The Rookie Who Made a Bronze Adventurer Wet Himself
The suspicious young man was named Hannibal. He was a bronze-plate adventurer. Of course, most adventurers were bronze-plate adventurers, but he was a little different from the rest.
He had no burning ambition to climb the ranks like other adventurers, nor did he harbor any grand plan to strike it rich and quit the business. He was the very picture of a third-rate bottom-feeder adventurer—the kind who earned just enough each day to get by.
But even someone like him had one hobby. A rather twisted one, at that.
‘Heh heh heh.’
It was none other than bullying rookie adventurers.
He was quite confident in his ability to drag a freshly registered adventurer in front of everyone and thoroughly humiliate them. So it was only natural that his eyes had locked onto Juhan.
The boy looked gentle and naive, like he had just come up from some backwater village. This one’s perfect. If I play my cards right, I might even make him piss himself.
Glance. Glance.
And it seemed Hannibal wasn’t the only one thinking that. The few adventurers drinking beside him were already shooting him encouraging looks, practically urging him to go ahead.
Anyway.
Adventurers were all pretty much the same. The only difference was whether they stepped forward themselves or just cackled from the sidelines.
‘He should be thanking me, really.’
Hannibal had even convinced himself that this kid ought to be grateful to him.
‘If he can’t handle something like this, how’s he supposed to be an adventurer?’
He told himself he was doing the clumsy country bumpkins a favor—helping them understand their place and teaching them about the real world. Of course, it was nothing more than meaningless self-justification.
So, while some adventurers watched with furrowed brows and others looked on in anticipation, Hannibal did what he always did. He proudly displayed the “rookie adventurer hazing” skills he had honed over the years.
However.
‘What the hell?’
No matter how much the crowd laughed and jeered, no matter how roughly Hannibal grabbed the boy with his meaty hands…
‘Why isn’t he reacting at all?’
The kid simply stood there in silence. It was as if he were saying, Go on, keep going.
‘This little bastard…’
There wasn’t even the slightest change in the boy’s expression. He simply maintained a blank face, staring straight ahead.
Grind.
Perhaps it was that attitude that properly triggered Hannibal’s inferiority complex. For some reason, he felt like he was being looked down on by this country bumpkin.
He couldn’t just let this slide. In fact, the other adventurers were already starting to harden their expressions at the rookie’s complete lack of reaction.
If anything, the pressure was now on Hannibal. Can’t you even do this right?
Unable to endure it any longer, Hannibal crossed the line.
Srrrng.
“With clothes like that, can you even hold a dangerous thing like this properly?”
He drew the sword at his waist just a little, intending to give the kid a small scare. That was all. He had neither the intention nor the guts to go any further.
But at that moment.
“Hey, kid…”
Hannibal saw it.
“……”
The boy slowly turned his head to look at him. Did he finally get scared? Thinking the desired reaction had finally come, Hannibal gladly met his gaze, but…
Shaaaaa—.
‘Wh-what the…?’
It happened in an instant.
Goosebumps shot up Hannibal’s spine. It was a sensation as if his instincts were screaming in terror.
Huk, huk…
Before he knew it, he could barely even breathe. All he had done was meet a pair of emotionless eyes.
‘Wh-what is this…?’
It was clearly just some clumsy country bumpkin. He wasn’t that big, and he wasn’t carrying any threatening weapons.
Yet for some reason, Hannibal felt as if a colossal monster had seized him by the scruff of the neck.
The feeling that if the boy so much as twisted his wrist, his life would be over.
And then, without even properly looking at Hannibal’s state, the boy asked a question.
“That thing.” “H-hiiik!” “Are you going to draw it all the way?”
Thud.
It was just one sentence.
“Kwaaaaaah!”
Crash! Bang!
The moment he heard those words, Hannibal fled as if a monster were about to devour him. He desperately scrambled under the nearest table and hid.
“Huh?” “What the—what’s going on?”
