Hairit Langrei, the Famous Hero

Hairit Langrei is a very famous hero. She's one of the Eight Heroes, renowned as the most prestigious and powerful in the kingdom. While most of the others are knights, mages, or academy heads—lofty figures—Hairit Langrei is a hunter. Hunters are the ones who track down and kill monsters. Naturally, it's one of the three D's: dirty, dangerous, and difficult. Because of that, hunters don't get much polite treatment as a profession. The hunter guilds they flock to are viewed similarly to adventurer guilds or rogue guilds—like dens of ruffians.

The Hunter Guild by the river in Solion Impel's District 9, 'Black Den'—nicknamed the Black Lair—is no different. Like any guild, the first floor operates as a tavern. The folks there trimming their nails with daggers are all hunters. Every hunter in Solion who amounts to anything is affiliated with Black Den, including the one passed out with his face planted in a table, drunk off his ass—a veteran, no doubt. And today, the usually gloomy Black Den was buzzing with energy.

Their guild master had returned.

"Langrei! Langrei!"

"Hahaha!"

She was plastered, dancing atop a table. Whenever she came back with some prized catch, she'd throw a party like this.

"You know how much I made?!"

"Langrei! Langrei!"

"Take a look!"

She hoisted up a leather pouch high. It jingled with a clink, and even from a glance at the bulging sack, anyone could tell it wasn't pocket change.

"First one to guess right gets ten gold coins!"

A roar of cheers erupted like fireworks.

"100 sola!"

"Fuck that, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠no way it's only that much! I say 300!"

The equally drunk adventurers shouted out bids wildly, caught up in the hype, until the numbers escalated to enough to buy all of Solion Impel's District 9.

"Right-o, 500 sola. Five hundred gold coins!"

"Woooaaah!"

The tavern shook with the noise. Five hundred sola—a fortune no commoner would touch in a lifetime. Sure, for top-tier hunters like Langrei, it was achievable with a tough commission, but still.

"Insane!"

"We're gonna be rich now, right?!"

No one here was dumb enough to point that out. You didn't rain on the guild master's parade when she was riding high. The hunters showered her with near-worshipful praise.

"Loyalty for life!"

"Uwaa! Spit on me, please!"

"Wooo!"

The mood hit fever pitch. And then Langrei's happy-drunk habit kicked in.

"Damn it, you guys... I love ya all!"

She plunged her hand into the pouch and started flinging gold coins. The velocity and force were practically hidden weapon throws, but these hunters weren't slouches either. They leaped and snatched the flying coins mid-air.

And where had she earned that cash? "Hahaha, I'm a genius after all."

It was thanks to the special monster corpse Hairit had brought back. A baby wyvern queen—born without wings or legs—killed by a crystal mutation petrification trap in Pellelian's dungeon, stolen from a wyvern nest. Its rarity had fetched a premium price.

Not an uncommon occurrence. Langrei would snag something she fancied, show it off everywhere, party hard, then stash it in her collection or sell it outright. This crystalized wyvern specimen had gone straight to the auction block.

"Man, that creepy thing sold for 500 sola."

The hunters who'd pocketed her tossed coins chuckled.

"Y'know those nobles who collect freaky shit."

"Gonna stuff it and mount it, I bet. Having that in your bedroom would give you nightmares, haha."

Coated in crystal, it should have been beautiful ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠by rights. But peer into the translucent crystal up close, and you'd see mangled flesh, blood, and meat chunks sloshing inside. Preserved in its pulped state from the mutation petrification trap, apparently. The hunters just shrugged it off.

Evolution Day 16.

'That traitor.'

I'll have my revenge. Praising me like that, only to sell me off in a single day! I feel like such an idiot for basking in it even briefly.

-Figured it out now, huh?

'Don't fan the flames.'

-And for the record, we never said you were pretty. Those bearded adventurers complimenting you felt good at first, but soon enough, you realized it was iffy.

'Amazing!', 'Whoa, terrifying.', 'That'll fetch a high price.', 'Eww, gross.' Especially that last one—not a compliment.

-Took you a full day to catch on. Impressive.

'Thanks, but I'm pissed.'

-Not a compliment... Whatever, fine.

Okay, up to there, it was tolerable. I'd finish evolving in another two weeks anyway. But to think she'd flip me for cash the very next day, clean as you please.

Langrei had wrapped me in purple velvet, tucked me into a fancy leather case. Then she whipped out her guild master seal and whipped up some certificate on the spot. She must've hauled me to some 'dealer.' Added all sorts of tall tales for flair. The dealer wore a monocle over his right eye, even pulled out a magnifier to inspect me.

"It looks like it's twitching—like it's alive?"

"Crystal mutation magic did that. Half-alive, you could say."

"Undeniably rare. I'll buy it."

Langrei was over the moon. And off she went with her massive payout. Evil bitch. If we meet again, she's enemy number one.

I was boxed up and carted off somewhere. After Langrei left, I overheard the dealer talking to someone.

"500 sola's too steep for something this gross and crude..."

What an asshole! I seethed at the absurd undervaluing. Waiting for the dealer to defend me...

"True, hideous thing. Unsettling magic too. But hey, there's a market for everything. Plenty of weirdos with tastes like that."

"Still, 300 sola would've been plenty..."

"Yeah, 300 would suffice."

But the humans double-teamed the diss. My confidence dipped.

"But she's a hero, right? A little 'consideration' keeps the connections warm. And besides..."

