Be Careful

The next day, I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠made the rounds of three weapon shops near the plaza. Jane had pointed me to them, saying they were places that ran a more or less honest trade.

At the first shop I looked at swords. At the second shop I looked at swords. And at the one after that, of course, swords again.

There was a simple reason I looked at nothing else. Kendo was the only thing I'd ever learned as a kid, and the other weapons were so intimidating at a glance that I couldn't even bring myself to pick one up.

"......"

To my eyes they all looked the same. Similar in length, similar in shape. The prices, needless to say, were not. Some hovered around fifty Silver, while the expensive ones shot well past several Gold.

What exactly is different about them?

In the end, at the third shop, I asked the owner outright.

"What's the difference between this one and this one?"

I was pointing at two swords hanging side by side.

"That one's eighty Silver. The one beside it is one Gold and twenty Silver."

"I don't mean the price."

"A nothing-special one, and one that's at least a little better."

"......"

Tremendously educational. Catching the look on my face, the owner let out a short laugh and took a sword down from the wall.

"Go on. Hold it."

The sword he handed me was far heavier than I'd expected. The moment I gripped the hilt and extended the blade, the strain went straight into my wrist.

"That's the eighty Silver."

This time he passed me the one beside it.

"Huh?"

It was unmistakably different. I couldn't tell whether the weight itself varied all that much, but the way it settled into my hand was far more comfortable.

"That's one Gold and twenty Silver."

"Ah."

Now I understood why it cost more.

"If you're a beginner, this one's better. Use a cheap blade for no good reason and you'll wreck your wrist."

The owner gave the expensive sword a tap. One Gold and twenty Silver. In money from back home, that came to about twelve hundred dollars.

Twelve hundred dollars for a single sword.

I had money, sure, but it still wasn't an easy price for me.

"Any chance you could come down a little?"

"No."

"Then I'll look around a bit more and come back."

I set the sword down, and the owner spoke.

"One Gold and ten Silver."

"......"

I picked the sword up again.

"One Gold."

"One Gold and five Silver."

"I really ought to browse a little more first."

"For crying out loud."

The owner clicked his tongue.

"Fine, whatever. Just give me the one Gold."

I'd managed to talk him down a little, but I'd still spent a fortune—a thousand dollars—on a single sword. And that wasn't the end of it. I'd bought a weapon, so now I needed armor too. Floor 1 might be easy, but if safety could be bought with money, better to buy it.

"This'll do."

What he laid out was a leather armor that covered the chest, and bracers to protect the arms.

"How much?"

"Eighty Silver."

"That's a bit steep."

"Seventy."

I was starting to understand how this worked. Around here, the first move was to call it expensive.

"Sixty."

"Sixty-five."

"Then I'll try somewhere else."

"Aigoo. All right, all right. I'll let you have it for sixty."

I paid one Gold and sixty Silver and gathered up the gear. The mere fact that I'd haggled left me thoroughly satisfied. Sword at my hip, leather armor on, I felt reasonably the part. I looked into an old mirror set off to one side of the shop.

"Hm."

I looked weak. The problem wasn't the equipment. It was the person in it.

"First time?"

"Yes."

"Floor 1?"

"For now."

The owner nodded.

"Down there, that much is more than enough."

"Is it?"

"Who even dies on Floor 1 these days?"

Welcome news, though he might well have ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠been saying it on the assumption that I actually had a combat skill.

"Right, then."

I left the shop and, fiddling needlessly with the sword at my hip, made my way out of the plaza.

Not far from the plaza, the entrance of the Tower rose like an enormous wall, blue light rippling across it. It was as good as the boundary between the Ground Floor, where we lived, and the Tower itself. Armed people were heading in through the entrance. Some moved in twos and threes, and some had gathered into larger groups. Every so often, someone went in alone.

I stopped a short distance from the entrance and thought back to what Logan had said yesterday.

Best not to go up alone.

I turned his words over and wondered, even now, whether I ought to go to Nyx and ask for help. But—

Just a taste. That's all.

Today I only meant to see Floor 1 for myself. What kind of place it was, whether the monsters really were as weak as people claimed, whether I could fight here at all. Look, and come back. If it seemed even a little dangerous, I'd leave at once. There was no need to kill anything.

And besides—

I had a last bit of insurance, of a sort. I ran a hand once over the hilt, then walked into the blue light.

"Hoo."

The moment I came out of the light, the first thing that changed was the air. It smelled damp and clammy.

"Quiet."

It really was quiet. When I looked back, the same blue entrance I'd just passed through was waiting behind me.

Just a quick look around the immediate area.

The land stretched wide, and the trees that stood scattered across it were bone-dry. The grass growing here and there didn't look to be in much better shape.

Plenty of rocks, too.

For a wasteland it wasn't entirely empty—there was something to it—but it was absolutely not a place a person could live.

So that's why everyone lives on the Ground Floor.

Even the air was already putting me in a foul mood. I could see a few people off in the distance, but they were cutting straight across the path and pressing on. Heading for the floors above, most likely. Even so, set against the crowds coming and going through the Ground Floor plaza, the place was strangely deserted.

Even so, I'll be careful.

There probably weren't many people with business on Floor 1 anymore, but even here, other people were the more frightening thing.

Ten steps. Twenty.

I turned to make sure the entrance was still there, walked a little farther, then turned and checked again.

This is far enough.

I'd look around just this stretch and head back.

Rustle.

My feet stopped. My hand went straight to the hilt.

Rustle.

