Adventurer's Equipment 3
There were all sorts of reasons behind my decision to leave the party.
I won't deny that a mischievous urge to mess with them was the biggest one — but that didn't mean I was acting on that alone.
The first reason that came to mind was Han Se-ah's stream. Most of the other streamers I'd seen online were the type who muddled through every hardship by throwing their bodies at the problem. Han Se-ah, on the other hand, was climbing the Tower without a single game over, winning every step of the way.
Was there really any fun left in a game you won a hundred percent of the time with a cheat-key invincible army that never died? Even in the Korean peninsula's oldest folk games, spamming Show Me the Money and Power Overwhelming got old within ten minutes.
If it wasn't fun to play yourself, imagine a folk-game streamer using cheats against an AI. Who would watch that?
"It's fine. Even if Roland-sensei steps away for a bit, our party still has a 5★ barrier and two 4★s. We block with the barrier, Kayden cleans up, and the nineteenth floor won't be a problem. That's why Roland-sensei told us to camp on the nineteenth floor in the first place."
The second reason was a kind of justification. While web surfing last night, I'd come across a complaint post. Someone had met a 5★ who was so high-maintenance that it felt less like a dating sim and more like office politics — constantly managing their moods, only for the character to keep trying to leave.
A 6★ loner who'd approached them purely out of boredom. In the viewers' minds, Roland was a bald pants-man character who wandered around for fun. If I stuck to Han Se-ah like I'd give her my liver and gallbladder both, it would start looking weird.
Having internet access really does make this possible.
I watched Han Se-ah's stream through an internet window. Being able to watch her broadcast online meant the chat window function I'd received as a reward was basically useless now. Leaving out the photo feature while doing stuff like this — it was exactly the kind of move a scummy game company would pull.
After selling DLC, they go and sell a superior version of the same thing? You bastards.
Suddenly the previous life of Heroes Chronicle flashed through my mind and heat rushed to my head. Anyway, there were other reasons too — progressing Kayden's character story, curiosity about which noble house's daughter she was, and so on. I couldn't deny that the biggest reason of all was still wanting to mess with them, though.
"No, that— that was because Roland-sensei spoke casually first! Irene unnie and Kayden both use formal speech, so what about Grace unnie, then?!"
Unlike the chat window alone, the internet browser let me see donations and mission status too, so the long carriage ride never got boring. Watching her bounce around every time a donation came in, I could finally understand why the viewers loved tormenting her.
My desertion announcement had turned Han Se-ah into a satisfying punching bag, and she chattered away as she wandered the market. Kayden seemed to have become the temporary instructor for the camping mission I'd assigned as homework. That made sense — a mercenary-band veteran like Kayden would know far more about camping than a country girl like Grace.
She took a thorough beating from the viewers while soaking up donation advice. With so many gamers out there pulling every stunt imaginable, quite a few people had apparently experienced camping even if they'd never climbed the Tower. Of course, some of them might just have been faking expertise.
"Kayden, is this enough?"
"Ah, yes. Since we won't be staying more than a day, that should be fine."
So this was what the world looked like through Han Se-ah's streaming camera drone. A viewpoint just slightly above head height, looking down. On screen, everyone was preparing camp under Kayden's direction.
Sleeping bags to rest in, tents that would at least block the wind, rope and miscellaneous tools, plus dried rations. The silver lining was that Han Se-ah's inventory meant they could pack bulky tents without any trouble. They'd nearly ended up marching around with packs on their backs like soldiers on deployment.
"Tent, sleeping bag, rope, knife, lantern, flint… we don't need the flint. What else, guys?"
Even while getting thoroughly roasted by her viewers, she steadily did what needed doing. I was reluctant to leave, but it was time to close the stream.
I had work to do too.
Even after hours of sitting around web surfing, my backside never got uncomfortable in this luxury carriage. The magic-laden high-end coach clattered along until it arrived in the northern reaches of the kingdom.
