A Beginner's First Steps, Part 2

Just as there are novice adventurers who die clinging to a cape out of pure admiration for the knights in their storybooks, people inevitably come to idolize those greater than themselves. And for most adventurers, the natural objects of that envy are the Advanced Adventurers.

Those who push into the Tower's impossibly distant upper floors—heights ordinary people couldn't even imagine—in the name of conquest. Superhumans who take a single blade and sever the heads of monsters far stronger than any man, who scatter entire monster armies with a wave of magic.

And among them, I—Roland the Paladin—have a fairly sizable fanbase.

The reasons are varied. First, and most obviously, the looks. Living as a golden-haired, blue-eyed, musclebound pretty-boy knight straight out of a fairy-tale prince's wardrobe, I was always going to become an object of longing for female adventurers.

The second reason, oddly enough, is that I'm easy to imitate. I'm not some swordsman whose blade moves too fast for the eye to follow, nor a mage with terrifying firepower—just a sturdy frontliner. And that, surprisingly, is what grew my following.

Take the Intermediate Adventurer standing in front of me right now: a bald hammer warrior.

"I've always heard about your exploits, Sir Roland!"

An unyielding vanguard who never gives ground, shield and mace in hand. That embarrassingly grandiose reputation of mine came from wearing magic armor that performed like a game item and simply tanking everything with superior physical ability—no fancy techniques required. As someone who'd spent his previous life glued to a screen in a dark room, I'd never had the guts to properly learn weapon arts, so I'd just trusted the talent of this body and tanked with pure grit. And that stubbornness had won me a following among men.

You could also say the fans came from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ten years in a medieval world where human rights might as well have been thrown to the dogs—ten years in which I'd never once abandoned a party member and run.

Of course, the real reason was simpler. Back when I still didn't know this world was a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠game, I had no interest in reckless, life-or-death challenges. I only hunted with temporary party members up to a comfortable point and never pushed into truly dangerous territory, so there was never any occasion to abandon anyone and flee. I had no guarantee that reaching the top of the Tower would send me home, and I wasn't about to gamble my life on a maybe.

"All right, then. I'm counting on you."

"Yes, sir! Since I heard she's a mage, I'll just teach her the basics of gripping a staff and how ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to thrust and push."

"You heard all of that, huh?"

"Heheh—well, you're someone I've always respected, so…"

I clapped him on the shoulder as I made the request, and his face lit up. Even without tuition, this was a win for him. He'd been asked a favor by the Paladin Roland, and now he got to be the staff-fighting instructor for a beautiful adventurer.

That he'd run into me after I'd been taking time off. That I was raising a brand-new novice. That said novice was a knockout beauty. Mix in a little exaggeration over drinks, and he'd have free booze for three months on the strength of those stories alone.

"I'll leave it to you, then. I need to go grab my gear."

"Yes, sir!"

"Your gear? Oh—yes!"

Both pairs of eyes flicked to my everyday clothes. Fair enough—I'd stripped out of my armor, been drinking, and come running. Of course I needed to go get equipped. The two of them answered with the booming enthusiasm of fresh recruits, then started whispering something in front of the log as I headed out of the guild.

While I'm at the inn grabbing my gear, I should also figure out how to access that broadcast station.

I ran toward the inn almost as if I were flying, using the superhuman power of this body. Even if they were only practicing grip and thrusting, I couldn't leave them alone for an hour or two. There was no need to fully arm myself just to go to the first floor, so I grabbed gear casually enough—then immediately locked myself in the empty bedroom.

The only hologram floating in front of me was the newly updated quest window. No matter how hard I muttered things like "status window" or "system open," nothing responded. It reminded me of my first year after landing in this world. Back then, after watching the adventurer who'd been helping me die, I'd panicked in my room and shouted "status window" and "logout" until I was hoarse.

"Broadcast station access."

Lost in nostalgia, I tried various phrases—and found the right one. The reward had been access privileges to Han Sea's broadcast station, so apparently just saying "broadcast station access" was enough.