At the sound of dry grass stirring, my heart started to pound. I drew the sword slowly, and the rasp of it came out louder than I'd expected. Gripping the blade clumsily in both hands, I watched whatever was pushing out through the grass.

Squelch, squelch.

"......"

What emerged from between the stalks was a gray slime, and it looked exactly like a smashed lump of konjac jelly. The thing moved.

Squelch...

It seemed to be trying very hard, and yet the movement was astonishingly slow.

Someone dies to this?

Logan's words flickered past. There was no way that thing could catch me. I stood still and watched the slime. It kept coming toward me.

Glop. Glooop.

At this speed...

They did say you could take one down with your bare fists.

I looked down at the sword in my hand, then at the slime. I didn't really need to kill it, but—

Just one.

Should I try? I'd have to fight eventually anyway. And of all the monsters waiting for me from here on, would there be anything weaker than this?

I adjusted my grip. Just one. I'd take this one down and go back. I waited until the slime had come close enough.

Glop. Glooop.

"Hoo."

I raised the sword and brought it down with everything I had.

"Hup!"

Boing—

"Huh?"

That was not the sound I'd been expecting. I'd thought the blade would split the slime clean through.

But...

"......"

The sword was stuck in the slime. About halfway in, to be exact.

"What."

I pulled. It showed no intention of coming free. I put more strength into it, and the slime's body stretched out long after the blade.

"......"

When I eased off, the slime snapped back to its original shape. The sword did not.

"You've got to be kidding me."

I grabbed it and pulled again. The body drew out in a long, sticky stretch.

"Nnngh."

Pop.

"......"

Why was it so sticky? The slime wriggled, and on reflex I let go of the hilt and took a step back.

Squelch.

The thing went on moving, perfectly unbothered, with my precious sword planted in its body.

"Hey."

Squelch, squelch.

"Hold on."

My brand-new sword, still warm from the shop, bought not long ago at all! And I'd paid a full Gold for the thing!

The slime began to flee in the opposite direction from where I stood—if you could call it fleeing. At an incredibly slow speed.

What do I do?

I approached it slowly and took hold of the hilt again.

Squelch! Squelch!

I-is it resisting?!

Something about the way it moved was off. I let go of the hilt once more and stepped back.

"Ugh, I can't take this."

At a complete loss, I scratched furiously at my head.

"See? Didn't I tell you? Even on Floor 1, the people who die still die."

I flinched at the sudden voice and spun around. Logan was standing there.

"L-Logan?"

Logan clicked his tongue once and came toward me. His eyes moved from me to the slime and back again.

"......"

"......"

Just laugh. Please.

"Haa."

Logan let out a long sigh. That felt worse than if he'd laughed.

His gaze settled on the slime—the slime hugging my sword tight against its body. He walked toward it.

"Please be careful."

The words jumped out of my mouth before I knew it. Logan looked at me as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd heard.

I think the corner of his mouth went up a little.

As if it were nothing at all, Logan took the hilt, pushed slightly, and twisted.

Tok.

"......"

The sword came free far too easily.

"Ahem. How did you do that?"

I was embarrassed enough to clear my throat, which did not, in fact, make me any less embarrassed.

"Push a little, then twist."

"Ah."

The slime's body gave a great wobble, and then it simply went on its way.

"Take it."

"Ah. Yes."

The blade I took from him had a bit of sticky mucus on it, but the sword itself was unharmed.

Whew. My thousand dollars.

"Let us go."

I stole a glance at the slime, still working very hard at its escape. Logan was here. Surely I could try killing one now?

"Hunting can wait until you have learned how to hold a sword."

"Ah. Yes, sir."

There was no arguing with that. I answered at once and followed Logan off Floor 1.

I'd been inside the Tower for about ten minutes, more or less. My first hunt had been a failure, but next time I'd manage. Probably.

The moment we stepped out of the blue light, the familiar noise of the Ground Floor came back—voices, footsteps. It felt like an entirely different world from the Floor 1 I'd been standing in only moments ago.

Logan kept walking without a pause.

He's not geared up.

Only now did I really take in what he was wearing: ordinary clothes. No shield, and no other weapon in sight. This didn't look like someone who'd been on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his way up the Tower and happened to run into me.

"Did you follow me because you saw me?"

"Mm."

He didn't exactly deny it. So he'd spotted me and come after me.

"Thank you for the help."

"Mm."

Thanks to him I'd kept my sword, so today it seemed like my turn to buy the meal.

"Are you hungry?"

"Hm."

Logan seemed to consider it for a moment, then nodded and changed direction. Toward the restaurants.

"I'll pay today. You did help me, after all."

He thought it over again, then nodded.

"Is there someone to teach you the sword?"

"...Mm."

If I ask Nyx, would they help?

"Were you thinking of going again tomorrow?"

"...Mmm."

Logan gave a small shake of his head, as if he couldn't make sense of me at all, then spoke ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠again.

"I will not press you on anything too deep, but..."

He meant he wouldn't ask about my skill.

"If you do not mind, I will go with you. I am not climbing the Tower for another week, in any case."

Is it all right to accept help like this?

"Consider it at your ease. If taking help would sit poorly with you..."

Logan paused, thinking, then went on.

"Buying me one meal a day would do just as well."

That felt far more trustworthy than a favor offered for nothing. Logan at least knew how to deal with a slime on Floor 1, and more than anything, he hadn't asked about my skill.

"Then... I'll think it over and let you know."

"Mm."

Even so, I figured I'd need to verify him somehow.

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