Ruins Guard Request (8)
The dwarf uncle asked, “Anything to hand over?”
Francesca started explaining something. Probably about Nefertiti. I warmed myself by the campfire and watched them talk.
They were all dwarves of the same race and tribe, yet Francesca was taller. A half-dwarf being bigger—does that mean dwarf DNA is recessive? Her specs were absolutely broken, though. Evolution theory really is trash. Darwin, you were wrong. In this world the gods just clap their hands and poof out humans. You should go shell peas with Mendel and stay out of it.
“Ugh. A goblin horde, plus a Mithril adventurer from Sekhmet…”
The dwarf uncle frowned after hearing the full story. But that was no longer our problem. If they thought they were going to die, they’d look after their own bodies.
“Looks like the handover is finished. Shall we get going, everyone?”
“Uuuungh.”
We left the dwarf uncle—who sounded like he was mid-shit—and his party behind and set off down the road. As we drew near the spot still marked by whip scars, Francesca and I unconsciously picked up the pace. I didn’t know whether Nefertiti was still lurking in the forest, but I had zero desire to meet her a second time.
“What the hell… All this from a whip?”
Est and Paragon saw the leftover traces and finally understood why the two of us had overreacted. People only truly learn when they see it with their own eyes and feel it in their own bodies. From then on, our party’s movement speed switched to “full sprint ahead.”
“Kyaaak!! (Prey!!)”
“Kyakyashyuk!! (After them!!)”
Because we moved with speed as the top priority, we ran into goblins on the way back—unlike the trip there. I hadn’t expected any to still be around. Had Nefertiti stopped hunting and left? That thought crossed my mind, but creatures you least want to see always pop up the moment you lower your guard.
So I charged in with righteous fury to deliver some true education to these brats.
“Fuck off already, please!!!!”
“Gyaaak!”
I swung my power like a bear-woman pregnant with Hwanung’s child—utterly savage. A mother bear with cubs is one of the most feared beasts in the wild. The season when even a falling leaf looks like a weapon aimed at her children. Against that kind of bear, the hysteria of a woman on her period looks as harmless as Douner next to Dooly.
That was why, when I—now fully Vector Man Bear—poured every ounce of focus into combat, the results were devastating.
Swish!
Not a single attack missed. Every strike landed. All criticals. Once I had both the DPS to kill mobs and the tanking to shrug off their hits, my movements grew far bolder.
Whoosh! Thud!
“Gyaaak!”
I crushed the left goblin’s neck, then reversed the sword’s path and took the head of another. I spotted one behind the headless corpse trying to time an attack, but I ignored it. Stepping into the kill range of an incoming strike requires a perfect opening. Asking that goblin to read the angle was simply too cruel.
“Brain God Style—Thousand Slash Massacre!!”
Shwaaaak!! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
The greatest advantage of my increased strength was pure destructive power. Overwhelming difference in raw force. Even my jabs would feel like hooks to them, so rapid strikes that prioritized speed and technique carried more than enough lethality.
“Gyahak!! (It hurts!!) Gyahak!! (It hurts!!)”
I had only swung four times—downward cut, upward cut, one horizontal slash to each side. The kind of basic form a kindergarten first-grader could do with a tree branch. I simply reproduced it with the power of a beast.
In the Grizzly Bear (Green) sword-dance documentary, a sea of blood and corpses scattered across the leaf litter. The wet sounds of spraying blood cheered on my blade.
Splash! Splash! Spluuuur.
The ten goblins were butchered in under a few minutes and turned into forest fertilizer. The green brats who harmed people were finally contributing to nature—a truly auspicious event.
“Whoa… When you actually plant your feet and fight, it’s no joke at all.”
Est, who hadn’t even joined the battle, spoke up. The short spear she’d gripped for combat returned gloomily to her back without having stabbed a single goblin.
“Yes. Honestly, even I was surprised.”
Unlike the first time I used Beast Regression, staying calm while fighting made the difference night and day. If this was a joke, then shaving a sleeping person’s head with clippers would count as one too.
Fuck. Even with my sloppy swordsmanship, this much power?
What struck me most was the sensation I felt during the fight. It was like catching a glimpse of how far superior masters moved. Maybe seeing a monster like Nefertiti had raised my standards. I finally understood how adventurers with Beast Regression-level strength thought and fought.