"Yes."

"The richest, most powerful freak among those weirdos. Could flip it straight to him."

"As expected, you had a plan."

Screech. So I was headed to some taste-impaired weirdo. And sure enough, not even a day later, I was moved again. Sold once more, no doubt. Wondering where to this time—

Creeeak. The leather case opened, light flooding in. A servant-type guy in gloves picked me up. He eyed me closely and muttered,

"Man, can't understand the master's tastes. Paying 700 sola for something this ugly..."

Count your blessings, punk. If I could use skills right now, I'd blast you with a ray.

Price jumped from 500 to 700 sola—not bad. The servant set me on a decorative pedestal in the hallway. I'd arrived at some mansion, clearly. The owner was filthy rich; the corridor was absurdly opulent.

-Sold to a grand noble's place. Congrats.

'Thanks.'

Pedestals lined the hall, dozens of them, each displaying curios: paintings, small statues, mystical pottery. I'd joined their ranks as decor.

Hmm. The owner has decent taste and eye. Whoever it is, pardon the intrusion till I evolve.

And so I settled into the lavish hallway. Servants and guests passed by often. From their chatter, I pieced together the owner's identity: Court Chamberlain Jimier Berolinger. One of the kingdom's top power players and grand nobles.

Evolution Day 20.

Four days in this corridor. Evolution ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠progressed with some advancements aside from that. Life as a statue was surprisingly entertaining—not just boring eavesdropping. A mother and daughter passing by:

"Court Chamberlain Jimier is a scary man. Not called the old fox for nothing. Eyes and ears everywhere. Watch your mouth."

"Even here?"

"Fine. Sound-blocking magic's up."

Servants gossiped too.

"Third prince enrolling at Emerald School this term. That sickly wastrel."

"Master's got his hands full."

"Gotta be careful for a bit. Though Sir Obern, master's protege, is joining as professor..."

I overheard all sorts.

"What's this ugly snake?"

And this was a first. A chubby brat waddled up. Short enough our eyes met level; his face screamed mischief.

"Young master, that's something the master bought recently."

"Why'd grandpa buy this crap?"

Grandson of the Chamberlain, huh. 'This crap.'

"Wyvern hatchling trapped and died in crystal... something like that."

"Hey idiot, you dumb? It's obviously a snake!"

Harsh to a servant three times his age. But spot-on. First to clock me as a snake: this precocious punk.

"No, it's a wyvern—congenital birth defect, no wings or legs."

"Ugh, gross up close."

"Haha, agree—total monstrosity."

Rude bastards. The brat—young and ugly—reached to touch me.

"Should smash it."

This psycho. It wouldn't break easy, but I couldn't stand it.

Yeah. I could use magic now. Not just that—I'd practiced in boredom, leveling Transparent Hand to 17. Silent, odorless, invisible smack to the brat's head.

Smack!

"Ow!"

The kid clutched his head, whipping around, utterly baffled.

"S-something hit me?"

"Wh-what?"

Who'd suspect an invisible magic hand? Servant and kid both flustered.

"You hit me!"

"N-no way, misunderstanding!"

Heehee, fun. Oh, and this morning, I unlocked the 'Crown' too. Time to test the new toy.

Wonder what it does. Name suggests not offensive. Like other crown skills.

Couldn't activate Crown of Connection. Needs physical touch, apparently. Can't move now, so impossible.

Fine. Something else then.

Yeah. Testing Crown of Domination on a human. Would it work? Probably not on strong-willed or smart ones. So, the brat it was.

Partial domination success. First time succeeding at domination but failing to tame despite it. What could I do? Burn domination power to puppeteer the brat briefly.

"Ow, ouch! Aaaah!"

The kid suddenly punched his own head repeatedly.

"Y-young master, what's wrong?!"

"Aaaah!"

The commotion drew servants. Kid slapping his face, attendant panicking. Domination power depleted, self-harm stopped. He bolted off bawling.

"What the hell."

The guy trailed after, dazed. Crown of Domination works on humans. If I get stronger, it'll be super useful. Gotta ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠train harder.

But pranking the brat backfired big time.

"Creepy, ominous thing. Move it to the warehouse."

A butler-looking old man declared it. Shocking warehouse banishment! At his gesture, a burly servant scooped me up, hauling me deep into the mansion. Long trek.

'Massive estate.'

Now I got how loaded the Chamberlain was.

Finally, they reached a deep warehouse.

"Open the door."

Guards stood watch—seasoned pros by looks.

'Makes sense. Real treasures go in storage, right?'

-Heh...

Rich folks stash valuables in warehouses, not halls. Ending up in a tycoon's vault—what a life.

Clank. Magical iron door slid open. Racks of exotic items inside. Wild stuff.

Servant and butler slotted me among them and left.

Perfect. Evolve here. Escaping later's the issue...

Then—

-Oh dear. Heh heh heh!

Pellelian chuckled in admiration.

'What?'

-This Chamberlain. Either insanely rich or rotten corrupt. No doubt.

Mobile unlike me, Pellelian poked around.

'Huh?'

-Serious collector. Thought he was just some oddball hoarder.

He pointed to one display case among dozens.

-Sell that alone, buy a castle.

Ooh.

-P.S., your 500 sola wouldn't buy jack here.

Sorry to interrupt, but it's 700 now.

Artifacts, huh. Time to head home? As the great thief snake fang.