Chapter 22

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Translator: penny

Chapter: 22

Chapter Title: 10: Dungeon Chaos is Everyday Life -1

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The dungeon we entered was like a tropical rainforest.

A quiet forest. The path was dim, shrouded by leaves. As we pushed through the muddy sludge, old memories surfaced.

The sweltering summer marches right after the rain.

The stuffy, sticky training grounds where discomfort levels soared.

Seeing the academy students marching in formation always brought those days to mind.

"Phew, a tropical rainforest alright. This humidity is unpleasant, isn't it?"

"Melissa, you okay?"

"Of course. Though I might have to take these off."

Unable to bear it any longer, Melissa peeled off her black stockings.

"Need them?"

"Nah."

And then.

"You should keep the stockings on. Especially with that short skirt you're wearing."

"Hm?"

"You'll figure it out soon enough."

"...Ow!"

"Put the stockings back on. Thorn poison won't just sting."

"You're mean. Why didn't you say so earlier?"

"Experiencing it firsthand is the best teacher."

Dungeons might be wild, but people pass through them.

There are usually one or two paths blazed by vanguard teams.

But this tropical rainforest dungeon was an exception.

An environment meticulously crafted for training.

They deliberately kept it extreme, without bothering to clear paths.

For survival training, no doubt.

Surprisingly many students avoided dungeons altogether.

Dungeons aren't child's play.

We'd seen student corpses in the last one we visited.

Even academy cadets feared death.

Still, cadets had to enter dungeons eventually.

So this was training. Preparation for the future.

"Some of you might be dungeon newbies, while others have been in and out countless times."

Just as Professor Gordon said.

Countless dungeon veterans among us.

"Don't worry, you lot. I've cleared dungeons like this plenty of times."

That's what Melissa said.

The girl who usually just moaned during massages and tinkered with weird black magic experiments.

'Who knew she could look this reliable.'

She's on par with a Disciplinary Enforcer, after all.

"Alright!"

Professor Gordon raised his voice again.

"Training starts now. Survive two days by any means necessary. If something anomalous happens—something that shouldn't—report to me. Got it?"

If anomalies occur, he'll help.

Conversely, no anomalies means no help.

No matter if you're injured.

Or even die.

"Well then, let's get moving."

"First, find a place to camp. Somewhere with dry ground if possible."

"Leave it to this dragon lady. Flying around, I'll spot one quick."

Agnes dropped her bag and took to the air.

Scouting like that, she'd find something fast.

The problem was the bags.

"...Guess I'm carrying them."

"Hm? We can split if you want?"

"No. Division of labor matters."

Agnes: scouting.

Melissa: combat.

Me, lacking in both: everything else.

Cooking, carrying.

For example.

"Found it! Nice spot over there!"

"Hurry and set up camp."

Building sleeping quarters.

"Looks usable?"

"Perfect."

"Easy for this dragon lady!"

Agnes puffed out her chest proudly. Was diplomat-mode Agnes always this capable?

Where had the pitiful Agnes I knew gone?

'Not the time for that.'

I set down the bags and pulled out some usable branches and rope.

"What're you planning?"

"Watch."

Melissa and Agnes watched with curious eyes.

I smiled at them and queried my status window.

'Are crafting items unchanged?'

'Make a simple tent.'

As expected from basic crafting, it was instant. Bottom-tier shelter, but good enough for two nights.

I gathered materials nearby.

Tropical abundance meant plenty of large leaves.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

But most wood was damp.

Wet wood stinks, so not ideal.

Took time finding dry pieces.

'Start simple tent crafting.'

Activating the skill, my body moved on autopilot.

Weave branches for the frame, layer leaves for the roof—voilà, a rickety simple tent.

"Ooh, looks decent."

"Well done. This dragon lady praises you freely."

They returned as I finished, just as dusk fell. They'd patrolled the area.

Checking for threats.

"Anything dangerous?"

"A small monster, but I took care of it."

"From up high, nothing seemed risky."

Good. Safe for now.

Time to start a fire.

I exhaled deeply.

No fire-starting skill, so first one's manual.

Gathered wood for it.

"Lighting a fire?"

"Yeah. Watch closely, Melissa."

"Hm..."

Rub sticks hard enough, friction sparks flame. Transfer to kindling pile and—

"Tch."

Click.

Whoosh.

"..."

"Fire's ready. Let's prep dinner."

"..."

"Why suffer? Magic does it fine."

This... talent gap?

'Can I even?'

'Pass. Screw it.'

Better hone what I can do.