Warriors with true power don’t even consider the possibility of being hit. Even if the enemy attacks or counters, they have absolute confidence they can break through and slit the opponent’s throat.
It sounds obvious, but it really isn’t.
The only reason I could briefly glimpse that realm was because goblins are among the weakest monsters, and I was completely certain none of their attacks would reach me. If it had been an opponent who could actually threaten my life, could I have stayed this composed? Probably not.
The key is exerting that same confidence against opponents who are equal or stronger. That’s the biggest factor separating a real warrior from a strong but worthless piece of trash.
“A splendid battle. You’ll leave the Iron Class the moment you get a monster extermination request.”
Paragon spoke after offering a farewell prayer for the green-brat smoothie victims.
“Are you injured anywhere? I will heal you.”
“Mm, I’m fine.”
I’d half-killed them all before they could touch me, so there was no way I’d taken damage. That said, I never did get a single heal from this damn monk bastard until the end.
There wouldn’t be any more chances to get hurt fighting monsters anyway. The walls of Sargadis were already visible beyond the forest.
Step. Step.
I walked the road home with my companions. The sun had long since sunk into the west. The blue sky’s horizon burned crimson as if scorched by a torch.
Fuck, now I want meat.
Thinking about my remaining balance, I looked up. A hazy moon hung in the sky. The moon in this other world was ridiculously huge, so it was clearly visible even at dusk. A plump crescent fat as pork belly.
“Four Iron Class adventurers. Confirmed. Pass through.”
After the usual guard’s ID check that always flipped my trauma switch to ON, we returned to Sargadis. In the street before the sunset-lit walls, at the fork leading to my inn and the Audumla Guild, we held a final discussion before parting.
“What about the goblin fangs?” Est asked.
I thought she was suggesting we split the sale money evenly, but Francesca’s answer was slightly different from what I expected.
“Let’s sell them at the guild. The price difference isn’t that big anyway.”
“There’s only this much—will they even buy?”
“What do you mean? Don’t they purchase anything over ten?”
“Priest sir, please don’t go around saying things that show how little you know about the world. Even if your pockets are bulging, they’ll still act like you should collect more before coming back.”
I had no idea what the hell they were talking about. I kept my mouth shut. It seemed the conversation boiled down to the fact that small quantities weren’t worth buying.
This world wasn’t like those RPGs where you could rip the flower off a golem and the NPC would scream “Oh my god, is this?!” and buy it. The guilds apparently only profited by buying cheap junk like goblin teeth in bulk. Bringing in just ten was like an intern gluing eyes on dolls and getting cursed out for doing a half-assed job.
“Sell them to the Mage Guild? You’ll only get scraps, though.”
“What vicious business practices. They know the guild won’t buy them, so they rip off people trying to dispose of the items in a hurry.”
“Looks like there’s no other option.”
“I don’t mind.”
After discussion, we decided to dump the goblin fangs urgently. We would sell them to the Mage Guild the same way heavy spenders buy avatar items in games.
“Then—who’s taking them to the Alchemy Guild to sell?”
No one answered. Even I understood why. It was annoying to do it yourself, but handing it to someone else risked them running off with the money. The tiny amount only heightened the danger of theft.
Clink.
The fangs didn’t even fill a small pouch. We had only collected the ones from the cave. In the forest we’d been too busy fleeing like stray dogs chased by a Mad Max meat truck because of Nefertiti; there hadn’t been time to gather more.
If we split it evenly, I doubted it would even come to one copper per person. One copper. Even if someone suddenly swallowed it and lay down shouting “cut my stomach open,” it was an amount that made you hesitate to actually stab them.
“…Leave it to me. I am an officially ordained priest of the God of Abundance, so you needn’t worry I’ll run off with it. Come to the church later to collect your share.”
“That works. Should we leave it with this uncle?”
“With that damn monk? If I go to the church to pick up the money, I’ll probably end up listening to the God of Abundance’s doctrines for over an hour.”
“How did you know that?”
Because 21st-century Korean cultists do exactly that. To someone who suffered through free-sample aunties, the missionary tactics of this world felt as bland as lukewarm water. You guys still aren’t ready.
“Tsk. We won’t get anywhere no matter how long we stand here. Let’s settle it this way.”
Est took out a single copper coin, flicked it with her finger, and caught it on the back of her hand.
