The Essence of Filial Impiety
"The whole thing?"
"The whole damn thing."
"For real...?"
His dubious tone, full of disbelief, gradually heated up into something manic as I kept affirming it. Recalling his fanatical enthusiasm for wyvern parts when he'd explained the request earlier, this was the natural reaction I'd imagined from old man Haron after slaying the wyvern. Asking over and over while he hopped around like a frog was an annoying chore I didn't want to deal with, but if wyvern parts were as rare and real-world-valuable as he'd claimed, then his help—as a dwarf artisan and a master craftsman no less—was absolutely essential. Swallowing my irritation, I nodded.
"Finish up the request as a request, but we need to talk about this one... You don't even serve tea around here?"
I leaned back arrogantly in my chair with a sly grin, and Haron realized there was no more beating around the bush. He shot up from his seat.
"W-wait there. I'll fetch my secret stash of liquor."
He darted to a small safe-like thing in the corner of the reception room, fiddling with it. Grunting to himself and sneaking glances at me just in case, it really seemed like a vault for valuables. My eyes narrowed involuntarily, and I swallowed hard.
Hmm... Any way to swipe that on the sly...?
What priceless treasures had this ancient dwarf, who'd lived centuries, hoarded? Even for a master craftsman like him, ordinary junk wouldn't cut it. My mind raced with visions of exotic items and a feast of treasures, and greed reared its head unbidden. But Fuck. No way to sneak it out... That safe looks like some retarded design too... Hmm...
Like a smartphone security pattern, he kept swiping his hand this way and that, drawing his personal code. I sighed and shook my head. The way he carefully redrew the pattern multiple times suggested that one wrong move would wreck everything inside or lock it forever.
It pissed me off how dirty and sneaky it was, lips pursing in a pout, but my position wasn't dominant enough yet, right? The wyvern parts for the deal would leave plenty of scraps after arming our party—heavy enough to outfit multiple knight orders. I tamped down the urge to crane my neck and waited for him to return, keeping my cool demeanor.
Left, up, down, right, left, up, up, right, down... Gotta memorize it first. Heh heh.
While I absentmindedly hummed a tune to commit the instinctively spotted pattern to memory, the greedy dwarf finished up, stuffing various items into his pockets before shuffling back.
"Here... This is one of the crown jewels of my collection."
Resigned to the situation, he pulled out his treasure, but he handled the bottle of shimmering golden liquid like it was taboo to even drink, hands trembling.
"Jeez, it's just booze. Why the fuck you shaking like that? Ugh..."
"Y-you little shit! Do you even know what this is?!"
"Booze is booze. What bullshit you spouting?"
I snorted derisively through my nose, and Haron quivered, beard twitching. Like a basement-dwelling otaku going full hard-on when someone trashes their waifu, this dwarf—otaku-level obsessed with liquor, gear, and materials—could only tremble and shoot his bottle a wistful glance, too worked up to snap back at my cocky attitude.
Are wyvern corpses worth this much...?
My abilities had skyrocketed so fast that today's wyvern hunt was just a bit mana-intensive, nothing special. I couldn't wrap my head around the situation and tilted my head.
"Hang on, old man. You pulling out something this precious... Are wyvern materials that rare? No matter how I think about it, it wasn't that tough."
Haron's shoulders twitched as he eyed my puzzled frown. Because even a top-floor monster like a wyvern was no big deal to me. After pursing his lips for a moment, he set the bottle on the table and spoke slowly.
"What do you think the ratio of adventurer classes is, typically?"
"Hm... From what I saw at the guild, mostly sword-swingers."
He nodded and continued. "Right. Sword heaven. Swords are the most universal, portable weapons, so it's natural."
Spears were cumbersome, bows and ranged weapons needed prep—I nodded automatically.
"Sure, skilled adventurers usually pack one or two ranged options besides swords, but close-combat fighters still make up over half—the core of adventurers."
"... So basically, no one suited for the 36th floor's flying monsters...?"
"Exactly. Demand's overflowing—from your Empire request on, every kingdom's putting in orders—but capable adventurers are scarce. And for top-tier wyverns, it's not just ranged attacks; you need free control of mana... Supply can't meet it. They're paying top dollar."
"Hm... Then why don't the Empire or kingdoms dispatch their powerhouses? Seems like they're pressuring you, given the request and all."
With a smirk, Haron uncorked the bottle. "Pressure, sure. But they can't enter the tower."
"Why not? Climbing makes you stronger, boosts national power... Ah."
The realization hit mid-sentence, fitting the tower's nature. I nodded.
"Heh heh. If every tom, dick, and harry could enter, how'd we tell countries apart? The one controlling the tower conquers the world. That's why heavyweights from every nation have a non-aggression pact on tower entry. There was even a massive war over it once—super sensitive topic."
His face soured as he spoke, shaking it off like it was uncomfortable before handing me my share in a crude cup. The golden liquid sloshed enticingly, and a rich aroma hit my nose. Not ordinary stuff—I straightened up from my slouch.
"Whoa... What is this? Doesn't feel run-of-the-mill."
Now treating his former side character like a skyrocketing main pick, Haron lit up, grinning ear to ear.
"Heh heh heh. Truth is, first time for me too. Picked it up from an elf village about a century ago."
"Ooh... Elves, so fruit wine? The color's gorgeous."
"Of course! Brewed from the World Tree's fruit!"
"Pardon...?"
With my deep ties to Daphne, that phrase demanded a follow-up. I fixed him with a sharp look.
"World Tree... Isn't that super rare?"
"Well, 'rare' isn't quite right—more like 'revered.' But to other races, yeah, rare enough."
I tilted my head at the wordplay on rare vs. precious, and Haron tsked like I was some musclehead brute with no brains despite my power.
Fucking dwarf...
"Elf villages each have one World Tree, so not 'rare,' but they revere it like their own mother and father—the whole village worships it."
"Oh..."
"So, can you guess the value of that cup you're holding?"
"Nah... But you got it from an elf village, right? Even accounting for that, I can't see it being priceless..."
"Hm? You get it?"
"Get what?"
"Elves treat their village World Tree like mother and father."
"Yeah..."
I cocked my head like What does that have to do with anything? Quit yapping. Haron scratched his head furiously, looking like he'd chug the booze like water if he kept circling, then spat it out.
"Think about it! How many elves brew and drink liquor from fruit off a tree they treat like parents?! They're not dwarves!"
"Ah...!!!"
The epiphany slammed home. I quickly lowered my gaze to the golden liquid sloshing in my hand.
The essence of filial impiety!
The one-of-a-kind liquor from history's greatest elf filial traitor was right in my grasp.