Chapter 32
Chapter 32
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 032
Chapter Title: Precarious Companionship (2)
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The tavern, Fairy’s Rest.
Just from the name, it sounded like a place where spirits might drop by for fun, but it was no different from any Korean bar.
‘There are some similarities to the pubs near the office.’
Stepping inside, Reggin scanned the interior.
The smell of alcohol filled the air, and lively chatter rose from each table.
That must have been why memories of countless after-work bars flashed through his mind.
Clank—
But this was definitely not a bar in Seoul.
Koreans didn’t walk around carrying morning stars or greatswords, after all.
“Everyone carries their weapons around even normally, huh.”
“Yeah? Well, yeah. We do the same, don’t we? We always carry a few scrolls.”
“True enough.”
“Regardless of how good the kingdom’s public safety is, a weapon is like an extension of yourself.”
He nodded.
For mages or warriors alike, the weapon they carried was practically another self.
In hunting grounds where lives were on the line... it was the next most reliable thing after oneself.
In any case, that created an atmosphere distinctly different from Seoul bars.
...He even wondered if someone got too drunk, they might end up drawing weapons on each other.
“One beer each, and... hmm, what for snacks, Mr. Reggin?”
“I’ll have this, please.”
“Fried meat? Sounds good. Beer goes with fried stuff. No idea why everyone doesn’t get that.”
They sat at a table and ordered. Soon, beer and various fried foods appeared before them.
The 5th Floor had more monster-based dishes since it was inside the Tower, but here livestock-based cooking was more common—that was the difference.
The familiar-looking fried meats tempted his appetite.
New culinary adventures were great, but when tired and worn out, nothing beat familiar flavors for comfort.
“Shall we have a drink?”
“Sure.”
Clink!
Their glasses met in midair.
Looking at the beer sloshing in his glass, he could no longer hold back.
“...Ahh.”
Cool barley aroma and carbonation filled Reggin’s mouth.
He’d had a light drink on the 5th Floor too, and come after some rest.
“Congrats again on safely finishing your first expedition. Must’ve been pretty tense.”
The sensation of returning safely.
The relief of successfully completing the Tower’s first expedition, where death was a real possibility.
The beer, laced with all that, was overwhelming.
“And here’s to your safety in the future too.”
With a chuckle, Reggin and Clina clinked glasses once more.
It was a scene he’d seen in the game, so it felt somewhat familiar.
‘Back then, I just thought DAT nailed the vibes.’
Even now, he felt the same.
Beer after an expedition. Honestly, even without these fried snacks, it would’ve gone down easy.
Though he had no idea why Clina was drinking so much.
“Hehe, it’s your achievement coming back from the Tower, but I’m the one getting all excited and keeping it going.”
“You said it’s been a while for you too, Ms. Clina.”
“Right? The Association folks aren’t big drinkers. Feels like they’d rather do one more scroll study than drink.”
He couldn’t help but smile a little.
From what he’d seen of Association members, they weren’t much different from brawling drunks.
Except they did it all stone-cold sober.
“I’m not much of a drinker myself.”
Clina chuckled and looked at Reggin.
“But seeing a custom scroll maker junior I haven’t seen in ages return safely from an expedition... I couldn’t not drink.”
“...You really hold to that senior-junior thing, huh?”
“Hehe, that’s part of it. But you’re also my benefactor, Mr. Reggin. That hellhound incident.”
“You already compensated me with that shield scroll, didn’t you?”
“Now we’re even, you could say.”
Clina was the type who couldn’t stand owing debts.
In the game, she never owed players anything, so conversations were limited.
But thanks to the hellhound chaos last time, Clina seemed to feel indebted to Reggin.
“You’ll head in for another expedition once the portal opens, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Tell me if you need more scrolls. I’ve researched some in the meantime.”
“Free?”
Nice. As Reggin’s eyes lit up, Clina belatedly shook her head.
“...Half price.”
“Haha. That works.”
Either way, Reggin didn’t mind.
Honestly, even just drinking alone with her like this was fine.
He hadn’t expected anyone besides Nuada to welcome him so soon.
‘Even back then... I could tell she was genuinely grateful.’
In games, when characters said ‘Good job! Ketchup thief!’, it gave players a thrill.
But this went beyond that—he was conversing while seeing their expressions and hearing their breaths up close.
“I don’t get it, but... Lord Bowman seems to think highly of your scrolls too. And you came back after seeing that insane monster.”
“Yeah.”
“Here’s to your next expedition going well...”
Clina knew Reggin had no intention of giving up climbing the Tower yet.
It was right then, as she tried to cheer him on in her own way.
Thud!!
“What the hell, you bastard...!!”
A man flew past Reggin and Clina’s backs.
‘...Bolland?’
The flying man glared at his opponent. And the opponent was someone familiar to Reggin too.
The muscular custom scroll maker he’d seen earlier in the Nemede School lab.
Richard Bolland approached the airborne man while loosening up.
“For a great gladiator, you’re pretty weak.”
He said it while showing off muscles that made him hard to pass as a typical custom scroll maker.
* * *
The tavern erupted into chaos in an instant.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“This rotten bastard throws a punch out of nowhere?”
Swoosh—
The man’s companions stood, weapons in hand, glaring at Bolland.
Greatswords and axes pointed at him.
Not outright murderous intent, but clear willingness to swing if provoked.
“Three of you... Fine. Didn’t expect gladiators to come at me fair and square anyway.”