“Choose heads or tails. We keep going until only one person remains.”
It was a common betting method in a world without rock-paper-scissors. After I started earning a salary, Dana and I often used it to decide who paid for drinks.
“Sounds good.”
“Yes, not bad.”
“Mm.”
“No complaints? Good. I’ll take heads. The side with the picture is tails.”
Everyone picked a side. Only Francesca chose tails.
“Here goes.”
Spin— Clack!
Est flipped the coin and caught it. By sheer luck I saw exactly which way it landed on her hand. Once everyone’s eyes were on her, she revealed the result. Just as I’d seen—it was heads. Est grinned brightly.
“Yesss~ Party leader wins~! I’ll go collect the money next time, okay? I can roughly guess how much it’ll be, so don’t even think about skimming any!”
“Auuu…”
Francesca, who had lost the all-or-nothing gamble, made a tearful face as she took the pouch.
After finishing the junk-item disposal, we headed to the Audumla Guild.
“Francesca-nim’s party of four. Here is your success reward.”
Clatter—
The receptionist divided the coins into four neat piles of ten coppers each and set them on the counter. This was a world without disposable envelopes, so cash payments were always done this way.
“Um, there’s something I need to report.”
Francesca explained the variables that had appeared during the ruins guard request—the goblin proliferation and Nefertiti. She left out my speculations and stuck to facts and eyewitness accounts. Better not to give anyone anything to nitpick later.
“Goblin proliferation?! Oh dear! You must have suffered terribly!”
The male clerk made a huge fuss, then handed over an extra four coppers as additional compensation.
Adventuring really wasn’t a job for human beings. After two days of that bullshit, the daily wage was only eleven coppers. No matter how many times I saw it, this world was hopelessly barbaric. Where the hell were my human rights? Had I left them at Carmine University? No, fuck. I’d been a translation slave there and had my thesis stolen by a ninja anyway. My human rights probably didn’t exist anywhere in this world.
Anyway, we each took our pay and tucked it into our wallets. It was time to part ways.
“Right, that’s it! I’m heading out. Let’s take another request together sometime.”
Est left after those simple words. A refreshingly clean goodbye, like clocking out after a part-time shift.
“If you get injured, come to the Church of the God of Abundance. I will heal you at a reasonable price.”
Before leaving, Paragon drew the other-world version of the sign of the cross. It didn’t mean he’d give a discount—it just meant their healing fees were the cheapest, so come to them.
“Nord. You worked really hard today. Even more than during the sewer incident last time.”
Francesca, the last to remain, spoke.
“Honestly, just looking at performance, you seemed more like the party leader than I did. I’m truly indebted to you.”
“Being party leader doesn’t mean you have to do more work. The higher-ups just throw together a rough plan and dump it on someone.”
I stopped Francesca as she tried to bow. Whether Bronze or Iron, the difference was negligible. It was hard to believe the receptionists had engaged in any deep debate to choose the leader.
—Just fuck it, let’s make this guy do it. By the way, what do you want for dinner tonight? Probably something like that.
“Hehe. Anyway, thank you.”
Francesca smiled as she spoke. Now that I thought about it, she really was a dwarf who smiled easily. She had been hesitant and watchful at first.
Working together seemed to have brought us quite close.
“I’m staying at an inn called the Children of Mutarat on the city’s third street. Come by next time and I’ll at least buy you a drink.”
“Drinks sound good. It’s been a while.”
It really had been over a week. During my master’s days I drank at least once a week. That was how I recovered my mental points.
“Children of Mutarat, right? I’ll stop by soon.”
“Yes! If I’m not there, just tell the innkeeper auntie!”
Francesca seemed to have meant the invitation sincerely. I had assumed it was the other-world equivalent of a casual “let’s grab a meal sometime.” Maybe such polite white lies didn’t exist here. I didn’t remember hearing them at Carmine University either.
Anyway, we once again parted on friendly terms.
The greatest harvest from this request had been the primitive sorcery Beast Regression, but I had also received promotion benefits. I hoped I could reach Bronze Class before the year was out.
“Still, I’ve got a long way to go.”
Come to think of it, even in my master’s program I was still only at teaching-assistant level. When I get back to the inn, I should write that thesis. Writing is the kind of thing that, if you don’t do it the moment the idea strikes, ends up endlessly postponed.