Humans shine with one sharp edge over a mediocre hexagon.

I'll play to my strengths.

'Soup and jerky should do.'

Pulled out cooking supplies.

Nothing fancy. Jerky's ready-to-eat; just boil the soup we brought.

Crackling flames and bubbling soup.

Lost in their harmony for a moment, I snapped back.

"...Right. Night watch rotation."

Dungeon nights are dangerous—watch is mandatory.

"I'll take first?"

"Oh, assistant. Greedy, aren't you?"

"Greedy?"

"First shift's prime. Finish work, sleep soundly."

"True."

"Middle's worst. Awkward timing."

"So how do we decide?"

Melissa raised her fist.

"...Fistfight?"

"Heh, fists favor Agnes."

"Then?"

"Rock-paper-scissors. Winner picks order."

Melissa wanted first. Makes sense—late shifts sucked.

Agnes joined after eyeing us.

Thus, watch RPS commenced.

"Scissors."

"Rock."

"Paper!"

Order set.

"First is mine."

"I'll take last."

"...This dragon lady claims the middle. Balance. Henceforth, guardian of equilibrium."

Melissa, Agnes, me.

Dinner, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠then watches.

Not bad luck.

Wake early, that's all.

"Alright, let's eat."

Soup from the pot and rehydrated jerky. Simple meal, but grateful.

Overnighting in a dungeon is risky enough.

Hence separating eating and sleeping spots to dodge trackers.

"Mm... tired."

"Hit the sack. Melissa, you're up."

"Leave it to me. I'll hold till my shift ends."

"Thanks."

Leaving Melissa, Agnes and I entered the simple tent—like a childhood hideout of woven wood and leaves.

Mats made it bearable.

Backpack pillow, clothes blanket. Done.

"Ugh, gonna die."

Flopped back to sleep, but noticed a problem.

'Too close?'

Agnes was right there.

Uncomfortably so. Turn head, and...

"..."

"..."

Face to face.

Expressions crystal clear.

And not just that.

Poke.

"...You!"

"Sorry. It's tight."

"Ah, no. I'm overreacting."

Constant brushes. Arm, leg.

Should've made it bigger? But larger means conspicuous and wasteful.

Just enough to lie down. Perfect compromise.

'No wonder mixed teams are rare.'

Avoids this awkwardness. Same-sex groups.

"...Sleep."

"Y-yeah. Got it."

Awkward silence.

Shifted to escape it. Better, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠right?

Then.

"Agnes?"

Agnes's sleep habits were wild.

Seemed peacefully snoring at first.

Then squeeze~—hugged me tight.

Full back-hug position.

"I'm not a body pillow."

"...Zzz..."

"Agnes? Agnes?"

"..."

Me panicking, her out cold.

Even if this Ethan harbors a 30-something uncle's soul.

'This is rough.'

Hugged by a beauty? Never happened.

Hours wide awake thanks to Agnes.

Couldn't drift off with that insistent pressure on my back.

Melissa returned.

"...Oh ho?"

"..."

"Dungeon baby on the way—"

"As if. Wake Agnes."

"Heh. Got it, assistant. Rise and shine, Agnes. We're students, y'know? Contraception is—"

"Die."

"Hahaha!"

Melissa shook Agnes awake. She stumbled out, oblivious to the hugging.

"Think she'll manage watch?"

"...Don't worry. Sounds like she's grabbing water to perk up."

"Good."

Now really sleep.

Agnes kept me up.

Closed eyes to crash.

"More importantly, assistant."

"What."

"Would you stay still if I hugged you?"

Melissa's teasing voice now.

"...You too?"

"Haha! Embarrassing, but I love hugging pillows. Can't sleep without."

Ah. Whatever.

"Do what you want. Grill me, boil me."

"Don't mind if I do."

Public body pillow now accepting Melissa.

Smaller build than Agnes—more splat! than squeeze.

Luxurious, yet... off vibe.

Agnes had pulled me to stare at ceiling, hugging my arm lightly as she dozed.

Next issue: my shift. Time to swap with Agnes.

"Tired..."

"Agnes. Sleep. I'm heading out—"

"Good... night..."

Agnes, lying right of me, conked out fast and grabbed my arm. Then wriggled closer.

Her warm breath tickled my neck.

No shame? Well, she's asleep.

Thus, I.

"Girls... I gotta do watch... let go..."

Was pinned, arms trapped by two girls.

After all that.

I vowed inwardly.

'At dawn, make another tent for myself...'

Better than this chaos. Just build one more.