The Path of a Field Archaeologist

Dana stared quietly at the ceiling for a long moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “…Haa. You really sure you won’t regret this?”

Her expression was troubled as she asked the question. “At ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠your level, getting a doctorate is nothing. You could stay here, succeed spectacularly, and shove it right in Yerna’s face.”

Her repeated attempts to persuade me made my resolve waver just a little. Dana’s concern probably wasn’t just about having more work dumped on her after I left. After three years of friendship, she was likely also worried about me falling behind.

But this was the one moment I had to be stubborn.

“A doctorate… I could get one, sure.”

“What?”

“But how many years would it take? Seven? Eight? Even at the fastest, it’d be at least six years, right?”

Going from master’s to doctoral candidacy already took two years. Getting the actual doctorate on top of that would require a minimum of six more.

“No, six years is me being optimistic. Normally it takes over eight.”

No matter how brilliant a scholar was, they couldn’t churn out groundbreaking papers every single day. Most researchers would dig into questions that arose during their studies, and only when they hit that sudden “Oh shit?” moment of realization would they finally tie everything together into a paper.

And the thesis Yerna had stolen was the grand culmination of all the “Oh shit?” moments I’d collected while helping with research for three years.

Three years of blood, sweat, and tears—snatched away in one go by that wow-addicted, backstabbing bitch.

At this point, it wouldn’t even be surprising if it took more than eight years to finish the doctorate.

“Ten years total just to get the doctorate is way too long. But as a field archaeologist, the time required shrinks dramatically depending on your results.”

If I had planned to live here for the rest of my life, I never would’ve chosen fieldwork. I wouldn’t have stayed at the university just to survive on unpaid passion labor while working toward a PhD. The steady salary would’ve been enough reason to stay put.

But my goal wasn’t to live in this world forever.

I was going to find a way back to Earth someday. My current title and degree were nothing more than temporary stepping stones for that purpose. Translation skills might be useful, but foreign language certificates and career experience from this world would be completely worthless back home.

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

“I’ve told you a few times before, haven’t I? My dream is to one day claim the technology from ruins as my own and research it.”

“Yeah. I think I’ve heard it once or twice.” Dana nodded.

It was something I’d mentioned often to her and Yerna ever since my slave days. In this world, the owner of the land couldn’t claim ownership of artifacts found in ruins or dungeons on their property. Even if a ruin appeared in my own front yard, I couldn’t demand that adventurers hand over what they found. Not even the country could seize relics or treasure excavated by adventurers.

In other words, if I obtained ancient technology or artifacts from some ruin, they would belong entirely to me.

“More precisely, you said you were looking for relics related to spatial movement, right?”

“You actually remembered. Yeah, spatial movement.”

To be exact, it was dimensional travel, but that was close enough. I’d phrased it that way publicly. I didn’t want to sound suspicious by talking about crossing dimensions.

The technological level of ancient civilizations was far higher than the modern era. Having read historical records from the past, I was certain of it. Unlike today, where teleportation was the exclusive domain of a few exceptional mages, records showed that warp gates and similar devices or structures existed in the past.

The chances that the technology or tools needed for me to return to Earth were buried somewhere in a ruin were quite high.

“With only a master’s, it’s hard to get involved in national projects. And I don’t have enough money to assemble a team for independent research. Who knows how many years it would take to get approval for personal exploration.”

Even if I somehow finished the doctorate in six years, adding the three and a half years I’d already spent here made it a fucking ten years total. Wow! Ten whole years wasted in another world! That’s like going through military service five times!

And even after wasting ten years on a degree, I’d only just be standing at the starting line of the journey home. Finding the right ruins and researching them could easily take another ten years each. Twenty to thirty years total. If things went that way, I’d be fifty years old by the time I got back. I didn’t want to return to Earth only to spend my time bouncing between part-time jobs until I died, while everyone else was thinking about retirement.