A place of rugged mountain ranges thick with monsters, where climbing far enough north brought you to eternal snow. In Heroes Chronicle terms, it felt like those weekday dungeon fields where you farmed water-attribute mana stones. Of course, I wasn't the kind of maniac who memorized every instant dungeon's backdrop, so I couldn't say for sure.
Roughly speaking, the monsters and terrain were similar enough.
"Adventurer's badge confirmed."
I strolled along at an easy pace until I reached the northern Adventurer's Guild. If the guild in the city dealt in mana stones and gathered materials from the Tower, the northern Adventurer's Guild made its living off whatever came out of exploring the northern wilderness.
A bit more wild. A lot more poor. Unlike the Tower, where monsters infinitely respawned and turned into mana stones, the monsters in the northern ranges were part of the ecosystem. It couldn't be helped.
"Upper-grade adventurer Roland. Is there a particular request you're looking for?"
An Upper-grade adventurer — a rare sight in a poor neighborhood like this — drawing every eye the moment he walked in. Envious stares from the furry-bearded uncles, and the occasional jealous glare from people who didn't know their place.
This far north, cut off from the Adventurer's City, they might not know who Roland was — but as an Adventurer's Guild, they certainly knew what an Upper-grade adventurer meant. You had to roll around like a dog in a game character's body just to get your hands on an Upper-grade badge.
"I came north looking for certain materials. Figured if there was work I could handle while I'm at it."
"May I ask what materials you're looking for?"
A brown-haired beauty whose looks didn't match the northern chill smiled warmly. So even the north hired pretty receptionists. I pulled the note Kayden had given me from my coat and handed it over.
Ore that could only be found on snow-capped peaks blanketed in eternal snow, crystals that dropped only from frost giants — a whole list of annoying items. The moment the receptionist took the note, packed with materials at a level where Kayden had been too embarrassed to make it an official request and settled for a personal favor, her face lit up.
This wasn't someone who'd poke around the foothills and leave. He was going to thoroughly comb the northern ranges. Just the commissions tied to the materials on that list would have gold coins rolling in by the purseful. From a guild that lived off commission fees, this was a pumpkin rolling in with the whole vine attached.
"I'll put together the relevant requests and bring them to you. May I ask which inn you're staying at?"
"Haven't booked a place yet. Any recommendations?"
"In that case, I'd recommend the Goats of the Gorge Inn. The cooking isn't great, but they keep the rooms spotless, so even an Upper-grade adventurer should be comfortable. Head left after leaving the guild and you'll see a building with a large goat-horn sign."
I took the note back from the smiling receptionist and stepped outside. I had no intention of running around on foot from start to finish, so while I was picking up requests, I figured I should hire some Intermediate-grade adventurers to put to work. Thinking about hiring scouts and porters suddenly brought Han Se-ah's inventory to mind.
Instead of a stream chat window and broadcast board access that had become redundant rewards, couldn't they just give me an inventory too?
No matter how I looked at it, an inventory was the one thing that made me endlessly jealous whenever I wandered around. I spun up a hopeful little circuit — Maybe they'll throw me an inventory as a reward someday? — and walked on, searching for the large goat-horn sign.
"Brought in some foxes."
"The pelts are all ruined. You didn't shoot them with beast-hunting arrows, did you?"
"Hey, even I wouldn't make a mistake like that."
People lived much the same everywhere. The area around the Adventurer's Guild wasn't all that different from the city with the Tower.
A merchant hauling a cart held up dried fruit from a barrel, trying to draw attention. Hunters haggled over beast pelts they'd brought down from the mountains. A butcher shop hung with smoked hams, sausages, and massive haunches of venison, and a great oven filling the air with a rich, savory aroma.
I passed through the market scene and found the inn with its skillfully carved goat-horn sign. The claim that it was clean hadn't been a lie — the hall was polished to a shine… and every table was empty.
"Welcome! Just a meal, or will you be staying?"
"…Just lodging. Your best room."
The kid employee who came running out didn't even try to brag about the food. Maybe they'd gotten slapped once for lying about how good the meals were. Just as the guild had said, the cooking must have been terrible.