The adventurers who had been watching the spectacle were now the ones panicking. From their perspective, it looked like Hannibal, who had been happily tormenting the rookie, had suddenly screamed and dove under a table.
But Hannibal had seen it.
‘Th-there was definitely something…’
The aura he had felt behind the boy. The massive silhouette that had appeared for just a moment.
There had definitely been an unidentified monster looking down at him from there.
“……”
When Hannibal’s eyes met Juhan’s once more—
“Hic!”
Stream…
A mysterious yellow liquid began flowing down from between Hannibal’s legs.
“Holy crap.” “Dude! Have you lost your mind?”
The tavern had already descended into chaos because of Hannibal’s sudden behavior. By now, people were paying far more attention to the adventurer who had wet himself than to Juhan.
And the person who had just been harassed by Hannibal only moments ago…
Swoosh.
“Where were we again?” “……”
…was calmly speaking to the receptionist, who was staring at him in a daze as if nothing had happened.
He was simply asking her to finish the registration process.
Aaaaah— Aaaah—.
Inside a vast temple where low, solemn hymns echoed, a woman knelt in the Chamber of Silence—a place only the most noble were permitted to enter—and offered a prayer.
Flicker… Flicker…
In the quiet space lit only by the faint trembling of candlelight, the woman at the center exuded an almost unreal, picturesque aura.
“…O God.”
Her silver hair flowed straight down past her waist, and beneath it shone clear, pristine eyes.
Her name was Arcelia Lumencia.
She was the 37th Saintess of the Bistro Holy Kingdom, also known as the Saintess of White Silver.
“Please allow this world to remain at peace today as well…”
Her voice was small and calm.
Anyone listening might have been disappointed. There was no grand prayer to save the world, nor any lofty vow to carry out God’s will. It was simply a realistic prayer, hoping that today would pass without incident.
Just then, a careful knock sounded from beyond the door of the prayer chamber.
Knock, knock.
The familiar voice of an elderly man followed.
“Saintess.” “Come in.”
Creeeak…
At her permission, the door slowly opened.
The one who entered was a white-haired old man. Yet his impeccable posture and neat attire made it clear he held a very high position within the Order.
Robelon, the Grand Inquisitor of the Bistro Order.
He bowed his head before Arcelia could even rise from her knees.
“You were in the middle of prayer. I hope I have not disturbed you.” “It’s fine. What brings you here?”
Arcelia shook her head slightly to show it was all right. Seeing this, Robelon carefully took out a document he had been carrying.
“A report has arrived from Antonio Church in Enton.” “Antonio Church…?”
Enton. She had heard the name before. It was a small village on the southern outskirts.
So the church there was called Antonio Church.
To Arcelia, that was about the extent of her knowledge. It was just an ordinary church with nothing particularly memorable about it.
‘Why from Enton?’
Was there really a report from such a place that warranted being sent all the way to the heart of the Order?
But at Robelon’s next words, Arcelia unconsciously raised an eyebrow.
“They say the Bell of Catastrophe has rung.” “…The Bell of Catastrophe?”
The report from Antonio Church that the Bell of Catastrophe had sounded.
Arcelia was well aware of the artifact.
Long ago, Saintess Athena, who had fought alongside the hero Carius to defeat the evil cults, had personally helped create the Bell of Catastrophe at Carius’s request.
Of course.
‘It’s practically just a decoration now.’
In this era, it was little more than an ornament or an antique displayed in a few churches.
After all, the bell had never rung even once in the past thousand years.
Despite its purpose of detecting the Great Catastrophe, it had remained silent for that entire long stretch of time. People had gradually come to see it as little more than a symbolic object.
They said it represented God’s will—watching over humanity from the highest and most dangerous places, never yielding to harsh winds and rain.
In truth, it was safe to say almost no one within the Order took the Bell of Catastrophe seriously anymore. In fact, many probably didn’t even believe in the existence of the Great Catastrophe itself.