“So to save time, I have to do it all at once. While searching for the ruins that will help me achieve my goal, I’ll submit artifacts or write papers to earn my doctorate.”

“…Is it really that urgent? Even if you follow your plan, it won’t take just a day or two to see results.” Dana muttered as if she couldn’t understand.

To others, it probably looked like I was being chased by time. Since that was the truth, I couldn’t really deny it.

“It’s not so much urgency as efficiency. Don’t worry. I’m not planning to rush recklessly.”

I had no intention of becoming an adventurer and immediately diving into some insanely dangerous ruin. I had zero interest in dying at the bright young age of twenty-eight just to get home ten years sooner.

I would take things slow, build up my strength as an adventurer, and proceed with my plans carefully.

“Oh. Now that I’m talking about it, there’s another reason.”

“What is it this time?”

“It’s simple. If I want to survive while doing research—or after I finish it—I need the power to protect myself.”

Imagine a scientist who had technology that could render all existing missiles useless. That scientist could cooperate with an enemy nation and turn our country’s entire missile arsenal into outdated firecrackers, or abuse the technology to cause massive harm to the international community. Even on 21st-century Earth, in such a situation, there would definitely be forces trying to either recruit or assassinate that scientist.

It was the same in this primitive other world.

The moment I finished my research, shouted “Yay! Time to go home!” and celebrated, some grad student I’d been supervising would almost certainly stab me in the back, steal my research, and run off with it.

“Even if I have powerful backers, there are some betrayals you can’t stop. I can’t let my thesis get stolen twice.”

“Tsk… Yeah, that’s hard to argue with.”

Even from Dana’s perspective, my thinking didn’t seem like an overreaction. Even if I had someone as powerful as royalty backing me, the danger remained. When the risk of ignoring my research outweighed the danger of antagonizing my backers, I would become a target for assassins in this world.

“In the end, becoming a field archaeologist benefits me in every way—survival, goals, everything.”

I didn’t think I’d never be able to return to Earth. It would take time, but there had to be a way. Travel between Earth and this world went both ways.

Not certain, but there’s evidence.

Vikings. Valhalla. Odin. Thor. Loki. Don’t those names sound familiar? Not from the Marvel movies. That’s right—Norse mythology.

In this world, there were many tales of gods or god-like beings with names I’d heard on Earth. It wasn’t that my translation ability was rendering the names of this world’s gods that way. The pronunciation and even the detailed concepts were completely identical.

This was proof that travel from this world to Earth existed. Proof that people from this world had spread their mythology to the Germanic tribes of Earth thousands of years ago.

Otherwise, there was no way the gods of this world would have—

…pull that kind of nonsense. It made no sense for gods to hear stories from a former Earthling and then rename themselves after them. That hypothesis was far too weak.

Besides, the history of humanity here is longer than ours.

So it made more sense that someone from this world had crossed over to Earth—back when its mythological systems weren’t fully established—and spread the myths of this world there.

And conversely, there had to be a way to travel from Earth to this world as well. Whether I liked it or not, I was living proof of that. If there was no way for Earthlings to come here, my very presence would be impossible.

“No matter how hard it is, I have no choice. If I have to do it, then I have to do it.”

Whether dimensional travel was an accidental natural phenomenon or a reproducible technology based on proper laws, I didn’t know. But at the very least, bidirectional travel between Earth and this world was definitely not a dream.

My mother and father were waiting for me back on Earth. So I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠couldn’t just laze around in this world forever.

Whether I could return or not, finding that method was something I had to do while I was here.

“…Haa. Fine. It looks like trying to persuade you any further would be pointless.”

After listening to me, Dana sighed and ordered another beer. In this world, beer came in ridiculously huge 2000cc mugs that were basically buckets. Ordering another one was clear evidence of how exhausted she felt.

I felt genuinely sorry about that.

“Sorry, man. After I leave, your workload’s gonna get even worse, and here I am just giving you more pointless worries.”

“Ah, whatever. It’s better than just disappearing without a word.”

