readers’ generous purchases (and subsequent reading of my work), I am encouraged to continue working hard.

I never thought I would become a novelist at all, but before I knew it, I had this book in my hands. I think this is a really fortunate thing— a blissful feeling, really. If possible, I wish these days would go on forever. It’s not that simple, though. Hard work has to be built upon day after day, and one has to work earnestly until their dreams come true.

On another note, I have recently begun thinking about how novels are written. The methods vary from person to person, as some plan it out and all that, while for some others, the entire story just falls out of the sky and into their head one day. Personally, I definitely feel like I am more of the latter. If this happened every day, it would be great. Of course, things don’t always go according to plan.

In the end, I guess writing a bit every day and then having some story bits just appear in one’s mind is the best way to go about it—to always be prepared and not let a moment of inspiration escape.

And so, fohr atstlopngsa:s/p/omssibple,4I idntierndetco wtosrk.ctoothme best of