Chain Quest (1)

After the first request party’s mission ended, the academy’s atmosphere descended into pure chaos. The public outrage that had already been blazing over the deaths during the request ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠only grew into a full-blown inferno once the Imperial Skirmishers were thrown in as fresh fuel. Students, noble or commoner, abandoned their studies to chatter nonstop. They debated whether to join the special request class, bombarded the first batch of participants with questions, and generally turned every lecture hall into a gossip factory.

Nobles or not, we had been living for over half a year in dorms without a single servant to help with daily life, studying side-by-side in the same classes. The whole environment was starting to feel less like a fantasy academy and more like the high schools or universities from my previous world. Or maybe a military academy? Someone joked that the only way to calm everyone down would be another official announcement from the imperial family, but that proved unnecessary.

The academy professors were hardly ordinary humans. In the combat department, the number of students sporting bright red palm-shaped bruises—marks that even potions couldn’t heal—skyrocketed, each one looking like a fresh tattoo across their faces. In the magic department, a new “black history manufacturing project” began: anyone caught talking during class had to stand at the front and deliver a detailed five-W-one-H explanation of their offense. As for the support department… I’d rather not know. There were ominous rumors that the professor’s fan-club girls had buried someone alive. I sincerely hoped it was just a rumor. Those healers were already rare; we couldn’t afford to waste them.

On top of everything, Ligret’s fame grew even more after this incident. A territory had put out a request because a giant boar mutated by magic power—a magic beast—had gone on a rampage and ruined their farmland. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The task ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was simple: lure the creature into an ambush prepared by the soldiers. During the operation, however, a second boar appeared and charged. The female student acting as deputy commander froze solid at the unexpected development. Ligret, on the other hand, simply beat both boars unconscious and dragged them back alive.

The “luring” part of the plan had technically failed. All the pre-prepared traps and formations became useless. The party bowed their heads in apology, but the lord reportedly broke into a cold sweat and insisted it was fine. A very wise decision, all things considered.

"......"

Ligret stared at me in silence, then let out a long sigh and shook her head.

"Huh? Then why do I get punched every single day?"

Of course! Can I really accept that logic, you muscle-brained girl?! The urge to shout those words burned in my throat, but when I thought about it coldly, I was at least ten percent responsible for always teasing her. I decided to restrain myself. It definitely wasn’t because I got scared watching her crack her knuckles with that ominous wooduk sound.

Ligret asked, "What are you going to do going forward?"

"About what?"

"Hmm. Yeah, that’s true."

This time the situation had been uniquely favorable. The opponent was someone we could actually communicate with, and above all, we had the perfect card in Frelia Magnus. That was the only reason such a stunt had been possible. It wouldn’t work every time. Fiore’s competence was undeniable, but when it came to pure combat ability, Ligret was overwhelmingly superior. The sense of security she provided was on an entirely different level.

In that sense, it might have been better if Ligret had caused some kind of incident during this request. That way the higher-ups might decide it was safer to keep her paired with me… but that was far too selfish a thought.

"Still, I don’t think we need to worry too much."

"Why?"

"Because if this repeats a few times, natural weeding-out will occur on its own."

There was no need to look far. In the party that suffered casualties this time, three out of the four survivors had already withdrawn from the special request class. Right now plenty of people were blinded by the offered rewards and rushing to join, but how many would actually return safely? And of those who did, how many would willingly step forward for the next request?

A reduction in numbers was inevitable. The fewer people there were, the higher the chance I would end up operating with the colleagues I had already invested in. I truly hoped that would be the case. Even in the original game, they always attached at least one proper party member. The academy should have that much flexibility.

Ligret closed her mouth for a moment, seemingly lost in thought, then asked, "But if you die before the weeding-out is finished, doesn’t that make all of it meaningless?"

"That’s exactly why I’m preparing right now so I don’t die."

The place where Ligret and I stood was the alchemy workshop I had set up on the first floor of the mansion. To my right lay a mountain of lower-grade Magic Stones engraved with various patterns—in other words, Attribute Fragments. To my left sat Attribute Crystals bearing far more complex designs and containing significantly stronger magic power. In the center were several raw, unprocessed stones still waiting for any engraving at all.

The method for creating Attribute Stones was simple in theory. You took the magic pathways you normally visualized and drew outside the body, added a few extra elements such as switch functions, and then carved them as patterns onto the stone. That was it.

However, just because the explanation was simple did not mean the difficulty was low. Line thickness, length, ratio, the precise angles where lines connected—any single deviation from the required values would turn it into an entirely different spell, cause it to fail to activate, or make it activate instantly and explode. On top of that, you had to make minute adjustments based on the size and shape of the mid-grade stone itself.

At least the Fragments inscribed with lower-grade spells only required straight lines on a flat surface, so they were manageable. But mid-grade spell pathways included curves, doubling the difficulty. When it came to Attribute Orbs, where you had to carve three-dimensional pathways inside the stone itself using specialized tools, the process was treated as half art form.

Since these were items you couldn’t easily obtain no matter how much money you threw at the problem, I had been diligently leveling my crafting skill. Even so—

"This really is difficult."

With a sharp crack, the mid-grade stone before me crumbled into dust. Another gold coin literally evaporated into thin air… no, with prices rising lately, it was more like two gold coins’ worth of materials. I shook my head as I stared at the wreckage.

My skill with Attribute Fragments had risen to the point where, out of a hundred attempts, I would only fail once or twice. The ones I had used against the Star Followers last time had all been self-made. However, my success rate with Attribute Crystals was still only around sixty percent at best. I couldn’t even touch the next stage yet.

This was only possible because I had chosen “Magic” as my combat subject, creating synergy with alchemy. Otherwise I would probably still be struggling just to make Fragments.

After gazing at the miserably shattered desk where only powder remained, I pulled out the next bundle from beside me and dumped it onto the workspace. A fresh pile of mid-grade stones appeared.

"Still, if I make about a hundred, I should secure sixty. There’s no stock left on the market, so I have no choice but to replenish them this way."

Well? Wasn’t the real problem that this industry could run dry just because one individual decided to spend a little money? As the saying went, if quality wasn’t enough, you had to make up for it with quantity.

After I eventually converted every last lower-grade and mid-grade stone I possessed into Attribute Stones, I spoke to Ligret.

"Ah, free up some time for me this weekend."

"What is it this time?"

"My damn father’s errand."

That was the condition my damn father, Bern Midas, had attached in exchange for cooperating during the last incident. The impulse to simply ignore it and pretend I had forgotten arose—the man was the type to attach conditions even when his own children’s lives were on the line—but if I really did that, I had no idea what kind of petty revenge that narrow-minded bastard would cook up.

According to what I had heard from Dolf, Theo was also moving aggressively to solidify his position as successor. For the sake of swallowing the Midas family without any losses from a civil war, I would have to endure just a little longer. Besides, he had said it was enough to simply have a conversation; there was no absolute need to succeed in persuading the official. Even if I failed, there would be no real loss. In the end, I would have kept my promise.

"Anyway, it’s the kind of thing that will work out no matter how it goes. Let’s head out with light hearts."

Later, looking back on this moment, I would ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠think to myself:

I had raised way too many flags.