Dana gulped down the beer the tavern owner’s daughter brought her, then gave me a grumpy glare. “If you’ve got the ability and it feels like you can do it, you should dream big. Honestly, compared to me wasting time at the university, you actually look pretty impressive.”

“Why do you always phrase things like that? If you say that getting a doctorate at Carmine University is wasting time, you’ll get beaten to death by the failed undergrads before you even make it home tonight.”

“Heh. If that happens, I’ll just use you as bait and run.”

“Too bad. This bodyguard only works for the price of the drinks.”

“Really? Then I’ll have another round. I need to drink enough to cover the cost of my life.”

“Kekeke. Look at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my smart big sis. So damn logical.”

I ended up splitting a 2000cc mug with her. How many beers had I drunk today? I’d already had two earlier—that was 4000cc. Adding this one made it 5000cc. Roughly five or six bottles’ worth?

“Tomorrow’s hangover is guaranteed.”

The cheaper the alcohol, the worse the hangover. I’d better buy some herbs for a hangover cure so my head didn’t feel like it was splitting open.

One week after I told Dana I was becoming an adventurer, I headed to a certain university professor’s lab with my field archaeologist application in hand.

“I had no idea you were interested in ruin excavation.”

Language professor Brammaton said as he looked over the application I’d brought.

“Yes. It’s only recently that I developed an interest.”

Brammaton nodded gravely at my answer. He had the kind of physique you’d imagine if someone told a gym rat to picture a Greek philosopher who could deadlift 1000 pounds for three reps. He was also a Gold-class adventurer who doubled as a linguist.

Rumors said he used to smash his way through all sorts of ruins and dungeons with his ridiculously muscular limbs in search of languages used by ancient civilizations.

Because Yerna had pulled that stunt, the archaeology department no longer had a supervising professor. So I had no choice but to submit my application to him, the professor from the related department.

“If I had known you were planning to go in that direction, I would have trained you much more thoroughly. What a shame.”

“Haha, yes, indeed.”

Shut the hell up. If I’d gotten one-on-one PT from you, Professor, I would’ve died from overwork before I could even escape slavery.

I answered only in my mind to Brammaton’s terrifying remark.

Carmine University operated under the bullshit philosophy that “healthy knowledge resides in a healthy body,” forcing all its researchers and slaves to do morning jogs and physical training every day. Because of the tight schedule, the training was even more brutal than military boot camp.

It was obvious that the professor himself never participated, which gave off a strong whiff of absurdity, yet the person in charge of overseeing this physical training was none other than Professor Brammaton.

And the poor research slave who already pulled three all-nighters whenever work came in was expected to keep training until he caught this guy’s eye? Who the hell was trying to kill someone?

“For me, the basic strength training I do every day is more than enough.”

It was called “basic strength training,” but from my personal experience, any phrase that started with “basic” was complete bullshit. A full-body muscle torture course that twisted and wrung you out in just two hours a day was called basic? If that was basic, then advanced training must involve crushing iron lumps with grip strength or something. Actually, this professor probably could do that.

“Having someone guide your training beside you makes a big difference. Keep that in mind and make sure not to skip it while working as an adventurer.”

“Yes, of course. Since it’s training that contains Professor Brammaton’s philosophy, I’m sure it will be a great help in my future path.”

The training that had turned a scrawny guy like me into a macho man of this world in just three years. The effect was undeniable, even if putting it into practice was insanely difficult. I never imagined I’d actually experience the hell-chang math I used to laugh at in internet stories.

After 19 comes not 20, but one more time. Figures it’d be a liberal arts guy who can’t even count properly, damn it.

“Good. That should be sufficient to start at Iron Class.”

Brammaton spoke with grave seriousness once more, then stamped my field archaeologist certificate with a loud thud. I held back the urge to grin like an idiot and solemnly tucked the paper into my chest.

It was done. Now I could maintain my academic status while living as an adventurer. And I’d even receive a regular salary and research funding.