Instead of the sparse quest window, a dizzying cascade of thread titles flooded my vision. I still wasn't entirely sure what a "broadcast station" was, but it seemed like a shared board where posts about Han Sea piled up. I awkwardly pressed at the empty air, and the hologram shifted as if I'd clicked a mouse.

In the screenshot the poster had uploaded in a fit of rage stood a man who looked vaguely familiar. The memory was a decade old, so I couldn't be sure—but I thought he'd been a recommended beginner-deck tank who'd gotten ignored because he was a male character.

…Surely that guy didn't fall into the game the same way I did.

Anyway, after throwing on some light armor and browsing the broadcast station board, I managed to pick up more information than I'd expected.

That this VR game wasn't called Heroines Chronicle but Heroes Chronicle—the world's first fully immersive virtual reality game. That it didn't use VR goggles, but a mysterious company that had appeared out of nowhere and used brainwave-linked capsules. That for the first person to conquer the Tower in this single-player game, the company had put its own stock on the line—

Isn't this just straight-up game-isekai novel setup?

An unknown company drops a VR game built on super-science tech, and clearing it means you can take over the company. Well—there was already someone reincarnated into the game. Compared to that, those conditions were practically cute.

What I liked most was this: streamer Han Sea was a professional broadcaster who'd been doing both gaming and fitness content, had declared she was going to conquer Heroes Chronicle because she was confident in physical work, and had raked in a mountain of sponsorship money for capsule support and the like. The fact that she'd sidelined most of her other streams to go all-in on Chronicle made me genuinely happy.

The broadcast station board was almost free of trolls and full of glowing reviews. The consensus painted her as a likable internet streamer—passionate, good at keeping promises—with the competitive fire typical of people who work out. If that was the case, the odds of Han Sea suddenly quitting streaming and leaving me stranded inside this game seemed low. That was a relief.

"You've returned, Sir Roland!"

Wearing light armor of thin iron plate, carrying a modest mace and a one-handed hammer, I headed back to the guild. My load had grown considerably, but my steps felt lighter than ever.

"Miss Hanna has excellent fundamentals, actually! If she weren't a mage, she could step into the front line right now and handle up to Floor 5 without much trouble."

"Thank you!"

"Is that so? Appreciate you teaching her. I don't know the first thing about staff techniques myself."

"Haha, I only ever learned the surface of it myself—just the basics. I didn't really teach her much."

In front of the log, Han Sea was brushing damp strands of hair off her forehead, and the bald ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠warrior was laughing heartily at the sight. In a good mood thanks to the broadcast station board, I forced the one-handed hammer I'd brought into the man's grip.

"Uh—what's this?"

"A hammer I kept as a spare weapon for the mid-floors."

The handle was a bit long for one-handed use, and the head was large and pure white. It was closer to a mace than a hammer in size, but an Intermediate Adventurer who could channel mana would have no trouble swinging that weight one-handed.

I'd bought it on impulse because it looked cool, but the mace I'd gotten when I first arrived in this world was so strong I'd never needed a backup—so it had just been gathering dust in storage. No need to mention that part.

"Th-this is…"

"You saved me time, so take it. You know how expensive an Advanced Adventurer's time is."

His already rough face twisted into something almost grotesque as he stared at the hammer in his hands, eyes practically bulging. Even Han Sea beside him was admiring it based on looks alone—it was that well-made. No wonder he was moved. I'd impulse-bought it for the same reason.

"Th-thank you! It's more than I deserve, but I'll treasure it!"

The gazes of the adventurers glancing over from the training yard were thick with jealousy and envy. A little poison planted like this, and maybe Han Sea's happy guild life would open right up. A small wish wrapped in a gift—and the effect was excellent.

She gripped the long staff—her stand-in for a proper mage's rod—in both hands, eyes shining.

Whether chat had already informed her that her starting NPC was more impressive than other people's, the looks flying my way were sharp. And as if angling for content, the camera drone abandoned Han Sea entirely and started filming me and the bald guy instead.