“What?”
“You strut around like top gladiators while boozing, but pull your blades the moment you take a hit.”
Bronze skin. Sleeveless shirt exposing his muscles—Bolland.
His look alone differed from typical mages, and so did his speech and actions.
‘...Is that a mage or a fighter?’
Reggin and Clina stared at Bolland, forgetting they still held their beers.
Even with swords aimed at him, not a hint of fear.
He faced down his armed surrounders with sheer bravado alone—and now the sword-wielders were hesitating.
From looks alone, Bolland seemed more the gladiator or fighter than them.
“Damn... Ptui! The guy who punched first talks about fairness?”
The fallen man stood, glaring at Bolland.
Blood trickled from his mouth, staining the spit he hawked red.
“Looks like you throw punches. What’s a lone fighter gonna do? We’ve got numbers.”
“Fighter? Ah, misunderstanding. I’m a mage.”
With a smirk, Bolland met the man’s eyes.
Bolland wasn’t short himself, but next to the two-meter giant, he looked comparatively slight.
Still, he continued with a relaxed, sturdy demeanor.
“A custom scroll maker, even among mages. One of those you were mocking while chugging drinks.”
“...What?”
“Saw a familiar face and came in, only to hear you insulting custom scroll makers. How could I stand by?”
“Not a fighter... a custom scroll maker? Haha! This lunatic...”
The man barked a hollow laugh, glaring at Bolland.
Forgetting his bleeding face, he twisted into a scornful expression.
“You all better sheathe those swords. What can a mere custom scroll maker do? That was a sneak attack—I let my guard down...”
“...Takes two hits to wake you up?”
It was the moment the man egged on his buddies and raised his sword to face Bolland.
Whoosh!
Bolland’s fist shot out like a bullet.
The man’s face twisted again as he slammed into the tavern wall.
“Gah!”
“How many more do you need? ...Down he goes.”
“Francis!!”
“Hm. Want me to help you lot wake up too? I’ll give each a fair one punch.”
“...G-get him!!”
Despite his massive build, the man crumpled unconscious.
His encircled companions belatedly swung swords and axes to subdue Bolland.
Whoosh!
The sword’s path stirred a small gust—gladiators at least Rank 2 or higher.
Meaning they could reach the Tower’s 10th Floor.
But...
‘Dodging even more effortlessly than expected.’
No blades touched Bolland.
Swords slashing horizontally, axes chopping down from above.
Even without mana, Bolland evaded every one with a step faster.
Crack!
Swords and axes embedded only where Bolland had been.
‘Using a strength enhancement scroll?’
Reggin watched Bolland intently. The fight was too fast to follow properly.
But he could see the mana flows around his body.
‘Never heard of scrolls boosting motor nerves. So probably just raw strength boost.’
Some scrolls held buff effects.
Of course, less efficient than direct mage spells.
Shorter duration too, so not widely used.
‘Potions replace strength buffs more efficiently anyway.’
This was a world with elixirs condensing buff effects.
Just drink for long-lasting results.
No need for scrolls.
‘Yet the one researching strength scrolls is Richard Bolland. His base physicals look elite already. With scrolls boosting strength by nearly 1.5 times...’
No wonder the monstrous moves.
Whoosh!
“Urk!”
Bolland subdued them with beastly motions.
Not refined like a fighter’s, but instinctive, sensory strikes landing on gladiators.
Even accounting for their drunkenness and his sobriety, the gap was overwhelming.
“...First time seeing Lord Bolland fight.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Never went into the Tower with him. He’s not the type to pick fights randomly...”
As Clina spoke in surprise, the brawl ended.
“Any more need waking?”
Gladiators sprawled on the floor.
They weakly shook their heads. Bolland relaxed his stern face and continued.
“Then sit quietly and get back to your drinks. Can’t have a ruckus in a tavern.”
Rich coming from the guy who caused it.
But no one around dared speak up.
The gladiators slunk back to their seats, avoiding his gaze.
Not fleeing outright... probably some shred of pride.
Reggin guessed based on Korean bar brawls he’d witnessed.
Creak—
The quick resolution.
Bolland, who’d crushed the power-trippers with greater might, approached Reggin and Clina’s table.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
He sat as if nothing happened, eyeing Reggin.
“Saw you outside and came in, but those gladiators were talking nonsense, so I woke them up first.”
Clina offered to pour beer, but Bolland declined.
“Nah, pass on the booze. Makes my strength weird. These muscles seem to take a hit.”
“Oh, got it. Water?”
“Thanks. Clina.”
“What nonsense got you fighting, Lord Bolland...”
Clina glanced at the gladiators’ table and whispered.
“Oh, that? They were dissing custom scroll makers’ skills.”
“Dissing?”
“Yeah. Word’s spreading about a lycanthrope on the Tower floors this time.”
“...!”
“And a survivor from that. Rumors say one custom scroll maker made it out. Heard it at the Association earlier... seems it’s all over the kingdom now.”
“...So?”
Clina asked again, flustered. Bolland continued.
“But they flat-out said no custom scroll maker could solo a lycanthrope.”
“...”
“I don’t know who the survivor is. But I don’t think scroll makers can’t handle upper monsters. So I showed them our strength.”
“...”
“What do you two think? Isn’t it possible for scroll makers?”
Reggin silently downed his beer.
‘...That’s me.’
Clina’s shaken pupils and Bolland’s gaze turned to Reggin at once.