“…Could it be broken?”
In the end, the most realistic guess flowed from Arcelia’s lips. After so many years, perhaps something had gone wrong with it.
“I thought the same,” Robelon replied with a nod. “In fact, they say it stopped ringing almost immediately afterward.” “What did they say about its condition?” “Upon inspection, they believe it is on the verge of breaking. They mentioned it already has severe cracks.”
It was a wonder it had lasted this long.
‘That makes sense.’
It was, after all, an object over a thousand years old. If it were still functioning perfectly, that would have been stranger.
“Even so, the reason the report was sent all the way up is…”
While Arcelia was thinking to herself, Robelon pulled out another sheet of paper from his robe.
There was no need for explanation. Arcelia knew the reason better than anyone.
“When the Bell of Catastrophe rings, the fact must be immediately reported to the highest levels of the Order.” “Yes.” “It was a message left behind by Saintess Athena, the Saintess of Salvation.”
It was because Athena, Carius’s companion, had established that very rule.
‘Sigh…’
It was truly a heroic act. Even after her death, she had been worried about people who might one day fall into danger.
By today’s standards, it was an excessively strict and stubborn regulation. Some even considered it half obsolete.
But there was one problem.
‘I can’t ignore it.’
The person who had created that rule was none other than Saintess Athena.
A being who was practically a myth within the Bistro Order.
Even if everyone else treated the now-defunct rule lightly, Arcelia could not do the same.
Saaa…
Once again, silence filled the room. Eventually, Arcelia was the first to speak.
“We should check it. And I will go myself.” “…You truly intend to go in person?”
No matter how much she pondered it, the conclusion had already been decided.
Even if it turned out to be nothing more than a simple malfunction, Arcelia had no choice in the matter.
“However, there is no need for you to go personally. The report from Antonio Church seems to have been sent merely as a formality…”
Robelon’s voice was cautious.
“It should be enough to send an appropriate person. No one will complain.”
Of course, his words were not wrong.
In reality, the ringing of the Bell of Catastrophe had not caused any major upheaval within the Order. Most people probably hadn’t even paid much attention to it.
They would have simply thought, Oh, so that happened, and moved on.
Even Robelon himself seemed to have already dismissed it as ‘The old relic must have broken.’
However, Arcelia’s reply was firm.
“That is precisely why I must go.” “……” “Because everyone thinks it’s no big deal.” “Saintess.” “And.”
Arcelia paused for a moment. She took a few steps toward the window, gazed up at the sky outside, and said,
“I also want to… breathe some fresh air once in a while.”
Heh heh.
At Arcelia’s words, Robelon could not offer any reply.
Saintess. The title sounded so noble that it was almost too heavy to speak aloud… yet at the same time, it was also the shackle that kept her confined within this holy kingdom.
The expectations, faith, and envious gazes of countless people.
From a very young age, Arcelia had lived while carrying all of that on her shoulders.
In the end, Robelon had no grounds to oppose her wish.
“…I will assign escorts.” “Keep it to the minimum.” “That will be difficult.”
It was a resolute answer. Of course, Arcelia had expected as much and simply smiled softly.
“I understand. You cannot compromise on that, can you?” “I am grateful for your understanding.”
And so, the Saintess’s inspection of Antonio Church was decided.
“Ah, and one more thing.”
As if she had just remembered, Arcelia called out to Robelon as he was about to leave the room.
“Please do not notify Antonio Church in advance.” “…Is there a particular reason?” “It’s nothing special.”
Arcelia’s request not to inform Antonio Church beforehand.
Even as she spoke, she continued gazing out the window.
“I just don’t want to cause them any unnecessary burden.”
Though that was what she said on the surface, Arcelia’s true feelings were slightly different.
In truth, she was a little curious.
The Bell of Catastrophe, which had not rung even once in over a thousand years—why had it suddenly rung now, of all times?
And whether it truly was nothing more than a simple malfunction.